Category Archives: Novice Writer’s Journal

The In-Between Time

Howdy, howdy, howdy. Been a while since I’ve done any writing on ye olde website. I’m going to be honest, a big part of this is because I’m not always sure what to write on here. I like fiction, but fiction short stories on a website struck me as a little strange. (Though I’m warming up to the idea. My most viewed article was a short story) I like to give out advice on here too, but it strikes me as a little disingenuous to do so.

Why you ask? Because I’m just a student myself. I’m learning, and like all students, I make a lot of mistakes along the way. There’s nothing wrong with making mistakes. I’ve always been a firm believer that you learn more from failure than success. No, the issue is passing things on to other learners. I don’t like the idea that my advice might lead someone astray. After all, things that work for me might not work in the least for you. Where I like to write 2,000 words a day, you might get burned out. (Or find it’s not enough) While I like to write back stories on my characters that nobody else gets to see, you might find it a tedious and fruitless exercise.

Above all, I don’t want to come off like some old pro on here. I’m so green that I still have the plastic on. I’ve only published one book, and I’m working on getting an agent to sell the rest through more traditional means. I find that that are too many chiefs and not enough Indians in the writing world. Every website and author presents itself as some wizened old sage giving off advice from atop the mountain. Many of them are. Some of them are not. I’ve learned to take any advice with a grain of salt. There is no one size fits all way to write. The only price of admission is your time and dedication, everything after that is just trying different things until you find what works best for you. There are no guarantees. Nothing is certain in this industry.

But enough of that, it sounds a little too morose.

I’ve been a busy man this year. Since December of 2014 I’ve finished the first draft of two books, edited one, and now I’m 22k words deep into my fourth. It’s been a very productive time. The second one is a great story about a group of refugees surviving after the world came to a cataclysmic end a decade before. *Digs around in folders* Let me see if I can find the blurb I wrote.

“The old world is dead, and mankind struggles to survive in the shadows of the new one. Kyle, Sara, and Tim are scavengers, hiding in the remains of human civilization from the hungry things that destroyed it. Surviving on the few remaining items that haven’t rotted in the thirteen years since mankind was nearly wiped out.

But something has shown itself. A terrible creature that shows there is an intelligence to the madness of the beasts that destroyed the planet.

When the group finds Kaylee, a little girl who claims to know of a safe haven somewhere in Tennessee, they embark on a desperate journey to find it. Memory and loss, depravity and salvation— their last, desperate run will put them face to face with horrors of both man and monsters the likes of which they’ve never seen.”

There we go! I’m really excited about this project. I learned a lot from editing the first book, and it made the second one much stronger. The early opinions on it from my beta readers have been fantastic, and I can’t wait for a larger audience to see it. At it’s heart, it’s a story about a family, not about monsters. It’s about memories, and how we chose the people who mean the most to us. It’s a tense and emotional ride, and if I’m doing my job right, it should leave you wanting more at the end.

Expect to see articles from me in the coming weeks about this and a few other things. I’m trying to come up with new content for the site rather than just offering up novice advice.

Well, except for one piece. The perennial writing advice.

Keep writing.

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Being Gracious, Being Professional

Not so long ago, I wrote a post about why it’s obnoxious to collect fifty thousand people on Twitter and spam them with, “99 cents today only!” It’s bad business. It makes it look as if you think of the people who enjoy your books as nothing more than a numbers game. Really, at the center of the matter, it comes down to a lack of courtesy.

Don’t get me wrong, writing is a business. There are no two ways about it. If you want to continue enjoying your life as an author, you either have to make your money doing it or continue a second job. But it’s actually social work at heart. Yes, true, when you’re in the throes of creation it’s just you and the words, but after that you have to get out there. Even if you’re a traditionalist, you have to make face time with people at some point.

Recently, I cleaned out my Twitter. When I first got on it I would follow anyone who wrote. I ended up with about three hundred people at one point, but I didn’t enjoy it. My feed was full of folks either hawking their wares or re-tweeting whatever clever catchphrase someone else had come up with. That’s not interfacing with other people, that’s screaming at them.

