TOTU Benefit Tonight

For local folks:

TOTU Benefit Reading / Launch Party

We will host a reading by some of our authors at the Loft Literary Center on March 31, 2010, from 6:30 PM to 8:30 PM. The Loft is in Suite 200, Open Book, 1011 Washington Avenue South, Minneapolis, MN 55415.

Eleanor Arnason, Kelly McCullough*, John Calvin Rezmerski, and Bryan Thao Worra will read from their respective works.

$5 will be collected at the door. Our current issue, back issues, and all will be discounted at this event. You can purchase the current issue for only $11, any of issues 2-19 for $2.50, a new or renewed subscription for $24, or a copy
of everything, from #1 to the end of time for $199.

*Kelly won't actually be there as his health is still poor (though on the mend!), but there should be lots of other awesome folks, so please consider attending, if you can!

Dealing with the Blank Page

On Facebook, I got this question in response to the status update that I was beginning work on the sequel to ALMOST TO DIE FOR (NAL, August 2010):

How do you motivate yourself when you're staring at a blank page? It kills me every time.

The deeply personal reply to this is that I'm actually MORE afraid of working on the novel in progress than I am of a blank page. In fact, I actually open up a new document every time I sit down to write. I do that in order to lie to myself. The lie I tell myself is that this is just a draft, it's not part of the REAL novel, and so it's okay if it sucks. Otherwise, I would be too paralyzed to write.

I also write it in Georgia font, single-space so that it "looks" like a draft and not the real document, which is in Courier, 12 pt, double-spaced standard manuscript format. The really ironic, silly part is that, when I finish the scene or however much I end up writing that day, I usual cut and paste it EXACTLY the way I wrote it.

I could probably save myself some hassle if I'd just write in the "real" document. But my brain just can't. I feel too much pressure for what I write there to be perfect, you know?

Weird, huh?

But I think the thing that's really at the heart of this question is: how do you deal with STARTING something? For me the answer is: do a lot of pre-writing. These days, I almost never start a novel that I don't have an outline/synopsis for, which means I know the basic plot point, the beginning, middle and end. When I sit down to figure those things out, I pull out my trusty notebook and start scribbling. So I hardly ever start anything with knowing, at the very least, where I INTEND it to go.

Of course, it doesn't always go where I say it will.

And, just recently, I tried starting a short story without any idea of where it was going, and guess what? It's sitting in my hard drive completely stalled out. *sigh*

Alice in Wonderland

I went to the Tim Burton movie with three friends. General consensus: it's worth seeing, but not a good movie. Lots of special effects and good actors doing less than they are able to. Alan Rickman as the caterpillar. Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter. Great Tim Burton landscapes. Not nearly as good as Mars Attacks.

Another Reason to Fund NASA

A photo of the Eagle Nebula courtesy of NASA...

Volcanoes and stars! What is better? Though I guess I don't really want to be too close to either. But the images remind me why I write science fiction.

Photo of the Current Icelandic Eruption from Space

The plume to the left is the eruption. The plume to the right is (probably) where the lava flow reaches snow and ice.

The police are allowing tourists close to the eruption, and I have run across one ad on the Internet for a photography tour to the volcano. I am not much of photographer, but the idea of going is appealing. Eleanor hearts volcanoes, until they do something big and ugly.

Novel Survey Results II and III

Somehow I missed Jim C. Hines' publication of the novel survey results part II wherein he tackles the myth of the "overnight success" and "you have to know someone." Both myths -- BUSTED. Check out the results!

Here also is novel survey results part III in which he asks the question: "Can you boost your odds?" of being published by attending conventions, being in a writers group, having an advanced degree in creative writing, etc. The answer to this one is less clear, but interesting reading, none-the-less.

Thoughts in Response to Tate's Last Post

According to Patrick, everyone thinks they are or can be a writer, because they are literate and can read or write. Maybe we should give up the word writing for what we do and call it 'authoring.'

Writing a novel is not the same as writing a grocery list. Being a writer is not the same as being literate. Using the same word for both is misleading.

People are also confused about what makes a writer because there isn't an obvious credentialing process. You don't need a college degree or a license -- though many 'literary' writers get an MFA, which is useful for teaching.

For the sf community, the credentials are sales to a pro market, membership in SFWA, selling a novel, making a living at writing.

But one can write for a long time -- and write well -- before gaining sf pro credentials.

It took me a long, long time to call myself a writer, because I was uncertain what the word meant. I think I decided I was a writer after I won the Tiptree Award for my fourth novel.

I do my blog because I want people to be able to find me on the Internet; and I want the blog to be current because nothing says "not here" like an out-of-date website or blog. I don't get paid, but I figure it's a very modest form of self-promotion, similar to the postcards or bookmarks many authors get printed up when a book comes out.

