There is a giant gorilla lurking around the internet these days. She weighs 4,264 pounds, eats raw cabbage, and answers to the name "Temperance." This gorilla has a purple pelt and, if you see her, stand still, for she attacks people who make sudden movements.
All right, enough with the metaphor. Authors these days seem to fall into three camps: those who are all about going the legacy pubbing route, those who are all for self-pubbing, and those unseen masses who, uneasy to discuss the giant gorilla in the room, tend not to say what's really on their mind. These folks, I am here to tell you, are unsure about which path to take, legacy or self-pubbing. I am one of these people.
Of course, as with everything in life, there are shades of gray within all three camps, but since I am a simple man who likes to speak in broad generalities, let's keep to my 3-camp model for now. As I said, I place myself firmly in the latter group. I see advantages to both leg-pubbing (a real term?) and to self-pubbing, but no clear-cut, slam-dunk reason to go either way.
The advantages I'm referring to are likely obvious to anyone who pays attention to the writing biz (i.e. leg-pubbing gives you great exposure while self-pubbing gives you more control), so I won't belabor the point. My point is, I don't see much written in either tweet or blog form about us wait-and-watchers. It seems there's some social pressure to lock yourself firmly into either the ra-ra leg-pub crowd or the screw-those-legacy-goons-and-the-horse-they-rode-in-on bunch, even before you've finished writing your first book.
Admittedly, I'm in a relatively luxurious position right now. As someone who's in the midst of writing the first book that they intend to publish, I can afford to bide my time, watching the landscape shift before me. But I'll have to choose sides soon. Some days I wake up convinced that I want an agent, and I zealously tear open my Jeff Herman Guide and start check marking all of the agents I'll canvas with query letters. Other days, I wake up full of optimism about publishing and marketing my book the way I want to, straight to Kindle.
It's OK if you're going through this--you're not alone. And the good news is that if you decide to self-publish, you can always go the legacy pubbing route later on. Or vice versa, unless you get locked into a book deal, in which case, kudos to you! At any rate, I just wanted to get this out there because I've been thinking a lot about it lately and feeling a bit lonely in my reflections. If you have any insight into this issue, please leave a comment--I'm interested to hear your opinions!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Reflections on a Cabbage-Eating Gorilla
There is a giant gorilla lurking around the internet these days. She weighs 4,264 pounds, eats raw cabbage, and answers to the name "Temperance." This gorilla has a purple pelt and, if you see her, stand still, for she attacks people who make sudden movements.
All right, enough with the metaphor. Authors these days seem to fall into three camps: those who are all about going the legacy pubbing route, those who are all for self-pubbing, and those unseen masses who, uneasy to discuss the giant gorilla in the room, tend not to say what's really on their mind. These folks, I am here to tell you, are unsure about which path to take, legacy or self-pubbing. I am one of these people.
Of course, as with everything in life, there are shades of gray within all three camps, but since I am a simple man who likes to speak in broad generalities, let's keep to my 3-camp model for now. As I said, I place myself firmly in the latter group. I see advantages to both leg-pubbing (a real term?) and to self-pubbing, but no clear-cut, slam-dunk reason to go either way.
The advantages I'm referring to are likely obvious to anyone who pays attention to the writing biz (i.e. leg-pubbing gives you great exposure while self-pubbing gives you more control), so I won't belabor the point. My point is, I don't see much written in either tweet or blog form about us wait-and-watchers. It seems there's some social pressure to lock yourself firmly into either the ra-ra leg-pub crowd or the screw-those-legacy-goons-and-the-horse-they-rode-in-on bunch, even before you've finished writing your first book.
Admittedly, I'm in a relatively luxurious position right now. As someone who's in the midst of writing the first book that they intend to publish, I can afford to bide my time, watching the landscape shift before me. But I'll have to choose sides soon. Some days I wake up convinced that I want an agent, and I zealously tear open my Jeff Herman Guide and start check marking all of the agents I'll canvas with query letters. Other days, I wake up full of optimism about publishing and marketing my book the way I want to, straight to Kindle.
It's OK if you're going through this--you're not alone. And the good news is that if you decide to self-publish, you can always go the legacy pubbing route later on. Or vice versa, unless you get locked into a book deal, in which case, kudos to you! At any rate, I just wanted to get this out there because I've been thinking a lot about it lately and feeling a bit lonely in my reflections. If you have any insight into this issue, please leave a comment--I'm interested to hear your opinions!
All right, enough with the metaphor. Authors these days seem to fall into three camps: those who are all about going the legacy pubbing route, those who are all for self-pubbing, and those unseen masses who, uneasy to discuss the giant gorilla in the room, tend not to say what's really on their mind. These folks, I am here to tell you, are unsure about which path to take, legacy or self-pubbing. I am one of these people.
Of course, as with everything in life, there are shades of gray within all three camps, but since I am a simple man who likes to speak in broad generalities, let's keep to my 3-camp model for now. As I said, I place myself firmly in the latter group. I see advantages to both leg-pubbing (a real term?) and to self-pubbing, but no clear-cut, slam-dunk reason to go either way.
The advantages I'm referring to are likely obvious to anyone who pays attention to the writing biz (i.e. leg-pubbing gives you great exposure while self-pubbing gives you more control), so I won't belabor the point. My point is, I don't see much written in either tweet or blog form about us wait-and-watchers. It seems there's some social pressure to lock yourself firmly into either the ra-ra leg-pub crowd or the screw-those-legacy-goons-and-the-horse-they-rode-in-on bunch, even before you've finished writing your first book.
Admittedly, I'm in a relatively luxurious position right now. As someone who's in the midst of writing the first book that they intend to publish, I can afford to bide my time, watching the landscape shift before me. But I'll have to choose sides soon. Some days I wake up convinced that I want an agent, and I zealously tear open my Jeff Herman Guide and start check marking all of the agents I'll canvas with query letters. Other days, I wake up full of optimism about publishing and marketing my book the way I want to, straight to Kindle.
It's OK if you're going through this--you're not alone. And the good news is that if you decide to self-publish, you can always go the legacy pubbing route later on. Or vice versa, unless you get locked into a book deal, in which case, kudos to you! At any rate, I just wanted to get this out there because I've been thinking a lot about it lately and feeling a bit lonely in my reflections. If you have any insight into this issue, please leave a comment--I'm interested to hear your opinions!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Tweet Police: Don't Give Away Your Secrets
File this under: Tweet Police
I'm new to Twitter (cue: gasp). But in my few short months hanging out there, I've noticed a strange trend. Maybe this is the way book writing is going: I don't know. But it seems like lots of authors are giving away waaaaaay too much inside baseball info in their tweets relative to the projects they're working on.
I know. It's hard to come up with stuff to tweet about 24/7. I fall into this trap all the time--"Gee, should I write about how it's drizzling here in Washington, DC, or about some weird thing I overheard at Caribou?" It's like, how boring can you get? But--and I'm new to the game, so forgive me if this runs counter to what industry experts say--I caution you, if you're a writer, to not give much (if anything) away about the book you're working on.
Thought experiment: imagine that in the midst of writing "Coraline", Neil Gaiman tweeted, "Daugther just held up buttons to my eyes and said U look like another father, must work that into new book." Or some such. That would surely rip the sheen off of the magical mystery he spins in Coraline. I'm not one of these English professors who enjoys deconstructing books, trying to get into the mindset of an author. I. Just. Wanna. Be. Entertained.
General stuff is fine to tweet about. "I just finished writing a chapter! Woo hoo!" is kosher. But please, for the sake of mystery and intrigue, do not tweet "I've had a secret desire to write about zombie trolls since I was 12 and saw 'Leprechaun'--so now I'm writing about them!" or "I'm getting really tired of using the word 'dazzle' in my book." Yuck. I don't want to know your thought process. I don't want to know the name of your new heroine. I absolutely do NOT want you to tell me your dream that inspired you to write X character into your manuscript. OK?
The reason is simple: I like a shroud of mystery to surround whatever I read (unless it's the newspaper, in which case mystery is bad). Some adolescent part of me wants to pretend that your book sprung fully-formed out of Zeus' head. By all means, tweet about your day or interesting writing tips (though, if you've read my tweets for any appreciable amount of time, you know I abhor most writing advice), or tell me about a cool book you just read. But I don't want to know the inner-workings of your creative well-spring. I'm letting you off with a warning this time, but next time, it'll be the hoosegow for you! Later.
I'm new to Twitter (cue: gasp). But in my few short months hanging out there, I've noticed a strange trend. Maybe this is the way book writing is going: I don't know. But it seems like lots of authors are giving away waaaaaay too much inside baseball info in their tweets relative to the projects they're working on.
I know. It's hard to come up with stuff to tweet about 24/7. I fall into this trap all the time--"Gee, should I write about how it's drizzling here in Washington, DC, or about some weird thing I overheard at Caribou?" It's like, how boring can you get? But--and I'm new to the game, so forgive me if this runs counter to what industry experts say--I caution you, if you're a writer, to not give much (if anything) away about the book you're working on.
Thought experiment: imagine that in the midst of writing "Coraline", Neil Gaiman tweeted, "Daugther just held up buttons to my eyes and said U look like another father, must work that into new book." Or some such. That would surely rip the sheen off of the magical mystery he spins in Coraline. I'm not one of these English professors who enjoys deconstructing books, trying to get into the mindset of an author. I. Just. Wanna. Be. Entertained.
General stuff is fine to tweet about. "I just finished writing a chapter! Woo hoo!" is kosher. But please, for the sake of mystery and intrigue, do not tweet "I've had a secret desire to write about zombie trolls since I was 12 and saw 'Leprechaun'--so now I'm writing about them!" or "I'm getting really tired of using the word 'dazzle' in my book." Yuck. I don't want to know your thought process. I don't want to know the name of your new heroine. I absolutely do NOT want you to tell me your dream that inspired you to write X character into your manuscript. OK?
The reason is simple: I like a shroud of mystery to surround whatever I read (unless it's the newspaper, in which case mystery is bad). Some adolescent part of me wants to pretend that your book sprung fully-formed out of Zeus' head. By all means, tweet about your day or interesting writing tips (though, if you've read my tweets for any appreciable amount of time, you know I abhor most writing advice), or tell me about a cool book you just read. But I don't want to know the inner-workings of your creative well-spring. I'm letting you off with a warning this time, but next time, it'll be the hoosegow for you! Later.
Tweet Police: Don't Give Away Your Secrets
File this under: Tweet Police
I'm new to Twitter (cue: gasp). But in my few short months hanging out there, I've noticed a strange trend. Maybe this is the way book writing is going: I don't know. But it seems like lots of authors are giving away waaaaaay too much inside baseball info in their tweets relative to the projects they're working on.
I know. It's hard to come up with stuff to tweet about 24/7. I fall into this trap all the time--"Gee, should I write about how it's drizzling here in Washington, DC, or about some weird thing I overheard at Caribou?" It's like, how boring can you get? But--and I'm new to the game, so forgive me if this runs counter to what industry experts say--I caution you, if you're a writer, to not give much (if anything) away about the book you're working on.
Thought experiment: imagine that in the midst of writing "Coraline", Neil Gaiman tweeted, "Daugther just held up buttons to my eyes and said U look like another father, must work that into new book." Or some such. That would surely rip the sheen off of the magical mystery he spins in Coraline. I'm not one of these English professors who enjoys deconstructing books, trying to get into the mindset of an author. I. Just. Wanna. Be. Entertained.
General stuff is fine to tweet about. "I just finished writing a chapter! Woo hoo!" is kosher. But please, for the sake of mystery and intrigue, do not tweet "I've had a secret desire to write about zombie trolls since I was 12 and saw 'Leprechaun'--so now I'm writing about them!" or "I'm getting really tired of using the word 'dazzle' in my book." Yuck. I don't want to know your thought process. I don't want to know the name of your new heroine. I absolutely do NOT want you to tell me your dream that inspired you to write X character into your manuscript. OK?
The reason is simple: I like a shroud of mystery to surround whatever I read (unless it's the newspaper, in which case mystery is bad). Some adolescent part of me wants to pretend that your book sprung fully-formed out of Zeus' head. By all means, tweet about your day or interesting writing tips (though, if you've read my tweets for any appreciable amount of time, you know I abhor most writing advice), or tell me about a cool book you just read. But I don't want to know the inner-workings of your creative well-spring. I'm letting you off with a warning this time, but next time, it'll be the hoosegow for you! Later.
I'm new to Twitter (cue: gasp). But in my few short months hanging out there, I've noticed a strange trend. Maybe this is the way book writing is going: I don't know. But it seems like lots of authors are giving away waaaaaay too much inside baseball info in their tweets relative to the projects they're working on.
I know. It's hard to come up with stuff to tweet about 24/7. I fall into this trap all the time--"Gee, should I write about how it's drizzling here in Washington, DC, or about some weird thing I overheard at Caribou?" It's like, how boring can you get? But--and I'm new to the game, so forgive me if this runs counter to what industry experts say--I caution you, if you're a writer, to not give much (if anything) away about the book you're working on.
