writing

One of the highlights of attending Conduit was a reading that I attended. It was held in a small conference room with big cushy chairs around a table. In the room were Ken Rand, Julie Wright, James Dashner, and a woman whose name I didn’t catch, but who was another published novelist. Also in the room were Bob Defendi and Eric James Stone both of whom have written and published short stories as well as other projects. 4 novelists, 2 short fiction writers and me.

I probably should have been intimidated. I’ve never published anything. But I guess that somewhere along the line I decided that publication is not the sole measure of good writing. Perhaps I also recognized that this was a group of peers. They all had successes, but they also all had projects for which they were seeking publication. Selling one book does not guarantee the sale of the next book. There was a remarkable lack of ego in that room and they all welcomed me as if I belonged.

Perhaps the successful self publication of the first Schlock Mercenary book had something to do with their acceptance. I was part of a team who had measurably Done Something. Or perhaps that success just made me gutsy enough to walk in and act as if I had the right to be there. The fact is that I sat in a room conversing with 6 published authors handing out opinions on seeking publication, writing, and the publishing industry in general. Here is the amazing part. They Listened. More than that, my opinion was actually solicited on a couple of questions.

I listened too. I learned lots during that group conversation. Even better, I walked away feeling like I had the beginnings of friendships with these people. I loved sitting there in a room with people I respected who gave me respectful attention in return.

Since that day I’ve spent some spare moments pondering why I felt so comfortable in that situation. At some point I have become completely convinced of the quality of my writing. I feel like I’ve attained some mastery over words and therefore am qualified to discourse on the subject. Deep down I am sure that my unpublished fiction is only unpublished because I haven’t gone through the painful steps of submission and rejection to find the right market. It seems rather egotistical of me to be so certain that what I write is good when it has never really stood the test of public opinon. When did I get so egotistical? I sometimes wonder if I am one of those poor writers who is convinced they’re good. Yet I don’t think so. I’ve gotten enough positive feedback on this journal and on pieces of fiction, that this opinion feels based on a solid foundation. I believe in my ability to write. I am good enough to be published, but I really hate how the publishing industry currently works. Thousands of very good writers have their dreams squashed because they are lost in the masses, while many average writers publish book after book because they meet a publisher’s percieved market need. This highly competitve climate can become vicious. It can make enemies out of writers who should be allies, a phenomenon that writer Joshilyn Jacksoncalls “Slottiness“. Publishers and writers who play that game can win very big, but more often they lose. The best projects are the ones where a writer has a vision and is passionate about it. Many of these projects never see print because publishers don’t see them as marketable. But I firmly believe that people respond to this kind of passionate creation. People would read it if they could only get their hands on it.

I am determined to blaze a different path into publication. I want to step around all that submission and rejection. My work may not fit into a percieved market niche, but I believe in it. I love it. It means something to me. I know that it is not perfect. I know that if I keep writing I will look back on the early work and cringe. But that does not mean it isn’t worth doing now. The business plan for my writing mirrors the business plan that Howard and I had for Schlock Mercenary. I’ll start small with just the audience this livejournal has gained and a few thrown my way by Howard. I’m not sure yet whether I’ll self publish through Lulu.com or print my own books. It depends a lot on how much disposable income we have and how much space I have left in my basement. But if the work is worthy, if it is good, then the people who read it will tell their friends and my readership will grow. If the readership gets big enough, a publisher will come to me. I know this because in the past year, as Schlock Mercenary has begun to fly, we’ve begun to be approached by people who want to produce merchandise for us. Everyone wants to be part of something that is going somewhere.

Regardless of my determination to publish differently, my first step is still the same as any other writer. I need to write and finish my project. Until I have accomplished that task everything else is a castle in the sky. That castle right over there on that cloud. Thats MY castle. I can’t get to it yet, but I’ve got this brick and I’m starting a path. The next time I sit down at a table with published authors, I want to at least have a story in hand ready to share.

I tend to keep most of my fiction writing pretty private. But since someday I hope to publish, I need to change that. I’m making small steps. Today I entered a Blogging for Books contest (http://www.joshilynjackson.com/mt/archives/000522.html) If I win I get a book. If I win I get to feel affirmed that my writing is as good as I think it is. If I don’t win, I guess I get to try harder. The piece I entered is here: http://sandratayler.livejournal.com/127561.html if you’ve been a reader since before January of this year, you’ve already read it.

It is much more efficient for me to gather all my thoughts on publication into a new journal entry rather than to scatter them through the comments of my previous entry.