Still** Irritated

The more** I think about the question my friend asked yesterday, the more I'm irritated by it. (For those of you just tuning in, the question was:)

When people who aren't writers suggest that if you hate certain parts of writing, maybe you shouldn't do it, do you want to wring their necks, or do you just think it's time to be less honest about your feelings?

Yesterday, I answered: wring their bloody necks. Today, I say: do it, twice. It's justifiable homicide.

Thing is, I suspect that one of the reasons my friend is getting this kind of dis is because she's at a place in her career that non-writers simply fail to understand.

For instance, I don't get asked this question, and, Goddess knows, I complain plenty. But, see, I get paid to write. You can complain about your JOB.

My friend is a working writer*, but she hasn't broken out in a way that non-writers get. There is no book spine with her name on it (not yet!), though she has plenty of other publishing credits. Thing is, there are people in my business who have won major science fiction/fantasy awards (like the Hugo) for short stories, and probably they get the same lack of respect this kind of question implies.

There's a really dismissive hierarchy in our business that we sometimes even apply to ourselves that goes something like this: the only REAL writers are those with publishing credits. But to be really real, you need to have published a novel from a respected NY publishing house, and then better if you're a NAME, someone who has broken the NY Times bestseller list, gotten one of your novels turned into a movie, or is an actual, honest-to-goodness household name, ala Dan Brown, Stephen King, Stephanie Meyer or J. K. Rowling.

That whole thing is so self-destructive and, frankly, delusional in a way that's extremely harmful to our business and those who work in it.

When I was a working writer without publishing cred, I made a conscious decision to stop saying (when asked what I did), "Oh, I'm a secretary, but I'm really a writer." (or worse, "I really WANT to be a writer.") I started telling people, "I am a writer." When they asked the inevitable follow-up, "Oh? Are you published?" I said, "Not yet." I actually had someone walk away from me at that point in the conversation because he deemed me no longer worthy of his attention.

Not only is that rude, but it's also wrong-headed. I think people feel justified in dismissing working writers because of this inane idea that anyone can write. People think that because they speak English, they can write. They're wrong. Writing so that you can be understood is actually a very specialized skill. Writing a rip, roaring story with a beginning, middle and end is a phenomenally specialized skill. Anyone who has actually put their butt into a chair and started that "great American novel" realizes in a heartbeat just how difficult it is.

People who never have tried think it's easy, and therefor completely dismiss the working writer in the early stages of her or his career.

Other writers have been known to dismiss fellow working writers for the complete opposite reason, which is, because they know how hard it is to break in, they have no respect for anyone who hasn't done it (or, interestingly enough, those who fail to continue to do it as well.) For them, I think it's a knee-jerk (heavy on the jerk) reaction to "there but for the Grace of God," however, this response is also rude and wrong-headed.

* A writer is someone who writes. For me the definition of a working writer is someone who writes, finishes what they write, and sends it out. You have the right to call yourself a writer at any point in your career, IMHO. You should also have the right to complain about your job at any point in your career, IMHO, even if you haven't gotten a paycheck yet.

I know that, for me, one of the pivotal points in my career was when I joined the National Writers Union. I was suddenly surrounded by (mostly journalists, but) people who not only made some kind of living writing, but who also demanded to be paid a decent wage for it. This was an eye-opener for me, because previously, like most Americans, I tended to think of writing as something people just did for the fun of it. I thought I was savvy enough to understand that you didn't get paid very well to write and so I should always think of writing as my bit on the side, as it were. But the National Writers Union taught me the value of my work. I should demand pay for what I do, because it *is* a skill, like any other. You wouldn't expect a plumber to work for free; you shouldn't expect a writer to either.

Which is why, actually, I sometimes have a hard time with what I'm doing right now: blogging. With all due respect to my friend Jo Walton and her like-minded colleagues, I'm NOT one of those pixel-stained radicals that believes information wants to be free. Yet, I understand that the market demands it. I believe, however, that giving content away undermines my value as a writer. I think one of the reasons people feel free to dis my friend and all other working writers like her is because everyone *is* a writer these days. You can read a thousand blogs (and stories and novels, for that matter,) for free, and be fairly entertained. People work a lot harder on their blogs than you might think -- the good ones, anyway. All that labor is unpaid. I think that's a crime, or at very least a bloody shame.

If attitudes about writers changed significantly, I might feel differently. For instance, if people start respecting working writers regardless of a paycheck, then paychecks wouldn't matter.

But they do. I'm afraid, my friend, that money still gets the last word, and that is: you're not a real writer until you get paid to do it (and even then, only the really BIG paychecks count.)

-----
**For earlier much less incendiary post, see my blog.

When Your "Best" is Good Enough

Kelly made a post last week that talked, among other things, about writing the best book you can right now. While I agree with that sentiment, I want to add a caveat:

Yes, you need to write the best book you can right now; but you also need to know when it is good enough.