Thought experiment: imagine that in the midst of writing "Coraline", Neil Gaiman tweeted, "Daugther just held up buttons to my eyes and said U look like another father, must work that into new book." Or some such. That would surely rip the sheen off of the magical mystery he spins in Coraline. I'm not one of these English professors who enjoys deconstructing books, trying to get into the mindset of an author. I. Just. Wanna. Be. Entertained.
General stuff is fine to tweet about. "I just finished writing a chapter! Woo hoo!" is kosher. But please, for the sake of mystery and intrigue, do not tweet "I've had a secret desire to write about zombie trolls since I was 12 and saw 'Leprechaun'--so now I'm writing about them!" or "I'm getting really tired of using the word 'dazzle' in my book." Yuck. I don't want to know your thought process. I don't want to know the name of your new heroine. I absolutely do NOT want you to tell me your dream that inspired you to write X character into your manuscript. OK?
The reason is simple: I like a shroud of mystery to surround whatever I read (unless it's the newspaper, in which case mystery is bad). Some adolescent part of me wants to pretend that your book sprung fully-formed out of Zeus' head. By all means, tweet about your day or interesting writing tips (though, if you've read my tweets for any appreciable amount of time, you know I abhor most writing advice), or tell me about a cool book you just read. But I don't want to know the inner-workings of your creative well-spring. I'm letting you off with a warning this time, but next time, it'll be the hoosegow for you! Later.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
What I Learned from Last Night's Bachelorette
Whatever. Laugh at my post's title. I don't care. I watch the ABC show "The Bachelor/Bachelorette". A lot of you watch it and are too ashamed to admit it. I get that. My significant other got me into it a few years ago (I hated it at first, wanted to barf at the screen, but, much like Stockholm Syndrome, I have come to have empathy and even a little love for my captors). God help me, I enjoy watching fleets of men humiliate themselves for a shot at marrying a woman who inevitably reminds me of that girl I dated in high school and then, one week in, started faking illnesses to avoid.
For the uninitiated, last night marked the first episode of the 7th season of The Bachelorette. I'm not going to go into any more detail because, well, my grandkids may see this post someday, and I want them to have a shred of dignity left by the time they finish reading it. So anyway, here's my point: this guy Jeff, one of Ashley Hebert's (that's "Hebert" with a silent "H" and "t") potential love interests, entered the "mansion" last night wearing a facemask.
Not a SARS facemask. Or a catcher's mask. I'm talking a full-blown, Mardi-Gras-meets-Batman black mask that obscured half his face. It seemed creepy to me at first, as it did to several of the other men in the cattle herd. But as the night wore on (somewhere in the second hour of the show), I started to see his point. As guys bent themselves into pretzels pouting their lips and waxing faux-philosophic, Jeff lurked in the background, taking it all in.
During his confessionals, Jeff kept saying that we live in a society that puts so much emphasis on appearance that he wanted to take his own appearance out of the game. If he got a rose at the end of the night, he implied, it would be for the right reasons--because he's a person of substance--and not because he's some smoking hot GQ model. Which, judging by his hangdog cheeks and stubble, I doubt he is anyway.
Fast forward to 11:00 and Batman did indeed get a rose. I know it's stupid, but I felt good for the guy. I don't know if he'll take off his mask during the show (part of me hopes he doesn't, just because of how much it creeps the other stiffs out), but he made his point loud and clear.
And, even though there are a million more intellectually noble things I could be devoting brain space to, Jeff's stunt got me thinking. When indie authors pay to have a beautiful cover made, when they mount a well-designed marketing campaign, when they say all the right things on their guest blogging tour and post funny entries to their super-sleek website, to me, that's akin to what all the other Bachelorette contestents did last night: they gave Ashley gifts of wine bottles, they picked her up to show how manly they were, they recited (lame) poems to her as they furrowed their heavy brows. But not one of them said much of substance to her. They were just pretty ephemera.
But not Jeff.
Though the dude didn't say much (he pretty much just held up a mirror to the asses who panicked at how weird he was), he articulated exactly what a good book should do: he was different and he had a purpose for being different. You should do everything you can so that your book stands out, but make sure that once you've achieved the "standing out" part of your grand plan, the reader is rewarded by reading something spectacular. I only hope Jeff doesn't turn out to be Bruce Lame.
For the uninitiated, last night marked the first episode of the 7th season of The Bachelorette. I'm not going to go into any more detail because, well, my grandkids may see this post someday, and I want them to have a shred of dignity left by the time they finish reading it. So anyway, here's my point: this guy Jeff, one of Ashley Hebert's (that's "Hebert" with a silent "H" and "t") potential love interests, entered the "mansion" last night wearing a facemask.
Not a SARS facemask. Or a catcher's mask. I'm talking a full-blown, Mardi-Gras-meets-Batman black mask that obscured half his face. It seemed creepy to me at first, as it did to several of the other men in the cattle herd. But as the night wore on (somewhere in the second hour of the show), I started to see his point. As guys bent themselves into pretzels pouting their lips and waxing faux-philosophic, Jeff lurked in the background, taking it all in.
During his confessionals, Jeff kept saying that we live in a society that puts so much emphasis on appearance that he wanted to take his own appearance out of the game. If he got a rose at the end of the night, he implied, it would be for the right reasons--because he's a person of substance--and not because he's some smoking hot GQ model. Which, judging by his hangdog cheeks and stubble, I doubt he is anyway.
Fast forward to 11:00 and Batman did indeed get a rose. I know it's stupid, but I felt good for the guy. I don't know if he'll take off his mask during the show (part of me hopes he doesn't, just because of how much it creeps the other stiffs out), but he made his point loud and clear.
And, even though there are a million more intellectually noble things I could be devoting brain space to, Jeff's stunt got me thinking. When indie authors pay to have a beautiful cover made, when they mount a well-designed marketing campaign, when they say all the right things on their guest blogging tour and post funny entries to their super-sleek website, to me, that's akin to what all the other Bachelorette contestents did last night: they gave Ashley gifts of wine bottles, they picked her up to show how manly they were, they recited (lame) poems to her as they furrowed their heavy brows. But not one of them said much of substance to her. They were just pretty ephemera.
But not Jeff.
Though the dude didn't say much (he pretty much just held up a mirror to the asses who panicked at how weird he was), he articulated exactly what a good book should do: he was different and he had a purpose for being different. You should do everything you can so that your book stands out, but make sure that once you've achieved the "standing out" part of your grand plan, the reader is rewarded by reading something spectacular. I only hope Jeff doesn't turn out to be Bruce Lame.
What I Learned from Last Night's Bachelorette
Whatever. Laugh at my post's title. I don't care. I watch the ABC show "The Bachelor/Bachelorette". A lot of you watch it and are too ashamed to admit it. I get that. My significant other got me into it a few years ago (I hated it at first, wanted to barf at the screen, but, much like Stockholm Syndrome, I have come to have empathy and even a little love for my captors). God help me, I enjoy watching fleets of men humiliate themselves for a shot at marrying a woman who inevitably reminds me of that girl I dated in high school and then, one week in, started faking illnesses to avoid.
For the uninitiated, last night marked the first episode of the 7th season of The Bachelorette. I'm not going to go into any more detail because, well, my grandkids may see this post someday, and I want them to have a shred of dignity left by the time they finish reading it. So anyway, here's my point: this guy Jeff, one of Ashley Hebert's (that's "Hebert" with a silent "H" and "t") potential love interests, entered the "mansion" last night wearing a facemask.
Not a SARS facemask. Or a catcher's mask. I'm talking a full-blown, Mardi-Gras-meets-Batman black mask that obscured half his face. It seemed creepy to me at first, as it did to several of the other men in the cattle herd. But as the night wore on (somewhere in the second hour of the show), I started to see his point. As guys bent themselves into pretzels pouting their lips and waxing faux-philosophic, Jeff lurked in the background, taking it all in.
During his confessionals, Jeff kept saying that we live in a society that puts so much emphasis on appearance that he wanted to take his own appearance out of the game. If he got a rose at the end of the night, he implied, it would be for the right reasons--because he's a person of substance--and not because he's some smoking hot GQ model. Which, judging by his hangdog cheeks and stubble, I doubt he is anyway.
Fast forward to 11:00 and Batman did indeed get a rose. I know it's stupid, but I felt good for the guy. I don't know if he'll take off his mask during the show (part of me hopes he doesn't, just because of how much it creeps the other stiffs out), but he made his point loud and clear.
And, even though there are a million more intellectually noble things I could be devoting brain space to, Jeff's stunt got me thinking. When indie authors pay to have a beautiful cover made, when they mount a well-designed marketing campaign, when they say all the right things on their guest blogging tour and post funny entries to their super-sleek website, to me, that's akin to what all the other Bachelorette contestents did last night: they gave Ashley gifts of wine bottles, they picked her up to show how manly they were, they recited (lame) poems to her as they furrowed their heavy brows. But not one of them said much of substance to her. They were just pretty ephemera.
But not Jeff.
Though the dude didn't say much (he pretty much just held up a mirror to the asses who panicked at how weird he was), he articulated exactly what a good book should do: he was different and he had a purpose for being different. You should do everything you can so that your book stands out, but make sure that once you've achieved the "standing out" part of your grand plan, the reader is rewarded by reading something spectacular. I only hope Jeff doesn't turn out to be Bruce Lame.
For the uninitiated, last night marked the first episode of the 7th season of The Bachelorette. I'm not going to go into any more detail because, well, my grandkids may see this post someday, and I want them to have a shred of dignity left by the time they finish reading it. So anyway, here's my point: this guy Jeff, one of Ashley Hebert's (that's "Hebert" with a silent "H" and "t") potential love interests, entered the "mansion" last night wearing a facemask.
Not a SARS facemask. Or a catcher's mask. I'm talking a full-blown, Mardi-Gras-meets-Batman black mask that obscured half his face. It seemed creepy to me at first, as it did to several of the other men in the cattle herd. But as the night wore on (somewhere in the second hour of the show), I started to see his point. As guys bent themselves into pretzels pouting their lips and waxing faux-philosophic, Jeff lurked in the background, taking it all in.
During his confessionals, Jeff kept saying that we live in a society that puts so much emphasis on appearance that he wanted to take his own appearance out of the game. If he got a rose at the end of the night, he implied, it would be for the right reasons--because he's a person of substance--and not because he's some smoking hot GQ model. Which, judging by his hangdog cheeks and stubble, I doubt he is anyway.
Fast forward to 11:00 and Batman did indeed get a rose. I know it's stupid, but I felt good for the guy. I don't know if he'll take off his mask during the show (part of me hopes he doesn't, just because of how much it creeps the other stiffs out), but he made his point loud and clear.
And, even though there are a million more intellectually noble things I could be devoting brain space to, Jeff's stunt got me thinking. When indie authors pay to have a beautiful cover made, when they mount a well-designed marketing campaign, when they say all the right things on their guest blogging tour and post funny entries to their super-sleek website, to me, that's akin to what all the other Bachelorette contestents did last night: they gave Ashley gifts of wine bottles, they picked her up to show how manly they were, they recited (lame) poems to her as they furrowed their heavy brows. But not one of them said much of substance to her. They were just pretty ephemera.
But not Jeff.
Though the dude didn't say much (he pretty much just held up a mirror to the asses who panicked at how weird he was), he articulated exactly what a good book should do: he was different and he had a purpose for being different. You should do everything you can so that your book stands out, but make sure that once you've achieved the "standing out" part of your grand plan, the reader is rewarded by reading something spectacular. I only hope Jeff doesn't turn out to be Bruce Lame.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Proud of Being Slow
I started a hashtag on Twitter today called #proudofbeingslow. So far, no takers. Which I expected. Because, to be honest, we're not allowed to be slow. To most Americans, being called "slow" is worse than being a trash picker in Indonesia. And I'm not just talking about being dumb, which, I'll admit, it's not ideal to be dumb, but who's to say that someone with a limited mental capacity is "bad", to be held up as an example of what NOT to be? But that's a different talk show.
What I'm talking about is plain old, run-of-the-mill slow. As in: someone who takes their time. Ok, when I say it like that it probably doesn't sound bad to you; of course you should take your time and do something right. But good craftmanship is in direct conflict with the directive to be fast and I'm sorry ladies and gents, but you cannot have it both ways.
But the more I talk to people, the more I read blogs, I feel like people see taking one's time as more of a virtue to be admired in others than it is an ideal to strive for themselves. Because they want to belong to this insane world of super-fastness. As Newt Gingrich used to say, "If you're not in the Washington Post every day, you may as well not exist."
By all means, if you want to be the fastest fasterson who ever fasted, then do it. I'll even strap roller skates to your feet and push you down Mt. Kilimanjaro to help you build speed. But listen: you have to draw the line somewhere. You cannot push yourself so hard that it affects your health and/or your loved ones' lives. If you're anything like me, I can push myself now and then, but I cannot sustain it. It's way too draining. And I imagine (I have no peer-reviewed study at hand to back this up) that most writers, in their heart of hearts, feel the same way as me. But yet they hop into the slipstream anyway and write, write, write, fast-fast-fast-fast-fast until they have 20 books for sale on Amazon, none of which, shall we say, their grandchildren will be proud of.
