Tell a dream, lose a reader
Today’s article is by intern and author Hilary Smith. It’s a fact of life that writers love dreams (especially during National Novel Writing Month, or any other time a lot of words need to appear fast), and readers hate them.
Hilary writes three excellent reasons why dreams tend to be rubbish. One thing she forgets to mention: never ever ever use the “It was all a dream!” ending in any of your stories, especially at the climax. It’s cheating, and stupid, and everyone who reads the story will hate you forever. Also, if you think it’s a clever twist ending – you are wrong. It’s not clever, it’s not a twist, and it’s not an ending.
Grab them fast
This article is all about your first paragraph. You really should read it all – it’s brilliant, and the lady is speaking from the harrowing experience of having just read over 1500 first paragraphs – most of which were rubbish (she said so, but more politely).
Here’s a sentence I particularly liked:
If you do start with the “typical”, you have about three sentences to introduce something unique/unexpected that’ll keep a reader reading.
And here is something really special – the opening scenes that happen far, far too often. I know I personally have used two and a half of these in my novels alone. That is not a good sign.
People waking up
You’re Not Special
You ARE special, actually, but those long-held dreams of becoming a *gasp* published author? That is not not not unique. In fact it’s common as dirt. I can say this clearer than most, because I’m not actually in the editing/agenting/publishing biz myself, and I therefore have the leeway to be more honest. I am, in short, one of you – one of the shuffling, slavering hordes.
Here is an article by Editorial Anonymous (a carefully anonymous editor, which is why this is the most honest article on this I’ve ever seen that wasn’t written by a purely novel-writing type). You really really should read the whole thing, but here’s some of the beginning (the “slush” or “slushpile” is the pile of books wannabe writers have sent to a publisher):
The fundamental lack of understanding about how much slush there is feeds many, many of the most commonly made mistakes writers make–mistakes that hurt their chances of getting published, and often hurt their morale. Some of those mistakes are below; but first, a visualization excercise:
Read the rest if ye seek wisdom. Also, it’s very funny.
And here’s a cat. Because if you understand – really understand – what that article means for YOUR novel, you’ll need a quiet sit down with something soothing.
I disagree
I’ve written elsewhere how much I love the Australian blog Call My Agent! In fact I dreamed about meeting the blogger last night. But today I have some fightin’ instead of flatterin’ to do. Here’s a question Agent Sydney received, with the first bit of the answer:
There are publishers now who don’t give advances or royalties but share the book’s profits equally with the author. Do you think this would be a better deal for authors?
It’s a different deal for authors, and possibly a better one, but it’s really too early to tell. I think what’s good about some of these contracts is that the profit-sharing arrangement indicates more of a partnership between publisher and author. . .
The rest is here.
Here’s my answer:
No.
Well, okay. Perhaps once in a thousand times the author would benefit*. It’s a very simple equation: in today’s world, most publishers make a loss on most of the books they buy (and survive mainly because of bestsellers). Most books do not earn out their advance (which is based on projected sales from a publisher hoping for the next bestseller).
Therefore, it is not only safer but more profitable to get an advance. Yes, in the above scenario you get paid more per book – but books cost a lot to edit, proofread, print, and distribute. You still won’t get much of the purchase price.
Agent Sydney is not alone in steering wannabe writers towards smaller, less profitable publishers. They certainly have their place, and are not always a scam – usually, they’re just optimists. And writers are optimists. So they join hands and skip away towards the end of the rainbow, and are stunned to never find a pot of gold.
Writing is very rarely profitable at all. Make your choices wisely.
*usually, when people give something a “one in a thousand” chance, it is hyperbole. In this case, it is my actual estimate.
Jump on that Bandwagon: My Kindle Epiphany
There is a whole lot of hoohah about e-readers. Some of it is the usual rhetoric about the demise of traditional publishing, which is an emotionally appealing but fictional tale, to which I roll my eyes. People who use e-readers tend to use paper books as well, and the vast majority of readers, including myself, see the e-reader revolution as yet another big noise about a new technology that really isn’t as exciting as a particular kind of person thinks. Books are great: they’re reusable, lendable, reasonably compact, they don’t run out of batteries, and they’re nice to smell and hold. Perfection!
Or. So. I. Thought.
