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Thursday 31 May 2012

What Do You Love and Hate About Self-publishing?


That’s a question to which you’ll need to supply the answers, of course. To get you started, here are my own views.

So, do I get the 'hates' out of the way first, or inspire with the 'loves'?

Let's make it a 'love' sandwich.

I love the freedom self-publishing gives me as a writer, allowing me to select all aspects of my books, so that they really are my products in as many ways as possible. I have the final say over the text, the content, the layout, font, length and the cover illustration. I can choose my titles and not have some marketing accountant interfere because he thinks another would sound more enticing.

And that's the real issue, I suppose. I get to publish what I want, not the mish-mash that some bean counters would have me publish. Because, make no mistake, in traditional publishing the accountants are the ones who have the final say about what is and is not published. And this, in spite of the fact that they have frequently rejected books that have later gone on to be best sellers. Men who care more about profits than about artistic honesty and integrity are not the people I want dictating how my books should look and what they should contain. Publishing has grown to be too much like modern football: all about profit and very little to do with the activity itself.

So, what do I hate? Marketing. I don't want to spend my time as a salesman. It's not a natural role for me. And I speak as one who has sold for a living on more than one occasion. I worked as a shop manager for a few years and I worked as representative for a company selling photographic printing services to shops for a year. That year almost killed me. The whole process requires a level of dishonesty I'm incapable of sustaining, even should I wish. I was selling a product that was sub-standard and I had no faith in it. It was a role I left as soon as I found an alternative method of earning my daily bread.

Of course, selling one's own work is a different matter, in that one has faith in the product. But, that apart, the actual process of selling is something alien to my personality and philosophy. It isn't that I have some subconscious problem with making money from my work. That isn't the issue. We all tend to judge others by our own standards and habits. For me, shopping for anything is a matter of discovering which product suits my needs and then finding a place that I trust where I can obtain it for a reasonable price. I'm not an average shopper, as I find the whole process of buying things something of a necessary evil. It's definitely not a social activity for me. I don't enjoy the process. And the aspect of shopping I most dislike is having some sales assistant trying to sell me something I don't want.

As a result of these feelings, I find myself reluctant to 'force' my work onto others. I'd prefer them to discover for themselves the delights to be had between the covers. I know that this is not practical or even wise if I'm to maximise my income from my books. So, I compromise in ways that I'm able. I place my books on sites that people visit frequently, I write this blog on matters that I hope will attract attention, I use the social networks to increase my 'visibility'. And I offer my work free from time to time so that readers can sample my writing and hopefully feel inspired to write reviews. Reviews sell more indie books than almost anything else.

What I'm not prepared to do is spend my precious writing time on marketing the work. I hope people will enjoy my books and, over time, will spread the word. Unrealistic? Possibly. But it's how I am. In the good old days of traditional publishing it was actually possible for an author to remain entirely hidden and for his writing to be the only thing known about him by his readers. That situation no longer obtains and, as in so many other aspects of life, I have compromised in order to attract some attention. But there is a limit to what I'll do in this regard and, if that means I don't make the best-seller lists, so be it. I'm not about to sell my soul in order to gain more readers.

The other real advantage of self-publishing, the other aspect I love about it, is the freedom it gives the writer to choose the subject matter and style of writing; what is generally termed 'genre' in the trade. With traditional publishing, the agent and the editor tend to confine the writer to a specific area of writing. So, you become known and labelled as a 'crime writer', a 'fantasy writer', a 'romance writer' and traditional publishing does everything in its power to restrict authors and prevent them straying from the field of activity they see as suitable for the writer. In reality, the field they expect to make the most money from.

Well, I have many subjects I wish to explore and many different types of story I wish to tell. If I wish to write a romance and then follow that with a science fiction thriller and then an epic fantasy, I'm free to do that as a self-publishing writer. I have the freedom of choice.

For me, that freedom is paramount. I’m a creative artist and I don't intend to allow the false restrictions of the perceived market place and the Great God Profit to confine my creative spirit and strangle my individuality by forcing me to write in any particular vein. I accept that I will not make as much money as I might under the guidance and governance of a publisher and agent, but I will remain artistically true to my own standards and interests. That's my choice as an author. I have no responsibility to anyone but myself and my readers.

In the end, it comes down to what the individual regards as success. For the majority, that quality is measured in cash returns. For me, it’s measured in the work itself. I write the best I can and leave it to readers to decide whether they like that work enough to recommend it to others. It's a slow and uncertain process of growth in an overcrowded field full of poor and generic work hyped for the consumption of the majority. But it's my choice. Not the imposed direction of some accountant. And that's why I love self-publishing.

