Posts
Sharon Wildwind
Let’s take a look at both ends of the book-publishing pipeline. At the entrance end, an author is paid an advance as soon as she sells a book.
“First-book advances and rates-per-word for short-stories have not changed significantly in 30-40 years. A minimum wage job in Massachusetts [in 2007] pays a touch under $15,500/year. Average advances for fiction are still below $10,000. Average first advance is more like $5,000, even from a major publisher.”
~Dr. Steve Kelner, writer and motivational speaker
Actually, in many parts of genre publishing, the advance is more like $1,000 to $2,000 per book; in some cases as low as $500.
Whatever the advance, the author is expected to earn out the advance money before she gets any royalties.
At the pipeline exit, not all books sold count toward earning back the advance and/or royalties. You’re probably familiar with the idea of holding royalty money against returns. Here’s how it works.
Bookstores order books on consignment for a specified period of time, often 30 days. Let’s simplify the numbers. Suppose a buyer for a chain bookstore orders 100 copies of a new book, to arrive for April 1. That bookstore doesn’t have to pay for the books for 30 days. So, on about April 25, the employees go through the stores and collect up the books that haven’t sold. It was a good month. Forty out of the 100 books sold.
The employees take those remaining 60 copies back to the work room and tear off the front covers. It’s called stripping a book. If you look on the back cover of a book—usually a paperback—you’ll see the letter “S” in a small triangle. That indicates a book can be stripped. The employee shoves those 60 covers in an envelope and mails them back to the distributor.
The actual books themselves, now shivering in a corner without their covers, go to the landfill, or paper recycling, or enter a black market system they are sold as used books at a greatly reduced price.
While one set of employees is stripping book covers to return them, another set of employees is ordering books for May. Since April was a good sales month for our title, they order another 100 copies.
Come April 30, the book store has none of the April consignment left and owes the distributor for the 40 books that were sold, but not a thing for the 60 books that were stripped.
May, unfortunately, is not such a good month. Toward the end of May, only 15 copies of the second 100 consigned books have sold. Eighty-five copies are stripped and the person ordering books for June doesn’t order any more of that title. The book is essentially dead as far as that chain of bookstores goes.
Two-month total:
200 books shipped on consignment.
40+15 = 55 books sold. The author is due royalties on these books.
200 - 55 = 145 books destroyed.
Even for those 55 books sold, the author may not see the money for 1 to 2 years because many publishers hold back any money due until they are sure that there won’t be any more books stripped and destroyed.
The big buzz on the mystery lists in the past week was an announcement by HarperCollins that they are forming a new division where business practices will be different. First, the authors will get no advances. Second, this division will not allow any returns. If a bookstore orders 200 books on consignment; it pays for 200 books. Third, HarperCollins and the author split the profits 50/50 and the author doesn’t have to wait for returns to be charged against royalties.
At this stage the HC announcement is akin to coming home and finding something mysterious baking. It smells pretty good, but you can’t tell from peering in the oven if your partner has made a nice dessert or your child has a science fair project in production.
All we know so far is that HarperCollins will risk 25 titles a year on this new venture, that e-books and audio books have have been mentioned as formats along side the printed versions, and that Robert Miller, the man who will head the new venture, has been quoted in Publisher’s Lunch as saying, “We may evolve after we start.”
Eventually, something will break the traditional pipeline of advances at one end and returns at the other end. In fact, when the break comes, it will probably be more than one something, more likely a gusher of alternative business models, based on technology and a plurality of markets. It’s going to be interesting to see how the HC proposal plays out.
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Writing quote for the week:
It is not the employer who pays the wages. Employers only handle the money. It is the customer who pays the wages.
~Henry Ford, auto manufacturer
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
A Tale of Vengeance, A Tale of Heredity
by Julia Buckley
The subject of this article in a self-made disguise (his main medium is silly putty).
One day I bought my son a blank journal so that he could occupy himself while I worked at his brother's school event. He took the journal into a corner and began to write. He created his own cover, a dedication page, an ISBN number, and a price (two dollars and thirty cents). He launched right into a novel with this compelling and vaguely Dostoevskian beginning: "It all started with my father. He was a general of war." He wrote and wrote and wrote in his little corner of the school cafeteria, and he didn't stop until he had a complete novel, which he entitled The Vengeance Story.
I should mention that Graham is nine, and that is why I considered his feat so remarkable (and I still haven't gotten over that first line).
The story centers around the narrator, whose father was killed by a man named McJerk when the narrator was only two years old. Since then, he has cultivated a burning desire for revenge. I could learn a writing lesson from my son: his story is all action, all the time. The cover sports a variety of weapons that the narrator uses against the unfortunate (but undoubtedly evil) McJerk.
After his father's death, the narrator says that life is very hard for him and even more so for his mother, who has a difficult time raising this angry child. His mother dies when he is fifteen, and the narrator is briefly suicidal; he decides instead to consult a psychiatrist. Take note, Liz Zelvin: my son's narrator writes that "after a year of psychology, I was okay." Hurrah for psychology!
When the narrator first encounters McJerk, they are in a library. Our hero uses a giant dictionary to strike his foe, and then a chair. Then they are thrown out by a librarian. Hurrah for librarians!
However, the narrator continues in his quest for McJerk, and purchases "an assault rifle . . . but something happened to the gun; it was broken. So I purchased an AK-47. It was the biggest gun they had."
Ironically, I never let my sons read my books, because I feel that they are too adult for them, and potentially too violent. Therefore, I can safely say that this book is not at all influenced by the books written by me, but probably much more so by the many adventure movies Graham has seen.
Still, I found many distinctive aspects of his story, and the most striking thing is that he wrote it--with all of its separate chapters leading up to a final conflict and a denouement--all in one sitting. Wrote it, you might say, almost obsessively, which is exactly the way that I write. Once that central idea is in place, I need to write copiously for fear that I will lose my place or forget something.
I am curious to know if a person can inherit their actual writing style. I once read that both Dostoevsky and Van Gogh (both extremely prolific writers) had the same type of epilepsy, and which potentially caused their desire to write--that is, their brains dictated the volume of their work.