I know, I know, this makes me sound snobby. That’s fine, I’ll wear it. I’d much rather see artists and friends talking about their work and their lives than have them always pushing the hard sell. At the end of the day, I would rather dialogue and learn from a few people than roll the dice and hope a few of my 50k followers buy my book.

I’ve been told time and again that a massive following is what sells books, but I think some people confuse re-tweets and Facebook likes with sales. I’m a firm believer that quality comes first. Write the best book you can. The second step is being gracious. Go out and be you. Talk to people. Meet folks. Write about what you do on Twitter and Facebook. Don’t take the social out of social media. It isn’t Craigslist or a Sunday morning market. Good salesmanship is important, but you become an infomercial if that’s all you have.

Make connections outside of your normal circle of friends. Not only will your life be better for it, but you’ll probably sell a few books too. Does it translate to instant sales? Well, no; but the truth is, nothing does. If you’re looking for the quick and easy way to make it in this industry, you’re going to wind up on your ass. (Or looking like one) There is no magic button. The people who got successful right off the bat were lucky, talented beyond belief, or both. You can’t bottle that. Be cool, and be yourself. People will always respond better to that than to hawking.

Success can’t be broken down into a formula. If it could, anybody who put in the work would be a success. Just keep producing quality work, connect with people, and don’t miss an opportunity when you see it. Writing is a long haul game.

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Poetry & Prose

A good friend once told me, “No poets hang out with people who want to read their work.” And I find that to be shockingly true. If I offer a friend the chance to read my latest story, they jump at it. And while I offer it a lot less, the few times I’ve given anyone the chance to read my poems, they politely decline. (Or accept and never do.)

Maybe I’m just bad at it. That thought has occured to me. But even if I, or my readers, are really bad at poetry, there’s still a lot to be said for it. Someone once said that poetry is life. That’s a little dramatic for my tastes, but it is worth noting how long poetry has been around. It predates literacy. Back when we were still hitting things with clubs, poems and songs were how we passed down information. Some of the oldest written stories we have are written in poem. It’s not an accident. Poetry is a way in which people think, and a vehicle for them expressing that to the world. Some of my favorite prose is reminiscent of poetry. It rolls off the tongue and is pleasing to the ear, an essential quality in poems. (At least to my limited understanding of it)

Without meaning, poetry is just pretty words. Without a sound that catches the ear, it’s just prose in really short sentences. Poetry has to have both in order to work, and that’s where it can be of use to writers of prose. There’s something we need to talk about folks. Nobody puts down a book and says, “Man! He explained everything so much, and had so many unnecessary words! It was awesome!” There are two huge mistakes I see with newer writers. (Myself included until my editor beat me with a stick) We either use too many words in an attempt to fill in the gaps we don’t think the readers will fill in themselves, or we get so lost in the meanings behind the stories that we fall on our face with the actual language.

Poetry helps with both of those things. In poetry, having excess words is much more noticeable. Yes, plenty of poets still get away with it, but it becomes obvious in their poems. Long form poems that drag on and on about the same thing for a few dozen lines induce a mighty yawn, and then get put aside. On the flip side, poems so caught up in meaning that they become a garbled mess to listen to are cumbersome and unsatisfying. There’s something to be said for a hidden meaning, but when it’s so vague that you can’t figure out what it is, it stops being enlightening in any way.

Writing poetry can help prose writers see where they tend to err on either of those issues and adjust accordingly. In order to write poems with any talent at all, you have to read them. I started doing both, and I swear up and down it’s helped my prose writing a lot. I still suck at poetry, but it doesn’t stop me. Those are almost entirely for my eyes only.

If you’ve never considered it, give it a try. As a youngster, even as into writing and reading as I was, I never got into poetry. I considered it a poor man’s storytelling. Now, a few decades later, it’s just one more thing I’d like to go back in time and slap myself for. If you feel the same way now as I did then, please, try it. You might be shocked at what it does for your understanding of storytelling.

And as always, keep writing.

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Excessive Character Descriptions (Stop It)

I love my characters. Despite most of them having huge flaws, and several of them being downright bad people, they’re a lot of fun to work with. In fact, the flaws make them more likeable than they would be without. A story about a good guy only doing good things isn’t much of a story. Internal conflicts and defining traits make characters relatable. They are the unique things that set them apart and draw them for us. A gay priest for instance, will instantly stand out. How does his religion affect his desire? Is he ashamed of it? Does he act on it? There are so many questions tied up that basic concept that it’s almost a story in and of itself.

