Another Author's 2 Pence

Proofreading: Checking Your Trail for Roots and Other Obstructions

2012-05-31T08:38:00.001-04:00

After covering the types of editing—line editing, copyediting—we get to the stage that's generally under-appreciated (and often overworked and underpaid, but we'll get to that): proofreading.

In our analogy of your story (or other piece of writing) as a nature trail, proofreading is the final check, making sure there aren't any roots obstructing the trail, that everything's clean and smooth and what it should be. The "oops" check.

Proofreading is not an edit.

Proofreading is the final check for errors.

It's fairly common, these days, for people to combine proofreading and copyediting and require employees to do both jobs at the same time…which pretty much defeats the point of proofreading.

Some editors even call their copyediting services "proofreading", either out of their own confusion (because their companies told them they were proofreaders due to proofreaders' lower pay) or out of their clients' confusion (because their clients misunderstand what proofreading and copyediting are, so why bother to educate them on the appropriate jargon?)

Let's back up and define our terms:

Line Editing: makes sure your text flows properly and is grammatically correct (for your writing style).
Copyediting: makes sure your text says what you meant it to say and that its grammar and spelling matches the appropriate house style†
Proofreading: is the "Oops" check for grammar (and, traditionally, formatting) to make sure they match the house style†

For further explanation of why I need these definitions and what "house style" is, see this post.

Look at the name of the step we're talking about: proof reading. It stems from publishing; before something goes to the printing press, a page proof is printed, a mock-up of what it'll look like. The proof reader is a final set of eyes that checks that all is correct by reading the proof.

Meaning the proofreader should be someone who hasn't been involved on other steps in the process, because the proofreader needs to see what's actually on the page rather than what the person thinks is there.

By the time you're on the page proof, everything should be done. The only things being caught should be accidents, like a typo or a margin issue, not outright problems.

But again, proofreaders are often expected to act as copyeditors, finding and fixing outright problems often for half (or less!) of the pay. Some small presses don't even pay, saying that the proofreaders are getting "paid" by reading a free book.

The assumption is that proofreading doesn't take all that long—and in the old-style "oops" check on page proofs, that could be true, because companies often had deadlines and workloads that meant the ones who survived on the job were the fast(er) ones. But…

Proofreading takes longer than reading.

My guess is that proofreading takes at minimum twice as long as reading—not including the time it takes to mark up errors—but my view is skewed: I'm faster than average. I once worked with several hybrid-style copyeditor-proofreaders for a company, all of them with more relevant experience than 20-year-old me had at the time, and they were startled by the quantity I got done. (And Quality Control liked me, so I know I had quality, too.)

If a proofreader just has to worry about the personalization, the formatting, and the order code line—the rest of the piece being canned items—then proofreading is a breeze.

("Canned" means pre-written articles that a company might reuse with permission for multiple clients. They're proofread when written, and the proofreader gets used to how they're supposed to look so she can glance at them to check "Was anything cut off or is a hyphenation wrong?")

But if a proofreader has to carefully verify every paragraph for proper formatting, every sentence for proper punctuation, every word for proper spelling—and then notice the surrounding document's formatting, spacing, and font face to boot—that takes even longer.

(Have I mentioned my old hobby of identifying font faces and font sizes at a glance? There was a reason for it. I'm out of practice, but I'm pretty sure I'm looking at some Helvetica on an envelope on my desk—in bold allcaps, probably size 14 or 16. It's commercially used for the "Important info inside" notice, so I know it's one of the major sans-serif variable-width fonts. It's not Verdana or Impact, and *checks word processor* it isn't Arial—the G is wrong. Per my word processor, Helvetica does look just like it, though it might be size 18; I'd have to print a test page to be sure.)

Anyway, this is a fast proofreader talking, who thinks it takes twice as long to proofread something as it does to read it, not including the time it takes to mark up errors.

Add in copyediting, and the job takes even longer.

Take a 3,000-word short story. That'll take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour to proofread, and anywhere from an hour to three to edit. (Though if it's going to take much longer than an hour to edit, I think the writer needs a tutor, not an editor.)

In my experience, it's actually faster to mark up errors on paper. But marking errors in a computer file is more convenient for the integration of those corrections into the final product.

As a result, proofreaders have more responsibility, in a way that makes their job take longer, and don't have that reflected in their pay.

So. Let's back up again.

If a proofreader has to see what's actually on the page rather than what she thinks is there, it must be impossible to proofread your own work, right?

Well…

Not necessarily.

It is possible to adequately proofread your own work. (Freelance writers often have to do it.) Not everyone is capable of it. And not everyone who is capable of it wants to take the time and effort to do so, because it's always more difficult to proofread your own work than someone else's.

It is possible to trick yourself into seeing the technicalities of what's actually on the page rather than what you think is there.

But then you have to know what it's supposed to look like, to know when it's wrong. *wink*

We'll jump into techniques for tricking yourself—and, maybe, a checklist of what you'll be wanting to evaluate—on another day.