I wonder if heredity supplies similarities between a person's creative mind and that of her (or his) children. In any case, I'm thrilled with the fact that my son simply decided one day to write an entire book, and then did so. I'll leave you with a thrilling action sequence from The Vengeance Story:
"The hill got higher and higher until there was a bridge. I hid under a bush after knocking him on the ground. He got up and had his gun out; he passed me and I popped out and said 'Stop!'
As you guessed, he hit the gun out of my hand. So I tripped him and chased him across the creaky bridge and kicked him in the face. The hill was so high it was almost a small cliff . . . and then he snuck a knife from his pocket . . . "
copyright Graham Buckley 2008
The subject of this article in a self-made disguise (his main medium is silly putty).One day I bought my son a blank journal so that he could occupy himself while I worked at his brother's school event. He took the journal into a corner and began to write. He created his own cover, a dedication page, an ISBN number, and a price (two dollars and thirty cents). He launched right into a novel with this compelling and vaguely Dostoevskian beginning: "It all started with my father. He was a general of war." He wrote and wrote and wrote in his little corner of the school cafeteria, and he didn't stop until he had a complete novel, which he entitled The Vengeance Story.
I should mention that Graham is nine, and that is why I considered his feat so remarkable (and I still haven't gotten over that first line).
The story centers around the narrator, whose father was killed by a man named McJerk when the narrator was only two years old. Since then, he has cultivated a burning desire for revenge. I could learn a writing lesson from my son: his story is all action, all the time. The cover sports a variety of weapons that the narrator uses against the unfortunate (but undoubtedly evil) McJerk.
After his father's death, the narrator says that life is very hard for him and even more so for his mother, who has a difficult time raising this angry child. His mother dies when he is fifteen, and the narrator is briefly suicidal; he decides instead to consult a psychiatrist. Take note, Liz Zelvin: my son's narrator writes that "after a year of psychology, I was okay." Hurrah for psychology!
When the narrator first encounters McJerk, they are in a library. Our hero uses a giant dictionary to strike his foe, and then a chair. Then they are thrown out by a librarian. Hurrah for librarians!
However, the narrator continues in his quest for McJerk, and purchases "an assault rifle . . . but something happened to the gun; it was broken. So I purchased an AK-47. It was the biggest gun they had."
Ironically, I never let my sons read my books, because I feel that they are too adult for them, and potentially too violent. Therefore, I can safely say that this book is not at all influenced by the books written by me, but probably much more so by the many adventure movies Graham has seen.
Still, I found many distinctive aspects of his story, and the most striking thing is that he wrote it--with all of its separate chapters leading up to a final conflict and a denouement--all in one sitting. Wrote it, you might say, almost obsessively, which is exactly the way that I write. Once that central idea is in place, I need to write copiously for fear that I will lose my place or forget something.
I am curious to know if a person can inherit their actual writing style. I once read that both Dostoevsky and Van Gogh (both extremely prolific writers) had the same type of epilepsy, and which potentially caused their desire to write--that is, their brains dictated the volume of their work.
I wonder if heredity supplies similarities between a person's creative mind and that of her (or his) children. In any case, I'm thrilled with the fact that my son simply decided one day to write an entire book, and then did so. I'll leave you with a thrilling action sequence from The Vengeance Story:
"The hill got higher and higher until there was a bridge. I hid under a bush after knocking him on the ground. He got up and had his gun out; he passed me and I popped out and said 'Stop!'
As you guessed, he hit the gun out of my hand. So I tripped him and chased him across the creaky bridge and kicked him in the face. The hill was so high it was almost a small cliff . . . and then he snuck a knife from his pocket . . . "
copyright Graham Buckley 2008
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Buy This Book!
by Darlene Ryan
The publishing industry much like television networks and movie studios, uses endorsements as a way to entice you to buy their product. Sometimes that endorsement is a positive comment from a well-known publication like Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times or People. Sometimes it’s a recommendation from a respected author who writes in the same genre. For example, Karen E. Olson’s Day of the Dead has an endorsement from Lee Child. Carrie Vaughn’s Kitty Goes to Washington is recommended by Charlaine Harris.
The right words from the right person can give a tremendous boost to a writer’s career--just ask any author whose book has been picked for Oprah Winfrey’s book club.
“Brilliant use of paragraphs!”
The first place to start is with your editor. See if she’s planning for ask anyone for a recommendation before you do it.
Next, talk to your agent. He may have the connections to get your book into the hands of the author who inspired you to start writing or the one whose own book is burning up the bestseller lists.
“Outstanding chapter breaks!”
Some writers don't mind asking other writing friends for some good words about their book. But don’t put someone on the spot. Make the request in an email or a letter. And don’t hold a grudge if a friend says no.
If you write under more than one name don’t use one persona to endorse another. All that will do is make you fodder for every snarky blogger out there—including me.
Any kind of enticement from chocolate to cash is a bad idea. So is groveling. So is guilt. So is sucking-up. The best approach is a straightforward, professional request. Keep it short, polite and honest. Don't use the author’s first name if you don’t actually know her. And say thank-you.
“Great Spelling! Nice margins!”
Dear Ms Important Writer,
I'm writing to ask if you will consider reading my mystery novel, The Stalker, for a cover quotation. I would appreciate any recommendation you may decide to make for readers.
May I send you an advance reading copy?
Thank you.
Regards,
A. Newbie Author
Don’t lurk over the mailbox or your computer waiting for a response. Well-known writers get a ton of mail and they have deadlines, dentist visits, bad hair days and small children that projectile vomit. And remember, it may have been hard for you to ask, but it’s even harder to come up with a nice way to say no. So be gracious if you’re turned down. Follow-up with a thank you even if what you really want to say is, “Stick it in your ear you snotty hack!”
“This is definitely a book!”
And lastly, if the famous author does give you an endorsement don’t give his address to all your writing friends so they can ask for a plug for their books. (Not even if they offer you your body weight in chocolate.)
Friday, April 4, 2008
Li - tra - cha . . . or . . . lit tah rare eeee . . . what is it?