A vanity publisher takes lots of money, provides little or no editing help, sometimes promises promotion without actually providing it, and hands piles and piles of inventory to someone who then has to unload it.

The traditional self published route is to contract with a printer. The printer provides no editing or design help. The author merely pays to have books printed and then has to store and sell the inventory. The larger the run of books the smaller the price per book, thus self publishers often end up with thousands of books gathering dust. The author has to do her own marketing and distribution.

On demand publishing is new. The technology to support it has only been around for about 5 years. With an on demand publisher like Lulu.com the author uploads files and then can order as many or as few books as desired for the same price per book. Price per book is usually higher than you can get with traditional self publishing, but you only pay for what you sell. Also people can order directly from the on demand publisher, so the author doesn’t have to do mailing. However, the author does have to do the promotion and advertising to try to create demand for the book.

Traditional publishing is much harder to break into. The author has to convince someone else of the value of her work. Once accepted, the work will get edited. Art will be provided for the cover which may or may not fit the book. Then the book will be mass produced and sent to stores. Unfortunately that is only the beginning. The publisher may or may not provide publicity for the book. Having books on the shelf at Barnes & Noble is no guarantee that people will buy the book. Having a previously published book that performed poorly can be an impediment to having future books published. With a traditional publisher the potential rewards are high, but the author can do very little to affect the outcome.

There is a place for all three forms of publication. (but not for vanity press which is just slimey sharks trying to suck the blood out of someone else’s dream.) Most people say that traditional publishing is “the best bet” because it doesn’t require the author to learn marketing or advertising. No matter which road you choose to walk, getting published is lots of work and all roads have pitfalls and frustrations.

As far as publishing my work goes, I’m not in any hurry. Right now it is far more important to me for Schlock Mercenary to suceed than it is for me to have a writing career. At the moment my writing is a hobby that fits into the space around the larger things in my life. Because of that I won’t be submitting to very many contests or for publication very much. Mostly I just want to get the stories sufficiently critiqued that I can be fairly confident that I’m not deluding myself about their strength/quality. They feel strong to me, but all mothers think their babies are beautiful.

When I do choose to publish I will probably choose on demand publishing through Lulu.com to start. My situation is somewhat unique because I already have a big advertising venue. The minute a book by me exists, Howard will mention it on his front page and 20,000 other people will also know it exists. Only a tiny fraction of that number will look at it, even fewer will buy it, but it’s still a jump start. Before I get around to publishing, that 20,000 number may be even larger. We’re certainly aggresively working to grow that number. As part of marketing Schlock Mercenary Howard attends conventions regularly. My book could piggy-back there too.

Using this method I can only expect to sell small numbers of copies. If I decide I’m not happy with that, I can then pitch a book with a small track record to publishing companies. Large publishers are starting to be more open to picking up previously self published material. Eragon by Christopher Paolini is a perfect example, he hawked his book at conventions for a couple of years before a large publisher snapped it up.

Anyway, those are my current thoughts on publishing. All thoughts are subject to change, without notice, upon acquisition of further information.

Today my sister wrote about how she spent all day paying full attention to her kids. I read it and realized that I haven’t really paid my kids much attention for about a week. My head has been full of projects. I thought this situation would be somewhat remedied once I got through my week hosting preschool and LTUE. Unfortunately my mind has just moved on to other enticing projects.

Also I have this wierd sore throat and stiff neck thing. It isn’t a classic head cold, neither is it classic strep. Maybe it is classic laryngitis because it hurts to talk. This makes managing the kids less than fun. Advil has become my new friend.

And it is cold. I am tired of cold. In past years the weather has been cold, but mostly 40 degree cold with a few dips down into sub freezing. This year we’ve had a month’s worth of sub freezing days and pretty much all the nights are below freezing. No danger of my apricot tree blooming too early this year. cold cold cold cold. grr.

I’m also contemplating entering some of my completed stories into writing contests. I already have a long term plan involving on demand publication. I’m pretty sure that my stories are worth it. But then the voice of doubt tells me that I’ve never shown the stories to anyone who doesn’t have a vested interest in being nice to me. This means that the stories may not be as good as I’ve been thinking they are. So I’m going to put a few to the test. Now if only the Conduit people would get thier act together and post the writing contest rules that would really help.

Next monday I get to register Gleek for kindergarten next fall. Of all my kids, she is the one I’ve been most anticipatory about sending off to kindergarten. This is because unless she has a friend she hovers near me. Gleek is also the child I am going to miss the most when she is gone every day, for exactly the same reason. She’s growing up fast. She’s already doing beginning reading.

More thoughts keep bumping into each other in my head, but I can’t seem to catch any of them long enough to stick them into this entry. Must be time for bed.

