Amazon has stopped selling books by Hachette published authors. This move is ruining the livelihood of many professional authors. This is what happens when you let a company become a monopoly. Amazon is the enemy of authors.
No.
Hachette is dragging their feet. Hachette refuses to negotiate because they want to force Amazon into being a party to their exploitation of all their authors. They are hiding behind the media and publicity generated by their big name authors. It's one more motion by traditional publishing to screw us all over.
No.
Look, this isn't affecting me. Hachette and Amazon bickering over contract terms? Nothing to do with me. I'm not published by Hachette and Amazon is still selling my book.
So rather than addressing Amazon or Hachette, I'd like to take this time to address all the authors who are getting involved. I'm specifically talking to you Hachette published folks who are taking a stand for your publisher, but it applies to everyone.
Authors everywhere, on both sides of this argument, you need to shut up for a little while.
I've been reading about this a lot since it started and as far as I can tell, nobody really knows what is going on except the big boys at Amazon and Hachette. They can't tell us what's being said in negotiation and the details of what terms are contentious. You and I just don't know. It's foolish to assume we do and jump into this argument like we've got all the facts.
And Hachette authors, if you're concerned about not having your books in stock with Amazon, there's this big company called Hachette that is in charge of your distribution. If they're not doing their job, talk to them. They're your middle man. Your contact is with them, not Amazon. They exist to speak for you, so go make sure they're speaking for you.
Or go back to writing. In the end, stories are going to be told. If Hachette folds, books will still be written. If Amazon quits the book selling business, books will still be written. Two people are needed for this arrangement: An author and a reader. No matter what happens, authors will author, readers will read and we'll find some way of getting out stories into the hands of the audience. Industries change, but that will always be true.
In the end, Hachette is trying to do what is best for Hachette. That's not the same as doing what's best for Hachette authors. They have a bottom line to look out for and do you know what is written on that line? Protip: It's not your name.
Amazon is no different. They want to run their business in a way that, they think, will make them the most money. That's not the same as making the most money for their suppliers. They are looking out for their profits and you shouldn't expect anything different.
Side with the people who are benefiting you. That's easy in this scenario, because when Amazon isn't stocking your book and Hachette isn't getting your books stocked, neither of them are benefiting you.
It's like Treebeard says: I'm not on anybody's side because nobody is on my side.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Monday, August 25, 2014
Your Style Sucks: When and Why to Break The Rules
Some time ago, a writer friend of mine asked me to critique their work. They hadn't written much, which made it easy to oblige. So I gave it a read and the next time I saw my friend, I brought it up. While reading my friend's work, something struck me. My friend had used a lot of incomplete sentences. Half sentences. Sentences that didn't seem to finish before a new one started. It was some of the strangest use of language I'd ever encountered. Needless to say, this poor grasp of syntax and grammar did not lend itself to the most pleasant reading experience. It wasn't to the point that it was indecipherable by any means. It was just strange.
I said to my friend, "You know, you use a lot of half sentences."
"Oh yeah." My friend responded. "That's my style."
I looked for the nearest exit to that conversation. I probably changed the subject or went and got a drink or leaped out the nearest window, grabbed hold of a telephone wire and glided to safety. That's how I like to remember it.
In any event, what I learned that day was that, sometimes, when a person says the words "What do you think?" or "I'd like some feedback." What they are really saying is, "Please praise me for this thing I have done." And if you just want to show off, then fine. Let me be the first to shake your hand, pat you on the back and say "Well done. You did a thing!" Just don't ask for honest or critical feedback if you don't want it.
But coming back to that statement ("It's my style.") I find myself wondering if this is ever a good excuse. Can style break the rules and create good writing? Well, yeah. Sometimes it does, although let's just clarify that by saying quality of writing is something of a subjective notion. Still, a lot of people seem to like Ulysses and that certainly sacrificed a lot for style. Catcher in The Rye makes use of passive voice as a stylistic choice to define the narrator. There's a lot to be said for style.
So then, I guess the question is, when does style win?
Or, perhaps the better question is, when is it okay to break the rules? Rules are, of course, made to be broken. I've gone on record as saying the rule "Show, don't tell." can, often is and should be broken. But that doesn't make it any less a "Rule for Good Writing" (somebody suggest a better name. Something snappy.) So when can we break those rules?
Um... I don't know. Nope. Sorry, I don't have a clean cut answer for this. You'll have to figure it out for yourself. I mean, I break the rules. When do I do it? I do it when it works. But when it works to break a rule can't be easily defined. It depends on what and how you're writing.
Fortunately, what I can do, is help guide you in deciding whether or not you're going to be a rule breaker.
#1: Don't do it often. Be sparing in how and when you break the rules. The standard style in which you write - that is, your default voice and use of language - should not be built on breaking the rules.