By Lonnie Cruse
There is usually an ongoing discussion (or war of words) by readers on book discussion lists as to what constitutes literature or makes a book "literary. " Works by Jane Austin, and, of course, our literary "father," E. A. Poe, are generally considered to be great writers of literature. But what about modern day books? With so many types of books, mystery, romance, western, general fiction, etc, not to mention all the sub-genres (just in mystery there is hard boiled, cozy, etc, and cozy is broken down into lots of sub-sub categories like gardening, sewing, cooking, sigh) what constitutes literature? And who writes it?
Frankly I don't have a clue. Do you? But I would think it would be books that could stand the test of time. Books so well written that they stay with us for a very long time, shelved where we can behold them with our eyes as we dust, or remember the stories in our minds.
Shirley Jackson is one of those authors for me. Dead and buried in the mid-Sixties, Jackson's short story, THE LOTTERY is still taught in colleges across the country as an example of how it's done. Done well. I read her book, WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE, twice just to be sure I didn't miss anything. Wow.
Jackson "apparently" had mental and/or emotional problems and I sometimes wonder if those supposed problems allowed her to write as bravely as she did, ALWAYS surprising me at the end, no matter how well I thought I'd come to know her style, because she seemed to have no self-imposed barriers. No, she didn't write graphic sex, violence, or language. I mean barriers to what happened to her characters or where she took them . . . and took the reader.
So, what's your idea of great literature? What constitutes literary for you? For me it's a book that is still loved and read whether it's decades or centuries after it was first written. Or months.
Modern day? ANY author whose story sticks with me after I've read the words THE END, put the book away, and I find myself thinking about the story and the characters while I make the bed or stir supper. Wondering if there will be another in the series, and where the characters will go from there. Wondering if I can wait that long or if I should go camp on the author's door step until she/he passes me a print-out through the door to read. A REAL advance reader's copy. Hmmm, wonder if Barbara D'Amato is at home today? Bill Crider? Donna Andrews? Just three of my all-time faves. Tony Hillerman? Nah, he'd likely call the Tribal Police on me. Hmmm. Anne Perry lives in England and I don't have enough frequent flyer miles. Newbie Tasha Alexander is just south of me in Nashville.
'Scuse me, I've gotta go pack. Thanks for stopping by. Think I'll just peek out my living room window and see if anyone is sitting on MY front porch.
There is usually an ongoing discussion (or war of words) by readers on book discussion lists as to what constitutes literature or makes a book "literary. " Works by Jane Austin, and, of course, our literary "father," E. A. Poe, are generally considered to be great writers of literature. But what about modern day books? With so many types of books, mystery, romance, western, general fiction, etc, not to mention all the sub-genres (just in mystery there is hard boiled, cozy, etc, and cozy is broken down into lots of sub-sub categories like gardening, sewing, cooking, sigh) what constitutes literature? And who writes it?
Frankly I don't have a clue. Do you? But I would think it would be books that could stand the test of time. Books so well written that they stay with us for a very long time, shelved where we can behold them with our eyes as we dust, or remember the stories in our minds.
Shirley Jackson is one of those authors for me. Dead and buried in the mid-Sixties, Jackson's short story, THE LOTTERY is still taught in colleges across the country as an example of how it's done. Done well. I read her book, WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE, twice just to be sure I didn't miss anything. Wow.
Jackson "apparently" had mental and/or emotional problems and I sometimes wonder if those supposed problems allowed her to write as bravely as she did, ALWAYS surprising me at the end, no matter how well I thought I'd come to know her style, because she seemed to have no self-imposed barriers. No, she didn't write graphic sex, violence, or language. I mean barriers to what happened to her characters or where she took them . . . and took the reader.
So, what's your idea of great literature? What constitutes literary for you? For me it's a book that is still loved and read whether it's decades or centuries after it was first written. Or months.
Modern day? ANY author whose story sticks with me after I've read the words THE END, put the book away, and I find myself thinking about the story and the characters while I make the bed or stir supper. Wondering if there will be another in the series, and where the characters will go from there. Wondering if I can wait that long or if I should go camp on the author's door step until she/he passes me a print-out through the door to read. A REAL advance reader's copy. Hmmm, wonder if Barbara D'Amato is at home today? Bill Crider? Donna Andrews? Just three of my all-time faves. Tony Hillerman? Nah, he'd likely call the Tribal Police on me. Hmmm. Anne Perry lives in England and I don't have enough frequent flyer miles. Newbie Tasha Alexander is just south of me in Nashville.
'Scuse me, I've gotta go pack. Thanks for stopping by. Think I'll just peek out my living room window and see if anyone is sitting on MY front porch.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Recovery and Transformation
Elizabeth Zelvin
I’ve been planning my book tour, an essential activity for an emerging writer. I’m finding some of the venues myself, but my publicist is working on the midwestern leg of the trip. When she first proposed the itinerary, I thought the biggest challenge would be breaking the news to my husband that he’s going to Indianapolis. He’s coming with me for that segment of the tour because he has family, my in-laws, in Ohio, but he’s the kind of New Yorker who gets very, very antsy when he has to cross the Hudson. But when I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to stand by a table piled with my books near the door of a Borders in a mall in Illinois, I began to wonder how on earth I could persuade those ordinary folks out there in the heartland to plunk down their money on the premise that they might enjoy a book called Death Will Get You Sober and come to care about a a guy they’ll first meet on the Bowery coming off a bender.
I enjoy public speaking, and I’ve never doubted I’ll have plenty to say at bookstore discussions. There’s all that backstory about my characters that I took out over the course of many revisions. And I have lots of stories about the Bowery in the old days when I ran an alcohol treatment program there that didn’t make it into the book. But it’s occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t start there. Maybe I’d better begin with why I wanted—want—to write about recovery. It’s simple: recovery is transformational.
I once knew a nursery school teacher who had her class do a butterfly project every year. They’d watch the caterpillar form its chrysalis and wait for the brightly colored butterfly with its glorious wings to emerge. At the end of the term, she’d take them to the park so they could release the butterflies and see them fly free. Sometimes it’s kind of like that when an alcoholic finds recovery.