I’m not going to try to replicate the ebb and flow of the conversation in this panel. I’m just going to lift the major points and expound upon them.

If you want to make money as an artist, you also need to be a business person. All of the professional artists on the panel agreed with that. There is nothing wrong with art as a creative outlet or as an avocation. More people should have an art of some kind as a hobby. But you will never be a financially sucessful artist until you learn to manage money. Most of the panel discussed ways for artists to get contracts, or find other ways to bring money in. Just as important as getting paid for your art, is managing the money after it arrives. These days starving artists usally give up their art and go get a day job.

Art requires diligence and discipline. You need to love it and thrive off of the creation of art, but don’t expect to love every minute of creation. All of the professional artists admited that there are times when they just don’t want to draw, but they draw anyway because it is their job. Usually once they got working they enjoyed it again. (I’ve seen Howard do exactly that time and again.) There is lots of hard work involved as well as inspiration. Put in the time to become really excellent at what you do. Writers write, dreamers dream, Artists draw. If you want to be an artist draw every day whether you feel like it or not. You have about 10,000 really bad pictures that need to come out before you get to the good ones. Don’t jump the gun and start looking for paying work before you’re done with those bad pictures.

Taking classes and trying to meet the exact specifications of your “picky” teacher is very much like trying to meet the specifications of your “picky” client. Getting good at figuring out what someone else wants is an invaluable skill. The client always knows when something is wrong, but the client is never able to identify what it is. He just knows he doesn’t like it. Your job as an artist is to figure it out and fix it.

Be reliable. Always meet your deadlines. Art that is finished too late might as well not exist.

On submitting a portfolio for review: Never never never submit a drawing on notebook paper as part of a portfolio. If you can’t replicate that cool drawing on notebook paper onto good paper, then you’re not ready to be a professional artist. If you are not sure about the quality of a piece, leave it out. It is better to have a small portfolio full of excellent pieces than a large one with mediocre pieces. Tailor your portfolio to the reviewer. Do some research before you submit the portfolio.

Building an income as an artist is a slow growth business. Expect to work hard with little return for several years. You have to identify and research your market. Networking is the key to building an income. Every connection you make strengthens your net. Remember to give as much as you get or you won’t have a solid network. Beware, there are some sharks out there who will take advantage of you. These sharks will claim they are trying to help you while actually using you. Always check advice with several unconnected people before you apply it.

Well, that ended up being more a transcription of my notes than a true exposition, but at least most of the thoughts are there. I should note that pretty much everything said up there about art and artist could be applied to writing and writer. In fact it could all be applied to any creative business.

Today is Lewis Carroll’s birthday. I’ve decided I like sharing a birthday with Mr. Carroll. Come with me down the rabbit hole…

“Mommy come and see!” 4 year old Gleek radiated awe and excitement in both her voice and face. I looked at my bills and thought about the waiting piles of laundry. I didn’t really have time to go look at an interesting rock.

“Mommy please! You have to see this!” Gleek had begun to bounce in place. Obviously whatever she had to show me was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. Or at least the most amazing thing since the rock earlier this morning or yesterday’s bug. I reminded myself that as trivial as these things seem to me, they are truly important to Gleek. Children are little, and so small things are vital. Small things like mommy coming to see the newest discovery. Gleek was tugging on my hand by this time, so I allowed her to pull me from my chair and accompanied her outside.

The first thing I noticed as I stepped out the door was warm air. The air was far too warm for January in Utah. I thought of all the times Gleek protested wearing her coat, saying she wasn’t cold. This was her world and it was warmer than mine.

“There!” whispered Gleek in awe as she pointed to a cloud. It was an interestingly wispy cloud, but still, a cloud.
“Wow, that’s a really interesting cloud.” I feigned enthusiasm.
“No!” Gleek turned on me in disbelief, giving me a look that declared my stupidity and utter blindness. “Not the cloud! Look at the horses!”
“Horses?” Puzzled, I scanned the sky again.
“See? They are dancing in the cloud.” I didn’t see. All I could see was cloud. Then a warm breeze blew across my face and I blinked. Was there movement among the wisps up there? Yes there was. The more I watched, the clearer I could see the herd of flying horses. They did appear to be dancing.

Gleek smiled at me. “They are dancing for the rainbows to come.” Then she led me around the corner of my house to a place where it was summer.

