Like all writers, I occasionally reach a point in a story where I stop moving. I won't call it writer's block because I know people who have suffered from the real thing, and this is nothing like as severe. For one thing, I rarely come to a complete stop, I just slow down a lot. For another, the duration is usually pretty short, somewhere between an afternoon and a week. It generally depends on how long it takes me to notice that I'm really not getting anywhere and figure out why. For me, it's always the same reason—I don't know what happens next.
Once I've identified the problem, my traditional method for solving it is to lie on the couch on my back porch and stare out the window and daydream while occasionally mumbling to myself. (May I just note that I love that part of my job involves daydreaming and talking to myself) A particularly vexing problem might involve me wandering around the house, pacing and talking aloud to whichever cat I happen to pick up.
Then, when I know what's coming, I write it all down in mental shorthand and start moving again. Or, if it's a really big issue, I write it all down, call up another writer friend and rant about what happens next for a while, and then start moving again. Usually Lyda is the person who hears these rants, but occasionally it's Sean or Shari (S.N. Arly). It's always someone who has read at least some of the story to date.
So, I have a system that works well for me, but lately I've been trying out a new variation. My friend and fellow writer, Philip Lees (we were at Writers of the Future together) often goes for a long walk when he's stuck, refusing to turn around and come home until he's got it. This is a twofer–not only does he get good exercise, but he puts himself in a position where he has plenty of time to think past the immediate issues as he's walking back. And he usually arrives at the keyboard not just ready to write, but eager to do so.
So, lately I've been adopting Philip's method, which is really quite close to mine, and it's been fabulous. Yesterday I got a four mile walk in along the beautiful Red Cedar river, solved my immediate writing problems, arrived home eager to work, and didn't have to feel in the least bit bad about dessert.
What about you? What do you do when you're stuck?
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
The Idea Vault and Why I Wish There Were Such a Thing
Ever since this topic came up at our meeting, I’ve been struggling to decide what my answer is to the ubiquitous question of “where do your ideas come from?” I’m afraid that I’m one of those writers who periodically worries whether or not she’ll have enough ideas to continue writing for the rest of her life. Unlike Kelly, I don’t have surplus ideas banging on the confines of my head demanding to be written. I don’t write short stories very often for this very reason. In fact, I’m feeling a little freaked right now because I’ve just about emptied my “trunk” of short stories. I’ve got one more finished one out to market, and if it sells, I’m out.
Strangely, I’m sort of dreading that moment.
That being said, I often have to make a conscious process out of short story (and even novel) writing. That is to say, I sometimes have to tell myself, “Okay, I’m going to write a story today. What should it be about?” Then, I get out a piece of paper, and I start jotting things down. [I tend to brainstorm with actual pen and paper. Ideas come slowly enough that I have plenty of time to write them down. When I’m actually writing, however, the images in my brain are often coming much faster than I can type.]
That being said, I can remember story ideas coming to me after conversations with other writers – Naomi and I talked through the idea for what became my short story “Twelve Traditions” over lunch at the Egg & I on University Avenue. Others have come to me while reading nonfiction articles in magazines like National Geographic, Popular Mechanics, and the like. I never get story ideas from dreams, because my dreams are usually either boring, muddled, bizarre, sexual, or all of the above. I tend to do what Neil Gaiman talks about in his somewhat famous blog on the subject.
Many of my ideas, however, never materialize into stories because, for me, the idea itself is rarely enough.
I was trying to explain this to my partner the other day, in fact. She was throwing out all sorts of ideas for the short story I was trying to write for The Anthology. I was driving her absolutely bonkers as I kept rejecting every clever thing she said with the question, “Yeah, that’s cool, but where’s the story?” Therein lies my problem. Sure, my brain cooks up all sorts of weird things like “cyborgs and talking chairs,” but I don’t consider those REAL story ideas because most of the time, even if the image or the concept is cool, I have nothing to hang on it. Most of those “ideas” don’t get more than maybe a first sentence or two, if that. A lot of them I leave in my brain to bounce around, hoping that some day they’ll crash into something else and together the combination will actually germinate into something I can use.
If I find I really can’t shake the vague concept that popped into my head, I start brainstorming. If I can answer the questions, “why does this matter?”. “who does it matter to?" and, “are they changed by this?” Then, MAYBE I’ll start.
This is probably why I only have a dozen or so short stories to my name.
Strangely, I’m sort of dreading that moment.
That being said, I often have to make a conscious process out of short story (and even novel) writing. That is to say, I sometimes have to tell myself, “Okay, I’m going to write a story today. What should it be about?” Then, I get out a piece of paper, and I start jotting things down. [I tend to brainstorm with actual pen and paper. Ideas come slowly enough that I have plenty of time to write them down. When I’m actually writing, however, the images in my brain are often coming much faster than I can type.]
That being said, I can remember story ideas coming to me after conversations with other writers – Naomi and I talked through the idea for what became my short story “Twelve Traditions” over lunch at the Egg & I on University Avenue. Others have come to me while reading nonfiction articles in magazines like National Geographic, Popular Mechanics, and the like. I never get story ideas from dreams, because my dreams are usually either boring, muddled, bizarre, sexual, or all of the above. I tend to do what Neil Gaiman talks about in his somewhat famous blog on the subject.
Many of my ideas, however, never materialize into stories because, for me, the idea itself is rarely enough.
I was trying to explain this to my partner the other day, in fact. She was throwing out all sorts of ideas for the short story I was trying to write for The Anthology. I was driving her absolutely bonkers as I kept rejecting every clever thing she said with the question, “Yeah, that’s cool, but where’s the story?” Therein lies my problem. Sure, my brain cooks up all sorts of weird things like “cyborgs and talking chairs,” but I don’t consider those REAL story ideas because most of the time, even if the image or the concept is cool, I have nothing to hang on it. Most of those “ideas” don’t get more than maybe a first sentence or two, if that. A lot of them I leave in my brain to bounce around, hoping that some day they’ll crash into something else and together the combination will actually germinate into something I can use.
If I find I really can’t shake the vague concept that popped into my head, I start brainstorming. If I can answer the questions, “why does this matter?”. “who does it matter to?" and, “are they changed by this?” Then, MAYBE I’ll start.
This is probably why I only have a dozen or so short stories to my name.
Pens, Redux
So, as I said in response to the earlier "Pens" post, "I use a fountain pen...". I also noted that I use the ink cartridges or the cartridge draw. Until now, I've only been using the pre-packaged cartridges. Today, for the first time, I used the draw cartridge and inkwell.
Wow.
Twice the inkflow, much smoother delivery, no annoying gaps in the writing or scratchy areas--and this is with my least favorite nib. It doesn't have the same kind of vacuum effect to keep the ink from splattering out, so you have to be careful about taking the pen cap off, and avoid gesticulating wildly with an uncapped pen, but that is a very small, easily avoidable dilemma. For any of you out there with fountain pens who have stuck with the packaged ink cartridges because they're less fussy and easy to carry around, I strongly suggest using the draw cartridge. I think you'll be quite pleased with the results.
Wow.
Twice the inkflow, much smoother delivery, no annoying gaps in the writing or scratchy areas--and this is with my least favorite nib. It doesn't have the same kind of vacuum effect to keep the ink from splattering out, so you have to be careful about taking the pen cap off, and avoid gesticulating wildly with an uncapped pen, but that is a very small, easily avoidable dilemma. For any of you out there with fountain pens who have stuck with the packaged ink cartridges because they're less fussy and easy to carry around, I strongly suggest using the draw cartridge. I think you'll be quite pleased with the results.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Crazy Quilts
My ideas come in bits and pieces -- interesting scraps that combine surprisingly well with something entirely different. I read a book on writing SF/F (the one by Orson Scott Card, I think) that talked about how sometimes you can combine really disparate ideas to make a really good story. This is a technique that's worked very well for me when I've had an intriguing scenario but no plot or characters.
Here's the patchwork quilt story of my first novel. (FYI, my first two novels, Fires of the Faithful and Turning the Storm were originally written as a single book. When Bantam bought it, they split it into two books and had me expand them.)
During my junior year of college, I had a dream in which I was called home because my grandmother had died. ("Home" in the dream was not my real home, but a farm on the outskirts of a small village.) I arrived, and things were extremely strange, but no one would tell me what was going on. My grandmother had left me her violin; I knew, somehow, that she'd left me an important message hidden in the sheet music, but couldn't figure out what it was. Then some sort of storm started; I ran outside with the violin and started playing, looking up at the tornado funnel above my head. I knew it was a supernatural storm, not a natural one, and that as long as I kept playing, we would be safe, but if I stopped, we'd all die.
I woke up, thought that this was a dream that clearly needed to be made into a story, but couldn't come up with a good secret that the grandmother could have tried to communicate.
This same year, I had taken up violin. I had taken piano lessons starting when I was five years old, and had given them up my senior year of high school, because I would have had to commit to a lot of practice time in order to make any progress. I never had any interest in being a professional musician; it was just a hobby. In college, I decided I'd like to learn to play the violin, so I took it up and was a fairly proficient beginner by graduation.
When I'd go into a practice room, I'd often be able to hear someone practicing piano next door. If they were an advanced student, they'd often be playing a piece that I'd played in high school. Hearing that always gave me a rush of wistful nostalgia: I could do that again, if I had the commitment. It made me meditate on the choices we have to make. And since I'm a fantasy writer, I started thinking about writing a story about choices, but with a fantasy setting -- someone who'd had to choose between music, and magic.
In mulling over the story, I thought about the idea of magic having a price, and thought, what if the cost of magic was environmental destruction? After all, if technology is our magic, that's kind of the cost of magic in our own world.
And suddenly, I had all the pieces for a short story that was going to rock. I wrote it that summer. Etienne (who was female, but this male French name sounded very female to me) was a student at a music conservatory. She got a new roommate, Misha (also a male name -- don't ask me to explain why), who had a deep, dark secret. At the end of the ten-page story, it was revealed that Misha was a runaway sorcerer, hiding the secret that the use of sorcery was causing a famine. It was (in my mind) an absolutely brilliant story, the best thing I'd written at that point. I sent it around to several magazines, and collected a number of rejections, including two that noted that it read more like chapters one and twenty-six of a novel.
So when I decided to write a novel, I thought, well, since I already know what happens, I guess I'll try writing that one. I made a couple of false starts that tried to re-use the short story as the first chapter, and then just started over from scratch. In the finished novel, the part set at the conservatory is 100 pages long. I had to rewrite the beginning several times, as I learned pacing, but "how I wrote my first novel" is a post for another day.
Here's the patchwork quilt story of my first novel. (FYI, my first two novels, Fires of the Faithful and Turning the Storm were originally written as a single book. When Bantam bought it, they split it into two books and had me expand them.)
During my junior year of college, I had a dream in which I was called home because my grandmother had died. ("Home" in the dream was not my real home, but a farm on the outskirts of a small village.) I arrived, and things were extremely strange, but no one would tell me what was going on. My grandmother had left me her violin; I knew, somehow, that she'd left me an important message hidden in the sheet music, but couldn't figure out what it was. Then some sort of storm started; I ran outside with the violin and started playing, looking up at the tornado funnel above my head. I knew it was a supernatural storm, not a natural one, and that as long as I kept playing, we would be safe, but if I stopped, we'd all die.
I woke up, thought that this was a dream that clearly needed to be made into a story, but couldn't come up with a good secret that the grandmother could have tried to communicate.
This same year, I had taken up violin. I had taken piano lessons starting when I was five years old, and had given them up my senior year of high school, because I would have had to commit to a lot of practice time in order to make any progress. I never had any interest in being a professional musician; it was just a hobby. In college, I decided I'd like to learn to play the violin, so I took it up and was a fairly proficient beginner by graduation.
When I'd go into a practice room, I'd often be able to hear someone practicing piano next door. If they were an advanced student, they'd often be playing a piece that I'd played in high school. Hearing that always gave me a rush of wistful nostalgia: I could do that again, if I had the commitment. It made me meditate on the choices we have to make. And since I'm a fantasy writer, I started thinking about writing a story about choices, but with a fantasy setting -- someone who'd had to choose between music, and magic.
In mulling over the story, I thought about the idea of magic having a price, and thought, what if the cost of magic was environmental destruction? After all, if technology is our magic, that's kind of the cost of magic in our own world.
And suddenly, I had all the pieces for a short story that was going to rock. I wrote it that summer. Etienne (who was female, but this male French name sounded very female to me) was a student at a music conservatory. She got a new roommate, Misha (also a male name -- don't ask me to explain why), who had a deep, dark secret. At the end of the ten-page story, it was revealed that Misha was a runaway sorcerer, hiding the secret that the use of sorcery was causing a famine. It was (in my mind) an absolutely brilliant story, the best thing I'd written at that point. I sent it around to several magazines, and collected a number of rejections, including two that noted that it read more like chapters one and twenty-six of a novel.
So when I decided to write a novel, I thought, well, since I already know what happens, I guess I'll try writing that one. I made a couple of false starts that tried to re-use the short story as the first chapter, and then just started over from scratch. In the finished novel, the part set at the conservatory is 100 pages long. I had to rewrite the beginning several times, as I learned pacing, but "how I wrote my first novel" is a post for another day.
"Mishearing" Weirdness
While a certain number of my ideas come from dreams, as Kelly discusses in his post--and I dream all the time, awake or asleep, it seems--most of the ideas that I have that come from dreams occur in the gray, almost-to-sleep zone that immediately precedes true sleep. When I am just letting go, and a scattering of images, no longer bound by the rules of thought and logic, hurtle though one neural intersection or another and smash together. The result generally jolts me awake, scrabbling for purchase as I search for pen and paper to jot the ideas down.