Look, a book can always be better. Tighter, smoother, cleaner. There are always scenes that could use another pass, lines of dialogue that could use tightening, details that can be honed, characters that could "pop" more. There is always something you can do to your book, always something you can find wrong that needs fixing.

I spent ages revising and tweaking Among Thieves, going over it and over it until I was sick to death of the thing. When I looked at it, all I saw were the holes: there was too much dialogue in these chapters, or too long of a fight scene over there, or some better way to move the plot forward in another section. Even when I sent it out, I saw a mixture of strenghts and weaknesses at best. I figured the book would be my "get in the door" novel -- the one that an editor would look at and say, "This isn't quite what we're looking for, but I'd like to see what else you've got."

It sold almost immediately. And had minimal revisions.

So, was I wrong? Was the book perfect? No, of course not. But it was done.

I'm the first to admit that AT still has some holes in it. But I've also come to accept that NO book is perfect, especially in the eyes of its creator. We see first what we want in our head, and then what we put on the page, and there is a gap between the two. That gap may be small or it may be large, but it's there. The story or book isn't the perfect child we envisioned. Well, as a parent, let me tell you: there are no perfect kids. And there are no perfect stories, either.

So, yes, you need to write the best book you can write right now. But you also need to realize that it will never be the absolute "best" book you can write right now. There will always be something wrong, some flaw you want to brush over, some edge you think needs just..one..more...pass with the honing stone. And you may be right. But at some point, it needs to be done.

It can be hard to know when that is, but that's part of learning how to be a writer, too. Trusting your gut helps, as does a healthy dose of criticism towards your own criticism. Readers you trust are a huge boon. But mainly, learn to recognize when you are just swishing words and paragraphs around to swish them around. Learn when your current best is good enough.


After all, you want to leave your editor something to do, right? :)

Good Quote from Charles Stross on Firedoglake

It’s hard to forecast the future because it’s so fluid, and there’s so much more of it than there used to be!

We aren’t a monoculture any more. Nor do we consume common mass entertainment media. We’re appallingly diverse. And there are nearly seven billion of us, with more than a billion in the developed world and another 2-3 billion in countries that will be developed within a couple of decades (unless things go horribly wrong).

Consider recreational media. In the 19th century you had theatre, opera, music (mostly home-played), newspapers, novels, and maybe cock-fighting or bear-baiting or something. And sports.

Today you’ve got all of the above, plus: cinema. TV (fifty-plus channels of it.) Radio (ditto). Computer games, be they casuals played on a phone or console or mind-numbingly complex MMOs played on a computer. We’ve got the internet which explodes into blogs like this, chat, news sites, video via YouTube, and so on. And sports nobody had heard of a century ago — synchronized swimming, anyone?

In general, the dynamic of progress is to add complexity, to stick new items on the buffet rather than deleting old ones.

So the future we’re trying to predict is constantly getting denser and more gnarly.

Charles Stross

The Firedoglake book forum discussed the most recent Merchant Princes novel by Charles Stross yesterday via email with Stross attending and very famous economist Paul Krugman moderating.

I am sick with envy.

In spite of this, I am going to post Krugman's neat quote on science fiction.

...What drew me to science fiction, more than four decades ago – before I got into economics, and in fact part of the reason I went into economics – was a certain kind of possibility: the creation of fictional worlds, different from our own but not too different, as a way to play with ideas about who we are and where we’re going. And I do mean “play” – not being too serious, mixing ideas about society, economics, politics, and so on with derring-do and romance is crucial to keeping things light enough to tolerate.

This is the kind of science fiction I like to read and want to write, though I wouldn't have added "not too different." Seriously strange can be good. But I agree about the playfulness and the romance.

The Future of Publishing, Forwards and Back

A fun bit about the Future of Publishing, from DK Publishing, by way of SF Signal:

Peter Watts

Via facebook -- the Canadian science fiction writer Peter Watts has been convicted of noncompliance with an order from a US customs guard. He did not lie down on the ground when the guard ordered him to, but kept asking, "What is this about?"

Per Watts, the guard had already hit him in the face, and he was feeling a little dazed.

The crime is a felony. He could be in prison for two years.

He was not coming into the US, for what it's worth, but was leaving.

A disturbing story. These kinds of things usually happen to brown people and poor people, not white people with PhDs. It makes me think I don't want to go through US Customs.

I certainly would tell people who want to visit the US that they are coming at their own risk.

Friday Cat Blogging

What deer in headlights?



Come closer, come closer little rabbit.



One of these days I'ma blast you with my laser eyes.



Yeah, laugh it up, you'll pay later.

Confidence

I've been thinking about Sean's post on confidence. I just reread it. I'm not sure I have anything useful to say, but I'm going to try anyway.