Not that your grandchildren being proud of you should be your driving ambition. I mean, who the heck knows what will be cool or laudible once they come of age? But then again, some things don't change; most of us can look at something made a hundred years ago and tell in two seconds if the craftsman(-woman) who made it really cared about it. Really put in the time to make it extra useful, extra beautiful, whatever. There are barns still standing in my home state that have been there for a hundred fifty years. And there are others that aren't standing. Which do you think people put more time and effort into building and maintaining?
My bottom line is this: don't feel bad if it takes you longer to do things than other people. It's O.K., even if your mom and dad told you it wasn't O.K. growing up. Trust me: it's fine. Especially if you're in the business of writing (and most especially if it's a craft you're working on while you hold down a full-time job, the way I do). It's easy to look at people like J.A. Konrath and whoever else you want to pick and see that they've got twenty billion books up on the Kindle and worry that the reason they're filthy rich is because they pull a book out of their body cavity every two days.
But please, for those of us who care about quality in our books (and I'm not saying Konrath sacrifices quality; I've never read his stuff, but from all accounts it's good) for those of us who look for beauty and novelty and insightfulness in our books, please don't become a book-making factory. I'm not going that route with my own writing. I'm naturally a slow writer, and, though it is admittedly tempting to try to crank out product so I can become a millionaire, I cannot at the end of the day let myself do this. I just want to let you know you're not alone, and that your way of writing is just as valid as Konrath's.
Keep on plugging and so will I!
What I'm talking about is plain old, run-of-the-mill slow. As in: someone who takes their time. Ok, when I say it like that it probably doesn't sound bad to you; of course you should take your time and do something right. But good craftmanship is in direct conflict with the directive to be fast and I'm sorry ladies and gents, but you cannot have it both ways.
But the more I talk to people, the more I read blogs, I feel like people see taking one's time as more of a virtue to be admired in others than it is an ideal to strive for themselves. Because they want to belong to this insane world of super-fastness. As Newt Gingrich used to say, "If you're not in the Washington Post every day, you may as well not exist."
By all means, if you want to be the fastest fasterson who ever fasted, then do it. I'll even strap roller skates to your feet and push you down Mt. Kilimanjaro to help you build speed. But listen: you have to draw the line somewhere. You cannot push yourself so hard that it affects your health and/or your loved ones' lives. If you're anything like me, I can push myself now and then, but I cannot sustain it. It's way too draining. And I imagine (I have no peer-reviewed study at hand to back this up) that most writers, in their heart of hearts, feel the same way as me. But yet they hop into the slipstream anyway and write, write, write, fast-fast-fast-fast-fast until they have 20 books for sale on Amazon, none of which, shall we say, their grandchildren will be proud of.
Not that your grandchildren being proud of you should be your driving ambition. I mean, who the heck knows what will be cool or laudible once they come of age? But then again, some things don't change; most of us can look at something made a hundred years ago and tell in two seconds if the craftsman(-woman) who made it really cared about it. Really put in the time to make it extra useful, extra beautiful, whatever. There are barns still standing in my home state that have been there for a hundred fifty years. And there are others that aren't standing. Which do you think people put more time and effort into building and maintaining?
My bottom line is this: don't feel bad if it takes you longer to do things than other people. It's O.K., even if your mom and dad told you it wasn't O.K. growing up. Trust me: it's fine. Especially if you're in the business of writing (and most especially if it's a craft you're working on while you hold down a full-time job, the way I do). It's easy to look at people like J.A. Konrath and whoever else you want to pick and see that they've got twenty billion books up on the Kindle and worry that the reason they're filthy rich is because they pull a book out of their body cavity every two days.
But please, for those of us who care about quality in our books (and I'm not saying Konrath sacrifices quality; I've never read his stuff, but from all accounts it's good) for those of us who look for beauty and novelty and insightfulness in our books, please don't become a book-making factory. I'm not going that route with my own writing. I'm naturally a slow writer, and, though it is admittedly tempting to try to crank out product so I can become a millionaire, I cannot at the end of the day let myself do this. I just want to let you know you're not alone, and that your way of writing is just as valid as Konrath's.
Keep on plugging and so will I!
Proud of Being Slow
I started a hashtag on Twitter today called #proudofbeingslow. So far, no takers. Which I expected. Because, to be honest, we're not allowed to be slow. To most Americans, being called "slow" is worse than being a trash picker in Indonesia. And I'm not just talking about being dumb, which, I'll admit, it's not ideal to be dumb, but who's to say that someone with a limited mental capacity is "bad", to be held up as an example of what NOT to be? But that's a different talk show.
What I'm talking about is plain old, run-of-the-mill slow. As in: someone who takes their time. Ok, when I say it like that it probably doesn't sound bad to you; of course you should take your time and do something right. But good craftmanship is in direct conflict with the directive to be fast and I'm sorry ladies and gents, but you cannot have it both ways.
But the more I talk to people, the more I read blogs, I feel like people see taking one's time as more of a virtue to be admired in others than it is an ideal to strive for themselves. Because they want to belong to this insane world of super-fastness. As Newt Gingrich used to say, "If you're not in the Washington Post every day, you may as well not exist."
By all means, if you want to be the fastest fasterson who ever fasted, then do it. I'll even strap roller skates to your feet and push you down Mt. Kilimanjaro to help you build speed. But listen: you have to draw the line somewhere. You cannot push yourself so hard that it affects your health and/or your loved ones' lives. If you're anything like me, I can push myself now and then, but I cannot sustain it. It's way too draining. And I imagine (I have no peer-reviewed study at hand to back this up) that most writers, in their heart of hearts, feel the same way as me. But yet they hop into the slipstream anyway and write, write, write, fast-fast-fast-fast-fast until they have 20 books for sale on Amazon, none of which, shall we say, their grandchildren will be proud of.
Not that your grandchildren being proud of you should be your driving ambition. I mean, who the heck knows what will be cool or laudible once they come of age? But then again, some things don't change; most of us can look at something made a hundred years ago and tell in two seconds if the craftsman(-woman) who made it really cared about it. Really put in the time to make it extra useful, extra beautiful, whatever. There are barns still standing in my home state that have been there for a hundred fifty years. And there are others that aren't standing. Which do you think people put more time and effort into building and maintaining?
My bottom line is this: don't feel bad if it takes you longer to do things than other people. It's O.K., even if your mom and dad told you it wasn't O.K. growing up. Trust me: it's fine. Especially if you're in the business of writing (and most especially if it's a craft you're working on while you hold down a full-time job, the way I do). It's easy to look at people like J.A. Konrath and whoever else you want to pick and see that they've got twenty billion books up on the Kindle and worry that the reason they're filthy rich is because they pull a book out of their body cavity every two days.
But please, for those of us who care about quality in our books (and I'm not saying Konrath sacrifices quality; I've never read his stuff, but from all accounts it's good) for those of us who look for beauty and novelty and insightfulness in our books, please don't become a book-making factory. I'm not going that route with my own writing. I'm naturally a slow writer, and, though it is admittedly tempting to try to crank out product so I can become a millionaire, I cannot at the end of the day let myself do this. I just want to let you know you're not alone, and that your way of writing is just as valid as Konrath's.
Keep on plugging and so will I!
What I'm talking about is plain old, run-of-the-mill slow. As in: someone who takes their time. Ok, when I say it like that it probably doesn't sound bad to you; of course you should take your time and do something right. But good craftmanship is in direct conflict with the directive to be fast and I'm sorry ladies and gents, but you cannot have it both ways.
But the more I talk to people, the more I read blogs, I feel like people see taking one's time as more of a virtue to be admired in others than it is an ideal to strive for themselves. Because they want to belong to this insane world of super-fastness. As Newt Gingrich used to say, "If you're not in the Washington Post every day, you may as well not exist."
By all means, if you want to be the fastest fasterson who ever fasted, then do it. I'll even strap roller skates to your feet and push you down Mt. Kilimanjaro to help you build speed. But listen: you have to draw the line somewhere. You cannot push yourself so hard that it affects your health and/or your loved ones' lives. If you're anything like me, I can push myself now and then, but I cannot sustain it. It's way too draining. And I imagine (I have no peer-reviewed study at hand to back this up) that most writers, in their heart of hearts, feel the same way as me. But yet they hop into the slipstream anyway and write, write, write, fast-fast-fast-fast-fast until they have 20 books for sale on Amazon, none of which, shall we say, their grandchildren will be proud of.
Not that your grandchildren being proud of you should be your driving ambition. I mean, who the heck knows what will be cool or laudible once they come of age? But then again, some things don't change; most of us can look at something made a hundred years ago and tell in two seconds if the craftsman(-woman) who made it really cared about it. Really put in the time to make it extra useful, extra beautiful, whatever. There are barns still standing in my home state that have been there for a hundred fifty years. And there are others that aren't standing. Which do you think people put more time and effort into building and maintaining?
My bottom line is this: don't feel bad if it takes you longer to do things than other people. It's O.K., even if your mom and dad told you it wasn't O.K. growing up. Trust me: it's fine. Especially if you're in the business of writing (and most especially if it's a craft you're working on while you hold down a full-time job, the way I do). It's easy to look at people like J.A. Konrath and whoever else you want to pick and see that they've got twenty billion books up on the Kindle and worry that the reason they're filthy rich is because they pull a book out of their body cavity every two days.
But please, for those of us who care about quality in our books (and I'm not saying Konrath sacrifices quality; I've never read his stuff, but from all accounts it's good) for those of us who look for beauty and novelty and insightfulness in our books, please don't become a book-making factory. I'm not going that route with my own writing. I'm naturally a slow writer, and, though it is admittedly tempting to try to crank out product so I can become a millionaire, I cannot at the end of the day let myself do this. I just want to let you know you're not alone, and that your way of writing is just as valid as Konrath's.
Keep on plugging and so will I!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Don't Try to Change the World
Someone near and dear to me told me the other day that I, as a writer, won't change the world. "Yeah, and?" I asked. This stumped them. I didn't blame them for the confused look on their face. I still don't. In this society, we're told that to live an important life, to redeem the unique opportunity we're given to love and breathe and toil on this Earth, that we must change it.
I say: who wants to change it?
To me, an artist should reflect the best and worst parts of life, show them unflinchingly like that big old mirror hanging on your granparents' wall. You know the one. It's hanging there in the living room, the one that looks like it's been there a thousand years. That mirror doesn't lie. That mirror has seen babies being brought home from the hospital, it has seen wakes, it's seen a husband telling his wife that he's been cheating on her for years and is leaving. It's seen it all.
Be that mirror.
And in the process of doing this, of reflecting the sweetness and the sadness enwrapped in a single tear or a ten-year-old's birthday party, you should endeavor to bring out a beauty inherent in life that maybe not everyone else sees. Forget about "changing the world." That, my friend, is an impossible goal, sure to make anyone depressed. This world is filled with beauty and tragedy, more than one heart could handle in a hundred lifetimes. They cannot be unwound from each other. So just continue doing what you do.
Write.
I say: who wants to change it?
To me, an artist should reflect the best and worst parts of life, show them unflinchingly like that big old mirror hanging on your granparents' wall. You know the one. It's hanging there in the living room, the one that looks like it's been there a thousand years. That mirror doesn't lie. That mirror has seen babies being brought home from the hospital, it has seen wakes, it's seen a husband telling his wife that he's been cheating on her for years and is leaving. It's seen it all.
Be that mirror.
And in the process of doing this, of reflecting the sweetness and the sadness enwrapped in a single tear or a ten-year-old's birthday party, you should endeavor to bring out a beauty inherent in life that maybe not everyone else sees. Forget about "changing the world." That, my friend, is an impossible goal, sure to make anyone depressed. This world is filled with beauty and tragedy, more than one heart could handle in a hundred lifetimes. They cannot be unwound from each other. So just continue doing what you do.
Write.
Don't Try to Change the World
Someone near and dear to me told me the other day that I, as a writer, won't change the world. "Yeah, and?" I asked. This stumped them. I didn't blame them for the confused look on their face. I still don't. In this society, we're told that to live an important life, to redeem the unique opportunity we're given to love and breathe and toil on this Earth, that we must change it.
I say: who wants to change it?
To me, an artist should reflect the best and worst parts of life, show them unflinchingly like that big old mirror hanging on your granparents' wall. You know the one. It's hanging there in the living room, the one that looks like it's been there a thousand years. That mirror doesn't lie. That mirror has seen babies being brought home from the hospital, it has seen wakes, it's seen a husband telling his wife that he's been cheating on her for years and is leaving. It's seen it all.
Be that mirror.
And in the process of doing this, of reflecting the sweetness and the sadness enwrapped in a single tear or a ten-year-old's birthday party, you should endeavor to bring out a beauty inherent in life that maybe not everyone else sees. Forget about "changing the world." That, my friend, is an impossible goal, sure to make anyone depressed. This world is filled with beauty and tragedy, more than one heart could handle in a hundred lifetimes. They cannot be unwound from each other. So just continue doing what you do.
Write.
I say: who wants to change it?
To me, an artist should reflect the best and worst parts of life, show them unflinchingly like that big old mirror hanging on your granparents' wall. You know the one. It's hanging there in the living room, the one that looks like it's been there a thousand years. That mirror doesn't lie. That mirror has seen babies being brought home from the hospital, it has seen wakes, it's seen a husband telling his wife that he's been cheating on her for years and is leaving. It's seen it all.