I very much subscribe, though, to what Harlan Ellison calls "mishearing", whereby the mind doesn't quite hear what someone else has said and fills in the gap--whether that be through replacingsome of the words, or by missing the context and havingn to fill that in. The other day, my wife mentioned that hospitals were dangerous palces to stay for very long; "you'll get a staff infection", I heard.
My mind immediately started filling in: a patient--Miller, let's say--with a gaping wound, a sort of gravity well that was sucking doctors, nurses, and aides into his raw flesh, and the havoc that they would wreak on his sytem at being stuck in his wound; Conversely, a slow bending of his mind until he simply becomes a staff member at the hospital, fillign out charts, wandering from patient to patient with alternating beatific smiles and looks of sympathetic concern, all the while wondering what happened to that Miller guy in bed 2 of room 524...
She meant, of course, "a staph infection", but lacking the proper context (and I won't go into how much I oughtto be attending what my wife says), I heard, and then interpolated, "a staff infection" as one might get it from staying in a hospital too long.
I know that this technique, if it can be called one, is used by other writers across the speculative fiction genres. Terry Dowling's "Flashmen" was conceived upon mishearing The Verve Pipe's "The Freshmen", for instance, and I know any number of Ellison's works have been driven by mishearing words or phrases. How does mishearing figure into your writing, and how does it compare against dreaming epiphanies (good anthology title, there), or asking the classic "What if...?"
I very much subscribe, though, to what Harlan Ellison calls "mishearing", whereby the mind doesn't quite hear what someone else has said and fills in the gap--whether that be through replacingsome of the words, or by missing the context and havingn to fill that in. The other day, my wife mentioned that hospitals were dangerous palces to stay for very long; "you'll get a staff infection", I heard.
My mind immediately started filling in: a patient--Miller, let's say--with a gaping wound, a sort of gravity well that was sucking doctors, nurses, and aides into his raw flesh, and the havoc that they would wreak on his sytem at being stuck in his wound; Conversely, a slow bending of his mind until he simply becomes a staff member at the hospital, fillign out charts, wandering from patient to patient with alternating beatific smiles and looks of sympathetic concern, all the while wondering what happened to that Miller guy in bed 2 of room 524...
She meant, of course, "a staph infection", but lacking the proper context (and I won't go into how much I oughtto be attending what my wife says), I heard, and then interpolated, "a staff infection" as one might get it from staying in a hospital too long.
I know that this technique, if it can be called one, is used by other writers across the speculative fiction genres. Terry Dowling's "Flashmen" was conceived upon mishearing The Verve Pipe's "The Freshmen", for instance, and I know any number of Ellison's works have been driven by mishearing words or phrases. How does mishearing figure into your writing, and how does it compare against dreaming epiphanies (good anthology title, there), or asking the classic "What if...?"
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Dream and Story, or Leaking Weirdness
As Eleanor mentioned, I get some of my ideas from dreams. I thought it might be interesting to talk about that at least a little bit more both in terms of story development and why I think this happens. I have very vivid dreams, but only if I'm between writing projects or it's been a couple of days since I've written.
This is either a subconscious manifestation of something my wife calls "leaking weirdness," or leaking weirdness is a conscious manifestation of the subconscious phenomena. In either case, if I go for more than a couple of days without actively working on my fiction, I start to get a little strange. The longer I go, the stranger I get, and the stranger I get, the more frequent are Laura's suggestions that I "go write something and get it out of my system."
Basically, as far as I can tell, I need to tell stories, to invent new worlds and people and share them. If I'm not working and I can't get them down on paper, they start to leak into my dreams and out of my mouth, especially first thing in the morning. This has led to such bizarre leaking weirdness ideas as llamoflage, and Robert the Bruce Springsteen-you can take our lives but you canna' take our guitars.
It has also led to some of my better story ideas on both the dreams front and in terms of leaking weirdness. Basically my brain, seemingly independent of my conscious will, starts to put things together that might not normally go together, like goblins and laptops in WebMage, or food fights and the twilight of the gods in the short story FimbulDinner.
One final note on process, and then I'll end this ramble. The ideas I get from dreams almost never come complete and coherent. I'll get one really striking image in a big mish-mash of dream-story that resonates for me. Then, when I wake up, just past the edge of dreaming, I'll try to identify what's so cool about that image by telling myself a story about it, filling in a background and future developments that were missing in the dream, and converting impression into narrative in a very conscious way. The dream provides the seed, but I have to plant it and nurture it arrive at something that's worth sharing with others.
So, as Eleanor asked, where do you get your ideas? Do your dreams whisper narrative in your ear? Do billboards mix with Celtic mythos and drink recipes in your waking mind? What makes you a writer of the fantastic?
This is either a subconscious manifestation of something my wife calls "leaking weirdness," or leaking weirdness is a conscious manifestation of the subconscious phenomena. In either case, if I go for more than a couple of days without actively working on my fiction, I start to get a little strange. The longer I go, the stranger I get, and the stranger I get, the more frequent are Laura's suggestions that I "go write something and get it out of my system."
Basically, as far as I can tell, I need to tell stories, to invent new worlds and people and share them. If I'm not working and I can't get them down on paper, they start to leak into my dreams and out of my mouth, especially first thing in the morning. This has led to such bizarre leaking weirdness ideas as llamoflage, and Robert the Bruce Springsteen-you can take our lives but you canna' take our guitars.
It has also led to some of my better story ideas on both the dreams front and in terms of leaking weirdness. Basically my brain, seemingly independent of my conscious will, starts to put things together that might not normally go together, like goblins and laptops in WebMage, or food fights and the twilight of the gods in the short story FimbulDinner.
One final note on process, and then I'll end this ramble. The ideas I get from dreams almost never come complete and coherent. I'll get one really striking image in a big mish-mash of dream-story that resonates for me. Then, when I wake up, just past the edge of dreaming, I'll try to identify what's so cool about that image by telling myself a story about it, filling in a background and future developments that were missing in the dream, and converting impression into narrative in a very conscious way. The dream provides the seed, but I have to plant it and nurture it arrive at something that's worth sharing with others.
So, as Eleanor asked, where do you get your ideas? Do your dreams whisper narrative in your ear? Do billboards mix with Celtic mythos and drink recipes in your waking mind? What makes you a writer of the fantastic?
Friday, August 25, 2006
Telepathy: SF or Fantasy?
Okay, so the title is a bit of a red herring. "Isn't it possible that telepathy is both, or neither?" I can hear you ask. Sure, I answer--that's the precarious nature of my initial question, anyway--but in which basic setting does it more appropriately fall? Blasters go in the SF column; enchanted forests are on the Fantasy side of the board. Both SF and Fantasy have many well-established memes, and people have very specific ideas of what things are SF and what are Fantasy.
But where does telepathy go? Is it a magical reaching out? Or is it an extension of the mind, evolving past its physical boundaries?
Where does telepathy fall for you, and why?
But where does telepathy go? Is it a magical reaching out? Or is it an extension of the mind, evolving past its physical boundaries?
Where does telepathy fall for you, and why?
New Wyrd (updated)
Just a quick note on the Wyrdsmiths' anthology, New Wyrd. It can now be purchased online through Dream Haven books' website. From the front page, enter "New Wyrd" into the search box and click the button. And there you are.
Updated: Excerpts from Michael Levy's forthcoming review in the journal of the Science Fiction Research Association, with many thanks to him for letting us post it here.
"This small anthology features a number of fine stories, most of them original. Arnason’s “Big Black Mama and Tentacle Man” is part of a series of jazzy, quasi-folktales in which the author deals with male chauvinism, body image stereotypes and similar idiocies. Naomi Kritzer’s beautifully written “Masks,” possibly the strongest story in the book, is set in a High Renaissance-like culture where heterosexuality and marriage are rigorously enforced by a corrupt priesthood containing members of both sexes. The protagonist, a gay musician, is secretly having an affair with a member of the priesthood. Lyda Morehouse’s “Jawbone of an Ass” takes the Bible story of Samson, but relocates it to contemporary Northern Ireland and features a protagonist who, through no fault of her own, finds herself on the wrong side of the angels. Kelly McCullough’s hilarious fantasy “The Basilisk Hunter” is a send up of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom and the Australian series Crocodile Hunter. Sean M. Murphy’s “Cloverleaf One” quite literally puts put together research on the first cloverleaf interchange ever built and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle with considerable success. H. Courreges LeBlanc’s “How Many Horses?” is a nicely done fairytale with a message about the importance of losing the things we love. Also included are short novel excerpts from works in progress by Wyrdsmith members Douglas Hulick, Rosalind Nelson, and William G. Henry."
"In short, this is an excellent anthology. The Kritzer story is worthy of at least a mention in Datlow, Link, and Grant’s Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror, and all of the stories are well worth reading."
Updated: Excerpts from Michael Levy's forthcoming review in the journal of the Science Fiction Research Association, with many thanks to him for letting us post it here.
"This small anthology features a number of fine stories, most of them original. Arnason’s “Big Black Mama and Tentacle Man” is part of a series of jazzy, quasi-folktales in which the author deals with male chauvinism, body image stereotypes and similar idiocies. Naomi Kritzer’s beautifully written “Masks,” possibly the strongest story in the book, is set in a High Renaissance-like culture where heterosexuality and marriage are rigorously enforced by a corrupt priesthood containing members of both sexes. The protagonist, a gay musician, is secretly having an affair with a member of the priesthood. Lyda Morehouse’s “Jawbone of an Ass” takes the Bible story of Samson, but relocates it to contemporary Northern Ireland and features a protagonist who, through no fault of her own, finds herself on the wrong side of the angels. Kelly McCullough’s hilarious fantasy “The Basilisk Hunter” is a send up of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom and the Australian series Crocodile Hunter. Sean M. Murphy’s “Cloverleaf One” quite literally puts put together research on the first cloverleaf interchange ever built and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle with considerable success. H. Courreges LeBlanc’s “How Many Horses?” is a nicely done fairytale with a message about the importance of losing the things we love. Also included are short novel excerpts from works in progress by Wyrdsmith members Douglas Hulick, Rosalind Nelson, and William G. Henry."
"In short, this is an excellent anthology. The Kritzer story is worthy of at least a mention in Datlow, Link, and Grant’s Year’s Best Fantasy and Horror, and all of the stories are well worth reading."
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Where do you get your crazy ideas?
We began to talk about this at our meeting tonight, because Kelly gets ideas in dreams.
In some cases, I can point to an incident or idea that led to a story. In other cases, I have't got a clue where a story came from. I don't remember offhand how my first four novels began, but my fifth novel started with Jesse Helms' attacks on the National Endowment for the Arts and with a conversation between Joel Rosenberg, Steve Brust and Gordon R. Dickson. Steve, Joel and Gordie were talking about the need for sincerity in art. You have to write what you believe in, they all agreed. I thought, people say this, but do we really know it's true? What happens if you set out to write a story you don't believe in? I have a lot of trouble with military science fiction. With the exception of Lois Bujold's Vorkosigan stories, I don't like the stuff and don't believe one word of it. So I decided to write some military SF. At the same time, I was deeply angered by Jesse Helms' homophobia and decided to write about a society where gayness was natural and heterosexuality perverse. This led to Ring of Swords and the hwarhath, an alien society where all the men are soldiers, and almost everyone (male and female) is gay and heterophobic.
Do I think the novel is insincere? Not a bit. I ended writing about things I believe: prejudice is wrong; and modern war is really, really dangerous; and the best way to solve a conflict is to negotiate and hold an art festival.
In some cases, I can point to an incident or idea that led to a story. In other cases, I have't got a clue where a story came from. I don't remember offhand how my first four novels began, but my fifth novel started with Jesse Helms' attacks on the National Endowment for the Arts and with a conversation between Joel Rosenberg, Steve Brust and Gordon R. Dickson. Steve, Joel and Gordie were talking about the need for sincerity in art. You have to write what you believe in, they all agreed. I thought, people say this, but do we really know it's true? What happens if you set out to write a story you don't believe in? I have a lot of trouble with military science fiction. With the exception of Lois Bujold's Vorkosigan stories, I don't like the stuff and don't believe one word of it. So I decided to write some military SF. At the same time, I was deeply angered by Jesse Helms' homophobia and decided to write about a society where gayness was natural and heterosexuality perverse. This led to Ring of Swords and the hwarhath, an alien society where all the men are soldiers, and almost everyone (male and female) is gay and heterophobic.
Do I think the novel is insincere? Not a bit. I ended writing about things I believe: prejudice is wrong; and modern war is really, really dangerous; and the best way to solve a conflict is to negotiate and hold an art festival.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Tuckerization
I put my friend Patrick into my second novel as a (very nice) giant mutant rat. This is not true Tuckerization, which is naming minor characters after friends. The rat is an important character in the novel and doesn't bear Pat's name. I no longer remember why I did this. When I was a kid I had a baby sitter who worked at the University of Minnesota labs; and she would take my brother and me to the labs to play with the rats and mice and bunnies and monkeys. This left me with positive feeling toward rats that has lasted my entire life; and they are always positive characters in my fiction. They represent canny survival in difficult circumstances. (A medical lab is a very difficult circumstance, though also clean, well lit and usually with a well-balanced diet. But the nice people who care for you are trying to kill you.) Maybe I thought Pat was a canny survivor.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Writing Classes
Over on her LiveJournal, writer Elizabeth Bear noted that she failed Creative Writing -- twice.
The thread sparked some discussion of creative writing classes. Like Bear, I took creative writing twice -- once in high school, once in college. I had very different classes from some of the people on the thread, though. For one thing, both times, my assignments were very open-ended: "write a story," not "write a story about X."