Does that mean I would reject any offer from an agent or a tradition publisher? Not necessarily. I’d examine what was on offer and if it suited my way of doing things, I’d consider it. But if it involved me in what I consider unreasonable and harmful restrictions, I'd turn it down, regardless of the amount of money on offer. I realise that makes me a fool in the eyes of many, if not most, but it's how I feel about the whole business.
I am, first and foremost, a creator. I'm not some sort of profit generator to be moulded and distorted by the needs of the market place.

My position is that readers either like my work and buy it or they don't. That's their choice and I'm willing to live by that ideal.

So, how do you feel? What are your loves and hates about self-publishing? The comment space below is easy to use to make a contribution, so let’s have your words, please.

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Thursday 24 May 2012

It's Just Too Hot to Install a Water Butt.


It's a ten minute job, right, installing a water butt to collect rain water? Wrong. It should be. It's an ecologically friendly thing to do, it's good for the planet, so it should be simple.

But I failed to reckon with a basic fact of life. The back of the shed is, of course, the place for all those things that you might just need one day. They can be stored there, out of sight and out of mind, which is where I nearly was when I took a look at the proposed site for my newly acquired rain butt.

It's a mixture of jungle, scrapyard and rubbish tip back there. Out of sight and enclosed on three sides, it's a repository for so much…stuff. So, before I can attach the guttering to collect the water from the roof, I have to clear a space. The wheel barrow and the two plastic sacks of compost, one opened to rejuvenate the potted umbrella plant that's resided in the living room for 20 years, is simple enough. Then I discover that some helpful neighbourhood bird has deposited a cherry stone in the fertile soil back there. The result is a huge cherry tree that I'd never noticed, since it's doing a twisting dance with nextdoor's unidentifiable tree and the lower branches of my rather magnificent eucalyptus tree. It's no good. It has to be removed. But, before I can take the hand saw close enough to cut the trunk, I have to clear the fallen leaves of the past ten years. Now the compost bin is almost full of leaf mould, so that's a bonus for the garden later on.

The trunk is exposed and I take the saw to it. It's a relatively simple task and I drag the weed equivalent of a tree onto the lawn to lie; a sorry trophy until I can deal with it. Next, there's a large slab of rough concrete. It weighs about seven tons and measures forty foot by thirty five. Well, okay, I admit that's an exaggeration, but that's what it feels like when I try to shift it. And shift it I must, otherwise every time I approach the spot where the water butt will stand, I'll fall base over apex over this errant lump of concrete. What's it doing there anyway? Well, last year, whilst preparing the ground for the gravelled turning bay at the front of the house, I came across this flat topped lump of concrete that had once served some unknown function for the previous occupier. I managed to raise it and somehow placed it into the wheelbarrow without actually breaking my back, though it did rather bend the wheelbarrow. There was nowhere for it to go, so it ended up behind the shed. That's what you call 'planning', you see. So, now it has to be moved. But there is no other out of the way place for it to go, except, if I do a little bit of clearance, I reckon I can slide it underneath the shed, which is raised off the ground on bricks.

Before I can shift the concrete block, I need to clear away the things that are in the way of me sliding it out of the way. So, there's a small sack of white edging gravel I bought to make the patio look pretty. I'll need that for when I relay the patio later on, so it comes out to sit on the lawn. Then I discover I'd secreted a couple of those enormous plastic containers they deliver sand and gravel in, you know the things that hold around a cubic metre of product and that they never want back. One time only use; now there's an environmentally friendly use of plastic! So, they come out to join the growing pile of rubbish on the back lawn. I disturb about fifteen thousand spiders, some pretty fearsome and large, and an equal number of woodlice. Next, I come across the metal frame of an old garden bench that I'd intended repainting and refilling with wooden slats, so we might sit on it on the patio on sunny days. It consists of a couple of cast iron decorative ends joined together by a long metal rod. The original wood rotted away years ago. I figure if I haven't re-used it by now, I probably never will. Onto the lawn it goes.

There's a pile of mixed bricks, paving and household, along with some flat slabs of York stone that once formed a small feature and now lie awaiting a new lease of life. Too good to chuck out. But in the way, so they go - that's right - on the lawn. You're getting the gist now, aren't you? I forgot about the old orange plastic washing up bowl and the old brown rubbish bin, both full of lovely brown water and soaked dead leaves. Into the compost bin with the contents and the two containers, kept for reasons even I can't imagine, go - right again - on the lawn.

The space is clear. All I have to do now is fix the guttering and place the water butt on its stand and we're away and ready for the next rain.

Ah.