Be that mirror.
And in the process of doing this, of reflecting the sweetness and the sadness enwrapped in a single tear or a ten-year-old's birthday party, you should endeavor to bring out a beauty inherent in life that maybe not everyone else sees. Forget about "changing the world." That, my friend, is an impossible goal, sure to make anyone depressed. This world is filled with beauty and tragedy, more than one heart could handle in a hundred lifetimes. They cannot be unwound from each other. So just continue doing what you do.
Write.
Monday, May 16, 2011
What Writing Is
I thought it would be a good idea to give you a run-down of just what I believe writing is, and what it is not. I've been in this game for a while now (not as long as some, but long enough to have formed opinions about it that may be of help to people). I've published magazine and newspaper articles and written some un-published manuscripts, so I'm no guru. That being said, I hope both newbies and seasoned vets alike can get something of value out of my experiences. So, without further ado, here are 25 things your writing won't achieve, and ten things it might:
Things Your Writing Will Not Do:
1.) Your writing will not save the world
2.) Your writing will not make you rich (probably)
3.) Your writing will not save anyone's life
4.) Your writing, on its own, will not start a revolution
5.) Your writing will most likely not make your children proud of you
6.) Your writing will not save your marriage
7.) Writing well will not make people who crapped on you in high school envious of you
8.) Your writing will not make your parents proud of you (unless you become a millionaire; see number 2 above)
9.) Writing well will not humble your ex-girlfriends--they'll still be glad they broke up with you
10.) Your writing will not make you popular
11.) Your writing will not pay your bills (probably)
12.) Your writing will not make you as famous as Kim Kardashian (maybe Khloe though)
13.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not stop global warming
14.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not make the upstairs neighbor stop blasting Creed until 4 A.M. every night
15.) Your writing will never fully capture the beauty of nature
16.) Your writing will not make you parent of the year
17.) Your writing will not bring you more in tune with humanity
18.) Your writing will not make it so you're recognized when you pop into Starbucks for a grande iced half caf quadruple mocha latte macchiato
19.) Your writing will not make anyone want to be your friend
20.) Writing well, on its own, will not guarantee you a fulfilled life
21.) Your writing will not make anyone fall in love with you
22.) No one will build a huge sculpture of you when you die just because you were a good writer
23.) You will not be buried in an ornate mausoleum when you die just because you were a good writer (don't believe me? check out Kafka's grave).
24.) Chances are, your writing will go out of print within your own lifetime (unless you self-publish, of course)
25.) No one can marvel at your progress as a writer until you're in print--so if you're someone who needs constant praise and encouragement, you should become a figure skater
Things Your Writing Might Do:
1.) Writing that perfect line will make you happy for exactly one hour
2.) Writing often will ensure that your golf game sucks
3.) Writing often will leave less time for you to pick up hobbies like playing the harmonica (this is a good thing for those of us with eardrums)
4.) Writing something clever will secure you the esteem of your boss for precisely ten minutes
5.) Writing jokes well can make you rich, if you're into that
6.) Writing often will ensure that you will be seen by most people as a hermit
7.) Being a writer will guarantee that at least one person in the world, upon hearing the news that you're a writer, will say in a bored tone of voice, "Well, at least he's doing what he loves."
8.) Writing a lot will lessen the odds that you're shot by a sniper
9.) Writing often may help fight the causes of dementia (but I'm no doctor)
10.) Your writing has an outside shot at elevating a moment of everyday life into something unique
And it is for this last reason that I write. That one chance in a thousand that if you work hard enough, if you put in enough hours writing, you'll create art that endures. To me, this makes everything in the first list above irrelevant. But it's a good idea to know what you're up against from the start (or to be reminded of what you're up against if you're in the thick of writing). I hope these lists didn't discourage anyone from writing, because like I said before, it's the greatest job in the world. But you need to take it seriously and stay humble.
Now go write!
Things Your Writing Will Not Do:
1.) Your writing will not save the world
2.) Your writing will not make you rich (probably)
3.) Your writing will not save anyone's life
4.) Your writing, on its own, will not start a revolution
5.) Your writing will most likely not make your children proud of you
6.) Your writing will not save your marriage
7.) Writing well will not make people who crapped on you in high school envious of you
8.) Your writing will not make your parents proud of you (unless you become a millionaire; see number 2 above)
9.) Writing well will not humble your ex-girlfriends--they'll still be glad they broke up with you
10.) Your writing will not make you popular
11.) Your writing will not pay your bills (probably)
12.) Your writing will not make you as famous as Kim Kardashian (maybe Khloe though)
13.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not stop global warming
14.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not make the upstairs neighbor stop blasting Creed until 4 A.M. every night
15.) Your writing will never fully capture the beauty of nature
16.) Your writing will not make you parent of the year
17.) Your writing will not bring you more in tune with humanity
18.) Your writing will not make it so you're recognized when you pop into Starbucks for a grande iced half caf quadruple mocha latte macchiato
19.) Your writing will not make anyone want to be your friend
20.) Writing well, on its own, will not guarantee you a fulfilled life
21.) Your writing will not make anyone fall in love with you
22.) No one will build a huge sculpture of you when you die just because you were a good writer
23.) You will not be buried in an ornate mausoleum when you die just because you were a good writer (don't believe me? check out Kafka's grave).
24.) Chances are, your writing will go out of print within your own lifetime (unless you self-publish, of course)
25.) No one can marvel at your progress as a writer until you're in print--so if you're someone who needs constant praise and encouragement, you should become a figure skater
Things Your Writing Might Do:
1.) Writing that perfect line will make you happy for exactly one hour
2.) Writing often will ensure that your golf game sucks
3.) Writing often will leave less time for you to pick up hobbies like playing the harmonica (this is a good thing for those of us with eardrums)
4.) Writing something clever will secure you the esteem of your boss for precisely ten minutes
5.) Writing jokes well can make you rich, if you're into that
6.) Writing often will ensure that you will be seen by most people as a hermit
7.) Being a writer will guarantee that at least one person in the world, upon hearing the news that you're a writer, will say in a bored tone of voice, "Well, at least he's doing what he loves."
8.) Writing a lot will lessen the odds that you're shot by a sniper
9.) Writing often may help fight the causes of dementia (but I'm no doctor)
10.) Your writing has an outside shot at elevating a moment of everyday life into something unique
And it is for this last reason that I write. That one chance in a thousand that if you work hard enough, if you put in enough hours writing, you'll create art that endures. To me, this makes everything in the first list above irrelevant. But it's a good idea to know what you're up against from the start (or to be reminded of what you're up against if you're in the thick of writing). I hope these lists didn't discourage anyone from writing, because like I said before, it's the greatest job in the world. But you need to take it seriously and stay humble.
Now go write!
What Writing Is
I thought it would be a good idea to give you a run-down of just what I believe writing is, and what it is not. I've been in this game for a while now (not as long as some, but long enough to have formed opinions about it that may be of help to people). I've published magazine and newspaper articles and written some un-published manuscripts, so I'm no guru. That being said, I hope both newbies and seasoned vets alike can get something of value out of my experiences. So, without further ado, here are 25 things your writing won't achieve, and ten things it might:
Things Your Writing Will Not Do:
1.) Your writing will not save the world
2.) Your writing will not make you rich (probably)
3.) Your writing will not save anyone's life
4.) Your writing, on its own, will not start a revolution
5.) Your writing will most likely not make your children proud of you
6.) Your writing will not save your marriage
7.) Writing well will not make people who crapped on you in high school envious of you
8.) Your writing will not make your parents proud of you (unless you become a millionaire; see number 2 above)
9.) Writing well will not humble your ex-girlfriends--they'll still be glad they broke up with you
10.) Your writing will not make you popular
11.) Your writing will not pay your bills (probably)
12.) Your writing will not make you as famous as Kim Kardashian (maybe Khloe though)
13.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not stop global warming
14.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not make the upstairs neighbor stop blasting Creed until 4 A.M. every night
15.) Your writing will never fully capture the beauty of nature
16.) Your writing will not make you parent of the year
17.) Your writing will not bring you more in tune with humanity
18.) Your writing will not make it so you're recognized when you pop into Starbucks for a grande iced half caf quadruple mocha latte macchiato
19.) Your writing will not make anyone want to be your friend
20.) Writing well, on its own, will not guarantee you a fulfilled life
21.) Your writing will not make anyone fall in love with you
22.) No one will build a huge sculpture of you when you die just because you were a good writer
23.) You will not be buried in an ornate mausoleum when you die just because you were a good writer (don't believe me? check out Kafka's grave).
24.) Chances are, your writing will go out of print within your own lifetime (unless you self-publish, of course)
25.) No one can marvel at your progress as a writer until you're in print--so if you're someone who needs constant praise and encouragement, you should become a figure skater
Things Your Writing Might Do:
1.) Writing that perfect line will make you happy for exactly one hour
2.) Writing often will ensure that your golf game sucks
3.) Writing often will leave less time for you to pick up hobbies like playing the harmonica (this is a good thing for those of us with eardrums)
4.) Writing something clever will secure you the esteem of your boss for precisely ten minutes
5.) Writing jokes well can make you rich, if you're into that
6.) Writing often will ensure that you will be seen by most people as a hermit
7.) Being a writer will guarantee that at least one person in the world, upon hearing the news that you're a writer, will say in a bored tone of voice, "Well, at least he's doing what he loves."
8.) Writing a lot will lessen the odds that you're shot by a sniper
9.) Writing often may help fight the causes of dementia (but I'm no doctor)
10.) Your writing has an outside shot at elevating a moment of everyday life into something unique
And it is for this last reason that I write. That one chance in a thousand that if you work hard enough, if you put in enough hours writing, you'll create art that endures. To me, this makes everything in the first list above irrelevant. But it's a good idea to know what you're up against from the start (or to be reminded of what you're up against if you're in the thick of writing). I hope these lists didn't discourage anyone from writing, because like I said before, it's the greatest job in the world. But you need to take it seriously and stay humble.
Now go write!
Things Your Writing Will Not Do:
1.) Your writing will not save the world
2.) Your writing will not make you rich (probably)
3.) Your writing will not save anyone's life
4.) Your writing, on its own, will not start a revolution
5.) Your writing will most likely not make your children proud of you
6.) Your writing will not save your marriage
7.) Writing well will not make people who crapped on you in high school envious of you
8.) Your writing will not make your parents proud of you (unless you become a millionaire; see number 2 above)
9.) Writing well will not humble your ex-girlfriends--they'll still be glad they broke up with you
10.) Your writing will not make you popular
11.) Your writing will not pay your bills (probably)
12.) Your writing will not make you as famous as Kim Kardashian (maybe Khloe though)
13.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not stop global warming
14.) Your writing, no matter how persuasive, will not make the upstairs neighbor stop blasting Creed until 4 A.M. every night
15.) Your writing will never fully capture the beauty of nature
16.) Your writing will not make you parent of the year
17.) Your writing will not bring you more in tune with humanity
18.) Your writing will not make it so you're recognized when you pop into Starbucks for a grande iced half caf quadruple mocha latte macchiato
19.) Your writing will not make anyone want to be your friend
20.) Writing well, on its own, will not guarantee you a fulfilled life
21.) Your writing will not make anyone fall in love with you
22.) No one will build a huge sculpture of you when you die just because you were a good writer
23.) You will not be buried in an ornate mausoleum when you die just because you were a good writer (don't believe me? check out Kafka's grave).
24.) Chances are, your writing will go out of print within your own lifetime (unless you self-publish, of course)
25.) No one can marvel at your progress as a writer until you're in print--so if you're someone who needs constant praise and encouragement, you should become a figure skater
Things Your Writing Might Do:
1.) Writing that perfect line will make you happy for exactly one hour
2.) Writing often will ensure that your golf game sucks
3.) Writing often will leave less time for you to pick up hobbies like playing the harmonica (this is a good thing for those of us with eardrums)
4.) Writing something clever will secure you the esteem of your boss for precisely ten minutes
5.) Writing jokes well can make you rich, if you're into that
6.) Writing often will ensure that you will be seen by most people as a hermit
7.) Being a writer will guarantee that at least one person in the world, upon hearing the news that you're a writer, will say in a bored tone of voice, "Well, at least he's doing what he loves."
8.) Writing a lot will lessen the odds that you're shot by a sniper
9.) Writing often may help fight the causes of dementia (but I'm no doctor)
10.) Your writing has an outside shot at elevating a moment of everyday life into something unique
And it is for this last reason that I write. That one chance in a thousand that if you work hard enough, if you put in enough hours writing, you'll create art that endures. To me, this makes everything in the first list above irrelevant. But it's a good idea to know what you're up against from the start (or to be reminded of what you're up against if you're in the thick of writing). I hope these lists didn't discourage anyone from writing, because like I said before, it's the greatest job in the world. But you need to take it seriously and stay humble.
Now go write!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Focus on Now
I hadn't planned on blogging more than once a week, given that I'm so new to the self-pubbing world. And someone who's still in the process of learning should not be shelling out tons of advice. But whatever. I've never been one to sit quietly. So my message to you today, you brilliant writer you, is to stop focusing on the future.
