Flagging confidence is the great enemy of the new author. How does one combat it? Apparently, the adoration of one's thoroughly smitten spouse doesn't quite quench doubts regarding the quality of one's book. :)
We all ask friends and family to proof read for us, but honestly, who has time for that? I mean, there's work, and then you have to spend time at home with your own family, and then squeeze in a little time for yourself... We do understand that, but if not friends and family, then whom do you ask?
I have several friends who read. Most are pretty picky about genre. Several have promised to read over the ms and give feedback, but they can't finish the four books they are already reading (each), and it's impossible to escape the pervasive attitude that this isn't really a book yet, anyway. I don't blame them. I just wish they'd say no, rather than leave us waiting for feedback that never comes.
We formed a critique group, but the genre interests were so diverse that it was difficult to get relevant commentary, even from diligent and well-meaning peers. I confess, though I tried very hard, it was difficult to squeeze in time for me to read everyone else's work and give it the thorough raking over the coals that each wanted and deserved. I was perversely flattered when one respected compatriot told me he hated me for a few days afterward, but then used some of my suggestions. I felt I'd done my job, the hard task of telling someone the worst news. I happen to like his work a lot, but as a critic my job isn't to pat him on the back and offer blandishments, and likewise I truly appreciated every time he looked at some convoluted paragraph of my own work and told me he had no idea what I was talking about.
It really helps to get constructive criticism, but it's hard. Bree says "our families are as supportive as a double-A bra." My family aren't voracious readers of fiction, so we haven't bothered them with it. Hers want to wait till it has an ISBN. We shrug.
Currently we're working on getting dedicated proofreaders at http://critters.org/ where members are actively seeking works to critique, and are accustomed to reading fantasy, sci-fi and horror. Friends and family have something invested in our emotional well-being. Critters, as critters.org folk are called, can only react to what's on the page. That's ideal.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Co-authoring. Co-Writing. Maybe Just A Payout Would Work Better...
Co-authoring sounds like a great idea, especially if the two writers are great friends and love the same genres. Right?
Maybe not. Co-authoring comes with a lot of baggage most people never stop to consider.
What is the reason for writing the book together? Do the two of you (or more) have complimentary skills? Is one writer more knowledgeable on scientific advances and possibilities while the other has a strong grasp of character development? Maybe one isn't a writer at all but has a great concept? These seem like great reasons to co-author.
No? You're both writers who happen to enjoy science fiction? That might work, I guess. That means it's time to ask another series of questions.
How will you divide tasks? If everyone involved intends to write at the same time, I can tell you there's trouble ahead. Just the editing is going to be painful, never mind the discussions (I'll assume discussions, not arguments) over plot and character.
"I'll take this chapter, you take that one," may work, it certainly sounds like a fair co-author relationship, but at the end of it, there's still that problem of a single cohesive voice, unless you're writing something very experimental. It might work beautifully if you're changing character perspectives, but I can imagine all kinds of problems with sudden changes in tone so jarring they take the reader right out of the story.
Once you have all those kinks figured out, consider the legalities of being part of a co-author team. That can get scary and it can kill friendships. How will you divide advances and royalties? I imagine several friends in a restaurant, having just enjoyed a meal and good conversation, haggling over who ate what when the check comes. That is one annoying situation that never fails to drive me insane. Just split the bill - it'll even out the next time!
Is that something you're willing to do when it comes to your overall finances, especially concerning this baby you've worked on for a year or three?
That brings me to rights. Are you both hoping for that second edition? What happens to the rights once the publisher has finished with your book? Who has the right to blog about the book, to give interviews, etc?
It all starts to sound a little more complicated than Wouldn't it be fun to write a book together? Getting all those details ironed out in the beginning seems intelligent, as does a written contract. Hey, marriages sometimes begin with prenuptial agreements, and though I have strong feelings against such a start to a relationship that should be built on trust, I do understand the reasons some people take that route. It can save a lot of red tape and financial pain if things get sticky. Co-authoring doesn't involve nearly as many emotional strings as marriage, though some with more experience in that area may disagree.