Before two guys named Bill W. and Dr. Bob came up with the idea for Alcoholics Anonymous in 1935, alcoholism was truly a hopeless illness—though it was seen as a moral weakness, not an illness—whose outcomes were inevitably “madness” (depression, delirium tremens, irreversible dementia) and death. AA offered another choice: stop drinking for just one day, admit you need help, find some kind of spiritual path, get rigorously honest about your own shortcomings, make amends for the harm you’ve done others, and help another alcoholic. In other words, all you have to do is stop drinking and change your whole life. As they say, the program works.
The real-life agency where I worked for more than six years was greatly appreciated by the surrounding community. It had cleaned up the notorious Third Street Shelter and turned the kind of guys you’d be scared to pass on the street at night into citizens with pride and dignity, ambitions and dreams. Not all of them, but some. The agency used to invite the whole neighborhood to a holiday party. At one of these, a woman asked me what the success rate was. I answered honestly: 15 or 20 percent. It’s hard to kick drugs and alcohol and turn your life around, especially since America doesn’t exactly lift its lamp beside the golden door any more. Some people are never satisfied, and this woman was one of them. “That’s not very much,” she said. I said, “We consider every one a miracle.”
I’ve been planning my book tour, an essential activity for an emerging writer. I’m finding some of the venues myself, but my publicist is working on the midwestern leg of the trip. When she first proposed the itinerary, I thought the biggest challenge would be breaking the news to my husband that he’s going to Indianapolis. He’s coming with me for that segment of the tour because he has family, my in-laws, in Ohio, but he’s the kind of New Yorker who gets very, very antsy when he has to cross the Hudson. But when I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to stand by a table piled with my books near the door of a Borders in a mall in Illinois, I began to wonder how on earth I could persuade those ordinary folks out there in the heartland to plunk down their money on the premise that they might enjoy a book called Death Will Get You Sober and come to care about a a guy they’ll first meet on the Bowery coming off a bender.
I enjoy public speaking, and I’ve never doubted I’ll have plenty to say at bookstore discussions. There’s all that backstory about my characters that I took out over the course of many revisions. And I have lots of stories about the Bowery in the old days when I ran an alcohol treatment program there that didn’t make it into the book. But it’s occurred to me that maybe I shouldn’t start there. Maybe I’d better begin with why I wanted—want—to write about recovery. It’s simple: recovery is transformational.
I once knew a nursery school teacher who had her class do a butterfly project every year. They’d watch the caterpillar form its chrysalis and wait for the brightly colored butterfly with its glorious wings to emerge. At the end of the term, she’d take them to the park so they could release the butterflies and see them fly free. Sometimes it’s kind of like that when an alcoholic finds recovery.
Before two guys named Bill W. and Dr. Bob came up with the idea for Alcoholics Anonymous in 1935, alcoholism was truly a hopeless illness—though it was seen as a moral weakness, not an illness—whose outcomes were inevitably “madness” (depression, delirium tremens, irreversible dementia) and death. AA offered another choice: stop drinking for just one day, admit you need help, find some kind of spiritual path, get rigorously honest about your own shortcomings, make amends for the harm you’ve done others, and help another alcoholic. In other words, all you have to do is stop drinking and change your whole life. As they say, the program works.
The real-life agency where I worked for more than six years was greatly appreciated by the surrounding community. It had cleaned up the notorious Third Street Shelter and turned the kind of guys you’d be scared to pass on the street at night into citizens with pride and dignity, ambitions and dreams. Not all of them, but some. The agency used to invite the whole neighborhood to a holiday party. At one of these, a woman asked me what the success rate was. I answered honestly: 15 or 20 percent. It’s hard to kick drugs and alcohol and turn your life around, especially since America doesn’t exactly lift its lamp beside the golden door any more. Some people are never satisfied, and this woman was one of them. “That’s not very much,” she said. I said, “We consider every one a miracle.”
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Reading Past the Envy
Sandra Parshall
I’m often surprised at how many other writers believe all bestselling novels are bad books. I know writers who won’t touch a bestselling novel, on the assumption that any book that appeals to the masses must be junk and any writer who has made a long, slow climb to good sales has sold out, cheapened his or her product to make money.
The harshest critics, the most resistant readers, any bestselling author will have are aspiring writers and published writers who feel they aren't as successful as they deserve to be. A writer unsatisfied with his or her own status will take grim satisfaction in tearing down the books of a bestselling author. We can't change the fact that millions of people love that author's work, but we can convince ourselves that all those people are stupid or deluded for loving it.
Envy is the monster that camps out in our souls and gnaws away at us until we’re incapable of taking pure pleasure in anyone else’s work – the kind of pleasure that led us to become writers in the first place. We say the bones of the story are showing (something we would never allow in our own work). We scoff at the author for overusing favorite words (a sin we never commit), as if that habit alone ruined the book. We wail that aspiring writers trying to get published and lesser-known writers struggling to stay published are held to a higher standard while bestsellers can coast and break all the rules and still be assured of success.
I’m as guilty as anyone else of saying and thinking such things. I can do self-torture as well as anybody I know. (Ask my husband. Ask my friends Carol and Cat and Babs. They’re the ones nodding and muttering, “Ain’t that the truth” as they read this.) But in saner moments I try to refocus, look past the obvious flaws and learn from what the popular authors are doing right. Believe me, anyone whose books sell hundreds of thousands of copies is doing something right.
What bestselling writers all have in common is the ability to tell a story in a dynamic fashion. They may not be great stylists, but they are entertaining. This is the one skill that beginning writers -- and many who have been writing for decades without success -- often cannot master. The story doesn't have to be perfect. The characters don't have to be stunningly original. The plot might be over-the-top, outlandish (I think The DaVinci Code fits that description, and so do almost all of James Patterson's novels). But the author has the magical ability to tell a story in a way that will keep readers turning the pages.
Members of a mystery e-list I belong to have lately been arguing over whether Agatha Christie was "weak" in any aspect of writing. Some devoted Christie fans see her books as flawless and any criticism raises their hackles. Personally, I think Christie's books are shallow, with one-dimensional characters and static protagonists. I prefer modern crime writers like Thomas Cook, Dennis Lehane, Tess Gerritsen, Laura Lippman, Ruth Rendell, who try to produce complex stories with complex characters, even though they’re not always fully successful. Yet Christie is still read, her books are all still in print throughout the world, films and TV programs are still being made of them, and she is considered the queen of mystery. Obviously, Christie did something right. She entertained readers who wanted to be kept guessing right up to the end. I can learn something from her about constructing a puzzle and weaving in clues and red herrings. I can’t learn anything from focusing on Christie’s flaws and grumbling that she doesn’t deserve her apparently eternal success.