Stop it!
I'll level with you: the only well I can draw from to give you advice is from my own well of failure. Yeah, that's right: well of failure. Hey, I like that. Well of Failure. Hmmmm. That could be the name of my band's next album. Not that I have a band, I'd have to learn to play the guitar before I put one together, but...Heck, I might even call the band Well of Failure! That would get the labels' attention. It's got a nice electric punk/funk feel to it and--wait! See? This is what I do. I spin off the rails so often that if I were an amusement park, the board of safety would've shut me down by now.
Focus. Focus focus focus focus. This is what I lack. But at least I realize it. And I'm taking steps to remedy it, which, if you're anything like me, you might find helpful.
1. Set aside a certain specific amount of time to write every day
And when I say every day, I mean EVERY SINGLE DAY. Setting a reasonable goal to accomplish every day will help you to focus. And I'm not talking about one continuous hour: if you can get one continuous hour of writing in, that's great--but if not, cobble together the time as best you can. Listen: Rome wasn't built in a day. It's a cliche that also happens to be true. I looked into it. Shoot, it even takes the guys at Extreme Makeover Home Edition nearly a full day just to put up one house (and I'm sure these rush jobs end up having tons of issues, like leaky roofs, busted water pipes, etc.).
My point is that unless you write every single day (or darn near to it), there are so many distractions in life that you will go off track. I've given myself a seemingly modest goal: write for one hour every single day. I work a full time job and have a family, so this is manageable. But manageable does not mean easy. I try as hard as possible to write every single day. You'd be surprised how hard that is. Don't believe me? Try it yourself, smart guy.
2. No complaining
As J.A. Konrath says, and I'm paraphrasing, try as hard as you can to quit being a writer. If you can't quit, then shut up and stop complaining--you chose this life. I would argue a little with the "chose" part of this advice, since I truly believe that being a writer chooses you, not the other way around, for why would someone willingly submit themselves to the torture that often attends writing? Oops. See that? I just complained. Don't be like me.
3. Don't edit yourself until the editing stage
This may be the most controversial part of my humble advice. Lots of people will tell you to edit yourself, at least somewhat, as you write. I know a guy who--talk about torture--reads what he's written from the beginning up to the place where he stopped writing the day before. He literally does this every time he writes. Talk about gag city. He's a good writer and it works for him, so kudos to him. I don't know about you, but I cannot do this. I have to keep pushing forward or I'll bail. Simple as that.
I mean, at the end of the day, who cares if you mess up some points of continuity in the first draft? Who cares if your main character goes from being named Gail in the first fifty pages to being named Gemma in the next fifty? Some people will say, "Um, these characters are supposed to be real. People don't just spontaneously go from being Gail to Gemma in real life, do they?" No they don't (unless they petition the government and pay a $39.95 fee, that is). But that's what the editing process is for. Just keep pushing ahead and do NOT look back (except to reference facts, keep your timeline of events relatively on track, etc.).
Anyway, those are just three things that I do every day. I was going to add a fourth--outlining--but to be honest, I suck at the whole outlining thing. I outlined the novel I'm writing now, but I've already gone so far off-script, that the outline has become more just a modest, curtseying set of suggestions. And I can barely read my own writing, so it becomes an exercise in mass insanity just looking at it.
At any rate, good luck to you and don't get overwhelmed; writing is hard but, in the end, fun. If you have a second, let me know your approaches to writing!
Stop it!
I'll level with you: the only well I can draw from to give you advice is from my own well of failure. Yeah, that's right: well of failure. Hey, I like that. Well of Failure. Hmmmm. That could be the name of my band's next album. Not that I have a band, I'd have to learn to play the guitar before I put one together, but...Heck, I might even call the band Well of Failure! That would get the labels' attention. It's got a nice electric punk/funk feel to it and--wait! See? This is what I do. I spin off the rails so often that if I were an amusement park, the board of safety would've shut me down by now.
Focus. Focus focus focus focus. This is what I lack. But at least I realize it. And I'm taking steps to remedy it, which, if you're anything like me, you might find helpful.
1. Set aside a certain specific amount of time to write every day
And when I say every day, I mean EVERY SINGLE DAY. Setting a reasonable goal to accomplish every day will help you to focus. And I'm not talking about one continuous hour: if you can get one continuous hour of writing in, that's great--but if not, cobble together the time as best you can. Listen: Rome wasn't built in a day. It's a cliche that also happens to be true. I looked into it. Shoot, it even takes the guys at Extreme Makeover Home Edition nearly a full day just to put up one house (and I'm sure these rush jobs end up having tons of issues, like leaky roofs, busted water pipes, etc.).
My point is that unless you write every single day (or darn near to it), there are so many distractions in life that you will go off track. I've given myself a seemingly modest goal: write for one hour every single day. I work a full time job and have a family, so this is manageable. But manageable does not mean easy. I try as hard as possible to write every single day. You'd be surprised how hard that is. Don't believe me? Try it yourself, smart guy.
2. No complaining
As J.A. Konrath says, and I'm paraphrasing, try as hard as you can to quit being a writer. If you can't quit, then shut up and stop complaining--you chose this life. I would argue a little with the "chose" part of this advice, since I truly believe that being a writer chooses you, not the other way around, for why would someone willingly submit themselves to the torture that often attends writing? Oops. See that? I just complained. Don't be like me.
3. Don't edit yourself until the editing stage
This may be the most controversial part of my humble advice. Lots of people will tell you to edit yourself, at least somewhat, as you write. I know a guy who--talk about torture--reads what he's written from the beginning up to the place where he stopped writing the day before. He literally does this every time he writes. Talk about gag city. He's a good writer and it works for him, so kudos to him. I don't know about you, but I cannot do this. I have to keep pushing forward or I'll bail. Simple as that.
I mean, at the end of the day, who cares if you mess up some points of continuity in the first draft? Who cares if your main character goes from being named Gail in the first fifty pages to being named Gemma in the next fifty? Some people will say, "Um, these characters are supposed to be real. People don't just spontaneously go from being Gail to Gemma in real life, do they?" No they don't (unless they petition the government and pay a $39.95 fee, that is). But that's what the editing process is for. Just keep pushing ahead and do NOT look back (except to reference facts, keep your timeline of events relatively on track, etc.).
Anyway, those are just three things that I do every day. I was going to add a fourth--outlining--but to be honest, I suck at the whole outlining thing. I outlined the novel I'm writing now, but I've already gone so far off-script, that the outline has become more just a modest, curtseying set of suggestions. And I can barely read my own writing, so it becomes an exercise in mass insanity just looking at it.
At any rate, good luck to you and don't get overwhelmed; writing is hard but, in the end, fun. If you have a second, let me know your approaches to writing!
Focus on Now
I hadn't planned on blogging more than once a week, given that I'm so new to the self-pubbing world. And someone who's still in the process of learning should not be shelling out tons of advice. But whatever. I've never been one to sit quietly. So my message to you today, you brilliant writer you, is to stop focusing on the future.
Stop it!
I'll level with you: the only well I can draw from to give you advice is from my own well of failure. Yeah, that's right: well of failure. Hey, I like that. Well of Failure. Hmmmm. That could be the name of my band's next album. Not that I have a band, I'd have to learn to play the guitar before I put one together, but...Heck, I might even call the band Well of Failure! That would get the labels' attention. It's got a nice electric punk/funk feel to it and--wait! See? This is what I do. I spin off the rails so often that if I were an amusement park, the board of safety would've shut me down by now.
Focus. Focus focus focus focus. This is what I lack. But at least I realize it. And I'm taking steps to remedy it, which, if you're anything like me, you might find helpful.
1. Set aside a certain specific amount of time to write every day
And when I say every day, I mean EVERY SINGLE DAY. Setting a reasonable goal to accomplish every day will help you to focus. And I'm not talking about one continuous hour: if you can get one continuous hour of writing in, that's great--but if not, cobble together the time as best you can. Listen: Rome wasn't built in a day. It's a cliche that also happens to be true. I looked into it. Shoot, it even takes the guys at Extreme Makeover Home Edition nearly a full day just to put up one house (and I'm sure these rush jobs end up having tons of issues, like leaky roofs, busted water pipes, etc.).
My point is that unless you write every single day (or darn near to it), there are so many distractions in life that you will go off track. I've given myself a seemingly modest goal: write for one hour every single day. I work a full time job and have a family, so this is manageable. But manageable does not mean easy. I try as hard as possible to write every single day. You'd be surprised how hard that is. Don't believe me? Try it yourself, smart guy.
2. No complaining
As J.A. Konrath says, and I'm paraphrasing, try as hard as you can to quit being a writer. If you can't quit, then shut up and stop complaining--you chose this life. I would argue a little with the "chose" part of this advice, since I truly believe that being a writer chooses you, not the other way around, for why would someone willingly submit themselves to the torture that often attends writing? Oops. See that? I just complained. Don't be like me.
3. Don't edit yourself until the editing stage
This may be the most controversial part of my humble advice. Lots of people will tell you to edit yourself, at least somewhat, as you write. I know a guy who--talk about torture--reads what he's written from the beginning up to the place where he stopped writing the day before. He literally does this every time he writes. Talk about gag city. He's a good writer and it works for him, so kudos to him. I don't know about you, but I cannot do this. I have to keep pushing forward or I'll bail. Simple as that.
I mean, at the end of the day, who cares if you mess up some points of continuity in the first draft? Who cares if your main character goes from being named Gail in the first fifty pages to being named Gemma in the next fifty? Some people will say, "Um, these characters are supposed to be real. People don't just spontaneously go from being Gail to Gemma in real life, do they?" No they don't (unless they petition the government and pay a $39.95 fee, that is). But that's what the editing process is for. Just keep pushing ahead and do NOT look back (except to reference facts, keep your timeline of events relatively on track, etc.).
Anyway, those are just three things that I do every day. I was going to add a fourth--outlining--but to be honest, I suck at the whole outlining thing. I outlined the novel I'm writing now, but I've already gone so far off-script, that the outline has become more just a modest, curtseying set of suggestions. And I can barely read my own writing, so it becomes an exercise in mass insanity just looking at it.
At any rate, good luck to you and don't get overwhelmed; writing is hard but, in the end, fun. If you have a second, let me know your approaches to writing!
Stop it!
I'll level with you: the only well I can draw from to give you advice is from my own well of failure. Yeah, that's right: well of failure. Hey, I like that. Well of Failure. Hmmmm. That could be the name of my band's next album. Not that I have a band, I'd have to learn to play the guitar before I put one together, but...Heck, I might even call the band Well of Failure! That would get the labels' attention. It's got a nice electric punk/funk feel to it and--wait! See? This is what I do. I spin off the rails so often that if I were an amusement park, the board of safety would've shut me down by now.
Focus. Focus focus focus focus. This is what I lack. But at least I realize it. And I'm taking steps to remedy it, which, if you're anything like me, you might find helpful.
1. Set aside a certain specific amount of time to write every day
And when I say every day, I mean EVERY SINGLE DAY. Setting a reasonable goal to accomplish every day will help you to focus. And I'm not talking about one continuous hour: if you can get one continuous hour of writing in, that's great--but if not, cobble together the time as best you can. Listen: Rome wasn't built in a day. It's a cliche that also happens to be true. I looked into it. Shoot, it even takes the guys at Extreme Makeover Home Edition nearly a full day just to put up one house (and I'm sure these rush jobs end up having tons of issues, like leaky roofs, busted water pipes, etc.).
My point is that unless you write every single day (or darn near to it), there are so many distractions in life that you will go off track. I've given myself a seemingly modest goal: write for one hour every single day. I work a full time job and have a family, so this is manageable. But manageable does not mean easy. I try as hard as possible to write every single day. You'd be surprised how hard that is. Don't believe me? Try it yourself, smart guy.
2. No complaining
As J.A. Konrath says, and I'm paraphrasing, try as hard as you can to quit being a writer. If you can't quit, then shut up and stop complaining--you chose this life. I would argue a little with the "chose" part of this advice, since I truly believe that being a writer chooses you, not the other way around, for why would someone willingly submit themselves to the torture that often attends writing? Oops. See that? I just complained. Don't be like me.
3. Don't edit yourself until the editing stage
This may be the most controversial part of my humble advice. Lots of people will tell you to edit yourself, at least somewhat, as you write. I know a guy who--talk about torture--reads what he's written from the beginning up to the place where he stopped writing the day before. He literally does this every time he writes. Talk about gag city. He's a good writer and it works for him, so kudos to him. I don't know about you, but I cannot do this. I have to keep pushing forward or I'll bail. Simple as that.
I mean, at the end of the day, who cares if you mess up some points of continuity in the first draft? Who cares if your main character goes from being named Gail in the first fifty pages to being named Gemma in the next fifty? Some people will say, "Um, these characters are supposed to be real. People don't just spontaneously go from being Gail to Gemma in real life, do they?" No they don't (unless they petition the government and pay a $39.95 fee, that is). But that's what the editing process is for. Just keep pushing ahead and do NOT look back (except to reference facts, keep your timeline of events relatively on track, etc.).