I used to do a panel at Minicon called "Psychological Survival for Science Fiction Writers." I had to give it up, because people would leave the room in tears.

Why? Because I would start by discussing what I saw as the reality of being a writer. I see it as not easy. Most of us do not have careers like William Gibson, who wrote a series of dazzling short stories for Ellen Datlow at Omni, then published Neuromancer, which won the Hugo, the Nebula and the Phillip K. Dick Awards. This is pretty good for a first novel. He went on to publish a number of highly respected books. As far as I know, they have sold well. I don't know if they are all in print, but you can get all of them new at Amazon.

Most of us write novels that publishers don't buy, then -- if we are lucky -- novels that do get bought, but don't break out. Maybe our publisher drops us. Maybe we have to change our names to continue writing. Instead of sudden success we have slow gains -- if we are lucky. For most of us, it's not a safe living. It may not be a living at all, but something we do in addition to a day job.

We do get positive reinforcement: the praise of friends and relatives when we are starting out, then publication, maybe good reviews or nominations for awards, maybe the awards themselves, the respect of other writers, readers who come up at conventions and say, "I like your work."

The problem of confidence is twofold. How do we deal with times when we are getting negative feedback? And how do we enjoy -- really enjoy -- our successes? The second may not sound like a big deal, but it is. When you are feeling frustrated with your career, it can be easy to undervalue the good experiences and focus on what isn't happening.

Part of it is personality, Doug says he simply believes in his work. Lyda says the same. I grew up on stories of avant garde writers and artists struggling with self-doubt. It was part of being a writer or artist, especially a good writer or artist, or so I thought. As a result, I am rather too fond of angst. I don't recommend it.

When I did my panel, I would tell people to take care of themselves physically: exercise, eat well, get sleep, be moderate about the use of alcohol and other mood altering substances. I am crazy about coffee, but am currently moving over to tea.

And nurture yourself psychologically. If you are not a naturally confident person, work on positive thinking. Work on enjoying life.

The world is full of people who want to be writers. A comparatively small number actually become serious and competent practitioners of the writing craft. That's a considerable achievement. Publishing -- any publishing -- is an achievement. The respect of one's colleagues is an achievement.

With all its frustrations, writing can be fun. You have a really neat idea. You write a really good scene. You are doing something that many, many people want to do.

Enough of this. I have to do my taxes.

2009 Tiptree Winners Announced

Greer Gilman's Cloud and Ashes: Three Winter’s Tales and Fumi Yoshinaga's Ooku: The Inner Chambers are the winners of the 2009 James Tiptree Jr. Award.

Locus Online: Gilman and Yoshinaga Win Tiptree.
Tiptree website.

Things Smart and Interesting

Kristin Nelson doing Q&A: parts one and two.

The ever fabulous Jackie Kessler on never giving up.

S.C. Butler on writing what you don't know.

Justine Larbalestier on bad advice on getting published.

Ruthanne Reid on the secret to getting published, which references Lilith Saintcrow on never knowing if something is good enough. While I think these are both smart posts for many writers they both make me want to point out that you actually don't have to be insecure about your writing either to get better or to succeed. It's perfectly possible to know that something is not as good as you could make it in ten years when you're a better writer and to still feel that that's okay.

Put another way: today, I will write the best book I can write. When it is finished I will send it out and keep working so that tomorrow's book will be better. I like writing. I think that it is fun. I like most of what I write even while I'm writing it, and I often like it more when it's done and I'm getting ready to send it out. I even usually like it when I look back on it ten years later, though I almost always find that it's not nearly as good as what I'm doing now. That's because despite being content with what I'm writing, I'm also constantly striving to get better. So far the system has produced more than 20 stories and 5 novels that have found professional publication. It's okay to like your work and be confident in it, really and truly.

And, just because it's bizarre: The Star Wars story as Icelandic Saga.

Novel Survey Results (Hines)

Jim C. Hines published the first part of his novel survey results over on LJ: http://jimhines.livejournal.com/496760.html. Check it out, it's fascinating stuff. I was surprised/not surprised how perfectly I fit the survey results. (I published exactly 1 short story before professionally selling my novel, submitted through an agent, etc.) Though it seems more people have sold fantasy, and more recently than me.... but all and all, very interesting.

Wishing Out

I have just come back from my first run of 2010, so I can now write this post without (as much) hypocrisy.
___

Writing is primarily a sedentary activity. Now, before you leap down my throat with examples to the contrary, take a good look at the words already on their way up it: I said "primarily," and I'll stick by that. It is technically possible to write while walking or gardening, via a recording device or a speech-to-text translator such as Dragon, but I know no one who does. That's not to say the time spent in other activities doesn't produce fantastic writing, and is often time spent thinking about writing--I would even argue that spending time otherwise engaged is essential to writing. But the putting words on paper part--that's pretty much sitting at a keyboard and typing for hours. Which isn't the best for your body.