Guttering. Some short while ago, we had the outside woodwork on the house replaced with UPVc plastic as a way of smartening the property and reducing the need for maintenance. I asked the workmen to save me some of the old guttering, as they were replacing it, of course. I knew, you see, I'd need a short piece, about 8 feet in total, to feed rainwater into the butt. They were kind. Left me four lengths, totalling around 36 feet, along with two downpipes, some joints and brackets and other bits and pieces. They were all stored, if that's the word, on the patio.

So, out comes my trusty Black and Decker folding workbench from the garage. Of course, I have to take the car out of the garage in order to get at the workbench. I set it up, on the lawn (is there really room there?). And, in the process, manage to place my thumb between the end of one of the folding legs and the place where it sits when unfolded. Two pieces of fairly hefty metal with a thumb between; I think you can guess where the damage occurred.  I suffer, always have, from a strange condition that causes me to feel faint, even occasionally actually causes me to faint, when I attack myself in certain ways. I feel the world start to spin and, with plenty of experience, recognise that I need to place my head lower than my heart for a while or my body will abruptly do that of its own accord. So I lie down on the lawn (yes, I know, but there is room). That grass is doing great service.

Once the initial feeling has subsided, I rise slowly and grab a folding chair from the shed, plonk it on the patio and sit there with my head between my knees. A position in which Valerie discovers me as she is hanging out the washing on the outdoor airer. Sympathy and a plaster are both forthcoming. The blood is stemmed and the thumb appears still to be functional, so I continue the job. Valerie attacks the fallen cherry tree with saw and secateurs to make it small enough to fit in the recycling bin for garden waste.

I select the first piece of guttering, place it against the shed to gather measurements and see exactly how it will work. The hacksaw cuts through the plastic with ease and I strip the necessary joints and brackets from the lengths left by the workers. When all is assembled, I return to the garage to search through seventeen thousand assorted screws for the four I'll need to fix the brackets to the shed. Nine hours later, I've found four screws. Valerie holds up one end of the assembled guttering whilst I mark the spots needed to ensure there'll be enough slope to drain the water into the butt. I fix the brackets; that small electric screwdriver blessed again for its ease of use.

I clip the guttering into place and look at the spot where the butt will stand. Uneven and a little too low to get a watering can under the tap, even allowing for the stand I've bought for that purpose. So: oh, I forgot about the bag of sand I also discovered behind the shed and had to move using the wheel barrow and emptying the bag in three loads as it was too heavy to move full. Now that sand comes into its own as I spread a layer of it on the ground and then place a layer of house bricks on top. The spirit level assures me they're level in both directions and I place the stand on top. Next the butt itself is raised. All that remains is to cut the hole in the lid. Good old Stanley knife does that job, and the down pipe enters the hole and all is done and ready.

Time for lunch.

Valerie does the catering whilst I organise chairs and tables for the first time on the patio this summer. We eat.

The tools come in handy to reduce the old guttering and the several lengths of wood I'd also forgotten about that were stored behind the shed. I need them all to be short enough to fit in the back of my hatchback. The old bench frame eventually comes apart with the aid of a spanner and I fold the old plastic storage bags neatly to form a base for the rest of the rubbish in the back of the car, once I've taken out the seats.

The local recycling centre is quiet at this time of the day and I find the various deposit points for the different bits and pieces.

Back home, I tidy up the tools and have a shower. I've learned that I need to rest after any form of physical activity if I'm to be any use for the rest of the day: a legacy of 8 years of ME/CFS. So I lie on the sofa and watch the news on TV before finally coming in here to do some writing.

Only then do I remember I haven't done my usual writing piece on the blog. So, there you have it: my excuse for failing to supply you with a thoughtful piece on writing this Thursday. And, if you've got this far, all I can say is, you've got more stamina than I have!

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Wednesday 23 May 2012

Gulf, by Robert A. Heinlein, Reviewed.

Robert Heinlein, L. Sprague de Camp, and Isaac...
Robert Heinlein, L. Sprague de Camp, and Isaac Asimov, Philadelphia Navy Yard, 1944. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Gulf, by Robert A. Heinlein, is a Sci-fi adventure story/thriller, set on a future Earth and Moon, full of fascinating contradictions. The anachronisms - for example, the plot depends on the physical transmission of microfilms - ought to render it unreadable for a modern reader, but the quality of the writing and the characterisation both take it into the realm of the 'classic'.

Written in 1949, long before the computer was commonplace, although Turing had by that time already shown such a machine was a real possibility, the exclusion of this major influence on the world is a serious omission. I suspect, had Heinlein been aware of the extraordinary changes to communication encouraged by computers and their peripherals, he would have found a way to modify his story to include this aspect of modern life.