With all the hassle involved in co-authoring, maybe it would be wiser to invest in a ghost writer, or write up a contract indicating a payment upon sale of the book. Either way, it might be best to give co-authoring a bit more thought. On second thought, make that a lot more thought.
We're far from experts on this subject, but there are some things that are just common sense to consider when co-authoring, or getting involved in any other partnership.
Maybe not. Co-authoring comes with a lot of baggage most people never stop to consider.
What is the reason for writing the book together? Do the two of you (or more) have complimentary skills? Is one writer more knowledgeable on scientific advances and possibilities while the other has a strong grasp of character development? Maybe one isn't a writer at all but has a great concept? These seem like great reasons to co-author.
No? You're both writers who happen to enjoy science fiction? That might work, I guess. That means it's time to ask another series of questions.
How will you divide tasks? If everyone involved intends to write at the same time, I can tell you there's trouble ahead. Just the editing is going to be painful, never mind the discussions (I'll assume discussions, not arguments) over plot and character.
"I'll take this chapter, you take that one," may work, it certainly sounds like a fair co-author relationship, but at the end of it, there's still that problem of a single cohesive voice, unless you're writing something very experimental. It might work beautifully if you're changing character perspectives, but I can imagine all kinds of problems with sudden changes in tone so jarring they take the reader right out of the story.
Once you have all those kinks figured out, consider the legalities of being part of a co-author team. That can get scary and it can kill friendships. How will you divide advances and royalties? I imagine several friends in a restaurant, having just enjoyed a meal and good conversation, haggling over who ate what when the check comes. That is one annoying situation that never fails to drive me insane. Just split the bill - it'll even out the next time!
Is that something you're willing to do when it comes to your overall finances, especially concerning this baby you've worked on for a year or three?
That brings me to rights. Are you both hoping for that second edition? What happens to the rights once the publisher has finished with your book? Who has the right to blog about the book, to give interviews, etc?
It all starts to sound a little more complicated than Wouldn't it be fun to write a book together? Getting all those details ironed out in the beginning seems intelligent, as does a written contract. Hey, marriages sometimes begin with prenuptial agreements, and though I have strong feelings against such a start to a relationship that should be built on trust, I do understand the reasons some people take that route. It can save a lot of red tape and financial pain if things get sticky. Co-authoring doesn't involve nearly as many emotional strings as marriage, though some with more experience in that area may disagree.
With all the hassle involved in co-authoring, maybe it would be wiser to invest in a ghost writer, or write up a contract indicating a payment upon sale of the book. Either way, it might be best to give co-authoring a bit more thought. On second thought, make that a lot more thought.
We're far from experts on this subject, but there are some things that are just common sense to consider when co-authoring, or getting involved in any other partnership.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
It's a Job
Being an agent, I mean. They get up in the morning and brush their teeth and drive to work like the rest of us. Imagine walking in and seeing the slush pile sitting there waiting for you. Can you imagine the ennui? The malaise? The big sighs and noses sore from the grindstone?
So pretend it's you. Two hundred people want you to look at their books this week and make them rich and famous. A hundred of them can't consistently make complete sentences of correctly spelled words that are grammatically valid and properly punctuated, but you have to read those too. You hope most of them make their errors right in the query so that you can discount them as soon as possible.
Another fifty manage to write well, but they are writing the same thing you read last week, and the week before, and every week since you started this. Aliens are here to conquer Earth, a common Joe must carry the great magical thingy to be destroyed while being pursued by meanies, beautiful vampires are angst-ridden and trying to be loved like everyone else...can you see it? Even if an idea is a bit different, would you have the patience to read the whole query for the unique angle? Head for another cup of coffee and a ten minute chat by the pot with another agent who's also having trouble staying awake, and discuss the kids' soccer team for a while.
So what grabs your attention? A query has to be worth reading. It has to suggest something different, but not so different that it isn't clear in a page. Maybe you spend your days looking for "High Concept", something that will sell even if it's been done to death, or maybe you toss them as trite. Do you like sci-fi better than fantasy? Can you honestly give every query the full focus it deserves by three in the afternoon? Few could.