Showing who a character is and shoving a readers face into it by telling are two very different things. Over explaining characters is a mistake I see a lot, even in more experienced authors. The gay priest becomes a good example of this. Just telling a reader he’s gay does nothing. It’s clumsy. Actions speak louder than words, even the most subtle actions. (An action just being subtle tells us about a character) Him thinking about what it all means, and showing us how it affects his daily actions, will always be more interesting than just reminding us he’s gay. While books are of course all words, how we use the words is what I want to talk about today.

I’m not saying that flat out stating things about a character is useless, just that it should just be done sparingly, and never on it’s own. In my second book I have two characters who have been around since the world went to shit ten years before. Sara is the gay daughter of a very conservative religious family. Kyle is a black sociology professor. Neither of these things are described until they are relevant to the story, and even then, they aren’t flat out stated. Why? Because informing someone of who a character is based on sexual preference and skin color isn’t actually telling you anything at all. Moreover, I like the idea of playing with the readers assumptions. If you filled in Kyle as a white character, would you look at him a little differently once you knew he was black? Would it change the way you see his actions? (Spoilers: It shouldn’t) I see a lot of stories in which sexuality and race are the defining characteristic of a person, but truth is, that’s bullshit. Does it change how those characters see the world? Of course. Does it tell you anything about them? No.

The only time Kyle’s race is mentioned is in a flashback in which a colleague accuses him of getting a job because of it. It’s hinted a few times in narrative, but never stated otherwise. Sara’s sexuality is only mentioned when a character asks her if she’s romantically involved with Kyle. She never says she’s gay, only offhandedly comments that Kyle isn’t toting the right equipment. If the book was about life in the city, I might have done otherwise. If the story was an examination of race and/or sexuality, I would explore it deeper. It’s not. It’s the tale of a group after the world ended. Their sexual preferences and skin color are only as relevant to one another as other characters/readers make it. It changes the way they see, understand, and feel things compared to one another, but all of that is expressed through thought, action, and dialogue.

It’s the same with any character. Unless someone being a red head is relevant, I don’t see much of a point in bringing it up. Kvothe in The Kingkiller Trilogy gets comments about his red hair a lot, and therefore his red hair is relevant. It also serves to show us that he stands out in a setting where red hair is uncommon. It makes him memorable when he is one of two characters who has it. Someone being 5’9 in a story of people who are all roughly 5’9 adds nothing. Telling us they have blue eyes and never bringing it up again is pointless. There are better ways of painting a picture. I seldom fail to notice when a book describes a character and does nothing with it. It’s word fat that can be cut to make a leaner narrative. (Always a good thing)

If someone gets teased for their weight, that’s a better way of telling us they’re fat. If they feel ashamed when they eat, you’ve done more to describe them than you would by telling us their pant size. (Inversely, saying that your character doesn’t give a damn what people think and eats what they want does the same, but paints a more confident picture.) If people call your character too-tall, or you mention he has to duck to get into doorways, that’s fine. If men are constantly showering your heroine with attention, we’ll understand that she is attractive. In any case, writing around the physical description serves more of a purpose than barreling through it the vast majority of the time. It gets us into the world without intruding on the narrative.

It’s just as true for personality, if not more so. Telling us anything about a character is weak. When I see. “Sara blushed, shy as ever,” it reminds me of a profile on a dating site. I like walk’s on the beach, and good friends. I’m very shy! “Sara’s cheeks heated up as the man smiled at her,” does the same thing. A character quickly losing their temper is better than telling us they have a short temper. Watching an addict make excuse after excuse for his behavior– watching him alienate everyone who loves him– is always better than just saying, “Aaron had a problem.” Making a character stand out is essential, but that doesn’t give a writer free reign to beat us over the head with telling instead of showing. Telling is at the heart of most bad writing, and this is no different.