There's a good deal of philosophising in the book; much of this could conceivably be considered an analogy for Hitler's attempts to breed a pure race of Tutons. Here, however, we have the idea of a race of 'supermen' based entirely on brainpower. That, perhaps, is the least attractive part of the book. There's a singular lack of emotional content in both the characters and the philosophy many of them espouse. I gained the impression, from the large portions of author intrusion, that Heinlein was definitely on the side of the 'supermen'.

Whilst many of the ideas expressed are attractive to anyone who has a rational element to their personality, the lack of emotional content is a serious worry. Imagining a world taken over by those with the ability to reason and rationalise their way out of our most pressing problems, but lacking any emotional connection either with each other or with their intended victims, makes for a barren world devoid of the most important single quality displayed by humans: their capacity to love.

The story itself is fast moving, full of event and crammed with ideas. The central character, Gilead, is an extraordinarily capable survivor in what is often an almost incomprehensible world. His connection with and partnership of Baldwin allows the story to take on a new dimension and it is following this association that the philosophising really begins.

The denouement was both surprising and, on reflection, inevitable. I find myself recalling certain passages and considering the various messages and theories postulated by the book. I suspect this is a story that will stay with me for quite a while and one which will inform my own writing in certain ways.

So, if you're susceptible, beware of reading this book. It might give you ideas! It's an old story but, in spite of its deficiencies, one worth reading.

It has been said that in Gulf, Heinlein tackles the question, 'What is a superman?' and in answering it, makes previous answers appear muddleheaded. I'd add to that observation that Heinlein's 'superman' is the product of equal muddleheadedness. The total lack of a moral framework or an emotional component, makes his superman more a totalitarian despot than a true superhero, I think.

Nevertheless, I'd happily recommend this as a read for sci-fi and general readers alike.

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Friday 18 May 2012

The Absolute at Large, by Karel Capek, Reviewed.

Photography of the Czech author Karel ÄŒapek.
Photography of the Czech author Karel ÄŒapek. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Karel Capek is, of course, the author credited with the invention of the term 'robot', but this story isn't concerned with artificial intelligence in any way. He was a philosopher. The book first appeared in Britain, in translation by Thomas Mark, in 1927. The style and language reflect this period and the version I read had been edited by Damon Knight, the anthology editor, to remove certain chapters he described as 'nearly half the book - (chapters) that go nowhere and contribute nothing to the story.'
This is a story told for a purpose. The theme of man's mistaking religion for respect for God is transparent and boldly exposed throughout. The author was clearly troubled by this artificial confining of a force he considered too complex and ineffable to be so defined. It's an element of my own beliefs on the subject so, naturally, I was in sympathy as soon as this theme became apparent.
The story concerns the activities of a businessman, Bondy, who encapsulates all that is abhorrent in those who consider profit the only worthwhile pursuit, and his one-time friend, Marek, an engineer and inventor who is sensitive to the terrifying device he's created. The Karburator, an imaginary nuclear device capable of destroying matter and converting it to pure energy, is initially seen by Bondy as a way of making vast profits. In spite of Marek's demonstration and warning of its underlying spiritual capacity, Bondy is so taken with the opportunity to make millions that he manufactures these devices in large numbers, causing a crisis in the economic structure that leads to war, famine, death and disaster.
I will give no further description of the plot, but the ending is less inevitable than might be supposed, although Capek's attempt at a warning for mankind is achieved at the expense of what might be considered the natural conclusion to the tale. This author intervention is acceptable, however, in that it allows the central message to be sounded loud and clear. It would take a fairly dense reader not to understand the meaning behind this story.
This is not the version I read, which was from an anthology,
but an image taken from Amazon, where it can be bought.
Can the book be read on the surface level, as a simple tale of greed overcoming judgement? I suppose it can, and probably will be by those without any real knowledge or interest in the philosophical questions posed. I was unable and unwilling to read it at that level and the story was therefore more accessible to me than it might be for the more casual reader. Don't misunderstand me, here. I'm not suggesting any sort of superior understanding on my part, merely trying to point out that the book will be a different experience for those who read it without reference to the deep philosophical issues it raises.
Had I approached this as a simple story, I doubt I would have put up with the long passages of authorial comment. But these are fairly typical of the age in which the book was written, and we tend to forgive them in the classics of that era.
The characters are surprisingly well drawn and even minor roles are played out with conviction so that the reader is able to identify and empathise with certain people in the book. Bondy, in spite of his irredeemable materialism and inability to separate truth from his superficial, but commonly held, belief in a superior power, is nevertheless a real character and not the cypher he might so easily have become in the hands of a lesser author.
There is much humour in the story and a great deal of it is told tongue-in-cheek. I suspect that some of that humour is lost in translation, but enough remains to make the read enjoyable.
I recommend this book to serious readers but think those who prefer simple tales simply told would be best advised to give it a miss.