It’s sad but true that the more a writer writes, the more critical a reader she becomes. It’s hard to enjoy a book when part of your mind is trolling for faults to gloat over. It’s hard to banish jealousy from our hearts and accept that not everyone, perhaps not ourselves, can be wildly successful. All we can do is write as well as we know how, without imagining the book bumping the latest Patterson out of the #1 spot on the NY Times bestseller list. We can try to enjoy the writing itself. Isn’t that, after all, the reason we started doing this in the first place?
I’m often surprised at how many other writers believe all bestselling novels are bad books. I know writers who won’t touch a bestselling novel, on the assumption that any book that appeals to the masses must be junk and any writer who has made a long, slow climb to good sales has sold out, cheapened his or her product to make money.
The harshest critics, the most resistant readers, any bestselling author will have are aspiring writers and published writers who feel they aren't as successful as they deserve to be. A writer unsatisfied with his or her own status will take grim satisfaction in tearing down the books of a bestselling author. We can't change the fact that millions of people love that author's work, but we can convince ourselves that all those people are stupid or deluded for loving it.
Envy is the monster that camps out in our souls and gnaws away at us until we’re incapable of taking pure pleasure in anyone else’s work – the kind of pleasure that led us to become writers in the first place. We say the bones of the story are showing (something we would never allow in our own work). We scoff at the author for overusing favorite words (a sin we never commit), as if that habit alone ruined the book. We wail that aspiring writers trying to get published and lesser-known writers struggling to stay published are held to a higher standard while bestsellers can coast and break all the rules and still be assured of success.
I’m as guilty as anyone else of saying and thinking such things. I can do self-torture as well as anybody I know. (Ask my husband. Ask my friends Carol and Cat and Babs. They’re the ones nodding and muttering, “Ain’t that the truth” as they read this.) But in saner moments I try to refocus, look past the obvious flaws and learn from what the popular authors are doing right. Believe me, anyone whose books sell hundreds of thousands of copies is doing something right.
What bestselling writers all have in common is the ability to tell a story in a dynamic fashion. They may not be great stylists, but they are entertaining. This is the one skill that beginning writers -- and many who have been writing for decades without success -- often cannot master. The story doesn't have to be perfect. The characters don't have to be stunningly original. The plot might be over-the-top, outlandish (I think The DaVinci Code fits that description, and so do almost all of James Patterson's novels). But the author has the magical ability to tell a story in a way that will keep readers turning the pages.
Members of a mystery e-list I belong to have lately been arguing over whether Agatha Christie was "weak" in any aspect of writing. Some devoted Christie fans see her books as flawless and any criticism raises their hackles. Personally, I think Christie's books are shallow, with one-dimensional characters and static protagonists. I prefer modern crime writers like Thomas Cook, Dennis Lehane, Tess Gerritsen, Laura Lippman, Ruth Rendell, who try to produce complex stories with complex characters, even though they’re not always fully successful. Yet Christie is still read, her books are all still in print throughout the world, films and TV programs are still being made of them, and she is considered the queen of mystery. Obviously, Christie did something right. She entertained readers who wanted to be kept guessing right up to the end. I can learn something from her about constructing a puzzle and weaving in clues and red herrings. I can’t learn anything from focusing on Christie’s flaws and grumbling that she doesn’t deserve her apparently eternal success.
It’s sad but true that the more a writer writes, the more critical a reader she becomes. It’s hard to enjoy a book when part of your mind is trolling for faults to gloat over. It’s hard to banish jealousy from our hearts and accept that not everyone, perhaps not ourselves, can be wildly successful. All we can do is write as well as we know how, without imagining the book bumping the latest Patterson out of the #1 spot on the NY Times bestseller list. We can try to enjoy the writing itself. Isn’t that, after all, the reason we started doing this in the first place?
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
The Color of Blogging
Sharon Wildwind
I’ve spent the past week drowning in color thanks to a magazine called Artful Blogging: Visually Inspiring Online Journals, published by Somerset Studio®. Volume 2, #3 features 23 women who communicate with the world through visual arts blogs.
Their images and use of color is stunning, whether it’s a house in Florida filled with red, yellow, and white pottery, or a charcoal study of black, bare tree branches against a grey-purple winter sky.
Their stories read remarkably similar.
My family, as terrific and supportive as they are, don’t “get it.” They don’t quite understand why I’m compelled to spend hours a day caressing cloth, or slapping paint on canvas, or gluing ephemera in tiny boxes.
One day I discovered blogging. I thought, I could never do something like that, but my teckie-minded husband/12-year-old son/neighbor down the street showed me the basics. I started with this simple little blog.
Someone wrote me back! She understood what I was doing! The world opened up for me!
Now . . . I sponsor a painting-a-week challenge and we get between 500 and 1,000 entries each week. . . . We raised a huge amount of money last year for charity through our art. . . . I have an on-line tribe, who is there for me no matter what. . . . I get up every morning at 4:30 to blog. . . . I travelled across the country to meet two women I’d met on line, and we went out and papered the town with guerilla art one afternoon. . . . I’ve learned what real beauty there is in the world.
First of all, I’m one heck of a lot jealous.
With a few word substitutions, those same stories apply to writers, only we have a devil of a time turning what we do into visual art. “My critique partner made a suggestion for the most perfect use of the gerund I’ve ever seen,” can not be successfully illustrated, no matter what medium you choose. In fact, most of us, even though we use them every day, have trouble even articulating what a gerund is.
A gerund, for those of you now curious, is a word, ending in -ing, used as a noun. Not to be confused with a present participle, which also ends in -ing, but is used to complete a progressive verb or act as a modifier.
You try illustrating that in paper clay!
Second of all, I was calmed and comforted. The time I spent in this world of art blogs gave me a break from news of war, environmental disasters, and rising food prices. None of the images were disturbing. I wasn’t likely to have nightmares from looking at them. People expressed joy. They reveled in being talented women, who were taking their art and life literally into their own hands. Boy, did I feel inspired after a couple of hours in that world!