You know where I'm going with this.

I'm as guilty as anyone of avoiding exercise, and probably more so. Anything that takes precious time away from writing, I argue to myself, must be cut out of the schedule. Or it's too cold outside. Then it's too hot. My schedule doesn't give me a lot of flexibility to exercise in the morning, and by the evening time, I'm too frazzled to want to do anything but crash. Weekends are my only free time (ha ha ha, ow, my side, it hurts), and I shouldn't do anything that takes away from the little time I can spend with my wife. Plus, I have chores and household responsibilities. And work. Don't forget about work.

Sound familiar?

Yeah, we're writers. Excuses are easy for us... But it isn't called "wishing out", is it? Because it takes work.

Writing happens in my brain, and that organ is intimately connected to my body. If my heart doesn't keep a steady flow of fresh oxygen to my brain, my brain won't have the energy to invent new ideas, or thoroughly explore the worlds I want to write about.

We sleep better when we've exercised, and NOTHING gets my writing brain ready to go like deep, restful, dream-laced sleep. It's like spending the whole night priming the well--there's plenty of fresh, cold water on tap as soon as you wake up.

Getting plenty of regular exercise is an important part of writing (and living) healthfully. Whether that is walking during your lunch break, or scheduling time at a gym, or having a few friends that you run with, or starting each day with half an hour on Wii Active, we need to set time aside to keep our bodies refreshing and replenishing our minds, if for no other reason than improving our capacity for telling a good story.

Friday Cat Blogging

Intrepid explorer cat explores intrepidly



Fat cat slowly and grumpily becoming less fat



I know where you sleep monkey-boy!



I spy with my laser eye…

Reassuring Places

This is a comment by Dancing Liza to an earlier post. I thought I'd copy it here, so we can answer the question, if we chose to:

I was reading a writing magazine the other day and they did a feature asking writers if they had any "essentials" they kept in their writing spaces and/or any pre-writing rituals that helped encourage them to get down to business. For example, one man kept a little aquarium on his desk that he said helped him feel so tranquil, he could just shut off the rest of the world for awhile in order to write. If anyone is game, and just for fun, I'd love to know if any of you have any objects or practices that help you stay focused?

I like to write in coffee shops. Most of the time, they are pretty quiet -- people reading and writing, maybe talking, but not usually loudly. I enjoy the low level activity. And coffee house customers and staff leave me alone. It's not a place where the person next to you tries to start a conversation.

A place with people who are not bothering me, where I can always get another cup of coffee or a scone, is reassuring.

Today, when I was doing the final read through of a short novel, I stayed home and stopped from time to time to make tea or check my email or count the buds on my hoya. I have found nine clusters of buds, as well as one cluster of open flowers. Flowers are reassuring. So is tea.

I think what I'm doing makes a difference. A final read through requires focus, which means I am more likely to be comfortable at home, where I can control the noise level -- music yes, music no -- and tell my partner to go out or be very quiet. (He's asleep on the couch right now.)

A coffee house is a good place for a first draft or early revisions. It's a different kind of environment, more open, less in my control, less me and my habits.

Why Do You Hate Verbs, Artist?

Last night I couldn't find the paperback novel I've been reading, so I picked up a book that I'd taken out of the library. It's by someone I consider a colleague and happens to be on the Nebula ballot this year.

I started reading it. Then I threw it down in disgust.

The plot sounds awesome. The prose is beautiful. But there is a distinct lack of verbs.

Why? For the love of God, why, I ask you, do people feel that it's artistic or atmospheric to have sentences (no, technically FRAGMENTS) without verbs? I absolutely hate that stylistic choice.

Though I've had this argument before -- and probably technically lost it the moment books without verbs were published and went on to win Nebulas and such -- I still maintain that writing without verbs is lazy. Yeah, yeah, poetry is built on lovely fragments. But novels aren't meant to be poetry, they're meant to be stories. Stories have action, and action words are verbs.

I'm okay with the occasional fragment, honestly, I am. But six or seven fragments to a page, not so much. (Note clever use of fragment for emphasis here.)

Seriously, as someone who writes first person almost exclusively, I understand the need to establish "voice" and it is true that people think in fragments. However, writing is artificial. Being in your head is too confusing; that is why I read your book. Writing is the process of making story make sense and pulling order from chaos. Part of that deal is providing the structure of sentences, which have a subject and a verb (though one can be implied on occasion -- usually the subject, not the verb.)

What I think bothers me most of all is that somehow this kind of sloppy writing has become a shorthand for "artistic." You drop a few verbs and people are all, "Wow, you're deep and meaningful." Except I suppose, more correctly, they'd simply utter, "Deep. Meaningful." because then there would be no verbs.

