Today is International Please Don’t Pirate My Book Day. It's a thing that I did not just make up. Somebody else did and I like it so that makes it official.
Chuck Wendig put up a pretty poignant blog post about book piracy. In his post he links over to this guy who also makes some good points. Giving away a free ebook with a physical book purchase isn't a bad idea. Good marketing if you can put in the time to do it. I do find myself concerned about the idea of try before you buy, though. How many people actually download a movie, book or album and then go and buy that same move, book or album because they like it? Some, I'm sure. But many?
I don't know if the people who want to test drive something before they buy it are even a double digit percentage in the group of people who torrent things. If someone already has something for free, they'd have to be a real honest type to go drop money on it. Being that I don't believe most people are honest types, I struggle with the numbers.
It does get me thinking about samples, though. When I get a novel completed I would think putting up a couple chapters on a website would be a smart move. Drug companies give samples. You get food samples at grocery stores. I'd imagine the big issue there would be dealing with a publishing company. They'd probably have something to say about you giving away parts of the books they paid you for. Perhaps that idea is best for self publishing routes like Kindle Direct.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Back on Track or Off the Rails?
I have managed to close the gap on my word goals over the last week. I missed the Sunday check-in due to pure forgetfulness but I'll blame that on being new to the whole ROW thing. Here is where I stand.
My frontier horror story is sitting in at about 4,000 word and is nearly complete. I've done some touch up work on my colonial sci-fi story but it is still pretty rough. I'm hesitant to jump into a full edit while I am still working on the other piece. So I am a little behind but my goals gave me wiggle room so things are still alright.
Did you all know there is a fellowship contest every year for screenplays? I'm sure there are many, but I recently became aware of the Nicholl Fellowship which awards 35,000 dollars to assist budding writers focus on their writing instead of their day jobs. Pretty sweet deal if you can put together a screenplay worth reading. I might take a run at it this year just to keep my motivation up.
My frontier horror story is sitting in at about 4,000 word and is nearly complete. I've done some touch up work on my colonial sci-fi story but it is still pretty rough. I'm hesitant to jump into a full edit while I am still working on the other piece. So I am a little behind but my goals gave me wiggle room so things are still alright.
Did you all know there is a fellowship contest every year for screenplays? I'm sure there are many, but I recently became aware of the Nicholl Fellowship which awards 35,000 dollars to assist budding writers focus on their writing instead of their day jobs. Pretty sweet deal if you can put together a screenplay worth reading. I might take a run at it this year just to keep my motivation up.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
A Day Late and 2,000 Words Short
I haven't been as effective in cutting down my word deficit as I'd like to have been. I got a fair amount of work done on my frontier horror tale but I'm still 2,000 words down from where I should be given my 1,000 words a day goal. With the completion of the stories being key to moving on to my next stated goals I feel pretty bad each day that I don't write. That said, I really feel like the story is coming together well and I suppose that is a significant part of it. Not everything can be measured in words, right?
This weekend promises to be pretty busy as I've been handed an important work project to complete by Monday. I will still need to find the time for writing, though. If I really want to make a go of writing full-time I need to look at it as a job that I can't just skip out on whenever other things are piling up.
Encouraging words, as always, are welcome.
This weekend promises to be pretty busy as I've been handed an important work project to complete by Monday. I will still need to find the time for writing, though. If I really want to make a go of writing full-time I need to look at it as a job that I can't just skip out on whenever other things are piling up.
Encouraging words, as always, are welcome.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Girls Not on Film
I've noticed a trend in my writing lately that honestly hadn't occurred to me until I read a rather lengthy, and extremely poignant, article on the lovely interwebs.
Article Here. Yes, it's quite long but the importance of what it discusses cannot be understated on a blog that purports to be about writing.
Back on point, I went back over the unfinished works that I have in my folder and realized that I'm writing a lot about women lately. Greenhorn has a female protagonist in a setting that doesn't usually boast them. Soulless has one as well. My short piece of frontier horror fiction follows a thirteen year old girl's struggle to drag her father's body back to civilization. My colonial sci-fi piece features a female war hero turned convict.