Finally, I felt disturbed and I’m not sure how to work through this feeling. These are all blogs of excess. No matter how great the sale, it costs real money to accrue thousands of pale blue buttons, a houseful of colorful pottery, art supplies, or the digital cameras and computers needed to assemble and publish the blogs. Would the poorest of the world’s poor, if they could see these same blogs, have the same joyful response to the art that I did?
Yes, it’s terrific that we—whether the we be writers or visual artists—come together as a on-line tribe. The e-contacts truly do nourish the soul, but what about our off-line commitments? All care-and-concern groups, whether it be churches, or food banks, or people who read to seniors, are declining, in some cases disappearing, for lack of volunteers. There is a huge surge in gated communities, where residents want to raise their children, “among the right kind of people.” Even on so called public transport, most riders ride in their own little cell phone, ear bud, text-messaging world. In reaching out to the large blog community are we, in fact, creating more isolation in our local communities? I have no idea.
Art credits:
Lake Martin, New Iberia, Louisiana ©Beth Guillet, and used with her permission.
Flowers and words and Tilden and Thumbelina ©Sharon Wildwind
_____
Writing quote for the week:
If you want to write well, play with color and texture. Play in water. Have a space in your writing area where there are no words, only colors, shapes, relationships. Meditate on that space every day. Change what’s in at least once a month.
~Sharon Wildwind, mystery writer
I’ve spent the past week drowning in color thanks to a magazine called Artful Blogging: Visually Inspiring Online Journals, published by Somerset Studio®. Volume 2, #3 features 23 women who communicate with the world through visual arts blogs.
Their images and use of color is stunning, whether it’s a house in Florida filled with red, yellow, and white pottery, or a charcoal study of black, bare tree branches against a grey-purple winter sky.
Their stories read remarkably similar.
My family, as terrific and supportive as they are, don’t “get it.” They don’t quite understand why I’m compelled to spend hours a day caressing cloth, or slapping paint on canvas, or gluing ephemera in tiny boxes.
One day I discovered blogging. I thought, I could never do something like that, but my teckie-minded husband/12-year-old son/neighbor down the street showed me the basics. I started with this simple little blog.
Someone wrote me back! She understood what I was doing! The world opened up for me!
Now . . . I sponsor a painting-a-week challenge and we get between 500 and 1,000 entries each week. . . . We raised a huge amount of money last year for charity through our art. . . . I have an on-line tribe, who is there for me no matter what. . . . I get up every morning at 4:30 to blog. . . . I travelled across the country to meet two women I’d met on line, and we went out and papered the town with guerilla art one afternoon. . . . I’ve learned what real beauty there is in the world.
First of all, I’m one heck of a lot jealous.With a few word substitutions, those same stories apply to writers, only we have a devil of a time turning what we do into visual art. “My critique partner made a suggestion for the most perfect use of the gerund I’ve ever seen,” can not be successfully illustrated, no matter what medium you choose. In fact, most of us, even though we use them every day, have trouble even articulating what a gerund is.
A gerund, for those of you now curious, is a word, ending in -ing, used as a noun. Not to be confused with a present participle, which also ends in -ing, but is used to complete a progressive verb or act as a modifier.
You try illustrating that in paper clay!
Second of all, I was calmed and comforted. The time I spent in this world of art blogs gave me a break from news of war, environmental disasters, and rising food prices. None of the images were disturbing. I wasn’t likely to have nightmares from looking at them. People expressed joy. They reveled in being talented women, who were taking their art and life literally into their own hands. Boy, did I feel inspired after a couple of hours in that world!
Finally, I felt disturbed and I’m not sure how to work through this feeling. These are all blogs of excess. No matter how great the sale, it costs real money to accrue thousands of pale blue buttons, a houseful of colorful pottery, art supplies, or the digital cameras and computers needed to assemble and publish the blogs. Would the poorest of the world’s poor, if they could see these same blogs, have the same joyful response to the art that I did?Yes, it’s terrific that we—whether the we be writers or visual artists—come together as a on-line tribe. The e-contacts truly do nourish the soul, but what about our off-line commitments? All care-and-concern groups, whether it be churches, or food banks, or people who read to seniors, are declining, in some cases disappearing, for lack of volunteers. There is a huge surge in gated communities, where residents want to raise their children, “among the right kind of people.” Even on so called public transport, most riders ride in their own little cell phone, ear bud, text-messaging world. In reaching out to the large blog community are we, in fact, creating more isolation in our local communities? I have no idea.
Art credits:
Lake Martin, New Iberia, Louisiana ©Beth Guillet, and used with her permission.
Flowers and words and Tilden and Thumbelina ©Sharon Wildwind
_____
Writing quote for the week:
If you want to write well, play with color and texture. Play in water. Have a space in your writing area where there are no words, only colors, shapes, relationships. Meditate on that space every day. Change what’s in at least once a month.
~Sharon Wildwind, mystery writer
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Torment of Trivial Pursuit
by Julia Buckley
Last night my son asked if we could play Trivial Pursuit; this is ironic, since the last three times we played as a family we all ended up in bad moods, and last night was no exception.
My oldest son hates it when he doesn't know the answers; I think he got that from me. Generally, because the questions vary so wildly, I will get some sort of obscure query about the Bataan Death March and will fail to answer. Then my opponent will get a question like this (which is actually a question in one of the versions of Trivial Pursuit): "Which fictional mouse, created by Walt Disney, has become an American Icon?"
This will drive me crazy. I never get the mouse question. Last night, when I landed on "literature," I was thrilled to think I might actually earn a chip. My question, however, was about a comic strip--one I'd never heard of. Is this how we define literature, I wondered? Then I looked back at the box and saw that the brown, in its newest version, stands for "the printed word." I failed the comic book question, and then my nine-year-old got the question about Emily Dickinson, so we were both furious.
And yet in a few weeks, we will all want to play Trivial Pursuit again. Why? I've been thinking about this today, and I can only assume that it's about the mystery. That perfect question is out there, and I will know the answer next time! And so it lures me like the siren of board games, and I falter again and again. I did not know which eastern state has the largest display of collectible spoons. I was not aware that Pete Rose achieved his 4000th hit right before his 42nd birthday.