Rushing is part of the problem. If you want to hurry up and establish a character in order to get on with the plot, you’ve already fucked up. A character should be revealed through the story. A good tale is more about the journey than the destination. If that wasn’t the case you could just sum up Lord of the Rings as, “Two hobbits threw a ring in the mountain, proving that the little guy can overcome anything. Also, technology is evil.” We should come to understand the character’s world view and who they are by how they handle what’s going on around them. They are as much the story as the plot itself. (Oftentimes more)

You’ve also got to remember, readers aren’t dumb. If you drop clues, they’ll get it. You don’t have to explain everything to them. If you don’t tell us what a character looks like, we won’t think it’s a faceless monster.

(Pictured: A non issue.)

(Pictured: A non issue.)

If your hero relates to a black woman being harassed by cops because he’s been persecuted as a gay man, we’ll understand their struggle. If it doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t bring it up anyway. Show us who your characters are. We’ll pick up on it. Promise.

As always, keep writing.

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What Scares People?

Fears are at the root of horror, but fear is a really broad term. After all, some people are scared of spiders, while others are afraid of germs. Some people stay up at night worrying about their children, while others are concerned they will be failures across their whole lives. As writers, we use those fears for many purposes. We can show people how much it hurts our characters to lose their child in order to caution them about loving something while you have it. You can do it just to get them to shit their pants in terror. You can use it to show that death is inevitable, and it’s only a matter of time. But why is it that some things are so much scarier than others? Why do some films and books terrify us, while others are almost laughable, despite their horrifying monsters?

It’s not about the specific phobia, it’s the unifying concept of fear itself. Fear, at it’s root, comes from the unknown, and death is the ultimate unknown. Death is the trunk of the tree from which all fears blossom. (Be it your own or someone else.) Spiders and snakes might be unpleasant to look at, but it’s the things they can do and what they represent (Disease, poison, ugliness) that really scares us. Even fears of being stuck in a coma or trapped inside a casket at their base are fears of something similar to death. No longer being an actor in the world, just a passive participant who can’t do anything but live with that overwhelming horror until they finally (or never) do perish.

All of that said, as horror writers, we need to give that fear color. We outline it as killer clowns, ancient evil gods, zombies, and crazy ex-lovers. How we color it is how it affects our stories. After all, a book about an evil clown that just sorta sits around and plays with his tiny clown car isn’t actually a story at all. And here is where I think most horror goes wrong. We focus so much on the monster itself, we forget the fear. We make these grand scenes in which the monster does something scary, or the unwitting teenagers get chopped up, but we forget to make that gesture have impact. We mistake the actions themselves for horror.

Fear is in the character, not the monster, and certainly not in what it does. In order for the reader to feel that fear, we have to first create a character they can identify with inside the story. We then have to make that character face those fears (or refuse to face them), in order to bring the fear out of our character. In doing so, we scare the reader as well.

Let’s look at three examples:

The giant spider came at her and she screamed.

This sort of writing has all sorts of problems. Yes, we know there’s a giant spider, and we can guess that she’s scared because she screams. But a giant spider by itself isn’t scary, and while someone probably would scream when they see one, but that doesn’t tell us anything. Saying, “She screamed,” in a scary situation is right up there with, “He breathed.” Yeah, it can add something given the right context, but here it just falls flat. We’re also telling what’s going on instead of showing, which at it’s heart is a big part of what makes flat writing flat.

It came at her on eight massive legs, it’s gaping maw chittering, it’s countless eyes reflecting the moonlight overhead. Rebecca screamed and looked away, closing her eyes and hoping it wasn’t real. The sound didn’t stop, and the thing drew closer.

Better. There is more detail, and we focus more on working around the horror rather than steamrolling over it with our words. Your imagination can’t scare someone else as much as theirs can, you just have to lead them there. Let them fill in some blanks, but don’t overdo it. Descriptions can highlight aspects of something, but they shouldn’t be the only way you tell a story. Still, we barely touch on Rebecca herself. She’s just a participant right now, not the protagonist. We need to be inside of her head. Fear, after all, isn’t an action, but a reaction.

It walked towards her, its fangs gleaming in the dim moonlight spilling in from the window.

“It’s going to get you!

“Please.. No!” She clawed at the wall behind her as it’s eight massive legs brought it closer and closer.

It’s going to bite you and suck out all the juices until there’s nothing left!”

The darkness of its eyes had endless depth. A portal to a place where no sunlight ever shone.