Then there are those that do catch your attention, making you laugh right out loud - not at the wonderfully witty presentation, but at the absurdity of the attempt. Some writer has determined to stand out, and in the process has made themselves look like a complete moron. You take the query from office to office to share the levity, but manage to send back a respectful rejection nonetheless. After all, you are a professional.
. . .
So as a writer I sit and stare at my query letter and try to figure out how to be noticed without looking like a buffoon. I make the letter grammatically perfect, then stress over the way it sounds overly formal. I colloquialize, and grind my teeth over sentences ending in prepositions. Maybe if I change this adverbial phrase to a stronger verb?
Yes, all valid considerations, but honestly, as long as the overall voice is good, should they matter so very much? Sometimes each of these foibles is intentionally used in writing to establish a mood. Throwing out a query for one sentence ending in a preposition is like refusing to do business with a man because of the mediocre shine on his shoes. It's asinine and misguided. I trust a successful agent to have better sense than that, and if not, then it's probably not someone I want to work with anyway.
Mood, on the other hand, is something that is always relevant. The mood of the agent when reading my query will matter whether they like it or not...but it's not something I can control, so I can dismiss it from my own consideration.
All I can do is try to make my own query interesting, attention-grabbing, coherent, and true to the story. If they want the story and they like my voice, then they'll pick up the book, just like any buyer in a B&N. If not, then I stay on the shelf and wait for the next browser, though in this case it's a matter of sending to the next agent.
This is what all writers, especially new authors, have to go through. Wish us luck.
So pretend it's you. Two hundred people want you to look at their books this week and make them rich and famous. A hundred of them can't consistently make complete sentences of correctly spelled words that are grammatically valid and properly punctuated, but you have to read those too. You hope most of them make their errors right in the query so that you can discount them as soon as possible.
Another fifty manage to write well, but they are writing the same thing you read last week, and the week before, and every week since you started this. Aliens are here to conquer Earth, a common Joe must carry the great magical thingy to be destroyed while being pursued by meanies, beautiful vampires are angst-ridden and trying to be loved like everyone else...can you see it? Even if an idea is a bit different, would you have the patience to read the whole query for the unique angle? Head for another cup of coffee and a ten minute chat by the pot with another agent who's also having trouble staying awake, and discuss the kids' soccer team for a while.
So what grabs your attention? A query has to be worth reading. It has to suggest something different, but not so different that it isn't clear in a page. Maybe you spend your days looking for "High Concept", something that will sell even if it's been done to death, or maybe you toss them as trite. Do you like sci-fi better than fantasy? Can you honestly give every query the full focus it deserves by three in the afternoon? Few could.
Then there are those that do catch your attention, making you laugh right out loud - not at the wonderfully witty presentation, but at the absurdity of the attempt. Some writer has determined to stand out, and in the process has made themselves look like a complete moron. You take the query from office to office to share the levity, but manage to send back a respectful rejection nonetheless. After all, you are a professional.
. . .
So as a writer I sit and stare at my query letter and try to figure out how to be noticed without looking like a buffoon. I make the letter grammatically perfect, then stress over the way it sounds overly formal. I colloquialize, and grind my teeth over sentences ending in prepositions. Maybe if I change this adverbial phrase to a stronger verb?
Yes, all valid considerations, but honestly, as long as the overall voice is good, should they matter so very much? Sometimes each of these foibles is intentionally used in writing to establish a mood. Throwing out a query for one sentence ending in a preposition is like refusing to do business with a man because of the mediocre shine on his shoes. It's asinine and misguided. I trust a successful agent to have better sense than that, and if not, then it's probably not someone I want to work with anyway.
Mood, on the other hand, is something that is always relevant. The mood of the agent when reading my query will matter whether they like it or not...but it's not something I can control, so I can dismiss it from my own consideration.
All I can do is try to make my own query interesting, attention-grabbing, coherent, and true to the story. If they want the story and they like my voice, then they'll pick up the book, just like any buyer in a B&N. If not, then I stay on the shelf and wait for the next browser, though in this case it's a matter of sending to the next agent.
This is what all writers, especially new authors, have to go through. Wish us luck.