But I did get one terrific mystery lover's question: "What is the more politically correct title of Agatha Christie's TEN LITTLE INDIANS?" I answered, I was correct, and my family decided I had some value as a player.
So do you know? Or should I try the mouse question? :)
What's the most annoying question you ever got--assuming that you are trivial enough to play trivia games?
(fair disclosure: this was a blog I wrote about a year ago, but we DID play Trivial Pursuit again this week, because it was our spring break.)
Last night my son asked if we could play Trivial Pursuit; this is ironic, since the last three times we played as a family we all ended up in bad moods, and last night was no exception.
My oldest son hates it when he doesn't know the answers; I think he got that from me. Generally, because the questions vary so wildly, I will get some sort of obscure query about the Bataan Death March and will fail to answer. Then my opponent will get a question like this (which is actually a question in one of the versions of Trivial Pursuit): "Which fictional mouse, created by Walt Disney, has become an American Icon?"
This will drive me crazy. I never get the mouse question. Last night, when I landed on "literature," I was thrilled to think I might actually earn a chip. My question, however, was about a comic strip--one I'd never heard of. Is this how we define literature, I wondered? Then I looked back at the box and saw that the brown, in its newest version, stands for "the printed word." I failed the comic book question, and then my nine-year-old got the question about Emily Dickinson, so we were both furious.
And yet in a few weeks, we will all want to play Trivial Pursuit again. Why? I've been thinking about this today, and I can only assume that it's about the mystery. That perfect question is out there, and I will know the answer next time! And so it lures me like the siren of board games, and I falter again and again. I did not know which eastern state has the largest display of collectible spoons. I was not aware that Pete Rose achieved his 4000th hit right before his 42nd birthday.
But I did get one terrific mystery lover's question: "What is the more politically correct title of Agatha Christie's TEN LITTLE INDIANS?" I answered, I was correct, and my family decided I had some value as a player.
So do you know? Or should I try the mouse question? :)
What's the most annoying question you ever got--assuming that you are trivial enough to play trivia games?
(fair disclosure: this was a blog I wrote about a year ago, but we DID play Trivial Pursuit again this week, because it was our spring break.)
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Secret Weapon of the Undercover Cop: Attitude
Marco Conelli (Guest Blogger)
When I look back at my police career, I dwell fondly on my time as an undercover police officer in the Bronx Narcotics unit. Many people commonly confuse undercover cops with plain clothes officers. Big difference. As a true undercover you revoke your identity and no one knows who you are.
People who have read Matthew Livingston and the Prison of Souls have told me they enjoyed the way the characters could be identified with.
When Matthew, Dennis, and Sandra have to confront their criminal in an abandoned church, they are not overly confident or sure of themselves. They are much the way I was the first time I “stepped out” with a body wire taped to my skin and carbon paper smeared into my hands and face to make me look “dingy.” They are scared!
Matthew, Dennis, and Sandra used the very tool we should all exercise, common sense guided by good judgment. I remember the first time I locked stares with a drug dealer; I didn’t have my legs underneath me. I had entered a small apartment building, stepping from the bright summer sun into the dark lobby inside. By the time my eyes adjusted I was faced with three nasty fellows who were quick to inform me, “We ain't never seen you before.”
While I stammered through a defense indicating that I had been there plenty of times, the next question was fired at me twice as fast. “If you were here before, what color did you buy?” Well, the intelligence I had received before I went to this location informed me that they sold vials of crack-cocaine. In this section of the Bronx, crack vials were identified by the color of the cap. I quickly looked at my surroundings to see how much room I had if I ended up in a fight.
When my eyes scanned the floor I saw empty vials and a few green caps. All I had to do now was sell my performance. I looked at the three of them, who were growing nastier by the second, and replied, “Come on, guys, I always buy green tops here.” After that they felt a bit more relaxed and proceeded to high five me and sell me three vials for $9. Five minutes later they were in the custody of my backup team, none the wiser.
When I look back at barely being 23, I see how my confidence grew daily with every undercover experience. I value those experiences and pass them along to my teen age sleuths. Somehow they are each a young version of myself. By the way, would you like to know what gets an undercover transaction completed successfully? You can take all the disguises, stories, and unique “non cop” looks and throw them out the window. The thing that gets you over is...attitude! And there is nothing the bad guys can do about it.
Marco Conelli is the author of the young adult mystery Matthew Livingston and the Prison of Souls. He is also an active Detective in the NYPD, in his 18th year of service to New York, or as he puts it, “this great city.” In addition, he’s a songwriter and musician with several CDs to his credit. However, he says, “You mystery folks are much more interesting than those hot headed musicians.”
When I look back at my police career, I dwell fondly on my time as an undercover police officer in the Bronx Narcotics unit. Many people commonly confuse undercover cops with plain clothes officers. Big difference. As a true undercover you revoke your identity and no one knows who you are.
People who have read Matthew Livingston and the Prison of Souls have told me they enjoyed the way the characters could be identified with.
When Matthew, Dennis, and Sandra have to confront their criminal in an abandoned church, they are not overly confident or sure of themselves. They are much the way I was the first time I “stepped out” with a body wire taped to my skin and carbon paper smeared into my hands and face to make me look “dingy.” They are scared!
Matthew, Dennis, and Sandra used the very tool we should all exercise, common sense guided by good judgment. I remember the first time I locked stares with a drug dealer; I didn’t have my legs underneath me. I had entered a small apartment building, stepping from the bright summer sun into the dark lobby inside. By the time my eyes adjusted I was faced with three nasty fellows who were quick to inform me, “We ain't never seen you before.”
While I stammered through a defense indicating that I had been there plenty of times, the next question was fired at me twice as fast. “If you were here before, what color did you buy?” Well, the intelligence I had received before I went to this location informed me that they sold vials of crack-cocaine. In this section of the Bronx, crack vials were identified by the color of the cap. I quickly looked at my surroundings to see how much room I had if I ended up in a fight.