Last night my dad wanted to show me his kindle. I managed to put him off for a bit with this and that, but eventually I picked the thing up and opened the cover. And that’s when it happened: I looked at the screen, and it felt like a book. Not a computer, a book. But this is a book you can use to buy more books with. It’s a book that doesn’t have that annoying inner margin that makes you constantly bend it out of shape. It’s a book that has only one side, so when you lie down and read you never have that awkward position of holding it half off the pillow. The smaller ones cost around $100.
In short, I now want one.
My dad’s one is a larger-size kindle (about the size of an ipad), and it’s a little too heavy for comfort. Also, the amazingly comfortable screen *isn’t* in the newer models, so I’m going to have to examine and compare screens and sizes (and digital rights, because that’s a whole can of worms) before deciding what I specifically want. For example, the larger screen would be more comfortable to read – but less portable. As someone who loves those times when I leave the house with one of those ridiculously tiny handbags, I think the smaller one will be the one for me (and it’s cheaper) – and I suspect that once I have a tiny, incredibly portable library on me at all times, it is a technology that will change the way I live. Suddenly I’ll always have books with me, instead of making the decision on a daily basis whether I should take a book with me or not.
All in all, I’m sold. In the blink of an e-ink-reading eye.
Small Press: Hero or Villain?
I’m linking you to Lynn Price at The Behler Blog yet again, because she just keeps making so much sense. This time she discusses how, in the migration of definitions, you can figure out whether your “publisher” deserves the quote marks or not.
This section alone is why the world needs more blogs like this one:
Instead of guessing and pondering with a friend who isn’t well-versed in publishing, you should be asking your prospective publisher who distributes their books. If they say IPG, Perseus, Consortium, NBN, IPS, then you know they are working on all cylinders because they have to have a certain amount of $$ coming in to even qualify. They are a proven quantity.
If they say Ingram and Baker and Taylor, then they do NOT have distribution. These entities are fulfillment warehouses. They don’t have sales teams out there pitching their catalog to buyers.
How to write a sequel
Here, via John Scalzi, is one woman’s cunning plan for dealing with sequelitis. She makes a lot of sense. For example:
3. The plot deals with an entirely new problem. You can often pick detective novels up mid-series because each detective story is a self-contained plot. They start with a new question and then have to solve it, tidily, by the end of the book. Shades of Milk and Honey had a Jane Austen plot structure so the big question there was: Who is she going to marry? That’s no longer a question. Since I’ve sent [person A and B] to the Continent in 1815, the big question in Glamour in Glass is: What are they going to do when the Battle of Waterloo happens?
A lot of fantasy writers (myself included) write book two (or perhaps two and three) of their fantasy trilogy while waiting to hear back from publishers about the first book. The fundamental problem with this is that book one may never sell – and then you’re screwed.
Or perhaps, if you write very carefully, not.
PS Although I think it’s solid advice above, I also think she may have gone too far, since the first book is a romance. That technically makes the two books different genres.
Cook your novel
This is one of my favourite blogs, and it’s Australian. This post on how many points a fiction submission gets – or loses – made me laugh several times, but sadly every single point made in the article needs to be said. But most of all, dear reader, pay attention to Agent Sydney’s final plea to make sure your novel is fully baked before it gets sent.
Here’s how it goes:
1. Write novel. Edit if you must.
2. Wait several weeks/months.
3. Edit. Edit again.
4. Use beta readers – and not your mum, spouse (unless they actually criticize you, and do it well), or best friend – and edit again.
5. Send.
Savvy?
When they come to you, ask yourself why
PS This is several hours early because CJ and Louisette and I will be travelling to Hong Kong tomorrow, and our housesitters have enough menial tasks to do without posting my blog for me.
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Here is an article from an extremely helpful website, Writer Beware. It’s solid advice, because it is all too easy for us wannabes to fall for scams.
“I don’t often write posts like this, because it’s really like shooting fish in a barrel. And there are so many red flags here that savvy writers may wonder why I bother. But there are a lot of new writers searching for agents, many of whom are probably new to Writer Beware, and may not yet be clear on what to watch out for. I also think it’s important, every now and then, to emphasize the basics of author self-protection–because as cataclysmically as the publishing landscape is changing, the basic warning signs remain the same.”
Cross-training
I really liked the idea from here, that writers should practise their artliness like athletes (eg a swimmer will run once a week): using a variety of seemingly unrelated skills. I’d never heard it before, and that impressed and intrigued me.
Felicity Banks 