Death of “Traditional” publishing?
A whole lot of people point to success stories like the self-published Amanda Hocking and say, “Hah! Those cold-hearted publisher types are dying, and we laugh at them and stomp on their graves!”
These people are stupid.
I often wish publishers were more cold-hearted. They’d get through submissions way faster if that were the case. But if publishers were less in love with books, they would not be publishers. Small publishers are dying – they always have been, and they always will be. It is an extremely financially shaky business in which MOST BOOKS ARE BOUGHT AND SOLD AT AN OVERALL LOSS TO THE COMPANY. Sometimes, large publishers are unlucky and they die too. Most large publishers survive on the occasional how-did-that-happen-exactly? bestseller. In short, they survive by picking the best books they can, and then crossing their fingers and praying that THIS book is the one that keeps the company afloat for another month.
People think publishers are cold-hearted because over 90% of books are rejected, usually without stated reasons. People are constitutionally incapable of believing that THEIR sweet precious manuscript that took five years to write is, in fact, terrible. (“But my mum LOVED it!”) These people are especially offended that “bad” books are published. Having read unpublished manuscripts, I assure you that publishers set a standard that is largely consistent and has saved the reading public from worse pain than you can imagine. Self-publishing often lowers those standards to, “Do you have a few thousand dollars? Then you’re a published writer, yay!”
Personally, I don’t see rich idiots as a threat to the publishing industry. I know enough to be grateful for the gatekeepers – and secretly or otherwise, so does the entire reading public.
*personal rant over*
I like the Behler blog, and especially this article, which inspired today’s post.
Dialogue
Want to write good dialogue? This article at Ripping Ozzie Reads has links to so much information you can go back to it every week for a year.
Dynamic Dialogue
Last week Rita asked about ‘beats’ in dialogue. This was a term I had only seen used in plays or scripts when the author leaves a ‘beat’ before the character answers to create suspense.
It appears the term ‘beat’ has been applied by writers as a form of tag, only this tag drives the story forward with action or reveal character reaction.
A dialogue tag can be:
‘How dare you!’ she said.
It can also be:
She slammed the mug down on the table. ‘How dare you!’
In this case the action is the tag because it identifies the speaker and tells us how the character is feeling. And this is what people are calling ‘beats’. It is what I was told was an ‘action tag’ when I first started writing.
For a fuller explanation. . .
Read the rest here.
And here’s your official cat pic of the week:
Ten Reasons to Rewrite that Scene
By The Intern.
The article is here.
Top Ten Reasons You Should Rewrite That Scene
10. The scene is not really a scene.
Your scene is not a scene if nothing has changed by the end of it.
Your scene is not a scene if there was no internal or external conflict, no matter how subtle.
Your scene is not a scene if you were too timid to let anything dangerous happen.
Your scene is not a scene if you were too cautious to let anything unexpected happen.
Your scene is not a scene if the reader is banging her head against the wall saying “What was the point of that stupid scene?”
Basically, your scene is not a scene.
9. The scene doesn’t achieve anything new.
Does your scene introduce important new plot information? How about new emotional information? Are the characters’ relationships developing? Or is this scene just rehashing material you’ve already covered in other scenes? You might have a case of scenis redundanitus (see here for INTERN’s post on that subject). If your scene doesn’t bring anything new to the table, what’s it doing in your story?
8. The scene isn’t “worse” enough.
Read more here.
And here’s my older cat’s response to the prodigal’s return:
Ten Things Teen Writers Should Know
John Scalzi (NYT bestselling author) writes a good blog, with occasional writing advice.
This is one of my favourites articles (you’ll have to click through to see the picture of young John Scalzi.
Hm. It keeps crashing my computer when I try to cut and paste a section. Here’s the address again anyways:
http://whatever.scalzi.com/2006/04/27/10-things-teenage-writers-should-know-about-writing/
And here, as always, is a cat pic from the files:
Is your writing good?