Probably the most appalling story on the thread was a woman who had sold several short stories before she ever took her high school creative writing class. (I followed her links back to her own LJ and checked out her webpage: she sold her first story to Marion Zimmer Bradley's "Sword and Sorceress" anthology when she was thirteen.) She had never mentioned this to any of her teachers, but when she took the creative writing class, someone ratted her out. Her teacher had submitted to the same anthology and been rejected, and took out her jealousy on her student by awarding her a C for one of her stories.
It's almost disappointing, after reading that thread, that I have no horror stories to tell. My high school experience was kind of odd in that the original English teacher got seriously ill in late September (and in fact died the following January). Our sub, who initially thought she'd just be teaching for a day or two, had us for the entire semester. She was licensed as an English teacher, but I don't think she'd ever taught creative writing before. She was a very nice lady (her name was Mrs. Graham or Mrs. Grahams; Hi there! if you should ever happen to stumble across this) and she thought I was brilliant. This was validating; I like being told I'm brilliant as much as the next writer. But it wasn't particularly useful.
In college, I signed up for a class called "Crafts of Writing: The Short Story." That teacher liked me a lot less than Mrs. Grahams; it would be an exaggeration to say that he hated me and my writing, but he certainly didn't like me very much. I'm not sure he liked any of us, honestly. I ran across my folder from the class a few years ago, and flipped through his comments; I was startled, in retrospect, by how snarkily useless they were.
One of my classmates, a woman named Kirsten, went to Professor Smith shortly before graduation and asked him for advice on becoming a writer. He told her that she should get the dullest, most mundane job she could find, because that way none of her creative energy would be wasted on anything but her art. This is pretty rich coming from a tenured professor of English at a liberal arts college. Maybe he thinks he'd have written more books if he were struggling to make ends meet while working at a job where he was on his feet all day? I mean, the thing about most dead-end jobs is, they're often a lot more exhausting than the cushy, higher-paying jobs that a BA qualifies you to get. I spent a summer in high school scooping frozen custard, and at the end of an eight-hour shift, all I wanted to do was take off my shoes and put my feet up.
Unfortunately, Kirsten took his advice. I don't remember what she ended up doing, but she spent a lot of energy struggling to make ends meet, wrote not at all, and wound up deeply depressed. Then she joined a cult.
The happy ending is that she got out, and went on to write a novel that drew on the experience (and is fascinating reading -- I got to read it a few years ago. Last I heard, she was still looking for an agent.) I think she's now working as a journalist in Boston.
(Let me just note -- I don't think there's anything wrong with being a custodian, grocery bagger, waitress, etc. It's just that "professional" jobs pay a lot better for easier work, and also typically come with health insurance and various other stress-reducing benefits.)
Getting back to my experience with the writing class -- I did get useful critique, mostly from other students. I also got some motivation to sit down and spend time on stories, which was the main thing I'd wanted from the class.
I should note at this point that some of the other Wyrdsmiths have actually taught writing classes. Lyda and Kelly have both taught at the Loft. Eleanor has taught at Clarion. I've led one-day workshops at cons (mostly Minicon, though also Wiscon), but I've never taught a full-fledged class. The classes at the Loft have the virtue of being ungraded, with no mandatory assignments at all, unlike a class for credit at school or college; you can't "fail," though you can waste your money by turning nothing in.
The thread sparked some discussion of creative writing classes. Like Bear, I took creative writing twice -- once in high school, once in college. I had very different classes from some of the people on the thread, though. For one thing, both times, my assignments were very open-ended: "write a story," not "write a story about X."
Probably the most appalling story on the thread was a woman who had sold several short stories before she ever took her high school creative writing class. (I followed her links back to her own LJ and checked out her webpage: she sold her first story to Marion Zimmer Bradley's "Sword and Sorceress" anthology when she was thirteen.) She had never mentioned this to any of her teachers, but when she took the creative writing class, someone ratted her out. Her teacher had submitted to the same anthology and been rejected, and took out her jealousy on her student by awarding her a C for one of her stories.
It's almost disappointing, after reading that thread, that I have no horror stories to tell. My high school experience was kind of odd in that the original English teacher got seriously ill in late September (and in fact died the following January). Our sub, who initially thought she'd just be teaching for a day or two, had us for the entire semester. She was licensed as an English teacher, but I don't think she'd ever taught creative writing before. She was a very nice lady (her name was Mrs. Graham or Mrs. Grahams; Hi there! if you should ever happen to stumble across this) and she thought I was brilliant. This was validating; I like being told I'm brilliant as much as the next writer. But it wasn't particularly useful.
In college, I signed up for a class called "Crafts of Writing: The Short Story." That teacher liked me a lot less than Mrs. Grahams; it would be an exaggeration to say that he hated me and my writing, but he certainly didn't like me very much. I'm not sure he liked any of us, honestly. I ran across my folder from the class a few years ago, and flipped through his comments; I was startled, in retrospect, by how snarkily useless they were.
One of my classmates, a woman named Kirsten, went to Professor Smith shortly before graduation and asked him for advice on becoming a writer. He told her that she should get the dullest, most mundane job she could find, because that way none of her creative energy would be wasted on anything but her art. This is pretty rich coming from a tenured professor of English at a liberal arts college. Maybe he thinks he'd have written more books if he were struggling to make ends meet while working at a job where he was on his feet all day? I mean, the thing about most dead-end jobs is, they're often a lot more exhausting than the cushy, higher-paying jobs that a BA qualifies you to get. I spent a summer in high school scooping frozen custard, and at the end of an eight-hour shift, all I wanted to do was take off my shoes and put my feet up.
Unfortunately, Kirsten took his advice. I don't remember what she ended up doing, but she spent a lot of energy struggling to make ends meet, wrote not at all, and wound up deeply depressed. Then she joined a cult.
The happy ending is that she got out, and went on to write a novel that drew on the experience (and is fascinating reading -- I got to read it a few years ago. Last I heard, she was still looking for an agent.) I think she's now working as a journalist in Boston.
(Let me just note -- I don't think there's anything wrong with being a custodian, grocery bagger, waitress, etc. It's just that "professional" jobs pay a lot better for easier work, and also typically come with health insurance and various other stress-reducing benefits.)
Getting back to my experience with the writing class -- I did get useful critique, mostly from other students. I also got some motivation to sit down and spend time on stories, which was the main thing I'd wanted from the class.
I should note at this point that some of the other Wyrdsmiths have actually taught writing classes. Lyda and Kelly have both taught at the Loft. Eleanor has taught at Clarion. I've led one-day workshops at cons (mostly Minicon, though also Wiscon), but I've never taught a full-fledged class. The classes at the Loft have the virtue of being ungraded, with no mandatory assignments at all, unlike a class for credit at school or college; you can't "fail," though you can waste your money by turning nothing in.
Tuckerized: Writing What (or Who) You Know?
I’m guilty of something wikipedia calls “tuckerization.” When searching my mind for a name I could use for a very-very-off-the-storyline character, I tapped my real-life friend (and potter/artist extraordinaire) Frank A. Gosar.
The entry is from page 135 of Tall, Dark & Dead and it reads: “My favorite mug, a blue and brown glazed, hand-thrown pottery one made for me by my friend Frank out in Oregon, had been left with so many other important things in Minneapolis.”
I did not let my friend Frank know that he was mentioned (honestly, I forgot about it), and yesterday, I got this letter in the mail along with two gorgeous mugs made-to-order especially for me (sorry the picture is so dark, the lighting in my house sucks). His August 14th letter said, “Dear Garnet: A little bird told me (actually, I think it was a turkey vulture, but my ornithology is kinda suspect) that you were in need of replacement tea mugs, as you’d been reduced to discount bin specials from the Giga-Mart....
Geez, [Tate], give a fellow a little warning, will you? One minute I’m sailing along, navigating the plot convolutions of the contemporary vampire romance, the next I’m laughing so hard I nearly fall off of the bed. ‘My friend Frank out in Oregon....’ Does that count as product placement? Even if I don’t do blue and brow mugs anymore?”
For me, this happened just the way I wanted it to. Frank recognized himself in my novel and smiled -- or rather, nearly rolled off his bed. At any rate, I’ve never seen the harm in this sort of thing. In fact, I like to think of it as one of the little pleasures a writer engages in from time to time. What do other people think?
Are *you* guilty of tuckerizing someone you know? If so, who? If not, what do you think of the practice, generally? Is this a case of "writing what you know" to the extreme?
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Administrative Note
On the music thread, someone asked whether anyone can comment. Yes, absolutely! All readers are welcome to comment, question, weigh in on, and dispute anything posted here. Exceptions will be made for obvious trolls, complete jerks, and people wanting our assistance regarding a business opportunity in Nigeria.
Show, Don't Tell
I would pick this for my least favorite truism. My experience is, showing rather than telling does not work. Most readers -- and this includes editors -- don't catch on when I only show. Many years ago, I used to send stories to the wonderful SF editor Terry Carr. He always sent my stories back with a note saying, "This is very well written, but I don't see the point of it." I started to have fantasies of underlining key sentences in red or putting arrows in the margin. The stories sold elsewhere -- to Damon Knight at Orbit and Charles Platt at New Worlds. But Carr never figured out what I was doing.
My second novel, To the Resurrection Station, ends with a fifty page discussion among the characters on 'what has all of this been about?' I wrote the section thinking, "Okay. You want to know the point of this novel. Here it is, in detail." I expected to irritate people with the discussion. But neither editor nor readers complained.
People only think they want to be shown. In fact, they want to be shown and told; and that's what I do these days.
There are many, very compelling kinds of fiction that do far more telling than showing: folk tales, fairy tells, myths and so on. In these, showing is often the icing on the cake or the chocolate chip in the cookie. Don't tell me these stories don't work. Off the top of my head, I think "show, don't tell" is a trusim for modern, bourgeois, realistic fiction, the kind of thing which dominated 19th and 20th century literature in the west. Well, this is the 21st century, and I write science fiction and fantasy. I don't have to show any more than I want to show.
My second novel, To the Resurrection Station, ends with a fifty page discussion among the characters on 'what has all of this been about?' I wrote the section thinking, "Okay. You want to know the point of this novel. Here it is, in detail." I expected to irritate people with the discussion. But neither editor nor readers complained.
People only think they want to be shown. In fact, they want to be shown and told; and that's what I do these days.
There are many, very compelling kinds of fiction that do far more telling than showing: folk tales, fairy tells, myths and so on. In these, showing is often the icing on the cake or the chocolate chip in the cookie. Don't tell me these stories don't work. Off the top of my head, I think "show, don't tell" is a trusim for modern, bourgeois, realistic fiction, the kind of thing which dominated 19th and 20th century literature in the west. Well, this is the 21st century, and I write science fiction and fantasy. I don't have to show any more than I want to show.
Sound Curtains
So I'm sitting down to write, and I realize that I'm doing something that we've discussed at Wyrdsmiths, namely, using what I call a "sound curtain". (Yes, I put the damned period outside of the quotes--I prefer the British format, as I feel it more accurately represents what is intended to be quoted and what is external to the quote. We can argue about that later.)
Basically, I put on headphones and pump the music, effectively cutting me off from any distractions. I use this generally in two distinct ways. Either A) I put on repetitive, mindless energy music (Gnarls Barkley "Crazy"; Bodyrockers "I Like the Way"; Pink "Don't Let Me Get Me"; Britney Spears "...Baby One More Time"; etc.) with a good beat, which I find helps keep my energy up when I am sitting still for hours at a stretch, or B) I find one or two songs with a certain mood to them and put them on repeat, allowing the feel of the song to inform the general mood of the story. The best example I have of this is working on my recent novelette, "Tug-of-Mind", which has a fairly angry, dark mood. It was written to a background of 267 repetititions of Kelly's Clarkson's "Behind These Hazel Eyes". This format yeilds a much wider variety of music used, of course: Sister Hazel, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Gershwin, Ella Fitzgerald, Fountains of Wayne, etc. Whatever I'm shooting for with mood.
I know some writers can't work with music going, and some think that the music actually interferes with the process. I'm wondering what folks think about the use of "sound curtains" and how they impact the writing process, and why people do or don't use them.
Basically, I put on headphones and pump the music, effectively cutting me off from any distractions. I use this generally in two distinct ways. Either A) I put on repetitive, mindless energy music (Gnarls Barkley "Crazy"; Bodyrockers "I Like the Way"; Pink "Don't Let Me Get Me"; Britney Spears "...Baby One More Time"; etc.) with a good beat, which I find helps keep my energy up when I am sitting still for hours at a stretch, or B) I find one or two songs with a certain mood to them and put them on repeat, allowing the feel of the song to inform the general mood of the story. The best example I have of this is working on my recent novelette, "Tug-of-Mind", which has a fairly angry, dark mood. It was written to a background of 267 repetititions of Kelly's Clarkson's "Behind These Hazel Eyes". This format yeilds a much wider variety of music used, of course: Sister Hazel, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Gershwin, Ella Fitzgerald, Fountains of Wayne, etc. Whatever I'm shooting for with mood.
I know some writers can't work with music going, and some think that the music actually interferes with the process. I'm wondering what folks think about the use of "sound curtains" and how they impact the writing process, and why people do or don't use them.
Write What You Know - Not
Every writer has heard writing truisms that drive them crazy.
"Write what you know" is one of mine. Like so many commandments it has a strong grain of truth in it - i.e. if you don't have a clue about something, there's a good chance you'll make stupid mistakes when you talk about it. Prominent examples in fantasy and science fiction include: biological impossibilities, violations of elementary physics, and historical abominations like the juxtaposing of weapons that are just simply not technologically compatible a-la a katana and rapier duel - barring unusual circumstance that one's going to end real quick with the katana wielder bleeding all over the place. Again, every writer is going to have their very own examples of this. Heck, I've made some of those mistakes myself-ask Lyda about the burial vault incident some time.