Why do you hate the English language so, Artistic Writer? WHY?

AAAAAAARRRRGH!

Smart Things

Charlie's ongoing series on publishing misconceptions—book length.

Lilith Saintcrow on why she loves this job.

Claire Light on the structure of story.

Book Cover Design - A Quick Look

Having sold a book*, people are of course already asking me about cover art. Do I know what it will be? Have I seen it? Do I know when it will be done?

Let me answer these questions in order: No. No. And...no.

And, in anticipation of the next question, no, I don't know if I will have any input on it. Let's just say that, having spoken to other authors, I'm not going to hold my breath on that one.

However, if you are interested in what goes into a book cover's design, Lauren Panepinto over at Orbit was good enough to make this high-speed video about the design of Gail Carriger's book "Blameless." It's a cool little video. (Link taken from SF Signal)



* = I have a title and tentative release date, btw (which I believe I neglected to post here): AMONG THIEVES is due out from ROC (Penguin), April of 2011.

Confidence and Confidants

This is not a post about writing--at least, not at its core. It matters very much to the process of writing, though, so I'll share it here.

______

It's been a long time since I've written on this blog. More than a year. I don't bring that up as a commentary admitting to my absence; it's germane to why I'm writing here today.

I didn't write on here because I wasn't writing at all. Last year I struggled a great deal with a lot of things, most of which I'll talk about here in time, all of which were part of the Gordian knot I'd tied myself into. But at the root of why I stopped writing was this: I had lost confidence in myself.

One of the most fundamental reasons for belonging to a writers group like Wyrdsmiths is to have the support and encouragement of your fellow writers around you. And they have been there, not pressing me, letting me have and take whatever time I might need. I certainly wasn't burdening the group with work to critique.

For those of you who don't know me well, I should note that I've been writing for 20 years now. I identify as a writer, and consider writing to be core to my sense of self, more than almost any other trait. And I almost quit writing last year, for good.

Not that it would have been good. I am a fundamentally happier person when I am writing.

I've been working on a particular novel project for twelve years now, off and on—mostly off. It is a large project, somewhat overwhelming, and a project of its scale brings its own complications and dangers to the table: “Am I good enough to write this book? How can I possibly keep track of a world this large, with so many characters and complications, et cetera? How will people react if I retell a story they have so much grounded upon?” A piece of this novel was what I submitted to Wyrdsmiths when I was first trying to join the group years ago, and over the years I have come back to it and turned in pieces of it for critique.

Along the way, I've collected lots of opinions on it, ranging from delight to disgust. Several more experienced writers, in whom I have a lot of trust, suggested that certain elements of the novel would need to change or else it wouldn't be publishable. That was difficult to handle. Not only did I know from reading other novels that had been published that some of those styles and elements had been used successfully, but it made me stop and scrutinize the structure of the piece in a way that didn't help me continue on to complete the story. I started to feel that the reason I couldn't use a particular style or phrasing was that I wasn't good enough to do that, unlike Author A who had already established a name.

I'm not saying there isn't some truth to that nugget about publishing. I'm saying it affected me in an unhelpful way.

Perhaps the least helpful response when faced with an already overwhelming project is thinking that you are not up to the task. I turned to other writing to improve my craft. I wrote short stories—a very good way to focus on tightening your craft, by the way; shorter word count, fast turnaround—and found that there were innumerable things wrong with what I was doing. I tried to work on other novels, and found that problems persisted. Rejection is discouraging, and as writers we have to shoulder a lot of it.

Add to this downward trend that I would rather be writing than doing almost anything with my life. I enjoy writing for weeks and months at a time—and yes, I have done so, and finished novels before. I know that I could do this full-time. And I see that future becoming less and less clear, less probable, with each passing year.

I stopped believing in myself, and started letting all the baggage accumulate. I stopped loving the process.

Was the frustration of writing and the associated feedback the only thing that sapped my confidence? No, not by a long shot. I cut myself down in plenty of other ways, and I'll get to some of those in due course. But the key is that as a developing writer, I came at the critique process wrong: I cared too much what others thought.

Before you jump: Critique is essential to improving your work. Feedback from other writers can be one of the most valuable assets you ever encounter. But you must find the proper balance between listening to what others think and doing what you believe in. You must believe in the story the way it works in your own mind, and you must believe in yourself as the person who can tell that story.

No, really. You must be confident.

If you don't believe in the story, you won't have the energy necessary to sit down all those days and hours to write it. You won't care about it in the way that will keep you coming back, even when it's difficult. You won't be able to pour your energy into it, because you won't actually believe it is worth investing your energy in.