Looking through the stories I had to ask myself if I was writing about women simply because they were women. Would each story change if the gender of the main character did? In a world where it is common to suggest that everyone is equal it becomes that much more important to remember that being equal and being uniform are not the same. Characters, like people, should be unique and to suggest that gender doesn't have an impact on our behavior and personality is disingenuous. I believe that the female perspective does bring something different to the table than the male perspective.
I'm not sure when I started to put women in the most prominent positions in my work but I think the article makes it pretty clear that women are horribly underrepresented in most forms of popular fiction. The fact that finding a well crafted female protagonist in a work of fiction that isn't romance or some hybrid of romance is so refreshing should be a brightly lit warning sign.
That said, it is also true that some male writers struggle with presenting the differences in genders appropriately. Some female writers are equally unable to overcome that hurdle. Perhaps it isn't a matter of difficulty representing the other gender, but difficulty with writing in general. Just because it is harder for someone to present a cross-gender viewpoint isn't reason not to pursue it. We only advance our ability by challenging our weaknesses.
I hope that my stories present their protagonists as three-dimensional, fully realized people regardless of the gender I've chosen. I hope that my presentation of female characters come across as believable and honest. Mostly, though, I hope that others out there are making the same efforts.
Article Here. Yes, it's quite long but the importance of what it discusses cannot be understated on a blog that purports to be about writing.
Back on point, I went back over the unfinished works that I have in my folder and realized that I'm writing a lot about women lately. Greenhorn has a female protagonist in a setting that doesn't usually boast them. Soulless has one as well. My short piece of frontier horror fiction follows a thirteen year old girl's struggle to drag her father's body back to civilization. My colonial sci-fi piece features a female war hero turned convict.
Looking through the stories I had to ask myself if I was writing about women simply because they were women. Would each story change if the gender of the main character did? In a world where it is common to suggest that everyone is equal it becomes that much more important to remember that being equal and being uniform are not the same. Characters, like people, should be unique and to suggest that gender doesn't have an impact on our behavior and personality is disingenuous. I believe that the female perspective does bring something different to the table than the male perspective.
I'm not sure when I started to put women in the most prominent positions in my work but I think the article makes it pretty clear that women are horribly underrepresented in most forms of popular fiction. The fact that finding a well crafted female protagonist in a work of fiction that isn't romance or some hybrid of romance is so refreshing should be a brightly lit warning sign.
That said, it is also true that some male writers struggle with presenting the differences in genders appropriately. Some female writers are equally unable to overcome that hurdle. Perhaps it isn't a matter of difficulty representing the other gender, but difficulty with writing in general. Just because it is harder for someone to present a cross-gender viewpoint isn't reason not to pursue it. We only advance our ability by challenging our weaknesses.
I hope that my stories present their protagonists as three-dimensional, fully realized people regardless of the gender I've chosen. I hope that my presentation of female characters come across as believable and honest. Mostly, though, I hope that others out there are making the same efforts.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
ROW80 Goals First Quarter 2013
So I am going to try and follow the Round of Words in 80 Days system this year. I came across it through Camille LaGuire's blog "The Daring Novelist". It is a goal setting system where you choose milestones to accomplish over each 80 day period with 10 day break between sessions. You post updates on Sundays and Wednesdays, so that will give me a few more blog posts each week. It seems like one of the more manageable systems I've seen.
So, onto goals.
I am going to try and apply to the Clarion Writers Workshop this year which means this quarter is going to be really important. Work has been a real drain on my creativity recently and it is going to be a struggle to get the 12,000 words together that I need for the application. I could use some old stuff but most of my material is unfinished novels and the workshop is short fiction focused so I want to send something appropriate.
That means, at present, I need to do a thousand words a day over the next two weeks to have the stories done, then edit and revise them over the following two weeks. Ideally, I would like to get the application in before February 15th. It's going to be a tight deadline so that means less screwing off and more focus.