However, the big problem with "write what you know" is that if we all did that, there'd be a ton of books about sitting in front of a computer typing, with occasional trips to the bathroom and grocery store, and some especially exciting entries on going to science fiction conventions.
I mean, come on people, science fiction and fantasy are about writing what you think is cool, not what you know. I've never met a vampire or an elf. I've never killed anybody with a sword, though I have fenced. I've never ridden in a rocket ship. And yet I've written about all of those things, and I've even moved people by writing about them, or at least that's what the email in my in-box suggests.
Write what rocks your world, and if you hear a truism that drives you crazy, stick your tongue out at it and keep moving.
So, go ahead, tell instead of showing once in a while, use a cliché, go wild! It's only fiction, and if you're not having fun maybe you should be doing something else. It's not like we make the big bucks.
What's your most hated truism? Don't be shy. Rant away.
"Write what you know" is one of mine. Like so many commandments it has a strong grain of truth in it - i.e. if you don't have a clue about something, there's a good chance you'll make stupid mistakes when you talk about it. Prominent examples in fantasy and science fiction include: biological impossibilities, violations of elementary physics, and historical abominations like the juxtaposing of weapons that are just simply not technologically compatible a-la a katana and rapier duel - barring unusual circumstance that one's going to end real quick with the katana wielder bleeding all over the place. Again, every writer is going to have their very own examples of this. Heck, I've made some of those mistakes myself-ask Lyda about the burial vault incident some time.
However, the big problem with "write what you know" is that if we all did that, there'd be a ton of books about sitting in front of a computer typing, with occasional trips to the bathroom and grocery store, and some especially exciting entries on going to science fiction conventions.
I mean, come on people, science fiction and fantasy are about writing what you think is cool, not what you know. I've never met a vampire or an elf. I've never killed anybody with a sword, though I have fenced. I've never ridden in a rocket ship. And yet I've written about all of those things, and I've even moved people by writing about them, or at least that's what the email in my in-box suggests.
Write what rocks your world, and if you hear a truism that drives you crazy, stick your tongue out at it and keep moving.
So, go ahead, tell instead of showing once in a while, use a cliché, go wild! It's only fiction, and if you're not having fun maybe you should be doing something else. It's not like we make the big bucks.
What's your most hated truism? Don't be shy. Rant away.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Editing Rant/Motivational Speech
I harbor a secret fantasy of one day editing my own speculative fiction magazine. Except, I’ve known enough real-life editors of both pro- and semi-pro SF/F/H magazines to know that I don’t really want all the hassle involved in essentially running a small business.
But, I always used to think that getting to pick stories out of the slush would be… well, fun.
Except now I know better. Yeah, you’re saying, Lyda… why is this news? Everyone always says that reading slush sucks. Well, guess what? Reading really great submissions sucks even more, especially when you have a limited number of slots to fill.
Thing is, I just got my submissions for the Writer-to-Writer course for SASE: The Write Place, where I’m acting as the speculative fiction mentor this year. I knew that I’d have to pick and chose my students for this group, but I had no idea it would be so HARD. I will admit that since this is the first time SASE has offered SF/F/H as an option, I didn’t really expect a lot of applicants. I sort of figured I’d be choosing to eliminate one or two. Instead, I had to cut half! There were twelve applicants and six spots.
Like, with any “slush” there were submissions that were fairly easy to dismiss for one reason or another. My main reason being that nebulous, “this didn’t quite grab me, alas” to the more obvious "this is an SF/F/H cliché." That still left me with nine really good, professional quality writers.
Because this group is meant to work together as a team over the course of three months, I had to start doing things that I imagine magazine editors have to do all the time – like, try to find a common theme. To that end, I bounced one submission because it wildly varied from the kind of writing the others were doing. Even though what this writer wrote was as high quality as the others, I felt that a better group cohesiveness could be formed if everyone was writing in basically the same genre.
That still left me with eight.
SASE required submissions to include a artistic statement, and all I can say is: Thank God/dess. The final cut came down to those people who sounded serious about their writing. Even so, my final “rejections” nearly broke my heart.
I have no idea how magazine editors do this day-in-and-day-out. I put my hand to my heart right now and I promise the universe that I will no longer complain when an editor holds on to my work for months and months. I now understand what’s happening. They’re tearing their hair out trying to decide among dozens of stories that are equals.
And when I get rejected? I’m not going to take it personally. I’m sure some of these applicants are going to get the letter from Intermedia Arts explaining that they didn’t get into the program and they’re going to cry, curse my name, and make voodoo dolls with my face on it and stick multiple pins into it. I can’t really blame them, honestly. Rejections always hurt. But, the truth of the matter is, that it may just be that they got bounced because I could only pick six, and I finally had to make very personal, arbitrary decisions about who appeared to be the most suited for the group.
I really think that’s part of why rejections hurt so much, particularly when you’re in that weird time in your career when you know your writing is reaching professional levels, but you can’t quite seem to make it in over the transom. You sense it’s all very capricious and unfair. And it is. The people who succeed, in my opinion, are those who take to heart the idea of not letting the bastards get you down.
Because once you reach a certain level of craft, it *is* all random. I may have rejected an applicant because an image didn’t work for me _today_. Send it tomorrow and I might think it’s brilliant. In a strange way, that’s what a person should take to heart. If it is all random, eventually your story will find its editor, as they say. And, even though it seems like the prime time to give up writing, it’s the worst. You’re getting close. Stay the course.
Besides, if I can do it, you can.
And don’t worry. I won’t be editing a genre magazine any time soon.
But, I always used to think that getting to pick stories out of the slush would be… well, fun.
Except now I know better. Yeah, you’re saying, Lyda… why is this news? Everyone always says that reading slush sucks. Well, guess what? Reading really great submissions sucks even more, especially when you have a limited number of slots to fill.
Thing is, I just got my submissions for the Writer-to-Writer course for SASE: The Write Place, where I’m acting as the speculative fiction mentor this year. I knew that I’d have to pick and chose my students for this group, but I had no idea it would be so HARD. I will admit that since this is the first time SASE has offered SF/F/H as an option, I didn’t really expect a lot of applicants. I sort of figured I’d be choosing to eliminate one or two. Instead, I had to cut half! There were twelve applicants and six spots.
Like, with any “slush” there were submissions that were fairly easy to dismiss for one reason or another. My main reason being that nebulous, “this didn’t quite grab me, alas” to the more obvious "this is an SF/F/H cliché." That still left me with nine really good, professional quality writers.
Because this group is meant to work together as a team over the course of three months, I had to start doing things that I imagine magazine editors have to do all the time – like, try to find a common theme. To that end, I bounced one submission because it wildly varied from the kind of writing the others were doing. Even though what this writer wrote was as high quality as the others, I felt that a better group cohesiveness could be formed if everyone was writing in basically the same genre.
That still left me with eight.
SASE required submissions to include a artistic statement, and all I can say is: Thank God/dess. The final cut came down to those people who sounded serious about their writing. Even so, my final “rejections” nearly broke my heart.
I have no idea how magazine editors do this day-in-and-day-out. I put my hand to my heart right now and I promise the universe that I will no longer complain when an editor holds on to my work for months and months. I now understand what’s happening. They’re tearing their hair out trying to decide among dozens of stories that are equals.
And when I get rejected? I’m not going to take it personally. I’m sure some of these applicants are going to get the letter from Intermedia Arts explaining that they didn’t get into the program and they’re going to cry, curse my name, and make voodoo dolls with my face on it and stick multiple pins into it. I can’t really blame them, honestly. Rejections always hurt. But, the truth of the matter is, that it may just be that they got bounced because I could only pick six, and I finally had to make very personal, arbitrary decisions about who appeared to be the most suited for the group.
I really think that’s part of why rejections hurt so much, particularly when you’re in that weird time in your career when you know your writing is reaching professional levels, but you can’t quite seem to make it in over the transom. You sense it’s all very capricious and unfair. And it is. The people who succeed, in my opinion, are those who take to heart the idea of not letting the bastards get you down.
Because once you reach a certain level of craft, it *is* all random. I may have rejected an applicant because an image didn’t work for me _today_. Send it tomorrow and I might think it’s brilliant. In a strange way, that’s what a person should take to heart. If it is all random, eventually your story will find its editor, as they say. And, even though it seems like the prime time to give up writing, it’s the worst. You’re getting close. Stay the course.
Besides, if I can do it, you can.
And don’t worry. I won’t be editing a genre magazine any time soon.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Signing/Reading + Personalized Books
Dreamhaven books in Minneapolis has very graciously invited me to do a signing/reading/Q&A on Friday the 13th of October, an auspicious date for a fantasy author. Light snacks and fizzy water will be served. As part of that they've also set up a webpage where out-of-town folks can order a signed and personalized copy of WebMage: link. In-town folks can do so as well for in-store pick-up if they can't make the event. I hope to see some of you there.
Likewise, signed copies of Naomi's and Lyda's books can be ordered there and probably Tate's and Eleanors's as well, though Dreamhaven doesn't currently have individual pages set up for them.
Likewise, signed copies of Naomi's and Lyda's books can be ordered there and probably Tate's and Eleanors's as well, though Dreamhaven doesn't currently have individual pages set up for them.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Just Curious... What's Your Process?
I’m faced with the prospect of writing for an anthology on a very tight deadline and it’s forced me to consider how it is that go about constructing a story. Under ideal circumstances (which this is not), I’m very much a “well, just start the thing, and see where it goes,” kind of writer. This kind of composing, however, I’ve discovered, often leads to dead ends. I have a large number of story starts in my computer files at home. Stories that I will probably never finish because I didn’t know where they were going and I ran out of steam.
I’ve found that if I’m going to finish a story, I need to know the end. Which probably makes me one of those crazy people who loves outlines. Except, I’m so “organic” (to use a polite word, probably a more accurate one is “disorganized”) that what I do instead is have a kind of brainstorming session with my partner (or with myself in a notebook) where I throw around ideas until I find one I can follow through to a satisfying conclusion. Once I’ve “talked it through,” I can start… and usually, though not always, finish.
As you can tell, I’m not a heavy plotter. I am one of those annoying people who likes their “characters to surprise them.” I think this can be a good thing in fiction. If your sense of your characters is strong enough, this kind of writing can (sometimes) lead to surprises that feel real and fresh to a reader. That’s not to say that I don’t think you can achieve this on purpose with lots of plotting, but I do think that spontaneous/organic/Muse-driven writing can feel more magical both to the reader and the author.
So I’m not an outliner, but I like to know my ending. Joan Vinge described this process as going on a road trip with a bunch of friends where all you know about the trip is your destination – you might have a map, but that doesn’t preclude changes in plans, flat tires, and any number of other things that can happen along the way.
My question is... what’s your process? How would you get a 10,000 word story written in two weeks?
I’ve found that if I’m going to finish a story, I need to know the end. Which probably makes me one of those crazy people who loves outlines. Except, I’m so “organic” (to use a polite word, probably a more accurate one is “disorganized”) that what I do instead is have a kind of brainstorming session with my partner (or with myself in a notebook) where I throw around ideas until I find one I can follow through to a satisfying conclusion. Once I’ve “talked it through,” I can start… and usually, though not always, finish.
As you can tell, I’m not a heavy plotter. I am one of those annoying people who likes their “characters to surprise them.” I think this can be a good thing in fiction. If your sense of your characters is strong enough, this kind of writing can (sometimes) lead to surprises that feel real and fresh to a reader. That’s not to say that I don’t think you can achieve this on purpose with lots of plotting, but I do think that spontaneous/organic/Muse-driven writing can feel more magical both to the reader and the author.
So I’m not an outliner, but I like to know my ending. Joan Vinge described this process as going on a road trip with a bunch of friends where all you know about the trip is your destination – you might have a map, but that doesn’t preclude changes in plans, flat tires, and any number of other things that can happen along the way.
My question is... what’s your process? How would you get a 10,000 word story written in two weeks?
Monday, August 14, 2006
Brood on it
In order to write good fiction, or even bad fiction, you have to be rigidly doctrinaire with yourself: every time you have creative thoughts, you have to squelch them; they are elements of counter-revolution posing as revolution, remnants of the old bourgeoisie. Making fiction is hard work, and requires discipline, loyalty, obedience, and above all teamwork.
--Paul Park
--Paul Park
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Pens and Notebooks
I would like to talk about pens.
Nearly every writer I know uses a word processor for the bulk of their writing, but nonetheless has some very strong preferences regarding pens and paper. (It's always pens. I don't know any writers who write in pencil.)
Mine: I am very fond of the Pilot Precise V7 rolling ball pens. (They must be the V7 pens, not the finer-line V5s.) Failing that, any rolling ball pen; I don't like ball point and I prefer rolling ball to felt tip. Paper must be unlined. I used to see these lovely little Rhino Journals everywhere: they were the perfect size and shape, with thick, off-white unlined paper. Then suddenly all I could find were Rhino Journals with lined paper. I haven't seen either kind in ages.
I sometimes flip covetously through the Levenger's catalog, but the sad fact is, I lose pens constantly. I wouldn't want a super expensive, beautiful fountain pen, because I'd hate myself when I inevitably lost it.
Edited to add: I have a theory that the Pilot rolling ball series is the most popular pen among writers. I have no idea if it's this popular among non-writers. Anyone know?
Nearly every writer I know uses a word processor for the bulk of their writing, but nonetheless has some very strong preferences regarding pens and paper. (It's always pens. I don't know any writers who write in pencil.)
Mine: I am very fond of the Pilot Precise V7 rolling ball pens. (They must be the V7 pens, not the finer-line V5s.) Failing that, any rolling ball pen; I don't like ball point and I prefer rolling ball to felt tip. Paper must be unlined. I used to see these lovely little Rhino Journals everywhere: they were the perfect size and shape, with thick, off-white unlined paper. Then suddenly all I could find were Rhino Journals with lined paper. I haven't seen either kind in ages.