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Thursday 17 May 2012

Research? What's That, Then?

The three biggest web search engines
The three biggest web search engines (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For many people, research is a task fraught with difficulty. For others, it can become their raison d'être. I'm talking about writers here, of course. Are you someone who enjoys research, do you fear it, is it a mystery, or is it your prime reason for setting yourself a writing project?

The first thing I'd like to point out about research as a writer is that it should be a means to an end, not an end in itself. If you fall into the trap of doing research simply for the love of the knowledge, the fun of the chase, the thrill of discovery, that's fine for a researcher but it's not good for a writer. If this is your experience, that research is more fun than writing, then perhaps you should consider taking up an occupation where research is the aim and end rather than the tool it should be for a writer.

If you're frightened by the very idea of research, or if it's simply a mystery to you, I hope to allay some of those fears and demystify the process for you here. I'm not writing a book about research for writers; there are plenty of those on the market. This is intended as a taster, a short guide, a finger pointing in the right direction, no more.

Fear is generally the result of ignorance, of not knowing what might be involved. So, let's determine what research means for a writer. Do you watch people, listen to them, observe their interactions?  Yes? You're doing research. Watching people and all that entails, is a way of learning how people work, how they appear, how they sound, what they say. And all this is vital information to enable you to draw believable fictional characters. So, you're already doing it.

Do you read fiction? (If you don't, then you're making your job as a writer infinitely more difficult than you need. Reading the work of other novelists, short story writers, et al, is a vital part of the learning process in becoming, and improving as, a writer). As you read, you're picking up pieces of information on how language is used effectively, how plot works, how characters drive story and all those other factors that determine the quality of the fiction you'll eventually write. This is research on the writing process.

Do you visit potential locations to get a feel for place? Failing that, do you use Google maps and Google Earth to discover as much as you can about places you wish to set your story? Of course, this is fairly basic research, but it can lead you to other areas of knowledge gathering. Google the name of your town, country, island or whatever and read up on the place, look at the pictures others have provided, absorb the mood and atmosphere generated by those who have been there and reported on their experience.

I hesitate to mention books in the context of research, since the vast majority of people seem to think that the internet is the place to search. Books are old technology but they're well-tested and can often provide more in-depth information than a search on the web can give you. Your local library is a mine of information and a good librarian will be only too willing to help you with the topic, setting you off in the right direction and even guiding your choice of suitable books for study.

You watch TV and films? It's amazing what you can glean from such sources, even when you're not actually pursuing a specific topic at the time. I have a love of documentaries on many different subjects and, although I haven't written on many of the subjects covered by such films, I've often found bits and pieces of information that have been useful as background material or as nuggets of gold to place in the minds of characters to make them appear clever, informed or intuitive.

You talk to people? I hope you do. It's amazing what you can learn from those with specialist knowledge. I once wrote to a Coroner for information about aspects of law and procedure relating to corpses found in suspicious circumstances. He invited me for an interview and I learned far more than I even knew I needed to know. Useful for that story and for subsequent tales.

So, you see, research doesn't have to be that dry, dusty task you might've thought it. It doesn't have to be intimidating. It doesn't have to be formal. As a writer, most of your non-writing life can be considered as research, especially if you're writing fiction. Every experience, every encounter, every trip is more grist to your mill. Use it, gather it, harvest it, store it; but, most of all, enjoy collecting and using it.

A final point about using the internet, search engines, for research. First, always use more than a single source if you want to be sure of accuracy. The internet is notorious for inaccuracies by people who purport to be experts. Second, find a search engine that you're comfortable with; it'll save you a lot of time. And, third, learn how to use the search tools. Experiment.

You'd be amazed at the difference you will find if you use the advanced features of search engines to narrow your searches. For example, searching for models on Google produces 1,300,000,000 results. That's an impossible number of sites to trawl through. Model of the solar system reduces that number to 23,900,000, still huge. Placing the same words in quotes, "model of the solar system" reduces the results further to 2,280,000. Better, but by no means efficient. Include the word scale and use a minus sign to exclude the words -scales, -weigh, -energy to remove more extraneous information and you reduce the results to 258,000. Now, I'm not suggesting you can trawl through all these, but a search of the first dozen is likely to give you what you need. You'll only learn how to make use of these tools by using them. Try it. Experiment. You're not going to break anything. And you may learn a great deal along the journey.

Good luck with your research and have fun. It's great to learn something new and even better when you can employ that new knowledge in your writing to bring it to life.

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Saturday 12 May 2012

Abhorsen, by Garth Nix, Reviewed.