Once that's done, however, I would like to go back to Soulless (working title since I discovered that there is a series out with an installment called Soulless which looks pretty interesting) and start putting in more time there. If I can focus enough to get two stories together of around 5,000 words each, maybe I can make some headway on that project. I really like the idea behind it and I believe it will come together if I can just work on it regularly. If I take a day each week away from Soulless and devote it something shorter (I'm working on a tale about zombie hunting Inquisitors in Black Plague era Italy) then maybe I won't get so bogged down.
Lastly, I'd like to put up at least one post a week here that is not related to writing. Sunday and Wednesday will be goal posts and I am going to try and go back to doing the flash fiction challenges on Terrible Minds so if I pick a random topic for another day that will be four posts a week. Shouldn't be too challenging.
Summary: 1,000 words a day through February 1st. Edit and revise two stories by February 14th. Apply to the Writer's Conference by February 15th. Work on Soulless through March 28th, possibly interspersing this time with Plague Dogs. Four blog posts a week on here.
So, onto goals.
I am going to try and apply to the Clarion Writers Workshop this year which means this quarter is going to be really important. Work has been a real drain on my creativity recently and it is going to be a struggle to get the 12,000 words together that I need for the application. I could use some old stuff but most of my material is unfinished novels and the workshop is short fiction focused so I want to send something appropriate.
That means, at present, I need to do a thousand words a day over the next two weeks to have the stories done, then edit and revise them over the following two weeks. Ideally, I would like to get the application in before February 15th. It's going to be a tight deadline so that means less screwing off and more focus.
Once that's done, however, I would like to go back to Soulless (working title since I discovered that there is a series out with an installment called Soulless which looks pretty interesting) and start putting in more time there. If I can focus enough to get two stories together of around 5,000 words each, maybe I can make some headway on that project. I really like the idea behind it and I believe it will come together if I can just work on it regularly. If I take a day each week away from Soulless and devote it something shorter (I'm working on a tale about zombie hunting Inquisitors in Black Plague era Italy) then maybe I won't get so bogged down.
Lastly, I'd like to put up at least one post a week here that is not related to writing. Sunday and Wednesday will be goal posts and I am going to try and go back to doing the flash fiction challenges on Terrible Minds so if I pick a random topic for another day that will be four posts a week. Shouldn't be too challenging.
Summary: 1,000 words a day through February 1st. Edit and revise two stories by February 14th. Apply to the Writer's Conference by February 15th. Work on Soulless through March 28th, possibly interspersing this time with Plague Dogs. Four blog posts a week on here.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
New Year, New Efforts
So the new year is upon us and we've managed to narrowly escape total destruction at the hands of a turning age. Now is as good a time as any for resolutions.
1. Care less, write more: Ok, I need to just start writing and stop worrying about whether what I am writing is any good. Nothing is good until it's done.
2. Run, Lift, Stretch: Three days of running, two days of strength work and a day of yoga to limber up. If I am going to be active in Seattle I am going to need to get in shape.
3. Less wasteful spending: I need to revise my budget and stick to it. Saving is especially important for my plans this year.
4: Blog, dammit!: Three times a week, come hell or high water, I will put something up on here.
1. Care less, write more: Ok, I need to just start writing and stop worrying about whether what I am writing is any good. Nothing is good until it's done.
2. Run, Lift, Stretch: Three days of running, two days of strength work and a day of yoga to limber up. If I am going to be active in Seattle I am going to need to get in shape.
3. Less wasteful spending: I need to revise my budget and stick to it. Saving is especially important for my plans this year.
4: Blog, dammit!: Three times a week, come hell or high water, I will put something up on here.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Terrible Minds Flash Fiction Challenge: The Wrong Man
This week's challenge is incorporate one choice from each of three lists; subgenre, element and conflict/theme. I let the random nature of the dice decide my fate here and the rolls provided me with a detective tale about imprisonment involving surgery. Let's see how this plays out.