Literary agent and all-around nice lady Rachelle Gardner blogged an article today that asked the question, “How can you tell if your writing is any good?”
Here is the link to that article.
How do you learn to write?
I think the answer is that you have to learn any which way you can. You piece it together. You take the lessons where you can find them. This could mean:
→ You read books on writing, and books in the genre in which you write.
→ You’re a member of writers’ organizations and online forums.
→ You take workshops offered whenever and wherever you can find them.
→ You take creative writing classes, such as at a local community college (although I’ve heard these can be a waste of time).
→ You have a critique group (this may or may not help, depending on the qualifications of your critique partners, as well as your own personality).
→ You submit your project to agents and editors, hoping for scraps of feedback.
Read the rest here.
Or just gaze at this kitten (yes, that’s a sword under her paw).
Revise, but don’t re-use or recycle
I’m pretty sure I’ve linked to ex-agent Nathan Bransford before. (Incidentally, he’s just released a children’s book.)
Here’s today’s article – a revision checklist, which I’m posting today as I re-re-re-re-revise my steampunk novel (I printed it out in hard cover, which always makes me see the book slightly differently, and thus more clearly).
– Does the main plot arc initiate close enough to the beginning that you won’t lose the reader?
– Does your protagonist alternate between up and down moments, with the most intense towards the end?
– Are you able to trace the major plot arcs throughout the book? Do they have up and down moments?
– Do you have enough conflict?
– Does the reader see both the best and worst characteristics of your main characters?
Read the rest (including suggestions drawn from the comments) here.
And remember, don’t take your ideas from TV shows (or bestselling books).
Writing Historical Fiction
Depite its many gleeful anachronisms, steampunk is one form of historical fiction (which is why I wouldn’t recommend it to people who refuse to do research*) – so here’s a post by Glass Cases on doing it right.
The full article is here.
When You Should Go Back to the Future
The triumphs and struggles of human beings on a personal level transcends any decade. When deciding when to set your story, ask yourself if this story could be told just as easily in present-day. The Diary of Anne Frank, for example, cannot. The Vampire Diaries, however, can. It wouldn’t matter if Elena is a young hippie from the ’60s, a tech-crazy gamer in the ’90s, or (as it stands) fairly popular former cheerleader in present-day Mystic Falls. Likewise, it wouldn’t matter if Stefan and Damon were turned into vampires in the 1400s, 1800s, or last week. The plot is independent from personal attributes.
In the next VERY short while (within two weeks, I promise), I have three particularly cool awesomenesses planned:
1. Eurovision party
2. Steam train!
3. Something even more awesome than those two. . . but I’m not telling what it is!!**
*or writing in general, for that matter.
**I use two exclamation points wisely. This awesomeness is the biz, big time.
Why your first book sucks
I follow Rachelle Gardner‘s blog. She is a sweet, selfless literary agent*. I was quietly surprised to see her post on four reasons you shouldn’t even bother submitting the first novel you write. Given that, shortly afterwards, she posted an entry that mentioned her gentle surprise at meeting many writers who don’t even read books in their own genre, I think it’s been a bad-slush week for her.
Kids, don’t cause nice agents/publishers to burn out by being a moron.
Today’s post is unusual, because I disagree with the gist of her argument. I think writers SHOULD submit the first novel they write (my own first novel did rather well in a contest, and I later sold it for actual money – although nowadays I’m deeply grateful that the publisher never actually produced it), with the following caveats:
1. They have edited it, then left it for at least a month, then edited it again. At least one person (who is not a relative or in love with said writer) must also help with editing – you can tell a good editor because they make the writer cry and/or consider deleting the whole book at least once. After the crying/giving up, the writer must then fix 90% of the problems the editor has pointed out. You can find critique partners all over the internet, including at http://www.critiquecircle.com/default.asp.
2. The writer has read at least three books that are in their genre and published within the most recent five years (look on actual bookshop shelves – and if you’re too poor to buy them, go and get the exact same books from the library for free).