#2: Know the rules. There are rules and you should follow them. They're easy to learn. The rules are important. Use active voice. Kill ugly adverbs. Show, don't tell. Start as late in the story as you can. Engage all your reader's senses. Pick a tense and stick to it. The verb goes between the subject and the object of your sentence. The full stop goes at the end of your sentence. These are all rules. Know them. Obey them.
#3: Understand the rules. It's not enough to go around reciting the mantra "Adverbs are bad. No words ending in -ly." Pick up a dictionary and learn what an adverb is. Not all adverbs end in -ly and not all words that end in -ly are adverbs. Not all adverbs are bad, either. But a clunky adverb in the wrong place can be damaging to your writing. We're told to gut our work of these menaces for a good reason. They're ugly, clunky and often unnecessary. You never need to tell me that "John ran quickly down the road." because by using the word "ran" I know he's going "quickly"
#4: Know what you want to accomplish with breaking the rules. Are you doing it to set a tone? Are you doing it to emphasise a point? Is it important to charaterise your narrator? Is it funny? Is it exciting? "It's my style." is not a reason. Don't break the rules to stand out. Break the rules because it adds more than it subtracts from your work.
#5: Don't do it at all. Don't break the rules. Find a way around it. Find an option that does what you want without breaking the rules. Rethink your plan. Go back to the drawing board. Explore your options. Look for an equally effective way to tell your story, the way you want to tell it, without breaking the rules.
And finally, go ahead and smash them. Rip them out, break them in half and stomp them into the dirt. Rules? Fuck the rules. You are the master of your own destiny. Sometimes the best option is to kick tradition right in its pudgy, decrepit arse.
Rules can be broken, they are broken and they should be broken. If it makes your writing stronger and your story better, then do it. But before you can be sure that it's the best move, you need to understand why so many writers who came before you have learned them, followed them and passed them down. The wisdom of the ages should not be ignored. Only when you understand what those rules mean and what they do for your writing, can you see how breaking them might add to your work.
And don't ever, ever do it because it's your "style." That's your style? Sorry, buster. Your style sucks.
I said to my friend, "You know, you use a lot of half sentences."
"Oh yeah." My friend responded. "That's my style."
I looked for the nearest exit to that conversation. I probably changed the subject or went and got a drink or leaped out the nearest window, grabbed hold of a telephone wire and glided to safety. That's how I like to remember it.
In any event, what I learned that day was that, sometimes, when a person says the words "What do you think?" or "I'd like some feedback." What they are really saying is, "Please praise me for this thing I have done." And if you just want to show off, then fine. Let me be the first to shake your hand, pat you on the back and say "Well done. You did a thing!" Just don't ask for honest or critical feedback if you don't want it.
But coming back to that statement ("It's my style.") I find myself wondering if this is ever a good excuse. Can style break the rules and create good writing? Well, yeah. Sometimes it does, although let's just clarify that by saying quality of writing is something of a subjective notion. Still, a lot of people seem to like Ulysses and that certainly sacrificed a lot for style. Catcher in The Rye makes use of passive voice as a stylistic choice to define the narrator. There's a lot to be said for style.
So then, I guess the question is, when does style win?
Or, perhaps the better question is, when is it okay to break the rules? Rules are, of course, made to be broken. I've gone on record as saying the rule "Show, don't tell." can, often is and should be broken. But that doesn't make it any less a "Rule for Good Writing" (somebody suggest a better name. Something snappy.) So when can we break those rules?
Um... I don't know. Nope. Sorry, I don't have a clean cut answer for this. You'll have to figure it out for yourself. I mean, I break the rules. When do I do it? I do it when it works. But when it works to break a rule can't be easily defined. It depends on what and how you're writing.
Fortunately, what I can do, is help guide you in deciding whether or not you're going to be a rule breaker.
#1: Don't do it often. Be sparing in how and when you break the rules. The standard style in which you write - that is, your default voice and use of language - should not be built on breaking the rules.
#2: Know the rules. There are rules and you should follow them. They're easy to learn. The rules are important. Use active voice. Kill ugly adverbs. Show, don't tell. Start as late in the story as you can. Engage all your reader's senses. Pick a tense and stick to it. The verb goes between the subject and the object of your sentence. The full stop goes at the end of your sentence. These are all rules. Know them. Obey them.
#3: Understand the rules. It's not enough to go around reciting the mantra "Adverbs are bad. No words ending in -ly." Pick up a dictionary and learn what an adverb is. Not all adverbs end in -ly and not all words that end in -ly are adverbs. Not all adverbs are bad, either. But a clunky adverb in the wrong place can be damaging to your writing. We're told to gut our work of these menaces for a good reason. They're ugly, clunky and often unnecessary. You never need to tell me that "John ran quickly down the road." because by using the word "ran" I know he's going "quickly"
#4: Know what you want to accomplish with breaking the rules. Are you doing it to set a tone? Are you doing it to emphasise a point? Is it important to charaterise your narrator? Is it funny? Is it exciting? "It's my style." is not a reason. Don't break the rules to stand out. Break the rules because it adds more than it subtracts from your work.