I sometimes flip covetously through the Levenger's catalog, but the sad fact is, I lose pens constantly. I wouldn't want a super expensive, beautiful fountain pen, because I'd hate myself when I inevitably lost it.
Edited to add: I have a theory that the Pilot rolling ball series is the most popular pen among writers. I have no idea if it's this popular among non-writers. Anyone know?
Friday, August 11, 2006
Brood on it
Es mejor que tome un café, pues sólo los negros americanos abreban de las aguas negras del imperialismo yanqui.
[Better to drink a coffee, since only the corrupt Americans imbibe the black waters of Yankee imperialism.]
--Guillermo Sánchez de Anda, Yanga: El Guerrero Negro (1998)
[Better to drink a coffee, since only the corrupt Americans imbibe the black waters of Yankee imperialism.]
--Guillermo Sánchez de Anda, Yanga: El Guerrero Negro (1998)
Things I Learned Tonight
We had a meeting tonight, without a whole lot to critique. (Two of us handed out tonight, at least, so next time should be a bit busier.) We did manage to spend over two hours hanging out at the coffeehouse, though.
Things I learned at tonight's meeting:
* Hammerhead sharks are the most dangerous shark, and travel in pods of 150. Yet, they hunt alone.
* Tim Powers once almost set fire to his own house in a panicked attempt to get rid of a wasp nest.
* There is a water-skiing baby in Menominee, Wisconsin.
* There was an accident involving a zoo transport recently, but almost all the penguins survived, and so did the octopus. Officials commented that it was fortunate the first truck wasn't the one that overturned, as that one was carrying a bunch of live snakes, plus alligators.
* You can use raisins as fishing bait. Also niblet corn.
* Centipedes eat cockroaches. Therefore, if you live in New York City, you want to share your apartment with centipedes. This seems to me like a good reason to live somewhere else.
* If you go to the Como Zoo, you can watch the cougars trying to stalk any small children who break from the herd.
* There was a home-invasion burglary in Minneapolis this week in which one of the residents of the apartment defended himself with a sword. (A Samurai-style sword, which had been picked up as a souvenier while in Germany. The guy who used it had never studied swordfighting; he swung it like a golf club.) You can read the newspaper article about it here, if you're curious. Anyway, Lyda has a friend who lives in the same apartment building. He posted about it on his own blog, and using the coffeeshop's wireless, Lyda pulled up the entry as we were talking about it. We peered at the pictures and commented that we tend to forget just how much blood would be spewed all over during our fight scenes. (No one died during this burglary, but apparently one of the burglars left behind several fingers.)
Things I learned at tonight's meeting:
* Hammerhead sharks are the most dangerous shark, and travel in pods of 150. Yet, they hunt alone.
* Tim Powers once almost set fire to his own house in a panicked attempt to get rid of a wasp nest.
* There is a water-skiing baby in Menominee, Wisconsin.
* There was an accident involving a zoo transport recently, but almost all the penguins survived, and so did the octopus. Officials commented that it was fortunate the first truck wasn't the one that overturned, as that one was carrying a bunch of live snakes, plus alligators.
* You can use raisins as fishing bait. Also niblet corn.
* Centipedes eat cockroaches. Therefore, if you live in New York City, you want to share your apartment with centipedes. This seems to me like a good reason to live somewhere else.
* If you go to the Como Zoo, you can watch the cougars trying to stalk any small children who break from the herd.
* There was a home-invasion burglary in Minneapolis this week in which one of the residents of the apartment defended himself with a sword. (A Samurai-style sword, which had been picked up as a souvenier while in Germany. The guy who used it had never studied swordfighting; he swung it like a golf club.) You can read the newspaper article about it here, if you're curious. Anyway, Lyda has a friend who lives in the same apartment building. He posted about it on his own blog, and using the coffeeshop's wireless, Lyda pulled up the entry as we were talking about it. We peered at the pictures and commented that we tend to forget just how much blood would be spewed all over during our fight scenes. (No one died during this burglary, but apparently one of the burglars left behind several fingers.)
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Belated introduction + thoughts on self-promotion
My name is Naomi Kritzer. I have five books out, and two young kids at home -- Molly, who's five, and Kiera, who's three. I started writing seriously several years before having kids (and started writing back in middle school) but my professional writing career has overlapped heavily with my parenting. I sold my first novel on my older daughter's first birthday. I got the contract for the trilogy I just completed at almost exactly the same time that I found out I was pregnant with my younger daughter, and scheduled my book deadline accordingly. (I turned in my manuscript a month before my due date.)
Parenting definitely makes some self-promotional activities harder. I couldn't go to WorldCon when I had a baby due two weeks later. I couldn't leave my nursing toddler overnight, so any out-of-town cons I attended required that the whole family tag along. (My husband doesn't go to cons for fun. He'll do it to help me out, but he can think of much more appealing ways to spend Memorial Day weekend.)
I did a bunch of self-promotional things early on. I did a lot less for the most recent book; they're a time suck, I was busy, and I really hate some of this stuff, so it's easy to find excuses not to do it until it's too late anyway. I like going to cons; I like blogging (though on my personal blog, I mostly write about my kids); I like doing readings and signings, especially locally where arranging a signing at Uncle Hugo's is just a matter of calling and asking what weekends are free.
(As a side digression, let me just note that I love the two big local SF/F bookstores, Dreamhaven and Uncle Hugo's. They are amazingly supportive of local writers. They host signings and readings; they sell signed copies of our books by mail order; Dreamhaven will send an employee to off-site readings with a box of books to sell. They rock.)
I don't know. I've seen writers make themselves bestsellers through self-promotion. I've seen other writers who had awesome self-promotional ideas that didn't seem to translate into book sales. It's enough to make me throw up my hands and say, "Okay, screw it. I'll write what I want to write, and if it sells, it sells. And if it doesn't, I'll take up writing cookbooks, or juvenile non-fiction, or something totally different."
Parenting definitely makes some self-promotional activities harder. I couldn't go to WorldCon when I had a baby due two weeks later. I couldn't leave my nursing toddler overnight, so any out-of-town cons I attended required that the whole family tag along. (My husband doesn't go to cons for fun. He'll do it to help me out, but he can think of much more appealing ways to spend Memorial Day weekend.)
I did a bunch of self-promotional things early on. I did a lot less for the most recent book; they're a time suck, I was busy, and I really hate some of this stuff, so it's easy to find excuses not to do it until it's too late anyway. I like going to cons; I like blogging (though on my personal blog, I mostly write about my kids); I like doing readings and signings, especially locally where arranging a signing at Uncle Hugo's is just a matter of calling and asking what weekends are free.
(As a side digression, let me just note that I love the two big local SF/F bookstores, Dreamhaven and Uncle Hugo's. They are amazingly supportive of local writers. They host signings and readings; they sell signed copies of our books by mail order; Dreamhaven will send an employee to off-site readings with a box of books to sell. They rock.)
I don't know. I've seen writers make themselves bestsellers through self-promotion. I've seen other writers who had awesome self-promotional ideas that didn't seem to translate into book sales. It's enough to make me throw up my hands and say, "Okay, screw it. I'll write what I want to write, and if it sells, it sells. And if it doesn't, I'll take up writing cookbooks, or juvenile non-fiction, or something totally different."
Self promotion
I have done very little self-promotion in recent years -- partly because I haven't had a new novel out since 1993, but also because I discovered that I don't like pushing my work. Watching other writers, I haven't got the sense that most of their efforts to self-promote have worked. Maybe if you have a real gift for selling... Maybe if your book is easy to promote...
I do signing at cons, if I am asked. I figure this is a courtesy to the convention committee and the people attending, though my mother raised me to never write in books.
I do reading at cons and bookstores when I am asked, though I don't much enjoy readings. Again, I figure it's a courtesy to people who are interested in hearing me read. Over time I have learned that it's a good idea to read a complete short story that isn't very long. If the story is funny, that helps. At this point I have three or four sure-fire reading stories.
Back in the early 1980s, I decided that people were never going to get to know me through my fiction. I had published too little. So I set about making myself known through panels at science fiction conventions. I am a good talker and have plenty of ideas. Over time, I got over my shyness. My friend Patrick sat in the audience and told me after what I had done wrong. "Get your hand away from your mouth. Don't fidget so much. Make eye contact with the audience." I figured if I could impress people by talking at cons, maybe they would look for my stories.
The problem with this plan is that I've never gone to many cons outside the Upper Midwest. The people who came to know me from panels were mostly in the Twin Cities or attendees at Wiscon. Why didn't I go to more cons? Lack of money, laziness, shyness.
Since the early 1980s, I have published four novels and 20 + short stories and gotten a fair amount of recognition. Did my not very serious efforts at self promotion help? I'm not sure. But it doesn't hurt to get to know people in the science fiction field. I was drawn to people doing work I liked, who had opinions I respected.
I belong to one e-mail discussion list, which has made me better known in a small community, but a community that is important to me: writers, scholars and fans who are interested in feminist science fiction.
The other thing I do is work with the rest of the Wyrdsmiths to publish an annual chapbook and hold an annual publication party at Wiscon. This is a project I really believe in. How much does it to help promote our novels and other writing I can't say, but it's nice to have a handsome book that memorializes our writing group.
I figure postcards, refrigerator magnets, business cards and so on can't hurt and may help a little. They are fun to make, and they are a way of validating oneself as a writer.
I'm not arging with Tate. Her efforts at self-promotion may well work for her. It helps that her books are well written and fun.
The one thing that may work is to write well and keep writing. I've been paying attention to the science fiction writing community for 25 + years now. What I notice is -- the people who get known and stay known are the ones who keep on keeping on.
I do signing at cons, if I am asked. I figure this is a courtesy to the convention committee and the people attending, though my mother raised me to never write in books.
I do reading at cons and bookstores when I am asked, though I don't much enjoy readings. Again, I figure it's a courtesy to people who are interested in hearing me read. Over time I have learned that it's a good idea to read a complete short story that isn't very long. If the story is funny, that helps. At this point I have three or four sure-fire reading stories.
Back in the early 1980s, I decided that people were never going to get to know me through my fiction. I had published too little. So I set about making myself known through panels at science fiction conventions. I am a good talker and have plenty of ideas. Over time, I got over my shyness. My friend Patrick sat in the audience and told me after what I had done wrong. "Get your hand away from your mouth. Don't fidget so much. Make eye contact with the audience." I figured if I could impress people by talking at cons, maybe they would look for my stories.
The problem with this plan is that I've never gone to many cons outside the Upper Midwest. The people who came to know me from panels were mostly in the Twin Cities or attendees at Wiscon. Why didn't I go to more cons? Lack of money, laziness, shyness.
Since the early 1980s, I have published four novels and 20 + short stories and gotten a fair amount of recognition. Did my not very serious efforts at self promotion help? I'm not sure. But it doesn't hurt to get to know people in the science fiction field. I was drawn to people doing work I liked, who had opinions I respected.
I belong to one e-mail discussion list, which has made me better known in a small community, but a community that is important to me: writers, scholars and fans who are interested in feminist science fiction.
The other thing I do is work with the rest of the Wyrdsmiths to publish an annual chapbook and hold an annual publication party at Wiscon. This is a project I really believe in. How much does it to help promote our novels and other writing I can't say, but it's nice to have a handsome book that memorializes our writing group.
I figure postcards, refrigerator magnets, business cards and so on can't hurt and may help a little. They are fun to make, and they are a way of validating oneself as a writer.
I'm not arging with Tate. Her efforts at self-promotion may well work for her. It helps that her books are well written and fun.
The one thing that may work is to write well and keep writing. I've been paying attention to the science fiction writing community for 25 + years now. What I notice is -- the people who get known and stay known are the ones who keep on keeping on.
Told you there'd be an argument
Tate, what you say about the expense of these types of things is absolutely true, but I did not say they were free. I said of my rules, that I will also bend them for things that I enjoy doing, like cons, readings, and interviews. Because, I'm a social person and an escapee from the theater asylum.
Cons in particular cost time and money. But I went to cons before I ever started writing, and I would continue going to at least one or two if I quit writing tomorrow. Since that's the case, doing self-promotion at those con does not significantly increase my cost. It adds between 3-5 hours worth of work to a vacation weekend. And it's work that I enjoy almost as much as I enjoy writing.
There are cons that I do that I would probably not if I didn't write, but those cons also comp me as a professional for doing panels and I enjoy them. I will also note that those cons contacted me about being on programming rather than the other way around. So, there was work involved, hard work even, some done by our confederate Lyda Morehouse, some done by the con staffs. And let me take this opportunity to publicly thank both Lyda and the very hard working programming people for that. I have fun participating and I very much appreciate the work involved in arranging programming and I probably would not be going to them otherwise.
On to signings. I have three for WebMage.
One was arranged by Tate, thank you. One is at a local bookstore. I stopped in on my way to lunch one day and chatted with the owner for five minutes, something I do frequently anyway. As I mentioned below I make a point of visiting bookstores, which is one self-promotional tool I recommend unreservedly. The third involved a request from a bookstore's author-events person generated by a conversation we were having about arranging for me to sign stock. Total time invested, maybe fifteen minutes. There is a possibility of a 4th signing as well to be held in St. Louis. I'm going to be there to give a talk on SF as a teaching tool, an unsolicited invitation. Again, I was at the book store for another reason-in town visiting friends-and stopped to sign stock. While I chatted with the clerk, they invited me to sign when I was in the area. 3 minutes invested so far, though I haven't yet decided if I'll do it or not.
I've had invitations to do several more signing events around the Twin Cities after stopping to sign stock at various stores, but I have turned them down because the two I'm doing here, even in an area as large as the Twin Cities is probably more than my current level of publishing reputation will sustain.