Anyway, those are just three things that I do every day. I was going to add a fourth--outlining--but to be honest, I suck at the whole outlining thing. I outlined the novel I'm writing now, but I've already gone so far off-script, that the outline has become more just a modest, curtseying set of suggestions. And I can barely read my own writing, so it becomes an exercise in mass insanity just looking at it.
At any rate, good luck to you and don't get overwhelmed; writing is hard but, in the end, fun. If you have a second, let me know your approaches to writing!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Let Go
I had an idea not so very long ago. I was going to create a website that was a one-stop shop for advice. I love taking online quizzes that promise to tell me who I am and to give me insight into my personality (come on, you do it too); quizzes like this and this. I'd make my website as scientifically accurate as possible, and it would be huge. Think: Facebook for advice.
I bought a domain name, borrowed a book about PHP and MySQL (coding languages: don't even ask), and downloaded Joomla through my GoDaddy account. And then I started messing around, trying to teach myself how to build a database-driven website, one where people from all over the world could plug in some answers to a series of questions and then be told the answer to the most basic human question of all: Who Am I?
And then I gave up on it. Not because it was too hard (it was too hard, but whatever, I tend to be attracted to impossible projects) or because I'm a flake, and not because I had a crisis of confidence. I stopped because teaching myself a whole coding language started to impinge on my writing time. For a while I was able to balance building the website with giving time to my family and my writing, but I knew that at a certain point, I'd have to choose one or the other: website or writing (ignoring family isn't an option for me). And I didn't want to be put in that position.
I despise stories with a moral at the end. That being said, here's the moral of my tale: if you're going to be a writer, then be the best writer you can possibly be. Mark Zuckerberg didn't build Facebook while also writing a young adult werewolf novel while also playing for his dorm's softball team. If David Fincher's movie is to be believed, he just built Facebook. Actually, it seems he didn't even go to class much: he just built Facebook.
He. Just. Built. Face. Book.
If writing is just a side thing for you, then by all means, keep practicing your back hand. Stay up till all hours teaching yourself Italian. Be my guest. But if you're a writer, then push all of that other crap aside and just write. And write and write and write. You're not selling yourself short, OK? This from a guy who's never published, I know. But the reason I've never published--and I believe this deeply--is because I've allowed myself to get sidetracked by lots of non-writing pursuits that never went anywhere.
Most of us writers (if you listen to Isabel Myers and that Briggs chick) are INFP's. Say what you will about personality tests (and that first link up there is a link to an unscientific test based on Myers-Briggs methodology, so it may be helpful for you), but I think the MBTI is fairly accurate. And it says that INFP's (which most of us writers are) tend to have their head in the clouds. Tend to daydream. Which is good. But too much daydreaming can lead you down lots of dead-end roads.
So learn from my example--and focus! Because the world needs your stories, now more than ever.
I bought a domain name, borrowed a book about PHP and MySQL (coding languages: don't even ask), and downloaded Joomla through my GoDaddy account. And then I started messing around, trying to teach myself how to build a database-driven website, one where people from all over the world could plug in some answers to a series of questions and then be told the answer to the most basic human question of all: Who Am I?
And then I gave up on it. Not because it was too hard (it was too hard, but whatever, I tend to be attracted to impossible projects) or because I'm a flake, and not because I had a crisis of confidence. I stopped because teaching myself a whole coding language started to impinge on my writing time. For a while I was able to balance building the website with giving time to my family and my writing, but I knew that at a certain point, I'd have to choose one or the other: website or writing (ignoring family isn't an option for me). And I didn't want to be put in that position.
The Takeaway
I despise stories with a moral at the end. That being said, here's the moral of my tale: if you're going to be a writer, then be the best writer you can possibly be. Mark Zuckerberg didn't build Facebook while also writing a young adult werewolf novel while also playing for his dorm's softball team. If David Fincher's movie is to be believed, he just built Facebook. Actually, it seems he didn't even go to class much: he just built Facebook.
He. Just. Built. Face. Book.
If writing is just a side thing for you, then by all means, keep practicing your back hand. Stay up till all hours teaching yourself Italian. Be my guest. But if you're a writer, then push all of that other crap aside and just write. And write and write and write. You're not selling yourself short, OK? This from a guy who's never published, I know. But the reason I've never published--and I believe this deeply--is because I've allowed myself to get sidetracked by lots of non-writing pursuits that never went anywhere.
Most of us writers (if you listen to Isabel Myers and that Briggs chick) are INFP's. Say what you will about personality tests (and that first link up there is a link to an unscientific test based on Myers-Briggs methodology, so it may be helpful for you), but I think the MBTI is fairly accurate. And it says that INFP's (which most of us writers are) tend to have their head in the clouds. Tend to daydream. Which is good. But too much daydreaming can lead you down lots of dead-end roads.
So learn from my example--and focus! Because the world needs your stories, now more than ever.
Let Go
I had an idea not so very long ago. I was going to create a website that was a one-stop shop for advice. I love taking online quizzes that promise to tell me who I am and to give me insight into my personality (come on, you do it too); quizzes like this and this. I'd make my website as scientifically accurate as possible, and it would be huge. Think: Facebook for advice.
I bought a domain name, borrowed a book about PHP and MySQL (coding languages: don't even ask), and downloaded Joomla through my GoDaddy account. And then I started messing around, trying to teach myself how to build a database-driven website, one where people from all over the world could plug in some answers to a series of questions and then be told the answer to the most basic human question of all: Who Am I?
And then I gave up on it. Not because it was too hard (it was too hard, but whatever, I tend to be attracted to impossible projects) or because I'm a flake, and not because I had a crisis of confidence. I stopped because teaching myself a whole coding language started to impinge on my writing time. For a while I was able to balance building the website with giving time to my family and my writing, but I knew that at a certain point, I'd have to choose one or the other: website or writing (ignoring family isn't an option for me). And I didn't want to be put in that position.
I despise stories with a moral at the end. That being said, here's the moral of my tale: if you're going to be a writer, then be the best writer you can possibly be. Mark Zuckerberg didn't build Facebook while also writing a young adult werewolf novel while also playing for his dorm's softball team. If David Fincher's movie is to be believed, he just built Facebook. Actually, it seems he didn't even go to class much: he just built Facebook.
He. Just. Built. Face. Book.
If writing is just a side thing for you, then by all means, keep practicing your back hand. Stay up till all hours teaching yourself Italian. Be my guest. But if you're a writer, then push all of that other crap aside and just write. And write and write and write. You're not selling yourself short, OK? This from a guy who's never published, I know. But the reason I've never published--and I believe this deeply--is because I've allowed myself to get sidetracked by lots of non-writing pursuits that never went anywhere.
Most of us writers (if you listen to Isabel Myers and that Briggs chick) are INFP's. Say what you will about personality tests (and that first link up there is a link to an unscientific test based on Myers-Briggs methodology, so it may be helpful for you), but I think the MBTI is fairly accurate. And it says that INFP's (which most of us writers are) tend to have their head in the clouds. Tend to daydream. Which is good. But too much daydreaming can lead you down lots of dead-end roads.
So learn from my example--and focus! Because the world needs your stories, now more than ever.
I bought a domain name, borrowed a book about PHP and MySQL (coding languages: don't even ask), and downloaded Joomla through my GoDaddy account. And then I started messing around, trying to teach myself how to build a database-driven website, one where people from all over the world could plug in some answers to a series of questions and then be told the answer to the most basic human question of all: Who Am I?
And then I gave up on it. Not because it was too hard (it was too hard, but whatever, I tend to be attracted to impossible projects) or because I'm a flake, and not because I had a crisis of confidence. I stopped because teaching myself a whole coding language started to impinge on my writing time. For a while I was able to balance building the website with giving time to my family and my writing, but I knew that at a certain point, I'd have to choose one or the other: website or writing (ignoring family isn't an option for me). And I didn't want to be put in that position.
The Takeaway
I despise stories with a moral at the end. That being said, here's the moral of my tale: if you're going to be a writer, then be the best writer you can possibly be. Mark Zuckerberg didn't build Facebook while also writing a young adult werewolf novel while also playing for his dorm's softball team. If David Fincher's movie is to be believed, he just built Facebook. Actually, it seems he didn't even go to class much: he just built Facebook.
He. Just. Built. Face. Book.
If writing is just a side thing for you, then by all means, keep practicing your back hand. Stay up till all hours teaching yourself Italian. Be my guest. But if you're a writer, then push all of that other crap aside and just write. And write and write and write. You're not selling yourself short, OK? This from a guy who's never published, I know. But the reason I've never published--and I believe this deeply--is because I've allowed myself to get sidetracked by lots of non-writing pursuits that never went anywhere.
Most of us writers (if you listen to Isabel Myers and that Briggs chick) are INFP's. Say what you will about personality tests (and that first link up there is a link to an unscientific test based on Myers-Briggs methodology, so it may be helpful for you), but I think the MBTI is fairly accurate. And it says that INFP's (which most of us writers are) tend to have their head in the clouds. Tend to daydream. Which is good. But too much daydreaming can lead you down lots of dead-end roads.
So learn from my example--and focus! Because the world needs your stories, now more than ever.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Line Between Legacy Publishers and Self-Pubbers: Myth or Reality?
I was thinking about something over the weekend. Maybe this is obvious to everyone, maybe it's not, but the more I think about it, the happier I get. Here's my thought: is there really such a difference between self-pubbers and legacy publishing houses? I know, I know. You'll come back at me with, "Well obviously, Chris--people READ books published by Penguin because Penguin stands for Quality, whereas they think something printed by Chris Hobson Inc. is probably a cut just above preschool marble painting.
Granted.
But I know a couple of people who started publishing houses of their own. That's right: they just up and said, "You know, I think I'll start publishing people's books." And they did. And they published good stuff by excellent authors. But how, may I ask, is this different than publishing your own book?
I know they didn't publish their own books; that's not what I'm saying. They published other people's books. But it was them doing the publishing, not some faceless corporation with a decaying old man at the helm. And believe me, they didn't have fleets of editors or artists at their beck and call: they had to arrange for all of those services on their own.
It's weird: just because they called their enterprises "publishing houses" they gained instant credibility. One of the guys was able to consistently place ads in Publisher's Weekly for his clients. Try doing that for your latest greatest self-pubbed novel. I don't know for certain, but something tells me you'd get laughed off the phone. But what gets me is that these guys had to hustle for their clients, they had to track down cover artists, get layout work done, promote the books to industry magazines, beg book store managers to give them space on an end cap to display the books. If you looked close, their whole operations were held together with balsa wood and chewing gum.
I say again: how is this any different than someone self-pubbing their own books?
One of these guys had zero industry experience before starting his company. He'd never been an editor, never been a literary agent, wasn't bedding down with the scioness of some publishing house. He just worked his butt off and published a bunch of books that looked beautiful and were credits to their authors.
To me, this exposes the thin line between the perceived prestige of being published by a full-blown legacy publisher and just doing it yourself, because I saw these guys scrambling and working two to three other jobs just to support their ventures, and how there was no magic involved. I concede: if you go with a house, you might get an advance. You might get good editing done. You won't have to shell out your own money for anything, and, especially if you go with a small outfit, you'll get one person doing the publicity, the editing, the layout, etc. so you'll have instant accountability.
But to me, these guys were basically self-publishers of other people's work. Ok, granted they didn't have the industry heft of a St. Martin's or a Harper. But their books looked just as pretty, and they had just as good of blurbs printed on the back covers. And I'm telling you, the books they published were just as good if not better than 2/3 of the crap big publishers churn out each year.
All this is to say that as long as you work hard and make your book as good as it can possibly be, there is no shame whatsoever in self publishing. As I often caution in my blog posts, I've never published either via legacy publishers or via self-publishing, but I'm writing a book now that I'm probably going to self-publish, so a lot of what I write is to motivate myself as much as it is to help others.
Bottom line: while you might catch a few guffaws when telling people you're a self-published author, as long as your book is good, you should be able to confidently look them in the eyes and say, "You think my stuff sucks? Whatever. Buy a copy and see for yourself."
Granted.
But I know a couple of people who started publishing houses of their own. That's right: they just up and said, "You know, I think I'll start publishing people's books." And they did. And they published good stuff by excellent authors. But how, may I ask, is this different than publishing your own book?
I know they didn't publish their own books; that's not what I'm saying. They published other people's books. But it was them doing the publishing, not some faceless corporation with a decaying old man at the helm. And believe me, they didn't have fleets of editors or artists at their beck and call: they had to arrange for all of those services on their own.
It's weird: just because they called their enterprises "publishing houses" they gained instant credibility. One of the guys was able to consistently place ads in Publisher's Weekly for his clients. Try doing that for your latest greatest self-pubbed novel. I don't know for certain, but something tells me you'd get laughed off the phone. But what gets me is that these guys had to hustle for their clients, they had to track down cover artists, get layout work done, promote the books to industry magazines, beg book store managers to give them space on an end cap to display the books. If you looked close, their whole operations were held together with balsa wood and chewing gum.
I say again: how is this any different than someone self-pubbing their own books?
One of these guys had zero industry experience before starting his company. He'd never been an editor, never been a literary agent, wasn't bedding down with the scioness of some publishing house. He just worked his butt off and published a bunch of books that looked beautiful and were credits to their authors.