3. The writer has helped to edit at least three opening sections (chapters 1-3) of other people’s unpublished novels, and has also edited one full unpublished novel. You can find heaps of critique partners online, eg at http://www.critiquecircle.com/default.asp.
After the horror of reading someone else’s book (which will almost certainly be deeply awful), the writer must have another honest look at their own book, and do one more edit (or more if needed).
Congratulations! You are now ready to submit your first novel.
Was it a mistake? Here’s how to know:
If three publishers (who produce the right genre!) have rejected the opening chapters without requesting the full manuscript, it’s probably worth setting that book aside and writing a new one (which you’ll probably begin while waiting for your responses – which take 1-6 months each). The new book should NOT be in the same series – it should be something genuinely separate. (Otherwise you may find yourself dragging the corpse of a bad book around, because it’s part of a series – been there, done that.)
Here’s Rachelle’s article:
There is a cliché in publishing that by the time a writer finally gets published, she already has a whole stack of novels completed and hidden in a drawer, never to see the light of day. No writer gets their first book published, right?
Well, there are exceptions of course, but mostly, it’s true. Nearly all successfully published authors will have written two or more books before they get their first contract offer. Here’s why:
1. Practice. It takes most people a few tries to write a viable and saleable novel. Like it or not, this is true for the overwhelming majority of writers.
Read the rest of the article here. I definitely agree with #1.
Don’t forget to glance at the comments of the article – the second person has FIFTEEN unpublished books. Most of the people there had four or five unpublished books.
And here’s my cat, who has a thing for styrofoam:
* If that sentence surprised you, you’ve probably never met a literary agent.
Don’t have contacts in the biz? Don’t worry
Last year I spent a bunch of moolah and time schmoozing across Australia, and I ended up with personal contact (handshakes, names, cards) with staff from four of Australia’s six big publishers.
I now have enough data to tell you what those contacts mean to me so far:
*drum roll*
Drastically longer response time.
I am personally convinced that the only – ONLY – time personal contact helps you is if your book is one of the .05% (that’s not an exaggerated joke, sorry) of books that gets to the final stage of the maybe-getting-published ladder – the acquisitions meeting. At which stage, you contact will most likely say, “Oh yeah, I met Louise Curtis. She wore a simply giant dress to some conference somewhere. Seemed mostly sane.”
The good news is that that comment may make the difference between accepting your book and accepting another book on the table at the same meeting (that was written by someone who doesn’t have contacts).
In the meantime – particularly if you’d like a chance at a response time shorter than six months (again, I’m not joking, sorry – six months is standard across all publishers, in my experience), the person you REALLY REALLY want. . . is the assistant.
Here’s an article from Kidlit Blog telling you why:
For my Writer’s Digest webinar, I pledged to answer all the questions sent in by students. This one got me fired up enough to transfer the exchange to the blog:
What can we do to ensure that an actual agent sees my query? I’ve received rejection letters directly from assistants, therefore I know that the agent hasn’t seen my query or sample work. Perhaps the agent would have liked it, but if he or she wasn’t able to see it, then both the agent and I miss out on what could have been a wonderful opportunity.
This writer seems to have what I would call Assistant Attitude. It’s a belief that assistants aren’t really important and that only the big names at an agency can make or break a writer’s chances at representation. A lot of (beginning) writers think very poorly of assistants and are shocked — shocked! — to learn that these are the people reading their queries.
I invite everyone currently suffering from a case of Assistant Attitude to consider, perhaps, the complete opposite viewpoint.
Read the rest here. Always remember – the hard part is writing a brilliant book, so focus on that.
Meanwhile, a kitty (who just saw a bird dare to land on OUR windowsill):
Talking the steampunk talk (PG)
The Victorian Era was a time of miasmic fog, elegant manners, and the criminal classes. The slang of the time was often colourful (to say the least).