#5: Don't do it at all. Don't break the rules. Find a way around it. Find an option that does what you want without breaking the rules. Rethink your plan. Go back to the drawing board. Explore your options. Look for an equally effective way to tell your story, the way you want to tell it, without breaking the rules.
And finally, go ahead and smash them. Rip them out, break them in half and stomp them into the dirt. Rules? Fuck the rules. You are the master of your own destiny. Sometimes the best option is to kick tradition right in its pudgy, decrepit arse.
Rules can be broken, they are broken and they should be broken. If it makes your writing stronger and your story better, then do it. But before you can be sure that it's the best move, you need to understand why so many writers who came before you have learned them, followed them and passed them down. The wisdom of the ages should not be ignored. Only when you understand what those rules mean and what they do for your writing, can you see how breaking them might add to your work.
And don't ever, ever do it because it's your "style." That's your style? Sorry, buster. Your style sucks.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Writers Group
I don't regret leaving Deviant Art. It's been great for my procrastination. But it did leave a hole in my life.
So I recently joined a writers group.
I did this once before. That was six years ago and it was so horrible that I never wanted anything to do wither writers groups again. This group is different though. It's made up of people I already know an am friends with, all with varying skill and experience as writers. Also, it's primarily done online, so we can fit it around all our schedules. There's also a policy of anonymity, so the work we share and the work we review is not attached to any person in particular. I guess the idea is that it is easier to give and take criticism if you don't know exactly who it's coming from. We're also all adults, so that should help.
Anyway. It's a unique approach to a writer's group. We have our own private little forum space on the internet to share and communicate. The only reason I dared to join again is because it is made up of people I already know and form my day to day social circle.
I'll let you know how it goes in the future. But now let me tell you about the last group I was a part of. This was the writer's group from hell. So let me set the scene. It is the hottest part of summer here in Sydney, Australia. That means we're in the low 40 degrees celcius range and the humidity could drown you. It's around eight in the morning and I have the biggest hang over of my life and all of about four hours of sleep. That right there should be enough reason to kill myself rather than go anywhere on this morning, but I agreed (the night before) to go along to this writer's group that a friend of mine has just joined (thanks to another friend of hers). So there's the connection. A friend of a friend of mine is part of a writer's group. My friend has been once before and now I'm going along. The writers group meets at a little cafe in the inner-west, about an hour's drive from my quaint little suburban home. Normally I'd get the train and it'd be a smooth, air conditioned ride with lots of space to spread out because nobody travels that early on a weekend morning, unless there's something big happening. That weekend there wasn't, so the train would be a comfortable way to travel. But we're not going by train. My friend, we'll call her Jessy, has arranged with her friend, we'll call her Lillith, Queen of the Demons, to pick us up and drive us there. This won't cut much time out of the journey but it will get us close to the door of where we're going. Sounds good. So I meet Jessy at the appointed meeting place and Lillith, Queen of the Demons arrives to pick us up in her car. Her old, old, old, old, probably has a horse powered steam engine, badly in need of replacing, doesn't work car. This car does not really have working windows and the air conditioning isn't so much an air conditioner as it is a set of sporadically working fans. It's all pleather interior and was made in the days before they tinted windows to stop the sun from smiling its murderous smile down upon you. So the car is hot and sticky and uncomfortable and I am hating every waking moment of my life. But Jessy and I climb about Lillith, Queen of the Demons' carriage to hell and we set off. Lillith, Queen of the Demons introduces herself to me and asks how I am and tells me that normally people coming to the writer's group bring a story to show off and talk about and everyone exchanges criticisms. The usual stuff you'd expect. She says because it is my first time, they wouldn't expect me to bring anything. I did bring something, but I don't say that just yet. I don't say anything, really. Me saying something would require a pause in the conversation and I am not afforded any such luxuries. And then Lillith, Queen of the Demons starts talking to Jessy. And she talks the whole drive to the cafe. We arrive at the cafe an eternity later. There's already some people there with a table for us. It doesn't take long before we've all arrived, we're all sitting down and we've ordered breakfast. Some people open up their bags and take out their writing pieces for this week's meeting. One woman doesn't take out any writing, but she does take out a notebook she bought and she starts showing it off. Everyone here, of course, also has a notebook that they can compare it to and talk about. They all agree that having a notebook is great and useful and it's what all the professionals do. Ugh... So I'm going to skip ahead a bit now. This is because, over the next hour and a half, a number of things happen. 1. Breakfast does not come. 2. Nobody talks about writing. 3. Lillith, Queen of the Demons does not stop talking. In fact, Lillith, Queen of the Demons hasn't stopped talking since I met her. The moment we got in the car with her, she began talking and she does not stop. Eventually she runs out of opinions and anecdotes and I hear her begin again from the beginning, talking about the things she spoke about in the car. It's like she's on some kind of loop. A loop designed to make me suffer. It is now I realised that I have given myself alcohol poisoning and I am dead. I am dead and this is hell. No. This can't be hell. Firstly because their are too many cute waitresses in denim hotpants for this to be hell. Secondly because nobody is deserving of this kind of hell. No god would be so cruel. No, this kind of suffering can only happen in our living, mortal realm. Only humans no how to create torture this horrible. Death and a swift deliverance unto hell would be a release at this point. There the devil and I could commiserate on my drawn out suffering. But eventually breakfast comes. A bacon and egg sandwich that would have gone so well with my coke if I hadn't already finished it. I'm too hung over to