When my eyes scanned the floor I saw empty vials and a few green caps. All I had to do now was sell my performance. I looked at the three of them, who were growing nastier by the second, and replied, “Come on, guys, I always buy green tops here.” After that they felt a bit more relaxed and proceeded to high five me and sell me three vials for $9. Five minutes later they were in the custody of my backup team, none the wiser.
When I look back at barely being 23, I see how my confidence grew daily with every undercover experience. I value those experiences and pass them along to my teen age sleuths. Somehow they are each a young version of myself. By the way, would you like to know what gets an undercover transaction completed successfully? You can take all the disguises, stories, and unique “non cop” looks and throw them out the window. The thing that gets you over is...attitude! And there is nothing the bad guys can do about it.
Marco Conelli is the author of the young adult mystery Matthew Livingston and the Prison of Souls. He is also an active Detective in the NYPD, in his 18th year of service to New York, or as he puts it, “this great city.” In addition, he’s a songwriter and musician with several CDs to his credit. However, he says, “You mystery folks are much more interesting than those hot headed musicians.”
Friday, March 28, 2008
Nouns? Becoming verbs? What is happening here?
By Lonnie Cruse
Now then, folks, I can change a noun into a verb with the best of 'em, but I am NOT responsible for the latest trend . . . changing trademarked company names or products into everyday verb usage. So why am I posting this? Because someone called me on the cyber-carpet for doing just that on a discussion list awhile back and it's taken me until now to come up with a response . . . that I cared to print.
This morning I asked my friend, Debby, a question about airline flights, while we chatted on the phone. Her response? "Google it."
See, I told you it wasn't just me. So we Googled it. Googling it seems to be where it's at. And we got answers on Google. And in case you're interested, Debby no longer sweeps her kitchen floor. She "Swiffers" her kitchen floor. So do I, but don't tell anybody.
A couple of years ago I was doing a library talk/signing with author Melanie Lynn Hauser. She wrote CONFESSIONS OF A SUPER MOM and in the book she mentions "Swiffering." She told the audience her hubby wanted to know when Swiffer became a verb. Maybe SHE started the trend? Who knows?
All I know is that it IS a trend, I'm not responsible for it, but I'm just as capable of Googling or Swiffering as the rest of you.
Of course that brings up the point that authors are cautioned to avoid using "was" "has" and words ending in "ing" or "ly." Hmmm. So now we have a double no no. Or do we?
The rules for grammar and punctuation have changed drastically in the last decade or two. I remember a discussion not long ago, on a writer's group, about using contractions. Many were taught never to use them, BUT using full words often sounds awkward in dialogue. Picture this:
I was not going to tell you. (Oops, used the "was" word.)
I wasn't going to tell you.
In my experience, most people use the contraction for general speaking but use BOTH words if they want to emphasize the "not" part.
"Had" seems to be another no no for writers. Personally I like the word, but what do I know? So I cheat and use words like: I'd, she'd, and sneak it in that way. I never said I wasn't (was not?) sneaky.
Which of all of the above do you use in everyday conversation? Listening to people around me, I notice a lot of contractions. Nouns serving as verbs. Ly and ing words. And we do want our written dialogue to sound normal, not stilted. Yet we can't over do it.
I'm most certainly never going to win any awards for grammar, either in my writing or speech. (Speach? Sigh.) I've forgotten most of what I learned in school about it. Yes, it does grate on my nerves when I hear some younger folks who haven't been out of school as long as I have say things like: "I brung it." But some of the newer trends like contractions in speaking or writing or changing trademark words from nouns to verbs is probably here to stay, and we might as well learn to live with it
Alrighty then, anybody up for a bit of scrap booking? Thanks for reading our blog. Blogging is fun. Did I just do it again?
Now then, folks, I can change a noun into a verb with the best of 'em, but I am NOT responsible for the latest trend . . . changing trademarked company names or products into everyday verb usage. So why am I posting this? Because someone called me on the cyber-carpet for doing just that on a discussion list awhile back and it's taken me until now to come up with a response . . . that I cared to print.
This morning I asked my friend, Debby, a question about airline flights, while we chatted on the phone. Her response? "Google it."
See, I told you it wasn't just me. So we Googled it. Googling it seems to be where it's at. And we got answers on Google. And in case you're interested, Debby no longer sweeps her kitchen floor. She "Swiffers" her kitchen floor. So do I, but don't tell anybody.
A couple of years ago I was doing a library talk/signing with author Melanie Lynn Hauser. She wrote CONFESSIONS OF A SUPER MOM and in the book she mentions "Swiffering." She told the audience her hubby wanted to know when Swiffer became a verb. Maybe SHE started the trend? Who knows?
All I know is that it IS a trend, I'm not responsible for it, but I'm just as capable of Googling or Swiffering as the rest of you.
Of course that brings up the point that authors are cautioned to avoid using "was" "has" and words ending in "ing" or "ly." Hmmm. So now we have a double no no. Or do we?
The rules for grammar and punctuation have changed drastically in the last decade or two. I remember a discussion not long ago, on a writer's group, about using contractions. Many were taught never to use them, BUT using full words often sounds awkward in dialogue. Picture this:
I was not going to tell you. (Oops, used the "was" word.)
I wasn't going to tell you.
In my experience, most people use the contraction for general speaking but use BOTH words if they want to emphasize the "not" part.
"Had" seems to be another no no for writers. Personally I like the word, but what do I know? So I cheat and use words like: I'd, she'd, and sneak it in that way. I never said I wasn't (was not?) sneaky.
Which of all of the above do you use in everyday conversation? Listening to people around me, I notice a lot of contractions. Nouns serving as verbs. Ly and ing words. And we do want our written dialogue to sound normal, not stilted. Yet we can't over do it.
I'm most certainly never going to win any awards for grammar, either in my writing or speech. (Speach? Sigh.) I've forgotten most of what I learned in school about it. Yes, it does grate on my nerves when I hear some younger folks who haven't been out of school as long as I have say things like: "I brung it." But some of the newer trends like contractions in speaking or writing or changing trademark words from nouns to verbs is probably here to stay, and we might as well learn to live with it
Alrighty then, anybody up for a bit of scrap booking? Thanks for reading our blog. Blogging is fun. Did I just do it again?
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