Chuck's blog is here - http://terribleminds.com/ramble/
Chuck's blog is here - http://terribleminds.com/ramble/
The Wrong Man
It occured to me as the Pennywell Surgeon loomed into view that it often feels like someone is writing my life. The situations I've gotten into, and out of, would fit perfectly in the page of some dogeared adventure novel. It was exactly that fact that kept me from feeling fear as he tested the edge of a scalpel on his thumb. After all, when you've escaped unscathed from a mobster's basement interrogation and put a bullet in the throat of a respected political assassin, knives tend to lose their power.
"Why can't I move?" I asked, testing my limbs for responsiveness. The man leaned over the edge of the pine box he'd laid me in, the overhead light casting curious shadows across his bespectacled face. He didn't look like a killer, certainly not one who'd kidnapped and harvested the organs from fourteen women in half a year's time. He was pushing fifty with a receding hairline and patches of gray in his beard. The papers had assigned him the nickname but my research had turned up the truth. Walter Demroe, board certified neurologist and surgeon, had been very careful to keep his nocturnal exploits separate from his professional life.
"Simple anatomy, shamus. I've clipped the tendons and ligaments that would allow you motion in your limbs." he said, as calmly as if he were lecturing to a class. I felt my lips pull into a frown despite my effort to stay stoic. He turned away and I could hear the clink of metal tools.
"Did you do this to your victims, too? Left them paralyzed while you scooped out their innards?" I asked, the disgust rich in my voice. I didn't need to know the answer. I was stalling, you see, as I'd realized he'd missed something. My right hand twitched as I struggled to move it.
"Some. Others I used injected chemicals." he replied, a sigh punctuating this words. "I'm rather surprised you even took an interest in this case. They were whores and junkies, after all. The police never gave them a second thought."
"They never gave me a second thought either. Maybe that's why I felt inclined to dig." My fingers balled into a fist, pins and needles shooting through my arm. I could feel the weight of my pistol pressing heavy on my ribs. I eased my hand slowly upwards.
"And dig you did. I was content to let you stumble about checking bars and roughing up thugs but once you'd found my office I knew something had to be done." he said. Light gleamed off a saw as he held it up, the teeth jagged and bent. Another inch brought my hand closer to the weapon.
"So you set me up? Used my ex-wife's cell phone to get me to the park. Where is Marianne?" I asked, fingertips grazing the carved wood of the gun's grip.
"I'd imagine she's at home, sleeping off her night out with the girls. Only a careless woman leaves her phone unattended when ordering drinks." he replied, pulling a pair of gloves off his hands. He turned back to me, something gripped in his left hand, and found the barrel of my gun shaking in his face.
"Sorry, sicko. Nobody's gonna take my organs." It took all the strength I could muster to level the weapon and squeeze the trigger. The hammer fell on an empty chamber. CLICK. I squeezed again. CLICK. My strength faltered and the gun slipped from my fingers, falling into his open palm. He smiled, gleaming teeth almost monsterous in the dingy, yellow light. He set the gun aside, opening his left hand and letting the bullets slip between his fingers onto my chest.
"I am not an amateur, detective. I know my craft well enough to empty my victim's weapons. Well enough to know your organs are riddled with rot and disease. Alcohol and cigarettes and putrid diner foods...you aren't fit to transplant." he said, and this time it was his voice that held disgust. As he hooked a hammer into his belt and hoisted the coffin lid I felt the bitter taste of fear. I tried to move, to kick or punch but all I could manage was a strangled scream.
"No! This isn't right. My stories don't end like this!" I gasped, choking the words through gritted teeth. He stopped, light flashing across his glasses as his smile faded. In that moment his expression held only pity. I hated him for it.
"Well, gumshoe, what you've failed to consider is that this isn't your story. It's mine." he said as he pushed the wooden lid into place, plunging me into blackness.
As I drove the first nail in, I heard the detective scream. Those screams continued until six feet of packed earth drowned them out. I waited for a minute, trying to pick out his shouts from the wailing of the wind, then walked back up the path to the parking lot. The park was my favorite spot, so empty and sprawling in the dead of night.
Brushing soil from my hands and tossing the shovel into the back of my truck, I smiled. I flicked open the zippo, taking a moment to read the inscription. I knew you'd ace the detective exam. With love and faith, Marianne. The flame danced excitedly until I snapped the lid closed. A trophy of a different sort from this one. There were days when my hobby felt like work but this...this was not one of those days.