Because you’re a bad girl, Rebecca! And spiders get the bad girls!

She fell to the floor, burying her face in her legs, rocking back and forth as the chittering thing closed the distance between them.

“Momma! Help me, please!”

 

Still not perfect, but you’re in a better place here. We see that Rebecca has been warned about the Spider, and that some deep rooted fear had put the idea in her head long before it even showed up. We know she’s afraid, and we can see by her reaction that fear is making her break down. Ladies and gents, you just got inside of the characters head without ever saying, “Rebecca though/thinks/wondered/etc…” We also give the scream depth. Saying, “She screamed,” can mean a million different things. People scream at concerts all the time, and my cat screams at me whenever it wants food. By showing what she screamed, we can see it’s a scream of horror without ever telling the reader so. Rebecca is afraid, and if you identify with Rebbecca, you are either afraid with her or for her.

That is where fear lives. Fear isn’t just the understanding that something is about to hurt, it’s the certainty that all the things we don’t want to think about are real. It’s knowing that every story ends with, “And then they all died,” if you follow it long enough. It’s the ultimate, “Even when you win, you lose.” Fear is in our understanding and reactions, not in the monsters, and our job as horror writers should be to drag those fears out of the reader and put them right in plain view. (Even if you never see the monster) You can’t do that by telling someone about a monster, and you certainly can’t do it just by describing something. It’s in tone and character more than the monster itself, and ultimately, it’s inside the reader.

And I guess that sums up my thoughts for today. Fear is an emotion, and emotion lives in the (wo)man, not the monster. Focus on how and why that character is scared, even if they don’t know. Your monster will never terrify someone as much as the their own psyche, no matter how hard you try.

And as always, keep writing.

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The Naysayers

“Oh, you write? What do you do for a real job though?”

Every profession has questions that they have to field on a regular basis that get on their nerves. When I was a soldier it was, “Did you kill anyone?” (I’m sure cops get it too) EMTs get the ever popular, “So, you’re an ambulance driver?” Lawyers love to hear, “So you keep criminals on the streets?”

("Yes. We all love crime. You nailed it Sherlock.")

(“Yes. We all love crime. You nailed it, Sherlock.”)

Since I’ve started writing with aspirations of it paying my bills, I’ve told people I’m a writer. It started off as a guilty admission. Why not? I hadn’t published a book yet, and while I would have granted any of my friends the title of writer if they asked for it, I was shy about giving it to myself. Flash forward a year, and I’ve published one book, finished a second, and am nearly halfway done with a third. I think I can wear it. And yet that question hasn’t abated. “But what do you do?”

Well, I write.

A million non-writers will appear out of thin air when you say this and tell you it isn’t a real job. Do me a favor. Next time someone says you don’t have a real job as a writer, ask them if they like movies, books, TV, comics, short stories, video games, schoolbooks, advertisements, bed time stories, song lyrics, or any of the other million mediums a writer can use to express a story. Hell, you can tell a story with a paint brush and canvas. You can tell it with clay. Artists are only limited by their imagination. We don’t just sit around our houses/offices/studios staring at a screen for a few hours until we crap something onto paper. (Although we do that too) We add color and context to the world. Look around the room you’re in right now. Do you see art anywhere? Art of any kind? When was the last time you read an article or story that made you think or smile? Without art, the world would be less than it is.

If nobody has said it to you before, let me be the first: You have value. Each story you tell is a part of you and your worldview that only you could have created. And even if it doesn’t sell a million copies, so what? Even if you never make a living off of it, who cares? That piece of you will live on long after you’re gone, and it could effect the world in ways you can’t fathom right now. In the year 3345 people might talk about how your work was the picture of 2014 American zeitgeist. Or not! Even if they don’t, there is value in doing the things that bring you joy, or in the act of creation itself.

Kevin Smith said, ““Remember: It costs nothing to encourage an artist, and the potential benefits are staggering. A pat on the back to an artist now could one day result in your favorite film, or the cartoon you love to get stoned watching, or the song that saves your life. Discourage an artist, you get absolutely nothing in return, ever.” I couldn’t have worded it better.