Interviews. Okay, I will freely admit that some of the interviews took some work on my part. I had to write a press release, in this case, 500 words inverted pyramid format. It took about an hour. It would have taken longer if I didn't have a frequently updated file of pull quotes and bio. But those are things that every writer should maintain as they are useful in things such as book submissions and contract negotiations. I also had to send the press releases out. I used email and pulled the addresses off of the websites of papers that I thought might be interested. Another ten minutes per newspaper for thirty minutes more. The one television interview I did for WebMage happened because they called me.
What all this means is that, A, I've been very very lucky. And B, yes I do do a lot of self- promotion, but most of it is stuff that doesn't take much work, money, or time that I wouldn't be spending anyway. I also turn down quite a few opportunities that would involve work, money, and time away from writing.
Updated:
Oops, I realize I missed a couple of Tate's points.
Ads in the program book. I've only done this once, and then only because Tate did all the work and it was comparatively cheap. Ooh, there's another thank you. I might do it again under similar circumstance, but I really don't know. I'm not convinced that even under those circumstances it was a great idea for me (Tate may have a different take) except as a way to support a convention I already treasure, WisCon.
Business cards. Guilty as charged. ~$90.00 for 1,000 cards. They have the WebMage cover back and front and my website. They're wicked cool, and I did them as much because of that and the fact the my wife Laura wanted some for magnets as any other reason.
Wyrdsmiths Party and chapbook. Tate didn't mention this. It's a once a year event at WisCon where we throw a bash and launch the chapbook. Money, effort, and time. It's also cool, and chapbook costs included I don't spend much more than I do on throwing parties of the non-promotional variety, a not infrequent event in my life.
As I said in my original post. I would never say that a writer shouldn't do any promotion, just that you have to be very careful about how much and in what way. It's a cost benefit thing, and I think you could do much less than I do without it hurting your career.
Cons in particular cost time and money. But I went to cons before I ever started writing, and I would continue going to at least one or two if I quit writing tomorrow. Since that's the case, doing self-promotion at those con does not significantly increase my cost. It adds between 3-5 hours worth of work to a vacation weekend. And it's work that I enjoy almost as much as I enjoy writing.
There are cons that I do that I would probably not if I didn't write, but those cons also comp me as a professional for doing panels and I enjoy them. I will also note that those cons contacted me about being on programming rather than the other way around. So, there was work involved, hard work even, some done by our confederate Lyda Morehouse, some done by the con staffs. And let me take this opportunity to publicly thank both Lyda and the very hard working programming people for that. I have fun participating and I very much appreciate the work involved in arranging programming and I probably would not be going to them otherwise.
On to signings. I have three for WebMage.
One was arranged by Tate, thank you. One is at a local bookstore. I stopped in on my way to lunch one day and chatted with the owner for five minutes, something I do frequently anyway. As I mentioned below I make a point of visiting bookstores, which is one self-promotional tool I recommend unreservedly. The third involved a request from a bookstore's author-events person generated by a conversation we were having about arranging for me to sign stock. Total time invested, maybe fifteen minutes. There is a possibility of a 4th signing as well to be held in St. Louis. I'm going to be there to give a talk on SF as a teaching tool, an unsolicited invitation. Again, I was at the book store for another reason-in town visiting friends-and stopped to sign stock. While I chatted with the clerk, they invited me to sign when I was in the area. 3 minutes invested so far, though I haven't yet decided if I'll do it or not.
I've had invitations to do several more signing events around the Twin Cities after stopping to sign stock at various stores, but I have turned them down because the two I'm doing here, even in an area as large as the Twin Cities is probably more than my current level of publishing reputation will sustain.
Interviews. Okay, I will freely admit that some of the interviews took some work on my part. I had to write a press release, in this case, 500 words inverted pyramid format. It took about an hour. It would have taken longer if I didn't have a frequently updated file of pull quotes and bio. But those are things that every writer should maintain as they are useful in things such as book submissions and contract negotiations. I also had to send the press releases out. I used email and pulled the addresses off of the websites of papers that I thought might be interested. Another ten minutes per newspaper for thirty minutes more. The one television interview I did for WebMage happened because they called me.
What all this means is that, A, I've been very very lucky. And B, yes I do do a lot of self- promotion, but most of it is stuff that doesn't take much work, money, or time that I wouldn't be spending anyway. I also turn down quite a few opportunities that would involve work, money, and time away from writing.
Updated:
Oops, I realize I missed a couple of Tate's points.
Ads in the program book. I've only done this once, and then only because Tate did all the work and it was comparatively cheap. Ooh, there's another thank you. I might do it again under similar circumstance, but I really don't know. I'm not convinced that even under those circumstances it was a great idea for me (Tate may have a different take) except as a way to support a convention I already treasure, WisCon.
Business cards. Guilty as charged. ~$90.00 for 1,000 cards. They have the WebMage cover back and front and my website. They're wicked cool, and I did them as much because of that and the fact the my wife Laura wanted some for magnets as any other reason.
Wyrdsmiths Party and chapbook. Tate didn't mention this. It's a once a year event at WisCon where we throw a bash and launch the chapbook. Money, effort, and time. It's also cool, and chapbook costs included I don't spend much more than I do on throwing parties of the non-promotional variety, a not infrequent event in my life.
As I said in my original post. I would never say that a writer shouldn't do any promotion, just that you have to be very careful about how much and in what way. It's a cost benefit thing, and I think you could do much less than I do without it hurting your career.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Rebuttal to Kelly
Outside of writing the kind of book that a publisher decides smells enough like a blockbuster to invest serious money in, I agree that there is very little an author can do to boost his/her sales significantly.
But I think Kelly is being a tad dishonest when he talks about adopting a policy of doing only the promotional things that cost nothing and take no time away from writing. You don’t choose to do interviews because they’re fun. You get interviews because you’ve sent out press releases. Writing a good press release and, no doubt, assembling a press kit with professional photos (or jpgs) of yourself and your book cover, takes time and money. Gathering contact information for your local and area newspapers takes time. Stuffing the envelopes or sending the faxes takes time.
These things, however, are fairly simple to do. They don’t take MUCH time or MUCH money, but this is _not_ the complete laissez faire attitude the previous post seems to suggest.
Also, I think giving new authors the impression that book signings just magically happen is doing a disservice to them, as well. As a mid-list or brand new author, no one calls bookstores on your behalf and sets up signings. That means you, the professionally published book author, has to take the time to find out contact information for your local bookstores and make the arrangements yourself. You either cold call, or have to have the chutzpah to walk up to the information desk and ask for the person who handles their events coordinating. Then you have to sell yourself as a good bet – a money maker. A lot of the time, in my experience, at least, people hang up on you. I’ve had to do a lot of research to discover how to pitch myself – suggesting that I speak to a science fiction book club (if they even have one!) in conjunction to a signing, offering to do signings with a number of other authors, etc. (You’re welcome, Kelly.)
I know some authors who have set up their own book tours. I’ve never tried that, but I usually try to get a signing if I happen to be traveling to a new area of the country around the time when my book comes out. SF/F bookstores tend to be more welcoming but they’re few and far between. I’ve had a very famous Arizona independent bookstore suggest that I needed to pay THEM, if I wanted to have a signing in their store. Luckily, I was able to book the local Barnes & Noble instead.
All this, I should be added, can not happen the day your book hits the shelf. Most bookstores need several months lead time. For instance in June, I booked signings in October and November.
These things are fun, sure, but they take planning and a lot of work. They don’t just happen.
Plus, book signings don’t do you much good if no one shows up – or at least they stop being fun (not to mention the fact that you won’t be invited back for your next book). You need to promote your book signing after you arrange it, too, even if that just means compiling an email list of friends and begging them to come. Still... that takes time, planning, and, if you opt for something printed and mailed, money.
Going to science fiction conventions is fun, too, but they also cost money in registration fees (although many will waive or reduce fees if you volunteer for programming,) hotel costs, and expenses. In the Minneapolis/St. Paul area there are a ridiculous number of well-attended local conventions. So, it’s easy for Kelly to forget that there are lots of writers out there who have to travel a great distance to go to conventions. Even most larger metropolitan areas don’t have six or seven conventions a year that draw thousands of attendees.
Also, as someone who has traveled outside the safety of my own fandom, it’s not as easy to make a huge impression on strangers when you’re in a hotel room far from home with no friends to hang out in the hall with or who can introduce you to the “cool people.” Conventions like that start to feel like hard work. Plus, if you’re serious about using conventions as a marketing tool, you have to decide about advertising in the program book (which costs money and time and energy to design ads), and about things like whether or not you want to print up magnets or business cards or other promotional material to leave around the convention or hand to people as you meet them. When you start adding these things to travel, etc., conventions can become a pretty pricey investment.
A good convention can be wicked good fun, but it’s not free. It’s also a time investment. If you have a family, taking a weekend away can be a hardship or at least a hassle. Especially if the convention is not local. Plus, even if those aren’t considerations of yours, you still can’t just sit like a lump on a panel and expect people to rush to the dealers’ room afterwards to snap up copies of your book. You have to be interesting, or at least informed. There are many panels for which I actually do research, even when the subject matter is something I’m fairly familiar with. At the very least, I prepare some questions I can ask fellow panel members if we get stuck in one of those “now what do we talk about?" moments. Sure, you could say that’s the moderator’s job, but offering up a question or two can make you seem engaged and enthusiastic, especially if the question is a good one.
That’s work.
I agree that an author needs to seriously consider what they want to spent their time and money doing, but you should know that when Kelly says he’s doing very little, he’s actually doing a lot.
But I think Kelly is being a tad dishonest when he talks about adopting a policy of doing only the promotional things that cost nothing and take no time away from writing. You don’t choose to do interviews because they’re fun. You get interviews because you’ve sent out press releases. Writing a good press release and, no doubt, assembling a press kit with professional photos (or jpgs) of yourself and your book cover, takes time and money. Gathering contact information for your local and area newspapers takes time. Stuffing the envelopes or sending the faxes takes time.
These things, however, are fairly simple to do. They don’t take MUCH time or MUCH money, but this is _not_ the complete laissez faire attitude the previous post seems to suggest.
Also, I think giving new authors the impression that book signings just magically happen is doing a disservice to them, as well. As a mid-list or brand new author, no one calls bookstores on your behalf and sets up signings. That means you, the professionally published book author, has to take the time to find out contact information for your local bookstores and make the arrangements yourself. You either cold call, or have to have the chutzpah to walk up to the information desk and ask for the person who handles their events coordinating. Then you have to sell yourself as a good bet – a money maker. A lot of the time, in my experience, at least, people hang up on you. I’ve had to do a lot of research to discover how to pitch myself – suggesting that I speak to a science fiction book club (if they even have one!) in conjunction to a signing, offering to do signings with a number of other authors, etc. (You’re welcome, Kelly.)
I know some authors who have set up their own book tours. I’ve never tried that, but I usually try to get a signing if I happen to be traveling to a new area of the country around the time when my book comes out. SF/F bookstores tend to be more welcoming but they’re few and far between. I’ve had a very famous Arizona independent bookstore suggest that I needed to pay THEM, if I wanted to have a signing in their store. Luckily, I was able to book the local Barnes & Noble instead.
All this, I should be added, can not happen the day your book hits the shelf. Most bookstores need several months lead time. For instance in June, I booked signings in October and November.
These things are fun, sure, but they take planning and a lot of work. They don’t just happen.
Plus, book signings don’t do you much good if no one shows up – or at least they stop being fun (not to mention the fact that you won’t be invited back for your next book). You need to promote your book signing after you arrange it, too, even if that just means compiling an email list of friends and begging them to come. Still... that takes time, planning, and, if you opt for something printed and mailed, money.
Going to science fiction conventions is fun, too, but they also cost money in registration fees (although many will waive or reduce fees if you volunteer for programming,) hotel costs, and expenses. In the Minneapolis/St. Paul area there are a ridiculous number of well-attended local conventions. So, it’s easy for Kelly to forget that there are lots of writers out there who have to travel a great distance to go to conventions. Even most larger metropolitan areas don’t have six or seven conventions a year that draw thousands of attendees.
Also, as someone who has traveled outside the safety of my own fandom, it’s not as easy to make a huge impression on strangers when you’re in a hotel room far from home with no friends to hang out in the hall with or who can introduce you to the “cool people.” Conventions like that start to feel like hard work. Plus, if you’re serious about using conventions as a marketing tool, you have to decide about advertising in the program book (which costs money and time and energy to design ads), and about things like whether or not you want to print up magnets or business cards or other promotional material to leave around the convention or hand to people as you meet them. When you start adding these things to travel, etc., conventions can become a pretty pricey investment.
A good convention can be wicked good fun, but it’s not free. It’s also a time investment. If you have a family, taking a weekend away can be a hardship or at least a hassle. Especially if the convention is not local. Plus, even if those aren’t considerations of yours, you still can’t just sit like a lump on a panel and expect people to rush to the dealers’ room afterwards to snap up copies of your book. You have to be interesting, or at least informed. There are many panels for which I actually do research, even when the subject matter is something I’m fairly familiar with. At the very least, I prepare some questions I can ask fellow panel members if we get stuck in one of those “now what do we talk about?" moments. Sure, you could say that’s the moderator’s job, but offering up a question or two can make you seem engaged and enthusiastic, especially if the question is a good one.
That’s work.
I agree that an author needs to seriously consider what they want to spent their time and money doing, but you should know that when Kelly says he’s doing very little, he’s actually doing a lot.
Self Promotion, or How to Start an Argument Among Writers
I'm going to recycle and expand some points I made in Swordsmith's excellent publishing diary segment on agents over on Daily Kos because I think it's a topic worth talking about, and because I know there are those who will disagree vehemently.