This fantasy was recommended by readers on Goodreads. Had I realised, before I started to read, that this book is aimed at young adults, I probably wouldn't have bothered. And that would have been a real shame, because I thoroughly enjoyed this yarn of good versus evil.
The book is the third in a trilogy, so certain aspects only grew clear as this section of the tale unfolded. But the author has woven the fabric of his fiction with such skill that I was prepared to put up with references that initially meant very little. It wasn't long before I was absorbed by the characters and their adventures. The imagined world, with its division into a magical realm and one of technological progression, worked well, especially highlighting the prejudices, distrust and suspicions harboured mutually on each side of the dividing wall. I've no doubt that this could be read by some as an analogy on divisions currently experienced in the Middle East, but I was happy to read the story simply as an escapist romp through a well-drawn landscape.
The characters, including the animal personalities, are all well-rounded individuals with their hopes, dreams, quirks, faults, gifts and positive attributes. I found them all credible and felt they avoided the stereotypical so often found in fantasy of lesser quality. The plot is clever, sufficiently convoluted to hold mature attention, and unusual enough to sustain the story. The imagined world is similar enough to our own that it requires no lengthy descriptions but unusual enough to require its own maps for guidance. That strikes me as a good balance between imaginative creation and reliance on existing experience to satisfy both the reader's quest for novelty and the need for familiarity.
The denouement begins a good way from the actual end and the author skilfully builds the tension, making the book a real page-turner. My reading of this book was interrupted by a trip away from home and visits to various family members, which made it impossible to sit down and read it through without interruption. Had I had that opportunity, I've no doubt that I would have read it from cover to cover in one sitting, however.
If you enjoy your fiction with originality, adventure, and wholesome companionship (there is no sex or even romance in this volume), you'll enjoy this. The quality of the writing is good throughout and there is enough action and emotion to satisfy the reader. I recommend it.

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Thursday 10 May 2012

Does Indie Book Publishing Let Authors Write in Multiple Genres?

Caxton Showing the First Specimen of His Print...
Caxton Showing the First Specimen of His Printing to King Edward IV at the Almonry, Westminster: With Edward are his wife, Elizabeth Woodville, and their children, Elizabeth, Edward, and Richard. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Publishing is an ancient industry. Ever since Caxton ran the first press, publishers, in many and varied guises, have intervened in the process of the author getting his book to his readers. In the early days, such intervention was necessary. It wasn't possible for an author to write and to get to know all those people who would be involved in the complex machinery of designing, producing, marketing and actually selling a physical book.

In those early days, and right up to the turn of the 21st century, the traditional publisher was seen as a vital part of the process. In fact, in many cases, books were actually initiated by publishers; authors being employed as jobbing writers by the book producers. For most authors, the prospect of getting their book into print was daunting and often became no more than an impossible dream. It's unknown how many great books never actually got published, but history is full of examples of those books that publishers, often in large numbers, turned down on various grounds, only for them to become best-sellers or even classics once a publisher with vision got hold of them. For the author in those not so long-gone days, it was generally the publisher who dictated what the writer would produce next. Genre was everything and woe betide the crime novelist who wanted to turn his hand to mystery, science fiction or, heaven help us, fantasy! Women were shoehorned into writing romance even when they had talent that developed character and story in a way suitable for literary novels. Men were forced to turn out series of adventure stories, even if they had a gift for displaying relationships and emotions.

Okay, I know I'm generalising, but this was more or less the state of the industry for all but the most fortunate and talented of writers. Many very good writers never had a book published. Some didn't even get as far as submitting their work because the process was too daunting for many sensitive souls. And when an author was fortunate enough to be recognised as having some talent by a publisher, often they were required to abandon their hopes of telling their own stories and made to turn out books that fitted into the narrow confines of the publishing house's list.

Nowadays, with the advent of both POD and digital book production, the publisher has become irrelevant for many writers. Not only does the lack of that publisher give greater freedom of expression but it also allows many writers to make more money from their creations than was possible in the past. One straightjacket from those early days, however, seems to persist into the modern field of writing. It seems that many authors continue to be caught in the genre trap. They believe they must write a series of books that all fit into a particular pigeonhole otherwise readers will be confused and won't know what they're buying. But is this true?

My belief is that readers, as a bunch of individuals, are generally amongst the more intelligent of human beings. I think they're perfectly capable of examining the blurb, character, and selling points of a book and determining whether they're looking at a murder mystery, a soft romance, a spy thriller or a historical romp where bodices will be ripped with gay abandon.  In other words, readers do not necessarily expect authors to write in only one vein. Publishers and their literary agents did expect this, because it made life easier for them, not for the reading public.