Monday, March 7, 2011
The High Concept Gauntlet
According to Wikipedia, "High concept is a term used to refer to an artistic work that can be easily described by a succinctly stated premise."
It also says "An oxymoron ... is a figure of speech that combines contradictory terms."
Ok, forgive the jibe. I'll admit that it IS possible to create a work that "can be easily described by a succinctly stated premise" and still qualifies as art, but I'd call it the exception rather than the rule, and I'd put money that it's being sold short. "A rock the size of Texas is going to strike the Earth" is a great premise, full of potential and drama and opportunities for people to behave in a million interesting ways, but it doesn't mention anything about the characters in this particular story. Ok, meteor-doom -- even if it hadn't been done to death, what makes the story any good at all is the people this story is about, not the rock.
High Concept is a lie. It's not a "High" concept. It's a simplified premise, that's all, and in general has already been done to death. Shogun could have been stated as High Concept, virtually anything could -- "An English pilot becomes involved in the plotting for the Tokugawa Shogunate" describes the story, but says nothing about the romance, the culture shock, the Jesuits...
Every story either has elements you can't mention in the basic premise, or is pitifully monodimensional. To say otherwise isn't High Concept -- it's just high.
It also says "An oxymoron ... is a figure of speech that combines contradictory terms."
Ok, forgive the jibe. I'll admit that it IS possible to create a work that "can be easily described by a succinctly stated premise" and still qualifies as art, but I'd call it the exception rather than the rule, and I'd put money that it's being sold short. "A rock the size of Texas is going to strike the Earth" is a great premise, full of potential and drama and opportunities for people to behave in a million interesting ways, but it doesn't mention anything about the characters in this particular story. Ok, meteor-doom -- even if it hadn't been done to death, what makes the story any good at all is the people this story is about, not the rock.
High Concept is a lie. It's not a "High" concept. It's a simplified premise, that's all, and in general has already been done to death. Shogun could have been stated as High Concept, virtually anything could -- "An English pilot becomes involved in the plotting for the Tokugawa Shogunate" describes the story, but says nothing about the romance, the culture shock, the Jesuits...
Every story either has elements you can't mention in the basic premise, or is pitifully monodimensional. To say otherwise isn't High Concept -- it's just high.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sometimes Ugly is All You Got
The wife has been swamped of late, developing a nice bit of mass market fiction she's thoroughly enjoying. In the meantime, I steal the show and ramble again.
My babies are usually pretty ugly, and I have them in litters. I have three novels with significant word count, several with placeholder files, and synopses on my blackberry for SEVERAL more...
But one is full of song lyrics. Nobody explained what a massive pain it is to get licensing until I had a eighty thousand words. I'm hoping that as a second novel an agent will be willing to help me with that. There's one book tabled.
The next one is techie, a baby with green skin and antennae. I write very hard science fiction. It's what I want to read, worldbuilding details of setting, technology and politics, the variations in a non-homogenous interstellar culture... Not many want to read that level of tech.
What I enjoy writing is technical enough that few will buy it. I may be the best writer in the niche, but maybe no agent wants work so esoteric. I can "dumb it down", but what I enjoy in writing it may die in the process.
My babies are kinda ugly. I have to decide if I want to keep making them...
My babies are usually pretty ugly, and I have them in litters. I have three novels with significant word count, several with placeholder files, and synopses on my blackberry for SEVERAL more...
But one is full of song lyrics. Nobody explained what a massive pain it is to get licensing until I had a eighty thousand words. I'm hoping that as a second novel an agent will be willing to help me with that. There's one book tabled.
The next one is techie, a baby with green skin and antennae. I write very hard science fiction. It's what I want to read, worldbuilding details of setting, technology and politics, the variations in a non-homogenous interstellar culture... Not many want to read that level of tech.
What I enjoy writing is technical enough that few will buy it. I may be the best writer in the niche, but maybe no agent wants work so esoteric. I can "dumb it down", but what I enjoy in writing it may die in the process.
My babies are kinda ugly. I have to decide if I want to keep making them...
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Other Cheek
Sometimes, cheeky is good.