Don’t get discouraged if you don’t have the support you’d hoped to have when you started on this path. Yes, it’s not easy. Kathrine Monroe said, “Writing is like giving yourself homework, really hard homework, every day, for the rest of your life. You want glamorous? Throw glitter at the computer screen.” And I agree with her in part. It isn’t easy. You will be the biggest obstacle in your own way, and every time the phone rings or the kids cry, you have one more thing to do that’s keeping you from your work. Once you sit down, you have to make the language sing and the story move, all without making it look like you’re trying too hard. But what could be more glamorous than doing the thing you’re really passionate about? Throw it all away– the dreams of fame, the desire for recognition, the need for the money– toss it all in the trash and ask yourself what you would rather have; all of that or the work?

If the answer is the work, then I’ve got good news; you already have it. Keep going.

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The Planning And Plotting Part Of Stories

In the past I’ve talked about my preferred method of plotting out a book. I don’t. I come up with the premise, a rough beginning, and a rough end. From there I just sort of let the story tell itself.

The book I’m writing now is a little different. This is a story I’ve wanted to tell for a long time. I’m not going to get into details here, but sufficed to say that I’m very, very excited about it. This story has been bouncing around in my head since I was a teenager. It’s an old one that’s only just now being told. Because of the age of the story, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. To be honest, I was thinking about it while I was writing both of my previous books. I wanted to wait until I had a few more stories under my belt before doing this, but a friend convinced me it was time.

And in round about fashion, we get to the point of this post: Plotting. The first two books were new stories. They both started as short stories that I realized were actually long ones in disguise. Being new, they didn’t have any build up to them. They were fresh. Unsullied by the pen. I discovered them as I wrote them, and that’s a lot of fun. (If you haven’t done it, try it. It’s the same thrill you get from reading a new book.) This book is something of a sacred cow to me. It’s a very personal story for a lot of reasons, and I’ve been thinking about what makes it tick for a decade. There are a lot of things that must to be in the story, and thus, the story had some depth to it before it even started. (As opposed to gaining depth during the telling and editing it in where it lacked in the first draft)

So I sat down a few days ago and started writing, but not writing the book. I wrote down all the important scenes that I’ve always wanted. I got them out of my head and put them on paper. That done, I wrote a few pages on the themes and devices I wanted to use in the story.

(Spoilers: It's allegorical)

(Spoilers: It’s allegorical)

Next I wrote detailed evaluations of each important character. (Their stories. Their motivations. Their weaknesses. That kind of thing.) Lastly, I wrote a scene by scene outline of the story. When all was said and done I had a 15k measurement of my story, and it made me giddy. Most of the information I wrote down won’t be in the book itself. It wasn’t for readers, it was for me. I wanted to have the nuts and bolts of this tale hammered out before I touched fingers to keys.

Still, I was determined not to be married to it. After all, plotting something and writing something aren’t the same. If you shoehorn in a plot that doesn’t fit the story you just end up with a word sandwich covered in shit. (I’m not going to get into the difference between plot and story here. It’s long, and English majors are regularly sacrificed to dark gods during the discussion.) With all that in mind, I sat down to start writing the whole shebang today.

In internet slang, “OMFG!” I had so much fun just writing without thinking about where the novel is going. I already know where it’s going, and it’s exactly where I want it to. Instead of thinking about future points, I already know what the frame of the house looks like. I’m just putting up walls, decorating, and bringing it to life. Not only did I have a blast doing it, but I wrote way more than I normally do in a session, and I am very well pleased with what I got down.

This is one of those times when more experienced writers will probably say, “No shit,” and click over to read something more interesting. For me, it was a huge revelation, and I bring it up for a good reason. (This is the Novice Writer’s Journal after all.) New writers need to go outside of their comfort zone. We need to explore things beyond our bailiwick. I have no idea if I would be as pleased with this project if I had just jumped in, but it doesn’t matter. This story demanded careful consideration beforehand, and I gave it what it needed.

If other writers are religious plotters, I encourage you to try writing without doing so. It’s a really fun experience. On the inverse, if you’re like me, I encourage you to try plotting something out. It’s delightful, and there’s no unspoken writing law that demands that you stay true to an outline you wrote 500 pages ago.

I ended the last post on this subject by saying that I didn’t understand how plotters did their thing. I guess I’ll end this one by saying I get it now. Don’t be afraid to go outside of your comfort zone, and as always, keep writing.