To me, this exposes the thin line between the perceived prestige of being published by a full-blown legacy publisher and just doing it yourself, because I saw these guys scrambling and working two to three other jobs just to support their ventures, and how there was no magic involved. I concede: if you go with a house, you might get an advance. You might get good editing done. You won't have to shell out your own money for anything, and, especially if you go with a small outfit, you'll get one person doing the publicity, the editing, the layout, etc. so you'll have instant accountability.
But to me, these guys were basically self-publishers of other people's work. Ok, granted they didn't have the industry heft of a St. Martin's or a Harper. But their books looked just as pretty, and they had just as good of blurbs printed on the back covers. And I'm telling you, the books they published were just as good if not better than 2/3 of the crap big publishers churn out each year.
All this is to say that as long as you work hard and make your book as good as it can possibly be, there is no shame whatsoever in self publishing. As I often caution in my blog posts, I've never published either via legacy publishers or via self-publishing, but I'm writing a book now that I'm probably going to self-publish, so a lot of what I write is to motivate myself as much as it is to help others.
Bottom line: while you might catch a few guffaws when telling people you're a self-published author, as long as your book is good, you should be able to confidently look them in the eyes and say, "You think my stuff sucks? Whatever. Buy a copy and see for yourself."
Line Between Legacy Publishers and Self-Pubbers: Myth or Reality?
I was thinking about something over the weekend. Maybe this is obvious to everyone, maybe it's not, but the more I think about it, the happier I get. Here's my thought: is there really such a difference between self-pubbers and legacy publishing houses? I know, I know. You'll come back at me with, "Well obviously, Chris--people READ books published by Penguin because Penguin stands for Quality, whereas they think something printed by Chris Hobson Inc. is probably a cut just above preschool marble painting.
Granted.
But I know a couple of people who started publishing houses of their own. That's right: they just up and said, "You know, I think I'll start publishing people's books." And they did. And they published good stuff by excellent authors. But how, may I ask, is this different than publishing your own book?
I know they didn't publish their own books; that's not what I'm saying. They published other people's books. But it was them doing the publishing, not some faceless corporation with a decaying old man at the helm. And believe me, they didn't have fleets of editors or artists at their beck and call: they had to arrange for all of those services on their own.
It's weird: just because they called their enterprises "publishing houses" they gained instant credibility. One of the guys was able to consistently place ads in Publisher's Weekly for his clients. Try doing that for your latest greatest self-pubbed novel. I don't know for certain, but something tells me you'd get laughed off the phone. But what gets me is that these guys had to hustle for their clients, they had to track down cover artists, get layout work done, promote the books to industry magazines, beg book store managers to give them space on an end cap to display the books. If you looked close, their whole operations were held together with balsa wood and chewing gum.
I say again: how is this any different than someone self-pubbing their own books?
One of these guys had zero industry experience before starting his company. He'd never been an editor, never been a literary agent, wasn't bedding down with the scioness of some publishing house. He just worked his butt off and published a bunch of books that looked beautiful and were credits to their authors.
To me, this exposes the thin line between the perceived prestige of being published by a full-blown legacy publisher and just doing it yourself, because I saw these guys scrambling and working two to three other jobs just to support their ventures, and how there was no magic involved. I concede: if you go with a house, you might get an advance. You might get good editing done. You won't have to shell out your own money for anything, and, especially if you go with a small outfit, you'll get one person doing the publicity, the editing, the layout, etc. so you'll have instant accountability.
But to me, these guys were basically self-publishers of other people's work. Ok, granted they didn't have the industry heft of a St. Martin's or a Harper. But their books looked just as pretty, and they had just as good of blurbs printed on the back covers. And I'm telling you, the books they published were just as good if not better than 2/3 of the crap big publishers churn out each year.
All this is to say that as long as you work hard and make your book as good as it can possibly be, there is no shame whatsoever in self publishing. As I often caution in my blog posts, I've never published either via legacy publishers or via self-publishing, but I'm writing a book now that I'm probably going to self-publish, so a lot of what I write is to motivate myself as much as it is to help others.
Bottom line: while you might catch a few guffaws when telling people you're a self-published author, as long as your book is good, you should be able to confidently look them in the eyes and say, "You think my stuff sucks? Whatever. Buy a copy and see for yourself."
Granted.
But I know a couple of people who started publishing houses of their own. That's right: they just up and said, "You know, I think I'll start publishing people's books." And they did. And they published good stuff by excellent authors. But how, may I ask, is this different than publishing your own book?
I know they didn't publish their own books; that's not what I'm saying. They published other people's books. But it was them doing the publishing, not some faceless corporation with a decaying old man at the helm. And believe me, they didn't have fleets of editors or artists at their beck and call: they had to arrange for all of those services on their own.
It's weird: just because they called their enterprises "publishing houses" they gained instant credibility. One of the guys was able to consistently place ads in Publisher's Weekly for his clients. Try doing that for your latest greatest self-pubbed novel. I don't know for certain, but something tells me you'd get laughed off the phone. But what gets me is that these guys had to hustle for their clients, they had to track down cover artists, get layout work done, promote the books to industry magazines, beg book store managers to give them space on an end cap to display the books. If you looked close, their whole operations were held together with balsa wood and chewing gum.
I say again: how is this any different than someone self-pubbing their own books?
One of these guys had zero industry experience before starting his company. He'd never been an editor, never been a literary agent, wasn't bedding down with the scioness of some publishing house. He just worked his butt off and published a bunch of books that looked beautiful and were credits to their authors.
To me, this exposes the thin line between the perceived prestige of being published by a full-blown legacy publisher and just doing it yourself, because I saw these guys scrambling and working two to three other jobs just to support their ventures, and how there was no magic involved. I concede: if you go with a house, you might get an advance. You might get good editing done. You won't have to shell out your own money for anything, and, especially if you go with a small outfit, you'll get one person doing the publicity, the editing, the layout, etc. so you'll have instant accountability.
But to me, these guys were basically self-publishers of other people's work. Ok, granted they didn't have the industry heft of a St. Martin's or a Harper. But their books looked just as pretty, and they had just as good of blurbs printed on the back covers. And I'm telling you, the books they published were just as good if not better than 2/3 of the crap big publishers churn out each year.
All this is to say that as long as you work hard and make your book as good as it can possibly be, there is no shame whatsoever in self publishing. As I often caution in my blog posts, I've never published either via legacy publishers or via self-publishing, but I'm writing a book now that I'm probably going to self-publish, so a lot of what I write is to motivate myself as much as it is to help others.
Bottom line: while you might catch a few guffaws when telling people you're a self-published author, as long as your book is good, you should be able to confidently look them in the eyes and say, "You think my stuff sucks? Whatever. Buy a copy and see for yourself."
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Encouragement for the Incremental Writer
The Spanish writer Corin Tellado wrote over 4000 novels in her lifetime. She lived to be 82 years old. Now I'm no math wiz, but by my calculations, she needed to write 48 books per year--including when she was first born--in order to tally that many books. Since she actually started writing when she was 19 years old, that cranks the total up to 63 books per year!! In other words: she was constantly writing, probably through meals and not taking siestas. And the woman had two children.
Wow.
Why do I bring this up? Because most of us will never be even remotely this prolific. We do not have the free time to write ceaselessly. We have responsibilities. We have lives. Ok, well most of us have lives. But just as true, most of us would love to sell 400 million books just like Corin Tellado, to touch that many people's lives.
But we have to support ourselves while we write. We have to support families, if we have families. We have to watch The Bachelor every Monday evening at 8 PM Eastern Standard Time. As an old professor of mine wisely put it, "The world doesn't want us to write." But yet if we don't, Churchill's black dog will come sniffing for us.
So how to reconcile both needs?
I am an incremental writer. This approach works for me. I have decided not to chuck my job (which I like), not to forsake my family (Sherwood Anderson I am not), not to miss the Bachelorette Season 7 featuring Ashley Hebert, the plucky dental student from Philadelphia with a million dollar smile and enough insecurity to float a flotilla of Navy Seals ten times around the circumference of the Earth. I will not do it. I've drawn a line: I love writing, but I love my life even more.
So I write one hour per day. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I have never published anything. Hard-core writers will scoff at this. "Ha," I can hear William Faulkner chiding from beyond the grave. "It took me an hour just to drink fifteen mint juleps and stretch my writin' hand." Whatever, Bill. It's all I can handle. It may take me two/three years to finish a book, and that's painful to actually write, ouch--but it's what has to happen.
You just have to have ultimate confidence in yourself that you WILL finish your book. And the added bonus is that if you only write one hour per day, you don't have time for writer's block. You just simply don't have time for it. Can't shoe-horn it in. Sorry, buddy boy.
And when I say one hour per day, I mean every single day. Some writers write in bursts and then don't write for a day or two. What has two thumbs and writes every single day? This guy.
I know people who feel that they must carve out three hours for writing, who have to feel the whip of inspiration slap them across the face, who have to be sitting in a mountaintop villa in the South of France with a highball in one hand and a Cruella DeVille cigarette holder in the other as a cool wind whistles through the pines to even consider writing.
Not so me. If I can fit in writing for ten minutes here, wedge it in thirty minutes there, find fifteen spare minutes way over there, I'll do it. Usually I write during my lunch hour, so I get an unbroken period of time, but some days don't shape up that way. Still I write. So I don't want you to give yourself excuses for not writing anymore. You can do it. You just have to jump on opportunities every day to do so. You have to. Now do it!
Wow.
Why do I bring this up? Because most of us will never be even remotely this prolific. We do not have the free time to write ceaselessly. We have responsibilities. We have lives. Ok, well most of us have lives. But just as true, most of us would love to sell 400 million books just like Corin Tellado, to touch that many people's lives.
But we have to support ourselves while we write. We have to support families, if we have families. We have to watch The Bachelor every Monday evening at 8 PM Eastern Standard Time. As an old professor of mine wisely put it, "The world doesn't want us to write." But yet if we don't, Churchill's black dog will come sniffing for us.
So how to reconcile both needs?
I am an incremental writer. This approach works for me. I have decided not to chuck my job (which I like), not to forsake my family (Sherwood Anderson I am not), not to miss the Bachelorette Season 7 featuring Ashley Hebert, the plucky dental student from Philadelphia with a million dollar smile and enough insecurity to float a flotilla of Navy Seals ten times around the circumference of the Earth. I will not do it. I've drawn a line: I love writing, but I love my life even more.
So I write one hour per day. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I have never published anything. Hard-core writers will scoff at this. "Ha," I can hear William Faulkner chiding from beyond the grave. "It took me an hour just to drink fifteen mint juleps and stretch my writin' hand." Whatever, Bill. It's all I can handle. It may take me two/three years to finish a book, and that's painful to actually write, ouch--but it's what has to happen.
You just have to have ultimate confidence in yourself that you WILL finish your book. And the added bonus is that if you only write one hour per day, you don't have time for writer's block. You just simply don't have time for it. Can't shoe-horn it in. Sorry, buddy boy.
And when I say one hour per day, I mean every single day. Some writers write in bursts and then don't write for a day or two. What has two thumbs and writes every single day? This guy.
I know people who feel that they must carve out three hours for writing, who have to feel the whip of inspiration slap them across the face, who have to be sitting in a mountaintop villa in the South of France with a highball in one hand and a Cruella DeVille cigarette holder in the other as a cool wind whistles through the pines to even consider writing.
Not so me. If I can fit in writing for ten minutes here, wedge it in thirty minutes there, find fifteen spare minutes way over there, I'll do it. Usually I write during my lunch hour, so I get an unbroken period of time, but some days don't shape up that way. Still I write. So I don't want you to give yourself excuses for not writing anymore. You can do it. You just have to jump on opportunities every day to do so. You have to. Now do it!
Encouragement for the Incremental Writer
The Spanish writer Corin Tellado wrote over 4000 novels in her lifetime. She lived to be 82 years old. Now I'm no math wiz, but by my calculations, she needed to write 48 books per year--including when she was first born--in order to tally that many books. Since she actually started writing when she was 19 years old, that cranks the total up to 63 books per year!! In other words: she was constantly writing, probably through meals and not taking siestas. And the woman had two children.
Wow.
Why do I bring this up? Because most of us will never be even remotely this prolific. We do not have the free time to write ceaselessly. We have responsibilities. We have lives. Ok, well most of us have lives. But just as true, most of us would love to sell 400 million books just like Corin Tellado, to touch that many people's lives.
But we have to support ourselves while we write. We have to support families, if we have families. We have to watch The Bachelor every Monday evening at 8 PM Eastern Standard Time. As an old professor of mine wisely put it, "The world doesn't want us to write." But yet if we don't, Churchill's black dog will come sniffing for us.
So how to reconcile both needs?
I am an incremental writer. This approach works for me. I have decided not to chuck my job (which I like), not to forsake my family (Sherwood Anderson I am not), not to miss the Bachelorette Season 7 featuring Ashley Hebert, the plucky dental student from Philadelphia with a million dollar smile and enough insecurity to float a flotilla of Navy Seals ten times around the circumference of the Earth. I will not do it. I've drawn a line: I love writing, but I love my life even more.