"Why can't I move?" I asked, testing my limbs for responsiveness. The man leaned over the edge of the pine box he'd laid me in, the overhead light casting curious shadows across his bespectacled face. He didn't look like a killer, certainly not one who'd kidnapped and harvested the organs from fourteen women in half a year's time. He was pushing fifty with a receding hairline and patches of gray in his beard. The papers had assigned him the nickname but my research had turned up the truth. Walter Demroe, board certified neurologist and surgeon, had been very careful to keep his nocturnal exploits separate from his professional life.
"Simple anatomy, shamus. I've clipped the tendons and ligaments that would allow you motion in your limbs." he said, as calmly as if he were lecturing to a class. I felt my lips pull into a frown despite my effort to stay stoic. He turned away and I could hear the clink of metal tools.
"Did you do this to your victims, too? Left them paralyzed while you scooped out their innards?" I asked, the disgust rich in my voice. I didn't need to know the answer. I was stalling, you see, as I'd realized he'd missed something. My right hand twitched as I struggled to move it.
"Some. Others I used injected chemicals." he replied, a sigh punctuating this words. "I'm rather surprised you even took an interest in this case. They were whores and junkies, after all. The police never gave them a second thought."
"They never gave me a second thought either. Maybe that's why I felt inclined to dig." My fingers balled into a fist, pins and needles shooting through my arm. I could feel the weight of my pistol pressing heavy on my ribs. I eased my hand slowly upwards.
"And dig you did. I was content to let you stumble about checking bars and roughing up thugs but once you'd found my office I knew something had to be done." he said. Light gleamed off a saw as he held it up, the teeth jagged and bent. Another inch brought my hand closer to the weapon.
"So you set me up? Used my ex-wife's cell phone to get me to the park. Where is Marianne?" I asked, fingertips grazing the carved wood of the gun's grip.
"I'd imagine she's at home, sleeping off her night out with the girls. Only a careless woman leaves her phone unattended when ordering drinks." he replied, pulling a pair of gloves off his hands. He turned back to me, something gripped in his left hand, and found the barrel of my gun shaking in his face.
"Sorry, sicko. Nobody's gonna take my organs." It took all the strength I could muster to level the weapon and squeeze the trigger. The hammer fell on an empty chamber. CLICK. I squeezed again. CLICK. My strength faltered and the gun slipped from my fingers, falling into his open palm. He smiled, gleaming teeth almost monsterous in the dingy, yellow light. He set the gun aside, opening his left hand and letting the bullets slip between his fingers onto my chest.
"I am not an amateur, detective. I know my craft well enough to empty my victim's weapons. Well enough to know your organs are riddled with rot and disease. Alcohol and cigarettes and putrid diner foods...you aren't fit to transplant." he said, and this time it was his voice that held disgust. As he hooked a hammer into his belt and hoisted the coffin lid I felt the bitter taste of fear. I tried to move, to kick or punch but all I could manage was a strangled scream.
"No! This isn't right. My stories don't end like this!" I gasped, choking the words through gritted teeth. He stopped, light flashing across his glasses as his smile faded. In that moment his expression held only pity. I hated him for it.
"Well, gumshoe, what you've failed to consider is that this isn't your story. It's mine." he said as he pushed the wooden lid into place, plunging me into blackness.
As I drove the first nail in, I heard the detective scream. Those screams continued until six feet of packed earth drowned them out. I waited for a minute, trying to pick out his shouts from the wailing of the wind, then walked back up the path to the parking lot. The park was my favorite spot, so empty and sprawling in the dead of night.
Brushing soil from my hands and tossing the shovel into the back of my truck, I smiled. I flicked open the zippo, taking a moment to read the inscription. I knew you'd ace the detective exam. With love and faith, Marianne. The flame danced excitedly until I snapped the lid closed. A trophy of a different sort from this one. There were days when my hobby felt like work but this...this was not one of those days.
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