Swordsmith's right that you're mostly on your own as far as book promotion goes when your first getting started, though I'd like to say that my WebMage publicist at ACE, Maggie Kao, has been fabulous and very responsive. I will also note that there are definitely some self-promotion things that are worth doing. But in general I think most self-promotion is a bad use of a writer's time. And that's for three main reasons.
Thoughts? Rants? Praise?
Swordsmith's right that you're mostly on your own as far as book promotion goes when your first getting started, though I'd like to say that my WebMage publicist at ACE, Maggie Kao, has been fabulous and very responsive. I will also note that there are definitely some self-promotion things that are worth doing. But in general I think most self-promotion is a bad use of a writer's time. And that's for three main reasons.
First, if you're a good enough writer to get something published, you're almost certainly a pretty damn good writer. This is for the simple reasons that the odds of success are lousy. That means you've got a highly specialized skill set for writing. So, one of the first things you have to ask yourself is: do you also have the skills for promotion? If not, you're almost certainly better off investing the time and effort you'd spend on promotion in making your next book irresistible.
Second, with the print numbers of a typical big press book there's really not a whole lot the author can do to make a significant dent in sales. Sure you can maybe move a few hundred copies by investing hours and hours in promotion, but a few hundred copies doesn't really matter that much when the print run is 40,000 and no matter what your personal production level, those hours are valuable.
Third, if you do move ten thousand copies of your first book by your efforts alone, you've put yourself in a dangerous box. With the way sales are tracked now the last thing in the world that you want is to have your sales numbers moving down from book to book, and that means that with your second book you then have to move more than that ten thousand copies by your own efforts, and more still with each successive release. And, unless you can work some kind of magic, that means you have to put more and more effort into promotion with each release and that leaves you less and less time for writing, which is presumably why you started out doing this in the first place.
My basic rules for promotion are that it should involve no money, no time, and no effort. I'm willing to bend the rules a little for pure promotion's sake, but not much. Some time, a little effort, a couple of bucks.
I will also bend them for things that I enjoy doing, like cons, readings, and interviews. I'm a social person and an escapee from the theater asylum. I like meeting new people and being out on stage. I would do these things even if I wasn't writing, though the book sure helps get interviews. But that's me.
If you're a writer who doesn't like those things, or if you're not good at them, don't feel guilty about keeping it to a minimum. Even if you do enjoy them, realize that it's a trade off. Time spent on promotion is time spent not writing.
I would never say that a writer shouldn't do any promotion, just that you have to be very careful about how much and in what way. As I said, I do signings, though not many, and readings, and a few conventions. And all of those things are more important for someone who is just getting started than an old pro.
One other thing I do and I would urge any writer to do is I stop whenever I'm passing a book store that's likely to have my stuff so I can make connections with the clerks and offer to sign stock. Likewise when I'm traveling which I do a fair bit for other reasons, I make sure to locate and visit book stores in the area.
All that said, there are, of course, going to be exceptions to this rule, instances where self-promotion made the difference in someone's career, but it's something to think about very carefully.
Thoughts? Rants? Praise?
Monday, August 07, 2006
8.5.06 Signing
Nice signing this weekend from a few of ours. I'll let you figure out folks' names from their books.
Psuedonymously Yours: An Introduction
I'm Lyda Morehouse, one of the founding members of Wyrdsmiths. I'm also one of the other members of Wyrdsmiths, but I'm not telling which one. You'll just have to guess.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
WHO AM I?
I keep sitting down to write this, and I keep getting up again.
Doug's nailed it, I think--dishes to be done, lawn to be mowed... oh, look: I've been meaning to dust the back sides of all the picture frames for weeks now! Except, in this case, it's less about not wanting to do the work--though I certainly hear him on that one--and more about how in the hell to sit down and write about myself. If you were into the escapism argument, you would say that's why I'm writing F&SF in the first place--to get away from myself. You'd be wrong, but you could probably build a solid argument around it.
No, the sad truth is, this has entirely too much to do with writing; it's about defining identity, trying to explore how the world informs the story, by way of the self. Its about answering the big WHO AM I?
No wonder I haven't been scrambling to write this.
Well, okay, there's the nominal answer: Sean M. Murphy.
A bit too casual, though; it assumes a familiarity with the reader that can't be assured. After all, you're over there and actually still reading, so you must want to know something else. (Ah! Quick! Throw it a bone or something!)
And while there is a lot of information I could throw at you (I like long walks on the beach, gin & tonics, and not being eaten by sharks), the real, overarching question would remain: Who... am... I?
And that, in part, is what I'm here for. Not insofar as I feel uncomfortable being myself, or feel that I need to constantly "explore" who I am--nothing so self-aware and coherent is involved in my writing process, anyway--but inasmuch as every writer begins by putting a story down and reacting to it, discovering, if they care to, how certain ideas make them feel, make them react. In essence, who am I in light of this? How would I change, given that shift in ideas?
On an even more basic level, the elemental fodder for stories comes from inside of ourselves; if not the worlds and their societies, certain the individuals that people them with all of their joys and their craziness, their loves and their pet peeves and their basic philosophies of existence. However indirectly, the exploration of an alternate world is terribly bound up in how we do and don't see ourselves.
Tate mentioned in one of her earlier posts that the reader is making determinations about who each of us is based on what they read, and, like it or not, that's true. I've turned in pieces at Wyrdsmiths that have made people shift their seats uncomfortably, and occasionally I've had to explain that I, too, shifted uncomfortably at coming across those ideas--but often those same ideas made the story stronger, and that is, in the final measurement, what counts. Its just good to have people around to remind you that the readers don't alway have an opportunity to sit down with you for a cuppa and a chat to figure out if you're a nutcase or not.
I am not, let me say definitively, a nutcase.
Just 100% Wyrd.
Doug's nailed it, I think--dishes to be done, lawn to be mowed... oh, look: I've been meaning to dust the back sides of all the picture frames for weeks now! Except, in this case, it's less about not wanting to do the work--though I certainly hear him on that one--and more about how in the hell to sit down and write about myself. If you were into the escapism argument, you would say that's why I'm writing F&SF in the first place--to get away from myself. You'd be wrong, but you could probably build a solid argument around it.
No, the sad truth is, this has entirely too much to do with writing; it's about defining identity, trying to explore how the world informs the story, by way of the self. Its about answering the big WHO AM I?
No wonder I haven't been scrambling to write this.
Well, okay, there's the nominal answer: Sean M. Murphy.
A bit too casual, though; it assumes a familiarity with the reader that can't be assured. After all, you're over there and actually still reading, so you must want to know something else. (Ah! Quick! Throw it a bone or something!)
And while there is a lot of information I could throw at you (I like long walks on the beach, gin & tonics, and not being eaten by sharks), the real, overarching question would remain: Who... am... I?
And that, in part, is what I'm here for. Not insofar as I feel uncomfortable being myself, or feel that I need to constantly "explore" who I am--nothing so self-aware and coherent is involved in my writing process, anyway--but inasmuch as every writer begins by putting a story down and reacting to it, discovering, if they care to, how certain ideas make them feel, make them react. In essence, who am I in light of this? How would I change, given that shift in ideas?
On an even more basic level, the elemental fodder for stories comes from inside of ourselves; if not the worlds and their societies, certain the individuals that people them with all of their joys and their craziness, their loves and their pet peeves and their basic philosophies of existence. However indirectly, the exploration of an alternate world is terribly bound up in how we do and don't see ourselves.
Tate mentioned in one of her earlier posts that the reader is making determinations about who each of us is based on what they read, and, like it or not, that's true. I've turned in pieces at Wyrdsmiths that have made people shift their seats uncomfortably, and occasionally I've had to explain that I, too, shifted uncomfortably at coming across those ideas--but often those same ideas made the story stronger, and that is, in the final measurement, what counts. Its just good to have people around to remind you that the readers don't alway have an opportunity to sit down with you for a cuppa and a chat to figure out if you're a nutcase or not.
I am not, let me say definitively, a nutcase.
Just 100% Wyrd.
Quickie
Just stumbled on this. It's a nice little series of diaries at Daily Kos giving an introduction to publishing with an emphasis on F&SF. I haven't had a chance to read through them all yet, but what I saw was sensible and to the point. The first is at:
http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2006/7/22/25014/0067
and at the bottom it has links to the rest.
http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2006/7/22/25014/0067
and at the bottom it has links to the rest.
Punching My Card
There are people who say things along the lines of, “If I couldn’t write, I don’t know what I’d do”, or “If I couldn’t write, they’d have to lock me up.” I admire these people and their deep-seated, seemingly DNA encoded need to write. I am also not one of them. But I like to think that I’m a writer nonetheless.
I find that I often prefer “having written” to actually writing. In other words, I like to look back over what I just spilled onto the page, rather than the actual spilling itself. Yes, I have my moments of “Wow! This is really flowing. This is awesome. What a creative rush!” The other 99% of the time, though, a good part of me would rather be snaking out the kitchen drain than sitting at the computer. This is because – no surprise to us Wyrdos – writing is work.
I hate work.
I have done more things than I can think of to avoid writing: mow the lawn, sort laundry, organize the garage, repair furniture, clean out the fridge, call my mother, call my mother-in-law (!), dust, make new play lists on my iPod, read really boring history (there is non-boring history, btw), read the gardening section of the newspaper (I don’t garden), pay bills, and write this piece, among others. Likewise, I have resorted to all of the above as an excuse to get up from the computer and not write. Not to brag, but I’m damn good at not writing.
And yet, I still sit my rear end down at my desk and try to wrestle words and ideas into the semblance of an engaging story. Why, given everything I go through to not write, do I still bother?
Because, for good or ill, it’s what I do. Could I live without it? Yes. I’ve taken a couple of year-plus hiatuses in the past for various reasons, and survived just fine without putting proverbial pen to paper. No wasting away, no swooning, no voices in the middle of the night begging to be given life. Life went on.
Except I discovered I wasn’t a very happy person (or very pleasant to be around, according to my wife :) when I wasn’t writing. It turns out I have stories I want to share. Characters I want other people to find fascinating, or irritating, or just plain cool. I have plots to twist and cliffs to hang the reader off of, if only to make them read “just one more chapter” before turning out the light. There are fight scenes to lay out, dammit!
The problem is, to do all of this, I have to write.
And that’s where the Wyrdsmiths come in. The great thing about this writer’s group is that they know. They can be comforting and understanding and nod their heads when you don’t hand out on your scheduled turn, but if you do it too often, they’ll call you on it. And don’t think you’re off the hook when you’re finished, either. People ask about revisions, about what markets you’re looking at, about how something like or unlike yours may or may not be selling. And they tell you what they think of your work, up front, to your face, and always with the intention of making it better.
They keep you honest.
And, just as importantly, they keep plugging away on their own stuff, making your excuses, procrastinations and rationales seem like so many, well, excuses, procrastinations and rationales. Despite kids, lives, jobs, tragedies and triumphs, they somehow manage to keep putting out the pages. They remind me that it can be done, no matter what. They set an example.
So, while I still may hate to work, and I still may concoct the occasional distraction to keep me from putting words on a screen, I keep coming back and punching my writer’s time card anyhow. Not because I need to, but because I want to.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Introduction
I am the oldest (and second newest) member of the Wyrdsmiths. I joined -- what? two years ago? -- when the group was already well established. My publishing creds include five novels and 30 + short stories. As Naomi mentioned, I have won awards -- the Tiptree and Mythopoeic Society Awards for my fourth novel, A Woman of the Iron People, and a Minnesota book award for my fifth novel, Ring of Swords.
I moved away from novels ten years ago, when I found I could not sell the sequel to Ring of Swords. Since then I have written short stories, novelettes and novellas. I think now and then about going back to novels, but I really do like short fiction. I especially like writing stories that are interconnected. They have the compactness of short fiction, as well as the richness of a novel, since the same universe is shown over and over from different angles and the same characters reappear.
I make my living doing accounting for a small nonprofit. My hobbies are birdwatching and car trips down two lane highways. I just moved into a new apartment and turned my desktop into a DVD player and am catching up on all the movies I haven't seen in the past umpteen years.
I moved away from novels ten years ago, when I found I could not sell the sequel to Ring of Swords. Since then I have written short stories, novelettes and novellas. I think now and then about going back to novels, but I really do like short fiction. I especially like writing stories that are interconnected. They have the compactness of short fiction, as well as the richness of a novel, since the same universe is shown over and over from different angles and the same characters reappear.
I make my living doing accounting for a small nonprofit. My hobbies are birdwatching and car trips down two lane highways. I just moved into a new apartment and turned my desktop into a DVD player and am catching up on all the movies I haven't seen in the past umpteen years.
Wyrdos Unite!
Thought I'd do my check in exercise here at the Wonderful World of Wyrd.
So, first, about me. I've been writing since 1991 or thereabouts. I joined the Wyrdsmiths sometime around 2000 with a half dozen short story sales under my belt as well as a day job gig as a science fiction writer for a National Science Foundation funded middle school curriculum project-a pretty sweet deal that has since gone to press. I had four novels written at that point, the last of which is my first novel publication, and about fifty short stories and poems. Since I signed up, I've written five more novel, four of which went through Wyrdsmiths and one of which, CyberMancy, is an Ace release for August 07. I've now got something like thirty shorts in print or forthcoming along with a couple poems and the two novels. And the Wyrdsmiths have helped enormously in that process.
Speaking of which, the Wyrdsmiths. The Wyrdsmiths are my fourth writers group. Like Lyda, I find the friendship of fellow writers and their insights into my work absolutely necessary to my process. Something no one seems to have mentioned yet, but which I also find vital is the industry gossip. It's not something I hear people mentioning very often, but writers are terrible gossips. We're all storytellers and we're all always looking for new stories and stories about our own and our industry are absolutely compelling. Not only that, but it allows us to share info about who is buying what and things like editor A loves talking mouse stories. Entertainment and market research in one happy package. If you're a writer and not in a group you might want to form one.