So I write one hour per day. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I have never published anything. Hard-core writers will scoff at this. "Ha," I can hear William Faulkner chiding from beyond the grave. "It took me an hour just to drink fifteen mint juleps and stretch my writin' hand." Whatever, Bill. It's all I can handle. It may take me two/three years to finish a book, and that's painful to actually write, ouch--but it's what has to happen.
You just have to have ultimate confidence in yourself that you WILL finish your book. And the added bonus is that if you only write one hour per day, you don't have time for writer's block. You just simply don't have time for it. Can't shoe-horn it in. Sorry, buddy boy.
And when I say one hour per day, I mean every single day. Some writers write in bursts and then don't write for a day or two. What has two thumbs and writes every single day? This guy.
I know people who feel that they must carve out three hours for writing, who have to feel the whip of inspiration slap them across the face, who have to be sitting in a mountaintop villa in the South of France with a highball in one hand and a Cruella DeVille cigarette holder in the other as a cool wind whistles through the pines to even consider writing.
Not so me. If I can fit in writing for ten minutes here, wedge it in thirty minutes there, find fifteen spare minutes way over there, I'll do it. Usually I write during my lunch hour, so I get an unbroken period of time, but some days don't shape up that way. Still I write. So I don't want you to give yourself excuses for not writing anymore. You can do it. You just have to jump on opportunities every day to do so. You have to. Now do it!
Wow.
Why do I bring this up? Because most of us will never be even remotely this prolific. We do not have the free time to write ceaselessly. We have responsibilities. We have lives. Ok, well most of us have lives. But just as true, most of us would love to sell 400 million books just like Corin Tellado, to touch that many people's lives.
But we have to support ourselves while we write. We have to support families, if we have families. We have to watch The Bachelor every Monday evening at 8 PM Eastern Standard Time. As an old professor of mine wisely put it, "The world doesn't want us to write." But yet if we don't, Churchill's black dog will come sniffing for us.
So how to reconcile both needs?
I am an incremental writer. This approach works for me. I have decided not to chuck my job (which I like), not to forsake my family (Sherwood Anderson I am not), not to miss the Bachelorette Season 7 featuring Ashley Hebert, the plucky dental student from Philadelphia with a million dollar smile and enough insecurity to float a flotilla of Navy Seals ten times around the circumference of the Earth. I will not do it. I've drawn a line: I love writing, but I love my life even more.
So I write one hour per day. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I have never published anything. Hard-core writers will scoff at this. "Ha," I can hear William Faulkner chiding from beyond the grave. "It took me an hour just to drink fifteen mint juleps and stretch my writin' hand." Whatever, Bill. It's all I can handle. It may take me two/three years to finish a book, and that's painful to actually write, ouch--but it's what has to happen.
You just have to have ultimate confidence in yourself that you WILL finish your book. And the added bonus is that if you only write one hour per day, you don't have time for writer's block. You just simply don't have time for it. Can't shoe-horn it in. Sorry, buddy boy.
And when I say one hour per day, I mean every single day. Some writers write in bursts and then don't write for a day or two. What has two thumbs and writes every single day? This guy.
I know people who feel that they must carve out three hours for writing, who have to feel the whip of inspiration slap them across the face, who have to be sitting in a mountaintop villa in the South of France with a highball in one hand and a Cruella DeVille cigarette holder in the other as a cool wind whistles through the pines to even consider writing.
Not so me. If I can fit in writing for ten minutes here, wedge it in thirty minutes there, find fifteen spare minutes way over there, I'll do it. Usually I write during my lunch hour, so I get an unbroken period of time, but some days don't shape up that way. Still I write. So I don't want you to give yourself excuses for not writing anymore. You can do it. You just have to jump on opportunities every day to do so. You have to. Now do it!
Monday, May 2, 2011
Don't Worry if You're Not Tolstoy
I'm not an idealist anymore. At least not about writing. That's right, you heard it here first. Back when I was a grad student--I have an MFA in creative writing--being the Great American Novelist who wrote the Great American Novel was all that mattered to me. I read Hemingway and Mailer and Dos Passos wanting to be in the forefront of my generation of Post-Post-Post Modern writers. I wrote pastiches of Elizabeth Tallent, emulated everyone from Sherman Alexie to Edgar Allan Poe in my short stories.
And then I woke up.
My first dose of realism came when I found that I had no idea what to write as a master's thesis (see, in my program, us fiction students either had to write a novel or a collection of short stories and then hand it over to a thesis director for their approval). I re-read several short stories I'd written and decided they were all crap. Worse than crap, actually: pretentious crap. I'd always liked Dickens, so I figured maybe instead of short stories, I could write a sweeping epic that would enshrine the times in which I lived for the ages.
And nothing came to me. I started to get worried. So I told myself: screw it. Just write what comes to you and stop asking questions. So what did I do? I wrote an expansive, uber-massive 617 page Mafia novel.
Yeah, you heard that right. Mafia novel.
One member of my thesis committee, after I'd handed it in to her, called it "ginormous." She was of Italian descent, so I knew she'd at least show a passing interest in it. My biggest concern was my thesis chair, a man who other novelists know and respect, a prominent novelist himself who works for a nationally-known news outlet as their literary reviewer. A man who, in his classes, actively railed against the very notion of genre. One time, someone compared a book we were reading to Star Wars, and I thought he was going to throw up. Would this same man throw my Mafia book in the trash, douse it in lighter fluid, and sing "That's Amore" as he danced around the inferno?
Not exactly. Instead, he took one look at it, told me to chop it in half if I ever hoped to get it published, and signed his name to the approval slip without so much as opening the first page.
I have since seen a blurb written by this guy on the back of one of the most popular genre novels in modern times, giving it a stellar review. What is my point in writing this? That even the most staunch critics of popular culture secretly like it. Ok, maybe not Harold Bloom. But this guy, he likes well-crafted stories, even if they're--gulp!--genre fiction. And the title of my piece--which screamed, "Hey, this is a Mafia novel!" wasn't the thing that put him off: it was its sheer size.
His reaction gave me heart. After years of writing "sophisticated" screenplays and tales of woe that went nowhere, after feeling that I was somehow inferior to my classmates who'd written volumes about American angst and the dissolution of marriages, I've now turned my attention to young adult fiction. And I don't feel any of the misgivings I'd have felt just ten years ago. Because as long as a story is good and it transports the reader and provides them with a happy escape, that's just as important as writing War and Peace II.
And then I woke up.
My first dose of realism came when I found that I had no idea what to write as a master's thesis (see, in my program, us fiction students either had to write a novel or a collection of short stories and then hand it over to a thesis director for their approval). I re-read several short stories I'd written and decided they were all crap. Worse than crap, actually: pretentious crap. I'd always liked Dickens, so I figured maybe instead of short stories, I could write a sweeping epic that would enshrine the times in which I lived for the ages.
And nothing came to me. I started to get worried. So I told myself: screw it. Just write what comes to you and stop asking questions. So what did I do? I wrote an expansive, uber-massive 617 page Mafia novel.
Yeah, you heard that right. Mafia novel.
One member of my thesis committee, after I'd handed it in to her, called it "ginormous." She was of Italian descent, so I knew she'd at least show a passing interest in it. My biggest concern was my thesis chair, a man who other novelists know and respect, a prominent novelist himself who works for a nationally-known news outlet as their literary reviewer. A man who, in his classes, actively railed against the very notion of genre. One time, someone compared a book we were reading to Star Wars, and I thought he was going to throw up. Would this same man throw my Mafia book in the trash, douse it in lighter fluid, and sing "That's Amore" as he danced around the inferno?
Not exactly. Instead, he took one look at it, told me to chop it in half if I ever hoped to get it published, and signed his name to the approval slip without so much as opening the first page.
I have since seen a blurb written by this guy on the back of one of the most popular genre novels in modern times, giving it a stellar review. What is my point in writing this? That even the most staunch critics of popular culture secretly like it. Ok, maybe not Harold Bloom. But this guy, he likes well-crafted stories, even if they're--gulp!--genre fiction. And the title of my piece--which screamed, "Hey, this is a Mafia novel!" wasn't the thing that put him off: it was its sheer size.
His reaction gave me heart. After years of writing "sophisticated" screenplays and tales of woe that went nowhere, after feeling that I was somehow inferior to my classmates who'd written volumes about American angst and the dissolution of marriages, I've now turned my attention to young adult fiction. And I don't feel any of the misgivings I'd have felt just ten years ago. Because as long as a story is good and it transports the reader and provides them with a happy escape, that's just as important as writing War and Peace II.
Don't Worry if You're Not Tolstoy
I'm not an idealist anymore. At least not about writing. That's right, you heard it here first. Back when I was a grad student--I have an MFA in creative writing--being the Great American Novelist who wrote the Great American Novel was all that mattered to me. I read Hemingway and Mailer and Dos Passos wanting to be in the forefront of my generation of Post-Post-Post Modern writers. I wrote pastiches of Elizabeth Tallent, emulated everyone from Sherman Alexie to Edgar Allan Poe in my short stories.
And then I woke up.
My first dose of realism came when I found that I had no idea what to write as a master's thesis (see, in my program, us fiction students either had to write a novel or a collection of short stories and then hand it over to a thesis director for their approval). I re-read several short stories I'd written and decided they were all crap. Worse than crap, actually: pretentious crap. I'd always liked Dickens, so I figured maybe instead of short stories, I could write a sweeping epic that would enshrine the times in which I lived for the ages.
And nothing came to me. I started to get worried. So I told myself: screw it. Just write what comes to you and stop asking questions. So what did I do? I wrote an expansive, uber-massive 617 page Mafia novel.
Yeah, you heard that right. Mafia novel.
One member of my thesis committee, after I'd handed it in to her, called it "ginormous." She was of Italian descent, so I knew she'd at least show a passing interest in it. My biggest concern was my thesis chair, a man who other novelists know and respect, a prominent novelist himself who works for a nationally-known news outlet as their literary reviewer. A man who, in his classes, actively railed against the very notion of genre. One time, someone compared a book we were reading to Star Wars, and I thought he was going to throw up. Would this same man throw my Mafia book in the trash, douse it in lighter fluid, and sing "That's Amore" as he danced around the inferno?
Not exactly. Instead, he took one look at it, told me to chop it in half if I ever hoped to get it published, and signed his name to the approval slip without so much as opening the first page.
I have since seen a blurb written by this guy on the back of one of the most popular genre novels in modern times, giving it a stellar review. What is my point in writing this? That even the most staunch critics of popular culture secretly like it. Ok, maybe not Harold Bloom. But this guy, he likes well-crafted stories, even if they're--gulp!--genre fiction. And the title of my piece--which screamed, "Hey, this is a Mafia novel!" wasn't the thing that put him off: it was its sheer size.
His reaction gave me heart. After years of writing "sophisticated" screenplays and tales of woe that went nowhere, after feeling that I was somehow inferior to my classmates who'd written volumes about American angst and the dissolution of marriages, I've now turned my attention to young adult fiction. And I don't feel any of the misgivings I'd have felt just ten years ago. Because as long as a story is good and it transports the reader and provides them with a happy escape, that's just as important as writing War and Peace II.
And then I woke up.
My first dose of realism came when I found that I had no idea what to write as a master's thesis (see, in my program, us fiction students either had to write a novel or a collection of short stories and then hand it over to a thesis director for their approval). I re-read several short stories I'd written and decided they were all crap. Worse than crap, actually: pretentious crap. I'd always liked Dickens, so I figured maybe instead of short stories, I could write a sweeping epic that would enshrine the times in which I lived for the ages.
And nothing came to me. I started to get worried. So I told myself: screw it. Just write what comes to you and stop asking questions. So what did I do? I wrote an expansive, uber-massive 617 page Mafia novel.
Yeah, you heard that right. Mafia novel.
One member of my thesis committee, after I'd handed it in to her, called it "ginormous." She was of Italian descent, so I knew she'd at least show a passing interest in it. My biggest concern was my thesis chair, a man who other novelists know and respect, a prominent novelist himself who works for a nationally-known news outlet as their literary reviewer. A man who, in his classes, actively railed against the very notion of genre. One time, someone compared a book we were reading to Star Wars, and I thought he was going to throw up. Would this same man throw my Mafia book in the trash, douse it in lighter fluid, and sing "That's Amore" as he danced around the inferno?
Not exactly. Instead, he took one look at it, told me to chop it in half if I ever hoped to get it published, and signed his name to the approval slip without so much as opening the first page.
I have since seen a blurb written by this guy on the back of one of the most popular genre novels in modern times, giving it a stellar review. What is my point in writing this? That even the most staunch critics of popular culture secretly like it. Ok, maybe not Harold Bloom. But this guy, he likes well-crafted stories, even if they're--gulp!--genre fiction. And the title of my piece--which screamed, "Hey, this is a Mafia novel!" wasn't the thing that put him off: it was its sheer size.
His reaction gave me heart. After years of writing "sophisticated" screenplays and tales of woe that went nowhere, after feeling that I was somehow inferior to my classmates who'd written volumes about American angst and the dissolution of marriages, I've now turned my attention to young adult fiction. And I don't feel any of the misgivings I'd have felt just ten years ago. Because as long as a story is good and it transports the reader and provides them with a happy escape, that's just as important as writing War and Peace II.
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