taste the greasy goodness of my breakfast, but not so hung over that I can't feel it when it burns the roof of my mouth. The clock ticks by and I see that we've been there for two hours now. That's in addition to the hour it took us to get there. I am no less uncomfortable or hung over but I hate everything a little more with each passing second. I begin to wish I could somehow harness the ticking of my watch and create some kind of watch ticking death ray that I could use to kill everybody around me. Headline: Man in subdued rage kills everybody in Newtown cafe, including himself, with bizarre watch weapon. Headline: Newspaper forgets how to make snappy headlines. Finally somebody suggests they talk about writing. Oh thank God. I've already read everbody's contribution at this point. Several times, in fact. I'll go through them one by one. First was my friend Jessy's. It was twilight fanfiction starring herself. Actually, that's not quite right. It wasn't Twilight fan fiction because that has some level of self-awareness and uses the Twilight setting. She had just rewritten Twilight, but instead of being about Bella, she had written it about herself. Instead of it being set in school, it was set in her workplace. I point this out to her and she explains to me that it can't be any kind of Twilight fanfiction because the main character, totally not her, is reading Twilight in the story. ... Headline: Man uses amateur writer's work to make an oragami knife and commit seppuku The next piece to come around is the work of Lillith, Queen of the Demons herself. It's not actually a story. It is an outline of a story. Actually, it is an outline of a scene. There is no beginning, middle or end, here. At the very most, this piece would be a flash fiction. It is not a major effort. Oh and it's also about her. It's some kind of auto-biographical memoir of her sad memories of being a childhood. I'm sure it's very cathartic for her to write. Or rather, I'm sure it would be very cathartic for her to write if she had actually written it. Instead she wrote a page long outline for what would be a page long story. Why? And she had a whole week to work on this! I know all about busy schedules but it's not like this writer's meeting snuck up on her! She knew this was coming! She could have written a draft of this the night before. Hell, if she'd taken the train, she could have written it on the train over. Sigh. Finally, we come to the last piece. That's right, only three people brought work to contribute. I don't remember the exact numbers for this meet up but including myself, there were at least six people. I think there were more but it was so long ago, I can't be sure. That means that, excluding the new guy (me) there were five regular members of this group and slightly more than half had written anything. In fact, one of them had only written half of something so it sort of balances out to being 2.5 out of 5 pieces that there should have been. It's a writers group. Writers group. Writers. AS IN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO WRITE SOMETHING!!! Anyway. This last guy is an American and the only other male in the group besides me. I'm not making a point about Americans, I just need to refer to him as something and "The American" will do. To his credit, the American has gone to some effort to write something. It's about six pages long. Six pages double spaced in size 14 font but still six pages. And it is an essay. Sort of. It's not really a formal essay in any way, it doesn't put forth any arguments, introduce them, explore them, provide argument or evidence for them and conclude on anything. So maybe we won't call it an essay. It's a monologue. It's his train of thought. It is the American thinking onto the page and typing it out. It's about time. He has gotten all waxing philosophical about time and what it is and how we define it and how it affects us and if it is real or if it is a construct. All very interesting ideas worthy of consideration and examination. You could do a whole thesis on the way time is perceived in a social and cultural sense. Well, maybe you could. I probably couldn't. The American couldn't either. Instead, he just waffles on for six pages and then stops abruptly having gone nowhere, accomplished nothing and said very little, creating no insight and reaching no depth. Now I don't remember what anybody else said about the other work or what they thought about each other's contributions or lack-there-of. To be honest, I wasn't listening. But I do remember what everyone said about the American's piece. "You should submit that." He should submit it? He should submit that? To WHO!? It's not fiction, it's not an article, it's not an essay. It's baring coherent! This offers nothing to an audience! Nobody wants to read this. I don't even want to read it and I read it three times! He should submit that? And no, they don't say where he should submit it to. There's no details. No suggestion of magazine or website or journal. He should just "submit that." Sigh. Deep breaths. Shortly after, we wrapped up and everyone went their separate ways. Jessy apologised for inviting me along and said she'd never go back either. This is why I'm friends with her and not Lillith, Queen of the Demons. Twilight addiction aside, she's got some sense in her. I never went back either and, fortunately, Lillith, Queen of the Demons had other places to be and couldn't give either Jessy or I a lift back to our neighbourhood. So we caught the train and it was a smooth, breezey ride all the way home. This whole experience, which I lovingly refer to as my journey to hell and back, turned me off the idea of writers groups for a long time. Forever, really. I would never have joined one again unless I knew every person in it. I occasionally tell this story to entertain people. It makes a good little party anecdote. But I don't do it to make fun of the people in the writer's group. I want to make that absolutely clear. They all were enjoying themselves and they all liked writing and sharing their writing with each other and talking about being writers. In my experience, these people are the standard. This is what your average amateur hobbyist writer looks like. They like to sit around, encourage each other, share their work when they occasionally get around to producing some. They stare dreamy eyed at this big world of professional writers that they want to emulate but never dare to think they could really be part of it. It's just a pleasant day dream on the morning commute, while they think about the fantastic books they'll write if they can just find the time. They're more interested in being a writer than in doing any writing. I don't begrudge or judge them their pleasure in any way. But it's not for me. When I get together with a bunch of writers to talk about writing, I'd like to actually talk about writing. It's not a lot to ask. So I joined a writers group. I'll let you know how it goes.