But is it true that an author can write in various different genres, under the same name, without confusing his readership? I believe it is. And I intend to prove it by doing precisely that. I've already published a romantic thriller, a sci-fi novelette, an anthology of dark speculative fiction, a collection of soft love stories and a short comic tale, all under the same name. The next book will be a collection of erotic stories and that will be followed by a comedy thriller and then, probably, an epic fantasy trilogy. I don't intend to alter my name or online presence in any way for these books, relying instead on the intelligence of readers to decide whether they're interested in the subject of the stories. The writing quality will remain the same throughout, i.e. the best I can possibly produce. The style of writing, however, will naturally suit the subject and the type of story I'm telling.

No one expects a painter to specialise entirely in one field, or an architect to design only sheds, or a musician to play only rock or pop or classical jazz. The whole point of being a creative artist is to produce and create those things that matter most to you as an artist. So, that's what I intend to do. I'd love your company as I travel this road. But whether I succeed commercially or not, I'll continue to do my own thing. Otherwise, what's the point in being creative? Oh, I know I could probably make a lot more money if I was willing to write formulaic fiction to fit in with some preconceived idea of what a good story should be, but it wouldn't really be my story, would it? In any case, I've spent my life going my own way, often rejecting opportunities to make more money simply because I refused to compromise along lines set by men who had no idea of my personal priorities and goals. If being a creative artist means anything, it means being true to yourself, doesn't it?

So, I invite you join me on my journey and, hopefully, to inspire you to do the same yourself. Let's show those who fear to take a step beyond the boundaries of convention that such steps often lead to the greatest adventures. Are you with me? Let me know what you think. Commenting is free and easy, you know.

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Sunday 6 May 2012

The Writing Week

An odd week all in all, but fairly positive. I've written 2,600 words of a new short story, edited 4 chapters of the current WIP novel, updated the blog, including the gallery and the Writing Contests page, and joined a new photography community online.
Took a break to collect my daughter from university, where she has now completed her first year (somewhat early, as the course she is doing requires no exams, but a dissertation and a full blown photo exhibition in her final year).
Been in the garden, when the weather allowed, and entered more photographs on my Facebook page.
The writing course, under the title The Artists Way, by Julia Cameron, continues to go well, with new thoughts and insights occurring more or less daily. 7 weeks of the 12 done so far. I'd recommend this for anyone who feels in any way blocked creatively.
My birthday on Wednesday, so some small celebrations planned. One more year and I take retirement from my day job and gain the time to work full time on the writing.
Also, the annual tax return must be done next week.
How goes the writing and reading with you out there?
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Thursday 3 May 2012

Books About Writing Books

Check out the Thesaurus' sibling, Dictionary.
Check out the Thesaurus' sibling, Dictionary. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As writers, we all need to read; it's an essential part of the creative process. Anyone who tries to write but doesn't read will fail unless they rank amongst the geniuses.

But it's not the books you read for comparison, pleasure, or general information I want to discuss today. I want to introduce you to those books I use when actually engaged in the process of writing. I've never been a particular fan of the 'How To…' approach, although I do have a couple of titles, which begin with those words, on my shelves. I find myself drawn more to two distinctly diverse sets of books on or to do with writing.

First there are what I would define as the essential reference books; the dictionaries, grammar guides and others to do with the mechanics of setting words down on paper.

I once met a man, who styled himself an author, and discovered he didn't own a dictionary and never consulted one, even online. I was puzzled how someone dealing with words could be so uninterested in their true meanings, how an author could work without something as basic as a guide to what words actually mean. And then I had the misfortune to read one of his stories. It was, mercifully, short. Something like ten per cent of the words suffered incorrect spelling, another five per cent were simply the wrong words in the wrong places and, in a couple of cases, the words he'd used actually meant the exact opposite to what he had intended. I gently pointed out these facts to him. 'Just because it's in a dictionary, doesn't make it right!' was his first retort. I was tempted to use logic and reason on this poor arrogant and misguided fool but saw at once I'd be wasting my breath. He hasn't sent me any more of his writing. Although that wasn't my aim, I have to say I'm pleased. I hate cruelty, and the way he tortured English must have contravened some Article of the Geneva Convention. In fact, I believe he's stopped writing and is now expressing his talent through rather poorly executed  drawings. And, no, he's never had a drawing lesson or taken the trouble to visit an art gallery or read a book to see how an accomplished artist does the job.

I've used a number of dictionaries over the years, but my favourite is undoubtedly the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, which I have in the 2 volume version in print and on a CD Rom. It probably says much about me that I prefer to rifle through the printed books when looking for meanings and/or spellings. I also have Partridge's A Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English, which is an excellent piece of work, though rather pricey. The Oxford Dictionary for Writers and Editors has a place on my shelf and is consulted for those small technical issues not covered by other tomes. Then there's Laurence Urdlang's A Dictionary of Misunderstood Misused Mispronounced Words, which is a great source of fun as well as reference; good for 'dipping'. I gathered Julian Franklyn's A Dictionary of Rhyming Slang one day when I came across it in a book shop at the time I was developing a cockney character for a story; a useful addition, if a little specialist. And Hugh Rawson's A Dictionary of Euphemisms and Other Doubletalk is a source of as much amusement as it is of information.