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A Second Book, the Writing Funk, and How to Deal With Reviews

Let me start off with some outstanding news. I just finished the first draft of my second book. I love the “final” product. It’s a very tense and anxious story. I learned a lot when writing and editing Darker Shadows, and this new book benefits tremendously from that experience. This is going to be a good one, and I can’t wait for you to be able to read it in a few months.

Now let me tell you about the funk.

I wouldn’t call it writer’s block per say; more like writer’s pessimism. The ideas are all there, and some of them really want to get out.  I just can’t bring myself to care enough to get off my butt and put them on paper as productively as I was a few months ago. Why? Well, the short answer is I released a book. Silly, I know. After all, that was the culmination of a lifelong dream. It isn’t a matter of expectations being set too high, that’s for sure. I may have dreamed about my first novel being a breakout success, but I certainly didn’t plan on it. So what is it that got me so bummed out? Reviews.

Yes, reviews. The natural predator of the writer.

(Well. One of them anyway.)

(Well. One of them anyway.)

Reading reviews did a lot to dampen my spirits. The kick is, most of them aren’t bad. In fact, for every bad review (2 stars or less on Amazon/Goodreads/NetGalley) I have a dozen good ones. (Four or more stars) So why the funk? Two reasons. The first is obvious: bad reviews are a kick in the gut. Not terrible, my world is over kind of shitty, but bad enough to make you read it a few times and possibly drink. I’m not one of the many writers who’s lost their damn mind over bad reviews, but it does suck, especially when you think they’re flat out wrong. Not, “I didn’t like it wrong,” but, “All of the characters are dogs in clown makeup,” wrong.

Just as insidious are the good reviews. Yes, I know, it sounds silly, but for every good review I get makes it that much shittier to get a bad one. Good reviews can cause other problems too. After all, if most people love it, then anyone who has anything critical to say must just be stupid, right? If you think this kind of thinking doesn’t happen, then you haven’t spoken to enough writers. I benefit from enough self-flagellation that this isn’t a problem, but I’ve talked to several people who are mystified that their book isn’t selling– ignoring all the bad reviews and seeing only the good.

Both types of reviews have merit to them. A bad review can point out some critical problems that could lead to you evaluating a weakness you didn’t know you had. You learn more from failure than success after all. Good reviews can boost your confidence and help you get a feel for what you’re doing correctly. My editor gave me a piece of advice about all of it though, and I’ve since put it into action: “Don’t read reviews. Reviews are for the readers, not for the writer.” It didn’t take me long to see the wisdom in this. If you’re as pessimistic as me, I suggest you take her advice as well.

I feel like I’m airing out my dirty laundry on my neighbors forehead here, but doing so makes me feel better. The funk has cast it’s horrible shadow on me across the entirety of November. I chipped at my second book, ticking away at it much slower than I had before Darker Shadows released. I spent some time plotting out my next novel. (Something I haven’t done up to this point.) Themes, characters, scenes that stick out in my head– that kind of thing. It isn’t as satisfying as actually writing a story, and it certainly won’t get a book finished, but it kept the creative juices flowing while I sat on my couch like a lump. I can’t say I haven’t been busy, just not as focused as I’d liked. Not writer’s block, just a funk.

It’s a shitty place to be, but I’m dealing. I’m happy to have that second book done, and the third book I plan to write is a story that’s been in my head for more than a decade now. I’m looking forward to sitting down and writing it before I edit book two. Slowly but surely, I’m drifting out of the funk. My advice if you find yourself in this place? Same as ever. Keep writing.

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Going The Extra Mile

I was perusing the internet looking at various writer’s websites the other day, as I usually do. It’s a weird hobby I know, but I find that looking at how other people write helps get me into the writing mindset. Lo and behold, I stumble upon the site of a novice writer like my bad self. Curious as to what she thinks of the craft, I take my time going through her articles. A lot of it is the kind of stuff I write here, but some of it seemed like she pulled it out of her butt. That’s fine. I feel like writing is one of those things that’s unique to each person. We all pull it out of our butt’s so to speak. One thing she wrote struck me though, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. She said, “You always need to go that extra mile, and make sure there are no spelling mistakes in your novel.”