I'll let you know how it goes in the future. But now let me tell you about the last group I was a part of. This was the writer's group from hell. So let me set the scene. It is the hottest part of summer here in Sydney, Australia. That means we're in the low 40 degrees celcius range and the humidity could drown you. It's around eight in the morning and I have the biggest hang over of my life and all of about four hours of sleep. That right there should be enough reason to kill myself rather than go anywhere on this morning, but I agreed (the night before) to go along to this writer's group that a friend of mine has just joined (thanks to another friend of hers). So there's the connection. A friend of a friend of mine is part of a writer's group. My friend has been once before and now I'm going along. The writers group meets at a little cafe in the inner-west, about an hour's drive from my quaint little suburban home. Normally I'd get the train and it'd be a smooth, air conditioned ride with lots of space to spread out because nobody travels that early on a weekend morning, unless there's something big happening. That weekend there wasn't, so the train would be a comfortable way to travel. But we're not going by train. My friend, we'll call her Jessy, has arranged with her friend, we'll call her Lillith, Queen of the Demons, to pick us up and drive us there. This won't cut much time out of the journey but it will get us close to the door of where we're going. Sounds good. So I meet Jessy at the appointed meeting place and Lillith, Queen of the Demons arrives to pick us up in her car. Her old, old, old, old, probably has a horse powered steam engine, badly in need of replacing, doesn't work car. This car does not really have working windows and the air conditioning isn't so much an air conditioner as it is a set of sporadically working fans. It's all pleather interior and was made in the days before they tinted windows to stop the sun from smiling its murderous smile down upon you. So the car is hot and sticky and uncomfortable and I am hating every waking moment of my life. But Jessy and I climb about Lillith, Queen of the Demons' carriage to hell and we set off. Lillith, Queen of the Demons introduces herself to me and asks how I am and tells me that normally people coming to the writer's group bring a story to show off and talk about and everyone exchanges criticisms. The usual stuff you'd expect. She says because it is my first time, they wouldn't expect me to bring anything. I did bring something, but I don't say that just yet. I don't say anything, really. Me saying something would require a pause in the conversation and I am not afforded any such luxuries. And then Lillith, Queen of the Demons starts talking to Jessy. And she talks the whole drive to the cafe. We arrive at the cafe an eternity later. There's already some people there with a table for us. It doesn't take long before we've all arrived, we're all sitting down and we've ordered breakfast. Some people open up their bags and take out their writing pieces for this week's meeting. One woman doesn't take out any writing, but she does take out a notebook she bought and she starts showing it off. Everyone here, of course, also has a notebook that they can compare it to and talk about. They all agree that having a notebook is great and useful and it's what all the professionals do. Ugh... So I'm going to skip ahead a bit now. This is because, over the next hour and a half, a number of things happen. 1. Breakfast does not come. 2. Nobody talks about writing. 3. Lillith, Queen of the Demons does not stop talking. In fact, Lillith, Queen of the Demons hasn't stopped talking since I met her. The moment we got in the car with her, she began talking and she does not stop. Eventually she runs out of opinions and anecdotes and I hear her begin again from the beginning, talking about the things she spoke about in the car. It's like she's on some kind of loop. A loop designed to make me suffer. It is now I realised that I have given myself alcohol poisoning and I am dead. I am dead and this is hell. No. This can't be hell. Firstly because their are too many cute waitresses in denim hotpants for this to be hell. Secondly because nobody is deserving of this kind of hell. No god would be so cruel. No, this kind of suffering can only happen in our living, mortal realm. Only humans no how to create torture this horrible. Death and a swift deliverance unto hell would be a release at this point. There the devil and I could commiserate on my drawn out suffering. But eventually breakfast comes. A bacon and egg sandwich that would have gone so well with my coke if I hadn't already finished it. I'm too hung over to taste the greasy goodness of my breakfast, but not so hung over that I can't feel it when it burns the roof of my mouth. The clock ticks by and I see that we've been there for two hours now. That's in addition to the hour it took us to get there. I am no less uncomfortable or hung over but I hate everything a little more with each passing second. I begin to wish I could somehow harness the ticking of my watch and create some kind of watch ticking death ray that I could use to kill everybody around me. Headline: Man in subdued rage kills everybody in Newtown cafe, including himself, with bizarre watch weapon. Headline: Newspaper forgets how to make snappy headlines. Finally somebody suggests they talk about writing. Oh thank God. I've already read everbody's contribution at this point. Several times, in fact. I'll go through them one by one. First was my friend Jessy's. It was twilight fanfiction starring herself. Actually, that's not quite right. It wasn't Twilight fan fiction because that has some level of self-awareness and uses the Twilight setting. She had just rewritten Twilight, but instead of being about Bella, she had written it about herself. Instead of it being set in school, it was set in her workplace. I point this out to her and she explains to me that it can't be any kind of Twilight fanfiction because the main character, totally not her, is reading Twilight in the story. ... Headline: Man uses amateur writer's work to make an oragami