Some time ago, after suffering torture at the hands of a manager delivering a course on management techniques, I came across Kenneth Hudson's The Dictionary of Diseased English and knew I must have it. It's a useful defence for those moments when I'm tempted, by that devil sitting on my shoulder, into using the current jargon and management speak; its caustic and often sarcastic definitions of such language are enough to keep any writer on track and out of the quagmire. I particularly enjoy his comments about many of the terms used to describe wines.  My final dictionary dealing with words rather than other research subjects, is the Penguin Rhyming Dictionary; a cheat's aid for those occasions when you want to write some rhyming poetry but the muse fails to deliver.

Then there are those volumes that deal with how we actually use language. Here I'll simply list those I've bought because they each have something useful and pertinent to say about English usage.
Fowler's Modern English Usage - considered by many to be the ultimate authority.
Oxford Dictionary of Current Idiomatic English - occasionally useful for resolving issues at doubt.
Hart's Rules for Compositors and Readers - a handbook to help in the editing process (especially of galley proofs).
Eric Partridge, Usage and Abusage - a great book for dipping into or for trawling when some serious matter of grammar arises.
The Oxford Manual of Style - a book which does what it says on the spine.
And, of course, Thomas Parish's The Grouchy Grammarian, which addresses the 47 most common mistakes in English in a humorous manner.

Next are the other word books no self-respecting writer should be without: the Thesaurus. I have a selection, since each of the collection has something different to add to the lists of alternative words. A word of caution about these handy aids, however; they should be a last resort, following your own hard-thinking process, only when the elusive fails to materialise in your own imagination.
My favourite is the older edition of Roget's Thesaurus, rather amusingly subtitled 'New Edition', which it undoubtedly was when published in 1987. I prefer its layout and method of selection.
I also have the Oxford Compact Thesaurus, a real tome - heaven knows what the comprehensive version looks like!
Hartrampf's Vocabulary Builder deals with the subject in a slightly different manner and is now out of print. I purchased mine through an online second hand book dealer and use it from time to time when one of my others fails to quite satisfy.
The New Nuttall Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms serves well for those occasions when you know the word that means the opposite of what you actually need; a valuable member of the club.

So much for technicalities. What about inspiration and instruction? I long ago bought Dorothea Brande's Becoming a Writer. If you buy no other book about the art of writing, buy this one. And do the exercises. It will help you immensely in your development as a wordsmith. The book has been in and out of print since it was first published in 1934. I obtained my 1984 reprint by chance from a second hand book shop. I did all the exercises and return to some of them from time to time to refresh my creative spirit.
Stephen King is a master of his craft and his On Writing is another source of inspiration. I recommend it.
And, to end this section, I'm currently part way through Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way, a book form of her 12 week course on creativity. If the rest of the book proves as valuable as the portion I've so far completed, this could well be the most important book on writing that I've ever read. Watch this space. (You should know that this is subtitled A Spiritual Path to Greater Creativity and she uses the concept of God as a generic term for the external creative force she exhorts her students to connect with. As a committed agnostic, I initially struggled with this concept, but, having understood what she really means by it, I've managed to get over what could have been a block to learning some extraordinarily valuable lessons about myself and my creative spirit).

And, finally, for the purposes of this article, I've a selection of small books dealing with the vagaries of English as she is spoke or writ from across the pond.
American English English American is a small softback that lists the different words that are used for the same things in both versions of our common language. Useful when writing for the US market if you're from the UK, and vice versa, of course.
Christopher Davies' Divided by a Common Language deals quite comprehensively with the differences and similarities of the two versions of the language and is definitely worth a place in your library if you want to write for both sides of the pond.
The Little Red Writing Book, by Brandon Royal, expands on a list of 20 powerful principles of structure, style and readability as understood by US standards.
And, to end this list, The Elements of Style, by William Strunk Jr and E.B. White must be considered an essential guide for good writing aimed at US readers.

I haven't listed the many other reference books I've collected over the years, dealing with topics as diverse as symbolism, natural history and superstition, in more detail and allowing me to write with confidence on a wide range of subjects. I hope that simple enthusiasm for the subject is enough to ensure that writers will always arm themselves with such information.

So, these are some of the books that help me create my books. I'm sure writers and readers have their own lists. Perhaps you'd share your ideas here, by making a comment, so others can share and profit from your experience? Thank you.

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