There are rules when submitting a query. Format, word count, various others... It's like a uniform. Get in line and stand at attention and hope you DO get noticed. Absolutely DO NOT pointlessly flaunt these rules. Still, more often than not, you'll probably be rejected, looked over in the rank and file. If they actually ask for a partial, you're probably *still* going to be rejected, but at least you gave it a shot.
When my stepfather was in the navy after WWII, the chaplain called an assembly before a shore leave in a foreign port. All the enlisted men filed in for the predictable turn the other cheek speech. "Boys," the chaplain said, "I know you're going to go places I'd rather you didn't, and I'm telling you that when the locals see you in that uniform, some are gonna pick a fight for no reason, so you listen to me: when they come up to you with that attitude, I don't want you to say a word to them. I want you to just turn around and punch them right between the eyes just as hard as you can...and if they don't fall down, you run, 'cause they ain't gonna."
It wasn't what they expected, but it was, strangely enough, good advice. There wasn't time to get to know each other and discuss world views. You walk in wearing your uniform, and the people either like you, your uniform and your ugly baby, or they reject you. If they single you out, then throw your best punch and don't apologize; give them the partial from the ms you've spent blood, sweat and tears on, and sell yourself like a cheap Hanoi whore. If they like it and they want it, if they go down after that one massive punch, you're glorious. If not, run, go find another bar, another publisher, another agent, and try again. With luck you'll get time for one beer and a little polish on the query between each.
The one difference is that, when you turn the other cheek, make it your backside as you sprint for the next goal, but never give up. If you get a chance to see the agent you REALLY wanted at a conference, even if they rejected you already, then go ahead, throw that second punch. Who knows, maybe the first one just missed. Just be respectful of their time, and keep your fingers crossed.
And good luck -- maybe this time a Hanoi whore with the ugly baby will be a little bit more to their tastes. ;)
There are rules when submitting a query. Format, word count, various others... It's like a uniform. Get in line and stand at attention and hope you DO get noticed. Absolutely DO NOT pointlessly flaunt these rules. Still, more often than not, you'll probably be rejected, looked over in the rank and file. If they actually ask for a partial, you're probably *still* going to be rejected, but at least you gave it a shot.
When my stepfather was in the navy after WWII, the chaplain called an assembly before a shore leave in a foreign port. All the enlisted men filed in for the predictable turn the other cheek speech. "Boys," the chaplain said, "I know you're going to go places I'd rather you didn't, and I'm telling you that when the locals see you in that uniform, some are gonna pick a fight for no reason, so you listen to me: when they come up to you with that attitude, I don't want you to say a word to them. I want you to just turn around and punch them right between the eyes just as hard as you can...and if they don't fall down, you run, 'cause they ain't gonna."
It wasn't what they expected, but it was, strangely enough, good advice. There wasn't time to get to know each other and discuss world views. You walk in wearing your uniform, and the people either like you, your uniform and your ugly baby, or they reject you. If they single you out, then throw your best punch and don't apologize; give them the partial from the ms you've spent blood, sweat and tears on, and sell yourself like a cheap Hanoi whore. If they like it and they want it, if they go down after that one massive punch, you're glorious. If not, run, go find another bar, another publisher, another agent, and try again. With luck you'll get time for one beer and a little polish on the query between each.
The one difference is that, when you turn the other cheek, make it your backside as you sprint for the next goal, but never give up. If you get a chance to see the agent you REALLY wanted at a conference, even if they rejected you already, then go ahead, throw that second punch. Who knows, maybe the first one just missed. Just be respectful of their time, and keep your fingers crossed.
And good luck -- maybe this time a Hanoi whore with the ugly baby will be a little bit more to their tastes. ;)
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The value of editing
So you've finished your manuscript. Wipe it's behind and start sending out snapshots.
That's really all a query is -- a snapshot of your ms that you hope will show a prospective agent what a beautiful baby it is and make them want to adopt it. The trouble is, while we have managed to (pro)create, we're not all necessarily professional photographers.
Writing a query is very , very, VERY different from writing a novel. You've managed maybe a hundred thousand words or story arc, rich characters the reader will love and empathize with or despise and curse, tension and drama and humor and blood-chilling moments of climactic adrenalin rush, subtle subplots and moral dilemma, all neatly wrapped up and tied with a literary bow by the end of the work. Bravo! Now sell it in two hundred fifty words.