knife and commit seppuku The next piece to come around is the work of Lillith, Queen of the Demons herself. It's not actually a story. It is an outline of a story. Actually, it is an outline of a scene. There is no beginning, middle or end, here. At the very most, this piece would be a flash fiction. It is not a major effort. Oh and it's also about her. It's some kind of auto-biographical memoir of her sad memories of being a childhood. I'm sure it's very cathartic for her to write. Or rather, I'm sure it would be very cathartic for her to write if she had actually written it. Instead she wrote a page long outline for what would be a page long story. Why? And she had a whole week to work on this! I know all about busy schedules but it's not like this writer's meeting snuck up on her! She knew this was coming! She could have written a draft of this the night before. Hell, if she'd taken the train, she could have written it on the train over. Sigh. Finally, we come to the last piece. That's right, only three people brought work to contribute. I don't remember the exact numbers for this meet up but including myself, there were at least six people. I think there were more but it was so long ago, I can't be sure. That means that, excluding the new guy (me) there were five regular members of this group and slightly more than half had written anything. In fact, one of them had only written half of something so it sort of balances out to being 2.5 out of 5 pieces that there should have been. It's a writers group. Writers group. Writers. AS IN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO WRITE SOMETHING!!! Anyway. This last guy is an American and the only other male in the group besides me. I'm not making a point about Americans, I just need to refer to him as something and "The American" will do. To his credit, the American has gone to some effort to write something. It's about six pages long. Six pages double spaced in size 14 font but still six pages. And it is an essay. Sort of. It's not really a formal essay in any way, it doesn't put forth any arguments, introduce them, explore them, provide argument or evidence for them and conclude on anything. So maybe we won't call it an essay. It's a monologue. It's his train of thought. It is the American thinking onto the page and typing it out. It's about time. He has gotten all waxing philosophical about time and what it is and how we define it and how it affects us and if it is real or if it is a construct. All very interesting ideas worthy of consideration and examination. You could do a whole thesis on the way time is perceived in a social and cultural sense. Well, maybe you could. I probably couldn't. The American couldn't either. Instead, he just waffles on for six pages and then stops abruptly having gone nowhere, accomplished nothing and said very little, creating no insight and reaching no depth. Now I don't remember what anybody else said about the other work or what they thought about each other's contributions or lack-there-of. To be honest, I wasn't listening. But I do remember what everyone said about the American's piece. "You should submit that." He should submit it? He should submit that? To WHO!? It's not fiction, it's not an article, it's not an essay. It's baring coherent! This offers nothing to an audience! Nobody wants to read this. I don't even want to read it and I read it three times! He should submit that? And no, they don't say where he should submit it to. There's no details. No suggestion of magazine or website or journal. He should just "submit that." Sigh. Deep breaths. Shortly after, we wrapped up and everyone went their separate ways. Jessy apologised for inviting me along and said she'd never go back either. This is why I'm friends with her and not Lillith, Queen of the Demons. Twilight addiction aside, she's got some sense in her. I never went back either and, fortunately, Lillith, Queen of the Demons had other places to be and couldn't give either Jessy or I a lift back to our neighbourhood. So we caught the train and it was a smooth, breezey ride all the way home. This whole experience, which I lovingly refer to as my journey to hell and back, turned me off the idea of writers groups for a long time. Forever, really. I would never have joined one again unless I knew every person in it. I occasionally tell this story to entertain people. It makes a good little party anecdote. But I don't do it to make fun of the people in the writer's group. I want to make that absolutely clear. They all were enjoying themselves and they all liked writing and sharing their writing with each other and talking about being writers. In my experience, these people are the standard. This is what your average amateur hobbyist writer looks like. They like to sit around, encourage each other, share their work when they occasionally get around to producing some. They stare dreamy eyed at this big world of professional writers that they want to emulate but never dare to think they could really be part of it. It's just a pleasant day dream on the morning commute, while they think about the fantastic books they'll write if they can just find the time. They're more interested in being a writer than in doing any writing. I don't begrudge or judge them their pleasure in any way. But it's not for me. When I get together with a bunch of writers to talk about writing, I'd like to actually talk about writing. It's not a lot to ask. So I joined a writers group. I'll let you know how it goes.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Write Fan Fiction
I have written fan fiction. To my knowledge, I have written four pieces of fan fiction in my life. I might be forgetting something, but I don't think so. Anyway, I'm not ashamed or embarassed that I've been a writer of fan fiction. I've also read a lot more fan fiction that I've written. I used to read fan fiction all the time. Fan fiction, if it's good, can be a great way to revisit a world that the original author has left behind. Those same characters and places and times offer so many more potential stories than any one author could write. Fan fiction is harmless fun and I fully endorse it.