Which leads me to writers groups, the mechanics. Here are some things I talk about when I teach writing, things which I thought folks might be interested in.
Rules are good. Wyrdsmiths has them, and they help us function. So, figure out a set of rules up front. Make sure that all members are aware of the rules. Be willing to enforce the rules.
Critique. What is acceptable in terms of critique? On the critiquer side, you want to make sure that all comments are useful. On the critiquee side, you don't want someone trying to defend their work. Some groups don't allow the critiquee to speak at all. I personally find this too restrictive, and choose to allow the critiquee to ask clarifying questions about the critique as it's being given.
Time. Almost without exception your group will have a finite amount of time for meetings. Depending on the number of group members and their productivity you may need to set boundaries for how much time you should devote to each piece, etc.
Productivity. Are you going to have a minimum word count for all members? This can help get people motivated to write and keep the group active. Will you have a schedule for turning in? Can anyone turn in at any meeting? Will you have a maximum word count? How much work are you willing to do? It's been my experience that a group meeting monthly can usually handle pieces up to 10,000 words. One that meets biweekly like the Wyrdsmiths might want a cap in the 5-7,000 word range.
Genre. The most successful writers groups generally focus in a limited area. Poetry. Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror. Non-Fiction. Young Adult. Etc. There can be overlap, but it's not easy for most groups to look at radically different stuff.
Sales! Wyrdsmiths meets at a coffee house. This has two advantages. First, it's neutral ground. Second, when someone makes a sale or hits some other important milestone, they have to buy everyone a round. This provides a celebratory benchmark for the person who made the sale as well giving everyone else a reason to feel that the sale is a victory for them as well. If it's not managed well, success within a group can generate a lot of jealousy. Another group I was in met at members houses in rotating order. This also worked well.
Membership. You should have a process for inducting new members and for ejecting those who hurt the mission of the group. The former can be achieved either by creating an open group (anyone can join), or having some sort of audition/sponsorship process.
Size matters...for writers groups. I would suggest that 3 is the absolute minimum number, and then only if everyone is handing in regularly. 4 is better. 6 regular attendees is about ideal. I'd suggest a max of 8, though Wyrdsmiths has 9.
If you're still reading at this point, either you found something worthwhile in this post, or you skipped to the bottom. In either case, have a virtual gold star. In fact, take two, they're invisible. While you're at it, feel free to leave a comment or a question. One of us will be along to collect them and respond in the near future.
TTFN,
Kelly
So, first, about me. I've been writing since 1991 or thereabouts. I joined the Wyrdsmiths sometime around 2000 with a half dozen short story sales under my belt as well as a day job gig as a science fiction writer for a National Science Foundation funded middle school curriculum project-a pretty sweet deal that has since gone to press. I had four novels written at that point, the last of which is my first novel publication, and about fifty short stories and poems. Since I signed up, I've written five more novel, four of which went through Wyrdsmiths and one of which, CyberMancy, is an Ace release for August 07. I've now got something like thirty shorts in print or forthcoming along with a couple poems and the two novels. And the Wyrdsmiths have helped enormously in that process.
Speaking of which, the Wyrdsmiths. The Wyrdsmiths are my fourth writers group. Like Lyda, I find the friendship of fellow writers and their insights into my work absolutely necessary to my process. Something no one seems to have mentioned yet, but which I also find vital is the industry gossip. It's not something I hear people mentioning very often, but writers are terrible gossips. We're all storytellers and we're all always looking for new stories and stories about our own and our industry are absolutely compelling. Not only that, but it allows us to share info about who is buying what and things like editor A loves talking mouse stories. Entertainment and market research in one happy package. If you're a writer and not in a group you might want to form one.
Which leads me to writers groups, the mechanics. Here are some things I talk about when I teach writing, things which I thought folks might be interested in.
Rules are good. Wyrdsmiths has them, and they help us function. So, figure out a set of rules up front. Make sure that all members are aware of the rules. Be willing to enforce the rules.
Critique. What is acceptable in terms of critique? On the critiquer side, you want to make sure that all comments are useful. On the critiquee side, you don't want someone trying to defend their work. Some groups don't allow the critiquee to speak at all. I personally find this too restrictive, and choose to allow the critiquee to ask clarifying questions about the critique as it's being given.
Time. Almost without exception your group will have a finite amount of time for meetings. Depending on the number of group members and their productivity you may need to set boundaries for how much time you should devote to each piece, etc.
Productivity. Are you going to have a minimum word count for all members? This can help get people motivated to write and keep the group active. Will you have a schedule for turning in? Can anyone turn in at any meeting? Will you have a maximum word count? How much work are you willing to do? It's been my experience that a group meeting monthly can usually handle pieces up to 10,000 words. One that meets biweekly like the Wyrdsmiths might want a cap in the 5-7,000 word range.
Genre. The most successful writers groups generally focus in a limited area. Poetry. Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror. Non-Fiction. Young Adult. Etc. There can be overlap, but it's not easy for most groups to look at radically different stuff.
Sales! Wyrdsmiths meets at a coffee house. This has two advantages. First, it's neutral ground. Second, when someone makes a sale or hits some other important milestone, they have to buy everyone a round. This provides a celebratory benchmark for the person who made the sale as well giving everyone else a reason to feel that the sale is a victory for them as well. If it's not managed well, success within a group can generate a lot of jealousy. Another group I was in met at members houses in rotating order. This also worked well.
Membership. You should have a process for inducting new members and for ejecting those who hurt the mission of the group. The former can be achieved either by creating an open group (anyone can join), or having some sort of audition/sponsorship process.
Size matters...for writers groups. I would suggest that 3 is the absolute minimum number, and then only if everyone is handing in regularly. 4 is better. 6 regular attendees is about ideal. I'd suggest a max of 8, though Wyrdsmiths has 9.
If you're still reading at this point, either you found something worthwhile in this post, or you skipped to the bottom. In either case, have a virtual gold star. In fact, take two, they're invisible. While you're at it, feel free to leave a comment or a question. One of us will be along to collect them and respond in the near future.
TTFN,
Kelly
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Never Alone: Why I love Wyrdsmiths
THEY always tell you that writing is a solitary business. Frankly, I think that's a load of bull.
I have never written alone.
Yeah, sure, I'm sitting here at my desk without someone physically looking over my shoulder, but I know you're there... watching me... critiquing me... forming opinions about who I am by what I say and how I say it.
You're always with me.
Plus, there's also all those voices in my head (how can I be alone with all those people populating my mind??) – but that's for another post.
My point is that writing fiction for publication (whether it's in traditional print, electronic, or just written with the INTENTION of selling one day) is one of the most public things a person can do. Check out any book on Amazon.com, and it's difficult not to notice the presumption of a dialogue between the author's intent and the reader's response. Readers feel (and I think rightly so) that they had a right to having certain expectations met.
One of the things that having a writers' group has done for me is to hone my sense of what those expectations might be in my particular work.
I just got my revision letter from Anne, my editor at Berkley, for DEAD SEXY. I'm one of those oddball writers who actually enjoys the revision process. In fact, I would probably guess that if I had to chose between creating from scratch and revising something already written, I'd (often!) pick the later. (There are times, of course, when the rush of creating is intense.)
Anyway, even though Wyrdsmiths helped me dodge the bullets of "writing myself into a corner," plot holes, flat dialogue, and having a protagonist act out of character -- Anne’s final comments are written specifically with the audience in mind. She even says at one point (to paraphrase) "I think you ought to change this, because romance readers expect that."
There are some people, I'm sure, who probably think that by writing with reader's expectations in mind, I'm somehow cheapening my art. I disagree. The point of writing is to be read. If you disregard the reader, who are you writing to? I think good writers carefully consider their audience and write to them.
Wyrdsmiths are always the first to catch things that help clarify and strengthen my intent. If I use an unfamiliar concept or if I skim through a scene because I feel like it's self-explanatory (to me!), they always force me to slow down and take a look at what I say. Even after all the books I've written, I still am learning about how to best communicate my thoughts to readers. Stephen King in his book on writing talks about writing as time-travel telepathy. I've always felt that’s true, and the way I try to achieve perfect mind-to-mind harmony is by first filtering my words through the hive mind... er, I mean, the collection of minds that is my writers' group.
In other words, if they get it, you will.
I have never written alone.
Yeah, sure, I'm sitting here at my desk without someone physically looking over my shoulder, but I know you're there... watching me... critiquing me... forming opinions about who I am by what I say and how I say it.
You're always with me.
Plus, there's also all those voices in my head (how can I be alone with all those people populating my mind??) – but that's for another post.
My point is that writing fiction for publication (whether it's in traditional print, electronic, or just written with the INTENTION of selling one day) is one of the most public things a person can do. Check out any book on Amazon.com, and it's difficult not to notice the presumption of a dialogue between the author's intent and the reader's response. Readers feel (and I think rightly so) that they had a right to having certain expectations met.
One of the things that having a writers' group has done for me is to hone my sense of what those expectations might be in my particular work.
I just got my revision letter from Anne, my editor at Berkley, for DEAD SEXY. I'm one of those oddball writers who actually enjoys the revision process. In fact, I would probably guess that if I had to chose between creating from scratch and revising something already written, I'd (often!) pick the later. (There are times, of course, when the rush of creating is intense.)
Anyway, even though Wyrdsmiths helped me dodge the bullets of "writing myself into a corner," plot holes, flat dialogue, and having a protagonist act out of character -- Anne’s final comments are written specifically with the audience in mind. She even says at one point (to paraphrase) "I think you ought to change this, because romance readers expect that."
There are some people, I'm sure, who probably think that by writing with reader's expectations in mind, I'm somehow cheapening my art. I disagree. The point of writing is to be read. If you disregard the reader, who are you writing to? I think good writers carefully consider their audience and write to them.
Wyrdsmiths are always the first to catch things that help clarify and strengthen my intent. If I use an unfamiliar concept or if I skim through a scene because I feel like it's self-explanatory (to me!), they always force me to slow down and take a look at what I say. Even after all the books I've written, I still am learning about how to best communicate my thoughts to readers. Stephen King in his book on writing talks about writing as time-travel telepathy. I've always felt that’s true, and the way I try to achieve perfect mind-to-mind harmony is by first filtering my words through the hive mind... er, I mean, the collection of minds that is my writers' group.
In other words, if they get it, you will.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Introductions
The Wyrdsmiths were started in 1994 by Lyda Morehouse and Harry LeBlanc, who met at a writing class at the Loft. By the time I joined (in 1997), it was a well-established group and I had to audition to get in. At that point, no one in the group had any professional sales: Harry had sold a short story to the respected semi-prozine Tales of the Unanticipated, and Lyda had an agent. That was it.
Now -- well, Lyda has had five books published, has turned in a sixth, and is working on a seventh. Kelly McCullough had his first novel published in July. My fifth book came out in July. Harry has had multiple professional short story sales.
Of the writers in the group who aren't yet professionally published, Rosalind, Bill, and Doug have all completed novels since joining the group.
Our two newest members are Sean Murphy, who is currently unpublished -- and the multiple award-winning author Eleanor Arnason.
When we do critique as a group, everyone participates equally: published or unpublished, multiply-award-winning or not. We all know and respect each other's work. I'm hoping that everyone in the group (with some time to spare, anyway) will feel free to post on this blog. One of the things I've found incredibly valuable about this group is the diversity of opinion. We have very different writing styles; we also have different writing processes and different approaches to editing, we write in different subgenres (and in some cases completely different genres), we have different areas of expertise. (Doug and Kelly, for instance, are the people I most want to vet my combat scenes.)
This blog will probably be primarily about writing, reading, SF/F, publishing, and topics that are at least tangentially related to one of those, but we all reserve the right to write about anything we find interesting.
Now -- well, Lyda has had five books published, has turned in a sixth, and is working on a seventh. Kelly McCullough had his first novel published in July. My fifth book came out in July. Harry has had multiple professional short story sales.
Of the writers in the group who aren't yet professionally published, Rosalind, Bill, and Doug have all completed novels since joining the group.
Our two newest members are Sean Murphy, who is currently unpublished -- and the multiple award-winning author Eleanor Arnason.
When we do critique as a group, everyone participates equally: published or unpublished, multiply-award-winning or not. We all know and respect each other's work. I'm hoping that everyone in the group (with some time to spare, anyway) will feel free to post on this blog. One of the things I've found incredibly valuable about this group is the diversity of opinion. We have very different writing styles; we also have different writing processes and different approaches to editing, we write in different subgenres (and in some cases completely different genres), we have different areas of expertise. (Doug and Kelly, for instance, are the people I most want to vet my combat scenes.)
This blog will probably be primarily about writing, reading, SF/F, publishing, and topics that are at least tangentially related to one of those, but we all reserve the right to write about anything we find interesting.
New Wyrd: A Wyrdsmith's Anthology
Our writers' group, Wyrdsmiths, published a numbered, limited edition chapbook.
We are selling copies for 8.00 (plus $1.44 for shipping and handling) via our email account wyrdsmiths@gmail.com. If you would like your copy signed by me (or by all the contributors) please make note of that in your request.
Wyrdsmiths includes a number of published an unpublished authors. In alphbetical order, we are: Eleanor Arnason, William Henry, Douglas Hulick, Naomi Kritzer, H. (Harry) Courreges LeBlanc, Kelly McCullough, Lyda Morehouse, Sean M. Murphy, and Rosalind Nelson.
As you can see, it's a fairly stellar cast, if we do say so ourselves!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