Stop the presses, folks. Go the extra mile? Is the definition of go the extra mile really spellcheck? Let me be as clear as I can on this: That isn’t going the extra mile, that’s the bare minimum. In fact, I would argue that there is no extra mile in writing. The extra mile is the minimum safe distance we have to go as writers to avoid the fallout of writing something terrible. That radioactive cloud of negative review fuckery doesn’t give us a distance to run, it just makes us run. If you want to look back over your shoulder and say, “Hey, I can probably slow down now. I’ve done what (I think) was expected of me,” then be my guest. I’m running until my book is the best I can possibly make it.

 

Pictured:  Radioactive Cloud of Negative Review Fuckery

Pictured: Radioactive Cloud of Negative Review Fuckery

 

Think I’m crazy? What’s the extra mile then? Having a good plot? You should have that anyway. Telling an interesting story? You should be doing that anyway. Making sure everything you do is free of grammar mistakes? Nope, try again. Getting rid of all those nasty misspelled words? Come on, dude. Seriously? You can’t even pass high school English class with misspelled words. Raise your standards. None of the listed things are you going the extra mile. Extra mile in the writing world is making sure everyone who buys your book gets a 10% of coupon for Sizzler, not anything to do with the work itself. After all, if we want to be taken seriously as the dreaded and unclean INDIE AUTHOR, then we need to do all the things that would be expected of us if we were going through the slush pile at some overworked acquisitions editor’s office.

This is another one of those times when I feel like I’m being harsh, but that’s only because the truth is harsh. If you don’t do all the things you’re supposed to do to your utmost ability, then you’re one of the folks giving the entire indie author thingy a bad name. Now, that’s not to say the lady who wrote that piece of advice isn’t excellent, (She could be Edgar Allen Poe in a wig for all I know) but she should be very careful about what she labels the extra mile. I want to see people succeed. I want to see the book world opened up to the masses. At the same time, I don’t want to see standards drop. If you aren’t part of the solution in this case, you’re part of the problem.

(For the record, yes, I spellchecked this article. Extra mile?)

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Running To (Or From) Your Dreams

When I was in the Army I was surrounded by no bullshit kinda guys. At one point during our tour in Iraq I told one of my NCOs that I wanted to be a writer. He’d never read anything I’d ever done, despite me offering, and he laughed in my face. “Writing is for people who’ve already done something. Lawyers and doctors. Those are the kind of guys that make it.” As a young man I took this to heart. I hedged my bets and had a whole string off jobs and almost careers over a decade that weren’t worth my time because they weren’t anything I really gave a damn about. Deep down I always wanted to write, and very little else.

True, doctors and lawyers would bring something to their writing table that a 21 year old veteran wouldn’t have, but on the flip side, I’d seen a whole world of shit they have no inkling of. Everyone has their own set of truths and experience that they wear around them like a safety blanket every time they write. It colors your work and makes it uniquely yours. The voice of a lawyer is not the voice of a veteran and a bouncer, but they can both tell awesome stories and reveal things about the world as they see it.

Writing is the only unified theme among writers. At the end of the day those who aren’t writing aren’t writers, and those who are writing are. It’s that easy. Zip it up, slap a label on it, and ship it to the land of truth. That doesn’t mean you’re a good writer, and it cretainly doesn’t mean if you publish something anybody will buy it. If you follow that passion though, eventually you can get there. Persistence is key in anything you want out of life. Don’t let anybody else tell you that you aren’t good enough. Keep writing, learn the language, and listen to the other writers. I’ve yet to run into one that didn’t tell me they had to claw their way out of non-writing obscurity like they were being birthed Alien style. (Will we dream, Ripley?)

I let other things get in the way, largely due to guys and gals like my NCO. People who told me that nobody makes it. One in a million that you’ll even sell a book. Everyone tries and fails in the arts. Well fine, then I’ll fail. No failure is as absolute as the attempt that never starts. The same is true of you. If you really want to be a painter, dancer, actor, or director, then don’t let the nay sayers get the best of you. The path to accomplishment is littered with the bones of those too scared or lazy to get off their ass and do something. Don’t end up in that place. You’re either running to your dreams, or you’re running away.

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