And I endorse you writing it. Yes, you, the serious writer, the would-be author, the professional aspirant. Write some fan fiction.
Why you ask? Why put time into this? Why sully your good name?
Well first of all, you don't need to share it. I shared mine the way I did because some folks wanted to read it and so I could make this point I'm about to make. So this can be our dirty little secret.
Secondly, you need to experiment. You need to push yourself and challenge yourself and strive to be better. You need to go outside your comfort zone and do something new from time to time. Short stories are great for this kind of thing. Short Stories allow you to explore new ideas and techniques and genres without committing to writing 80,000 words of experimentation.
Unless you want 80,000 words of experimentation. I've done that too.
"But Carl, how does all this relate to fan fiction?"
Look, nameless voice of the confused audience, you need to get past this prejudice you have against Fan Fiction before we go on. Even if you don't hate the notion of fan fiction and think it's harmless fun, there's still a good chance you think it's the land of young women living out their Twilight bondage fantasies, die hard Naruto loving japanophiles with not actual interest in literature or syntax or even just a "good jumping off point" before people become serious writers. I've heard all the reasons to hate, ignore, disregard, discount, look down on or patronise fan fiction and fan fiction writers. There's nothing you can tell me that I haven't heard and you're still looking at it the wrong way.
Instead, start looking at fan fiction as a pre-packaged setting. You open the box marked "Harry Potter" and you have a world, a history, characters, rules, events and everything else that you need to begin telling a story. All you've got to do is mix in your own fresh ideas and tell your Harry Potter story. And those ideas - those oh so necessary creations plucked from your imagination - are what separates fan fiction from canon. New ideas are not optional when writing fan fiction.
And those new ideas can be character archetypes you don't usually write, narrative voices you don't usually use, genres you're uncomfortable with, obscure themes you're not sure how to explore.
When you begin writing a story from scratch, be it a short story, a novel or a play, you really are beginning with a blank sheet of paper. Everything that goes onto that paper has to come from somewhere inside you. You have to make the people, the places, the past, present and future, you have to make the heroes and the villains, you have to create the mood, the imagery, you have to come up with the themes and how you're going to explore and argue those themes, you have to give everyone names and personalities and purpose. I don't need to tell you that writing happens to be a shit load of work.
Fan fiction fills in some of those blanks for you. It gives you more time to focus on a few key ideas that you want to experiment with. That's the beauty of fan fiction.
Don't ever stop experimenting and don't let your prejudices get in the way of something that might help you to improve as a writer.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
You're Supposed To Be Enjoying Yourself
Are you having fun?
The author Joe Konrath came up with an idea some time ago called the "Eight Hour E-Book". It pretty much does what it says on the label. It's a challenge for authors to write, edit, format and publish an e-book in eight hours. Many of the readers on his blog did exactly that and in the space of one or two days, the kindle store had an influx of simple, often crude, often humerous and generally low quality e-books that authors had made in eight hours.
He did this for a couple of reasons. Konrath wanted to make a point about the nature of the e-book market and his point was valid and worth exploring but it is also a topic for another time.
The second reason he did this was because a lot of authors and aspiring authors follow his blog and he wanted to remind everybody that they should be having fun when they write.
And that's a point that can't be stressed enough.
I was going to talk about fan fiction today, but I'll do that next time. Today I want to make the same point that Konrath made with his Eight Hour E-Book Challenge. That point is: Writing should be fun.