Hm.
Stop and think about it. How many times have you idly glanced at the back of a book you've read and loved only to be incensed and indignant about the ridiculously inadequate treatment of the plot in the cover blurb? How DO you make someone really get the depth of the work in a single page of sales pitch?
For the record, the photo of the little possessed, staring, ragamuffin newborn at the top of this blog is our son Khavien. We picked that picture for a reason. He's a beautiful boy, one of the most adorable I've ever seen...and yes, I know I might be a little prejudiced on the matter, but it's been independently corroborated. =O)
It's not a flattering photo. It's not his worst, either. It's about even with what I expect most people start with for a query letter. Unappealing, unrepresentative, and unclear. How do we fix it?
I've done a good bit of work as an amateur photographer. I've been to events for amateur photographers. I can tell you a secret; for those of us who don't have years of training and experience, the best photos are selected from lots and lots and lots of utter crap. I have some of which I'm really proud, but that doesn't make me a good photographer. It just makes me persistent.
Queries don't work quite that way. The closest equivalent is to polish, edit, get some feedback, edit and polish some more... In other words, keep snapping the shutter and looking at the result till you get what you wanted, or at least something acceptably close.
Use the Agent Query link at the top of this blog, and submit your query for review on their forums. Find a writers' group and float it among them. Add punch, remove words, rework sentences. Keep adjusting and re-snapping the shutter until you believe it's as close as you're likely to get.
Then remember that no matter how lovely a picture you've made of your bouncing baby boy, some people are just not going to adopt him, because they want a girl, or a blonde, or one with green eyes. Don't complain about their prejudices; just keep looking till you find someone that will love him for who and what he is.
After all, do you really want an agent that isn't behind you all the way?
That's really all a query is -- a snapshot of your ms that you hope will show a prospective agent what a beautiful baby it is and make them want to adopt it. The trouble is, while we have managed to (pro)create, we're not all necessarily professional photographers.
Writing a query is very , very, VERY different from writing a novel. You've managed maybe a hundred thousand words or story arc, rich characters the reader will love and empathize with or despise and curse, tension and drama and humor and blood-chilling moments of climactic adrenalin rush, subtle subplots and moral dilemma, all neatly wrapped up and tied with a literary bow by the end of the work. Bravo! Now sell it in two hundred fifty words.
Hm.
Stop and think about it. How many times have you idly glanced at the back of a book you've read and loved only to be incensed and indignant about the ridiculously inadequate treatment of the plot in the cover blurb? How DO you make someone really get the depth of the work in a single page of sales pitch?
For the record, the photo of the little possessed, staring, ragamuffin newborn at the top of this blog is our son Khavien. We picked that picture for a reason. He's a beautiful boy, one of the most adorable I've ever seen...and yes, I know I might be a little prejudiced on the matter, but it's been independently corroborated. =O)
It's not a flattering photo. It's not his worst, either. It's about even with what I expect most people start with for a query letter. Unappealing, unrepresentative, and unclear. How do we fix it?
I've done a good bit of work as an amateur photographer. I've been to events for amateur photographers. I can tell you a secret; for those of us who don't have years of training and experience, the best photos are selected from lots and lots and lots of utter crap. I have some of which I'm really proud, but that doesn't make me a good photographer. It just makes me persistent.
Queries don't work quite that way. The closest equivalent is to polish, edit, get some feedback, edit and polish some more... In other words, keep snapping the shutter and looking at the result till you get what you wanted, or at least something acceptably close.
Use the Agent Query link at the top of this blog, and submit your query for review on their forums. Find a writers' group and float it among them. Add punch, remove words, rework sentences. Keep adjusting and re-snapping the shutter until you believe it's as close as you're likely to get.
Then remember that no matter how lovely a picture you've made of your bouncing baby boy, some people are just not going to adopt him, because they want a girl, or a blonde, or one with green eyes. Don't complain about their prejudices; just keep looking till you find someone that will love him for who and what he is.
After all, do you really want an agent that isn't behind you all the way?
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