And if you don't believe in yourself, you're building yourself into a house of cards. It's not pretty when your house falls down around you. Every writer has things they struggle with. Every writer gets better as they work on their craft. And every writer can only do as well as they are able to right now. You can't just wait and hope you'll get better. Writing takes practice. Write this book now. Sure,maybe your craft will be better when you write the next one, or the one after that. But if you don't write this one, you definitely won't get any better, and you won't have anything to show for it, either.

The moral of the story? Your fellow writers are a wonderful resource for you as a writer—they understand some of the stresses and difficulties you will experience along the road of writing. And they are, generally, are trying to help* when they give you feedback on a story. It's up to you to find the right balance between listening to what they have to say and holding on to that vision of the story that got you so energized to write it in the first place. It's okay for a story to change, for feedback to alter it, but not if it means you don't care about the story any more. That's not a change it's okay to make.

______

*If they aren't, send 'em to me. I got me plenty of vim and vinegar to dole out to that sort of critic.

Saturday Cat Bloggin (Midway Edition)

Ms. Piggy (Morehouse) sits pretty on the radiator.

Friday Cat Blogging

3 cats in a 1 cat space…this is not going to end well.



Otter cat has lost her shell cracking stone :-(



Piano cat does not want piano played.



Or perhaps piano cat is just sun cat in a different beam.



I controlz da TV wif my mind…I mean head.



I just have very large bones!

Smart Things (Updated)

More on common publishing misconceptions from Charlie Stross. What authors actually sell to publishers. And Territories, Translations and Foreign Rights. If you're at all interested in the business of publishing this series is a must read.

Ursala Le Guin being interviewed about the Google Books deal. She doesn't like it any more than I do. In fact, she likes it a lot less.

The NYT with some more or less hard numbers on epublishing.

Updated to add: Jim Hines on why advances matter.

The (Little) Squid on the Mantel

Okay, so the title of this post is a bit of an inside-joke, and blatantly stolen from fellow WSer Lyda Morehouse. It's our equivalent of the old theater saw that says if you put a gun on the mantelpiece in Act I, it better damn well go off before the end of the play. We just use a squid because, well, because we do.

Still, it seemed as good of a way as any to introduce the topic of reader expectation, and how we as writers should be aware of it.

Now, there are some pretty obvious types of reader expectation. I don't, for example, write a fantasy adventure novel and expect a fan of restoration romance to run out and pick it up, let alone necessarily enjoy it (although if he/she does, great!). My book is aimed at a specific audience, and that reader tends to fall outside of it. Easy, and pretty straight forward. By the same token, if I start my book out with a tense, action-packed scene, I have set a certain expectation in the reader's mind. This doesn't mean I have to have constant, non-stop fight-fight-fight action going all the time (which would be both exhausting to write and to read), but I had also better not spend chapters 3 through 20 going through a very pain-staking, convoluted, introspective character/world/theology study, either. That way leads to flung books and lost readers.

But this is big-picture stuff, and we already know all of that, right? Right. (Riiight?)

So what am I talking about today?

I am talking about the smaller expectations we make with the reader on almost every page: the unconscious flags we wave for readers that, as writers, we should try to be aware of. The descriptions, actions, and so on that tell readers one thing, but can, in not-quite-on-the-mark writing, lead to broken promises. Flags that, in essence, make something look like a squid when it is not.

Um, okay, you say. I think I see where you're going, but how about some examples?

Glad you asked.

One of the easiest examples I can think of is character description. I believe it was Roger Zelazny who said (or wrote...I don't recall the medium) that he consciously tried to limit descriptions of secondary characters to three qualities, and then move one. Something like, "Durand was a small, barrel-shaped man, with a bristly crop of hair and a dingy brown suit that looked like it had last been pressed some time during the Carter administration." (Mine, not Zelazny's -- can you tell I've been preparing for a panel on Noir Fiction?). I tell you three things here -- build, hair cut, clothing -- but it manages to paint a concise, yet memorable, picture. I can pretty much expect that, if I did it right, the next time I mention Durand's suit (or build, or hair), the reader will have an instant image of him to retrieve in their head.

Okay, great. I used three attributes and 32 total words to create a sketch of a character. So what? Well, it all goes back to expectations. By sticking to this level of description, I have tried to tell the reader something. I have said, "This character is important enough to warrant a name and a couple characteristics. You are supposed to remember him. However, he will most likely not be a key character, so you don't have to work too hard on keeping him foremost in your head." In presenting a limited picture of Durand, I have, hopefully, also signaled to the reader that Durand is going to have a limited presence/importance in the story. Likewise, if I spend a good paragraph or more describing Durand (or a place, or a flower, or...), then I am signaling to the reader that he is more important. In short, by giving him more real estate on the page, I am implying that he should take up more real estate in the reader's consciousness, as well as in the development of the story.