In that place flowers bloomed. The dance of the horses must have worked for a rainbow shafted through the sky to touch the earth and become a rainbowed river. In this place the fairies danced and Gleek danced with them, more beautiful than them all. Then she rode upon a flying horse and danced in the sky to make more rainbows come. I stood to the side and only watched. These sorts of dances were not for me. My feet were too heavy with the weight of responsibility. But as I looked around I realized that this was a place I had been before in a time I only half remembered. In that long ago time I too had danced.

Afternoon fled and Gleek was ready to return indoors. She happily ate a snack and ran off to play a computer game. But I was drawn to the window. The wispy cloud had long since blown away. I stepped outside. A chill January wind whipped past and made me shivver. Snow covered the place where Gleek had danced among flowers.

A child such as Gleek travels roads that are closed to adults. I think that tomorrow I’ll follow her again to see where we go.

Some of my online friends have signed up for National Novel Writing Month. Their goal is to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. I admire thier determination to try whether or not they succeed. I don’t have space in my brain to do that much writing in that short a time span. I do like the idea of setting a challenging goal though, so here is mine. Before the end of November I’ll have my short-story-in-progress ready for editing. (Anyone who is interested in being an editor for me can leave an email below and I’ll send the story along when it is ready.)

In other news, I acquired a childcare job today. Starting in two weeks I’ll be watching a baby for 4 hours every weekday morning. This will definitely impact my life, but hopefully more for good than the reverse. The money will be helpful, it won’t get us out of the financial woods, but it will almost pay for groceries each month. Besides, I think it will be good for Gleek and Patches to learn how to interact with a baby. And this way I get to play with a baby without actually having to be pregnant or get up in the middle of the night for feedings. I’ll have to do some cleaning and arranging so that my house is safe for a crawler again, but with my new toy cupboards that shouldn’t be too hard. The house could stand to be cleaner anyway and maybe I’ll do a better job of keeping it clean if I know that baby’s mom will be coming every week day. I don’t want baby’s mom to feel like her baby is being left in a pigsty. I’m also aware that there will be inconveniences and frustrations. Mostly I feel good to be doing something that allows us to extend the amount of time we have to make cartooning pay all the bills.

I haven’t been writing much for the last two weeks. It is probably excusable because I can think up a whole list of excuses. But the bottom line is that I haven’t been writing. If only writing weren’t hard work.

I read Eragon by Christopher Paolini the last few days. I was frustrated by the book. It isn’t very often that I read a book and find myself mentally re-writing sections of it. When I finished the book, the blurb on the flap informed me that the author was 15 years old when he completed the book. That knowledge shifted my view of the book dramatically. That a 15 year old could finish a novel at all is impressive. That he got it published and widely distributed is even more impressive. As the depth of his experience increases, the depths of his characterizations will as well. Everything that frustrated me about the book was because the work was immature not because the premise or story were flawed.

When I was 15 I was also writing a novel. I still have it unfinished and it will remain unfinished because I can now see clearly the flaws in the concepts and characterizations. It was a deriviative work rather than original. Some of the concepts from it may make their way into other works, but that particular novel served it’s purpose. I don’t have space in my life for a novel right now. I do have space for short stories and vignettes, so that is what I’m writing. When I actually get any writing done at all.

This is a fragment of a story that fell into my head this moring. I decided to store it here:

2 pm is not the time you expect to see ghosts. Ghosts belong in darkness and spooky places like graveyards or old houses, not in fields full of bright sunflowers on a summer afternoon. Yet the whistle rang in my ears, and the ground shook with the rumble of wheels. I could smell the smoke from the coal burning engine and the wind of passage was chill against my face. Of all my senses, only my eyes could not perceive the train. An electric chill crept up my spine and my hair all began to stand on end. I wanted to flee from this unknown thing that was turning my perceptions of the world inside out. Kyle’s small hand crept into my own and his voice was hushed, “It comes every Thursday. I like to be here to wave at them. I think it makes them happy.”

I love moments in writing a story when pieces fall into place in my head. Sometimes it causes me to re-write everything because my understanding of characters and situations shifts. Sometimes loose elements fall together and I realize they’re part of the same story. Sometimes the plot falls together and I can suddenly see my way clear through the end. That moment of synergy is wonderful. It happened with Bethan’s Garden. I was half way through the story and I still didn’t know why Hanna was even in the city other than that I needed her to be so the story could happen. Then a realization unfolded in my head I knew why she was there and the whole story shifted in such a way that it was stronger.

I had another such moment this evening. I’ve had a new story brewing for weeks now. But mostly I had random elements, I didn’t have a plot, I didn’t have a character arc. Now I do and I can actually start putting words on paper. Hurray for that creative, synergistic process that goes on in the back of my brain when I’m not paying attention.