I took most of the following list from “A Long Way Home” by Mike Walker (and the rest from “Victorian London” by Liza Picard and my own nautical days), choosing those that were fun and/or largely self-explanatory (so I could potentially use them in my book).
I left out three-quarters of the original words because they were too rude.
Most of these words are from cant, and others are unique to Australia.
All nations – a mix of drinks from unfinished bottles
Avast – stop
Bacon-faced – full-faced
Baked – exhausted
Bark at the moon – to agitate uselessly
Barrel fever – illness caused by excessive drinking
Beef-head – idiot
Belay that – hold on a bit
Bingo – brandy
Bit of red – a soldier
Black arse – kettle
Blashy – rainy weather (Irish)
Blue as a razor – very blue
Blue stocking – learned woman
Bollocks –testicles
Botany Bay – vagina
Chunder – to throw up
To have some guts in one’s brains – knowledgable
Brandy-face – drunkard
Brattery – nursery
Break-teeth words – hard to pronounce words
Gold bridge – easy and attractive way to escape
Broganeer – one with a strong irish accent
Canting crew – criminals
Caper – to be hanged
Cast up one’s accounts – to vomit
Cat-sticks – thin legs
Caterpillar – a soldier
Chalk – to strike someone’s face
Conveyance – a thief
Cove – fellow
Cully – fellow
Swear like a cutter – swear violently
Dangle in the sherrif’s picture frame – to be hanged
Deadly nevergreen – the gallows
Gone to the diet of worms – dead and buried
Dilly – a coach
Dim mort – pretty girl
Dip – pickpocket
Dog booby – an awkward lout
Empty the bag – to tell everything
Enough to make a dog laugh – very funny
Duke of limbs – a tall, awkward fellow
Eternity box – coffin
Step into eternity – hanged
Expended – killed
Fence – receiver of stolen goods
Fiddler’s money – all small change
Flash the gentleman – pretend to be a gentleman
Footpad – thief on foot, mugger
Fork – pick a pocket
Game – plucky
Gammon – nonsense
Gentleman in red – soldier
Glass-eyes – person wearing glasses
Glim – lantern
Groggified – tipsy
Gut-foundered – extremely hungry
Half seas over- half drunk
Hanged look – villainous appearance
To be under hatches – dead
Hog in armour – finely dressed lout
Irrigate – take a drink
Jack ketch – hangman
Jack of legs – very tall person
Jaw-me-down – talkative fellow
King’s Head Inn – Newgate
Knob – an officer
Lappy – drunk
Lift – shoplifting
Light-timbered – weak
Little house – a privy
Make – steal
Monster- huge (as in “The Monster School”)
Red-letter man – a catholic
Repository – jail
Ride as if fetching the midwife – to hurry
Rusty guts – a blunt, surly fellow
School of Venus – a brothel
Scragged – hanged
Shake a leg – wake up/get to work
Shiners – money
Smart as a carrot – very smartly dressed
Snail’s gallop – to move very slowly
Squeak – betray
Swag – shop
Tilter – a small sword
Tommy – lesbian
Whisk – an impertinent fellow
The sad part of discovering such wonderful words is most of them are too startling to work in a book. I cut most of them in editing, because they were simply too distracting. Any vaguely historical book (including medieval-style fantasy) has to find a balance between accurate historical language and comprehensibility to a modern audience. On the up side, some Victorian slang has trickled through to today (“fence” for example) – so that helps.
My advice: always use contractions (I’m, he’s, they’ve, haven’t), never use thees and thous (except in an actual poem – an unfortunate number of fantasy writers use them incorrectly, which is just embarrassing), avoid visual dialects like the plague they are (“‘Ave a good day ya fine chappy, wot wot?” – stick to an occasional verbal tick like “what what” if you must) and of course avoid all modern slang (“My fine fellow, your tale about that strumpet was seriously TMI.”)
I found my own steampunk voice by soaking in books and letters written by real people living in Victorian times – and then just writing what felt natural to me.
Some of the words stayed, however, and I’m glad.
Felicity Banks 