Now, that isn't to say this is merely a matter of basic math, where word count = importance. There is a lot more to this than having a three-box checklist. I have to be aware of my writing style in general, how I tend to portray other characters, places and events, and so on. If I am a writer who lavishes description on everything, then this guideline is going to fall beyond flat -- it will likely go through the floor and damage the flow of my work. Likewise, if I tend to dole out as little description as Hemingway, three attributes effectively leap off the page and scream, "Important guy! Important guy!!" You, as a writer, need to figure out what works with your style, so you know what you are conveying to the reader. Likewise, you need to figure out when it is okay to go in the other direction (whatever that may be for you) to better convey an idea, or a setting, or a mood.

The point is, I know what I am saying (or at least trying to say) to the reader when I drop someone like Durand in their lap. I am aware of the cue I am giving them based on what I am presenting on the page, aside from the words. And this is the place where I think a lot of newer writers get hung up: they focus so much on the world, so much on the characters, so much on getting everything in their head on the page and painting as complete a picture as they can for the reader, that they don't realize they are painting a squid right next to their lovingly described spear-carrier. How you put something on the page is just as important as what you put on it. And that applies not just to descriptions, but also action, world-building, dialogue...just about everything -- all of it can serve double, or even triple, duty, even when you may not mean it to.

So, does this mean you should sit, paralyzed, staring at the screen, terrified you are telling the reader the wrong thing when you say "he had red hair" instead of talking about "the fiery locks on his head"? Of course not. You write what you write, and you figure out what works over time, and you fix it if you think you need to. That's how you develop your craft. But part of that growing craft is to also be aware of the subtler things your words are doing on the page. And, of course, to be able to recognize the occasional squid when you see one. :)

Question and a picture

First, the question -- I've run out of "newbie questions" to answer for my Tate blog and I was wondering if anyone out here has questions they might wanted answered by me or anyone else at Wyrdsmiths.

Second, I wanted to show off the cool fort my son Mason and I have been building during his winter break.

Kelly's Marscon Schedule, March 5–7

Saturday

Villainy for Dummies

Krushenko’s Lounge (13th Floor) — Saturday 11:00 am

So one day you look around and realize that YOU are the bad guy and that twerp whose father you murdered a decade ago might turn out to be the hero. Now what? Tips on surviving beyond the last page of the book (or the credits of the movie)...at least through a couple of sequels.

With: Naomi Kritzer, mod.; Kelly McCullough, Lyda Morehouse

Unraveling the Mystery: Big Bang Theory

Krushenko’s Lounge (13th Floor) — Saturday 02:00 pm

Come talk about what you like and/or don’t like about the physicist sitcom Big Bang Theory.

With: Tony Artym, mod.; Eric M. Heideman, Kelly McCullough, Lyda Morehouse, Brian K. Perry

Writing Dark Lords and Femmes Fatales, Character

Re(a)d Mars/Taylor (2nd Floor) — Saturday 06:00 pm

A great book needs a great enemy. How do you create good antagonists? Remembering that no one is the villain of their own story is a good start. What works? What doesn’t?

With: Kelly McCullough, mod.; Roy C. Booth, Doug Hulick

What Is a Villain?

Re(a)d Mars/Taylor (2nd Floor) — Saturday 07:00 pm

Who is this villain guy, anyway? Look at things from the villain’s point of view: the hero is always thwarting their plans. What a pain! Are the villains objectively villains, or do they seem that way because the victors write history?

With: Rick Gellman, mod.; Kelly McCullough, Baron David E Romm

Sunday

Writing Dark Lords and Femmes Fatales, The Antihero

Re(a)d Mars/Taylor (2nd Floor) — Sunday 11:00 am

Sometimes your heroine isn’t. Sometimes your hero’s just the lesser of two evils. From the Black Company, through the Punisher, to the Evil Overlord games, some of the best and most fun protagonists are Dark Lords and Femmes Fatales. How do you make that work as a writer.

With: Kelly McCullough, mod.; Roy C. Booth, Doug Hulick

The Dark Side of the Fey

Re(a)d Mars/Taylor (2nd Floor) — Sunday 01:00 pm

Traditionally capricious and dangerous, the fey are now often portrayed very differently. Why have we moved toward a purely cuddly and kindly fey? What authors draw on the more traditional characteristics and do it well? Why does this work? What purpose to tales of the dark fey serve? Why should we “stay on the path”?

With: Kelly McCullough, mod.; Rob Callahan, Beth Hansen-Buth, Catherine Lundoff

Writing Dark Lords and Femmes Fatales: World

Re(a)d Mars/Taylor (2nd Floor) — Sunday 03:00 pm

Sometimes the enemy is as much the situation or system as it is an individual villain or villainess. Sometimes the world creates the villain. A discussion of the interaction between world and antagonist and of circumstance as antagonist.

With: Kelly McCullough, mod.; Roy C. Booth, Doug Hulick

The Five Types of Author Photos