I swear, lately I feel like I've died and been damned to the hell of eternal editing. Don't get me wrong, I like editing as much as the next guy and I think editing is important, but by the twelfth time you're rewritten the same chapter, it's lost a lot of the artistic romance. If you ever get to this point, it's probably time you did something to rekindle that fire of passion that got you started.
Write something just for fun. Writing should be fun. If you're not doing this for fun, why are you doing it? If you're like me, you've had your eyes on the prize for a long time. You want to be a professional author. You want to create work of quality. You want other people to read your work and you want them to enjoy said work. But hold on, let's go back to the beginning. Why did you start writing? Why did you decide that this is what you want to do?
One day I'll give you the full story of how I started writing but for now, the short version of my story is probably the short version of your story. You started on this path of the literary artiste because you were having fun with words and telling stories. At least, I certainly hope that's why you got started.
If not, then I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Creative writing is not the path to fame, glory, wealth and women. Actually, it might get you women, but not the fame, wealth and glory part. Writing is not the best way to leave your mark on history. Odds are, even if you're successful enough to be a full time professional writer, you still won't live a life of fame, riches, glory and women. Okay, there's still a good chance for women, but that's all. So if nothing else, you want to be having fun, right?
Now, you probably don't need me to say "Hey, have fun!" because everybody likes fun and fun is reason enough to have fun. But there is another reason to keep having fun when you write.
Your readers know if you were enjoying it.
You've probably read something, where you reached a point and it became crystal clear to you that the author had stopped caring. When the author doesn't enjoy writing, the audience doesn't enjoy reading it. There's no life, no care, no interest in its creation and that is apparent on the other side of the process. Your writing will be better if you are having fun writing it. Reading should be enjoyable but their enjoyment begins with you enjoying the creative process!
So have fun. If you don't feel like you're having fun, then you're doing something wrong. Fix that. Stop what you're doing and find the fun.
It could be that you've spent far too long in editing and you need to do something new. Maybe you need to do something silly and frivolous. Maybe back of the emotional character drama and work on something you wouldn't normally do. Something like, oh, say, I don't know, a My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic fan fiction. You never know what could happen. Then, when you've reminded yourself how much fun writing is, go back and keep working on the other stuff.
Or do an Eight Hour E-Book.
Whatever it is you need to do, do it. Find the fun. Writing should be fun. So go have some fun.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
The Death of Summer Sprinkles
So, a little while ago, while laying around sick, possibly with a mild fever, I came up with a couple of crazy ideas. Well, I say they were crazy but they seemed great at the time.
The first was a mash-up of Mortal Kombat and Spongebob Squarepants. The second one was a My Little Pony Neo-Noir murder mystery.
That second idea stuck.
Despite really only having an opening in mind and still feeling pretty awful, I decided to start writing. And I kept writing. Before I knew it, this silly short story had grown to be well over 10,000 words long. Not such a short story after all. Better yet, it actually wasn't bad. Well, if you can look past the absurdity of it all, it's not bad. So I kept writing it and writing it and before long, it had become a 21,000 word novella. It was a lot of fun to write and it has been some of my most productive writing in a while. It's silly but some parts of it are pretty good, if I do say so, myself.
It has been years since I wrote any fan fiction and it will probably be years before I write it again. After all this time, I can both see why it still has a lot of appeal and also why I've never really been interested in it. I've also learned a lot more about My Little Pony and the brony fandom than I did before I began writing.
Yes, even Fan Fiction needs researching. Take note, kids.
Anyway. The completed work (and when I say "completed" I mean as completed as I'll ever get a piece of fan fiction. It's been only lightly edited, but the story is complete.) has been uploaded to my rarely used Figment account for all to see. It's called The Death of Summer Sprinkles
The first was a mash-up of Mortal Kombat and Spongebob Squarepants. The second one was a My Little Pony Neo-Noir murder mystery.
That second idea stuck.
Despite really only having an opening in mind and still feeling pretty awful, I decided to start writing. And I kept writing. Before I knew it, this silly short story had grown to be well over 10,000 words long. Not such a short story after all. Better yet, it actually wasn't bad. Well, if you can look past the absurdity of it all, it's not bad. So I kept writing it and writing it and before long, it had become a 21,000 word novella. It was a lot of fun to write and it has been some of my most productive writing in a while. It's silly but some parts of it are pretty good, if I do say so, myself.
It has been years since I wrote any fan fiction and it will probably be years before I write it again. After all this time, I can both see why it still has a lot of appeal and also why I've never really been interested in it. I've also learned a lot more about My Little Pony and the brony fandom than I did before I began writing.
Yes, even Fan Fiction needs researching. Take note, kids.
Anyway. The completed work (and when I say "completed" I mean as completed as I'll ever get a piece of fan fiction. It's been only lightly edited, but the story is complete.) has been uploaded to my rarely used Figment account for all to see. It's called The Death of Summer Sprinkles
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