What do you think of proofreading? Would you prefer to (learn how to?) proofread your own work or prefer hiring someone else to do it?

—Misti

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent doing paid work. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

Copyediting: Making Sure Your Trail's What It's Meant to Be

2012-05-24T07:00:00.000-04:00

After covering the types of "little picture" editing and delving into what line editing and content editing are, it's time to address copyediting. Some people use "line editing" and "copy editing" synonymously, so let's review how I'm using it:

copyeditor: makes sure your text says what you meant it to say and that its grammar and spelling matches the appropriate house style†

How often have you left a blog comment, only to afterwards realize you accidentally said something wrong? Maybe you said Neil Gaiman doesn't write well when you meant to say he does write well. Or maybe you post something, only to have the vast majority of commenters make you realize that you effectively said something other than what you intended to say.

The sentences work. The paragraphs work. The overall post all work grammatically—

But they say the wrong thing.

That nature trail you've worked so hard on isn't the path you wanted it to be.

That's where copyediting comes in. Flagging "Hey, did you mean to say this?" and "Hey, why did this character's hair change from black to red?" Sometimes, it's even verifying that the author used the word they intended in a phrase.

Notice that the point with copyediting is not "This doesn't make sense," though that can sometimes be a part of it. The point is "Is this what you intended to say?"

For example, to briefly describe the terms, discreet means "located subtly"; discrete means "located separately". The former word is more commonly intended than the latter, so if a writer uses discrete, if either word could be used, I'll ask the author if they intended the more common one.

There won't be anything wrong with the sentence, mind you. I'll just be verifying that you used the word you intended, because a lot of folks don't realize the difference between the two words.

Editors aren't telepathic.

Hint: That lack of telepathy is why editors might sometimes screw up a writer's meaning. Yes, some editors go overboard. Yes, some editors' failure to understand the writer is not the writer's fault. But even a good editor might misunderstand a writer and wreck something.

(And since good editors will, yanno, ask when they aren't sure, that means they were sure that the writer meant that other thing, so something was wrong with the original writing.)

Editors aren't jealousy incarnate.

Okay, some editors might be failed writers and therefore jealous. Might.

Some editors might try to replace your writing style with their own. Might. (Hint: Editors aren't supposed to do that. Ghostwriting practice helps an editor avoid that, in my experience.)

And, to be frank, some writers are clueless if not all-around jerks. (On behalf editors everywhere, please do not send your editor a rough draft!)

Now. After that delving into the first half of copyediting—making sure your text says what you meant it to say—let's look at the other half. What's "house style"?

house style: The publisher's grammar, spelling, and formatting.

If you're self-publishing, that means your preferred grammar, spellings, and formatting choices. (Some grammar rules and spellings differ depending on your book—or on your edition of the book. For example, is it "Chris' toy" or "Chris's toy"? Answer differs depending on if you're using Chicago Manual of Style 15th edition or 16th edition.

If you have a publisher, that means your publisher's preferred grammar, spellings, and formatting choices. Not yours. Your publisher's.

Why? For coherency in what is published.

(Your chapter headers' font size, what you put in scene breaks, that your indents are the same size—those are also part of the "house style", though that's traditionally been more the realm of proofreaders than copyeditors, so we'll delve more into that next week.)

And, sadly, a lot of companies have laid off their copyeditors, have combined the job with proofreading or line editing, or have so downsized their editing departments that they struggle to keep up with the volume.

Which explains some things we often see in what we read, actually.

How are you at copyediting? Do you know any copyeditors? Have you read anything lately that you think could've used a copyeditor?

P.S. Anyone else having problems with bit.ly?

—Misti

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent writing fiction. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

Content & Line Editing: "Paving" Your Nature Trail

2012-05-17T07:00:00.000-04:00

Trails need some form of paving to exist. That might be a bunch of folks treading over it, to make the dirt stay through the years. That might be asphalt.

But they need something.

So. Analogies tend to fail at some point, and here's really where my analogy of your story as a nature trail gets a tad wonky, because I'm having to combine content editing (a "big picture" type of edit) with line editing (the most in-depth form of "little picture" edits).

Let's start with the definitions:

Content Editing: makes sure your story's content flows properly and is internally correct (for story coherence).
Line Editing: makes sure your story's text flows properly and is grammatically correct (for your writing style).

For further definitions, see this post.

When you look at them that way, my combination of the two of them in this lesson makes a bit more sense, doesn't it? Content editing could be the decision about what type of paving the nature trail will have, while line editing could be considered the verification that the entire trail is paved that selfsame way.

So. Making sure your plot's logistics make sense? Verifying that your character's red hair doesn't suddenly change to blond for no apparent reason? Analyzing when you need more description, more dialogue, another scene with the two main characters? That's all content editing.

Making sure what's on the page all flows grammatically? That the style works? That your sentence fragments actually are functional, rather than producing choppy writing that's irritating to a reader? Line editing.

Remember my post about the two types of editors? Everyone specializes in either "big picture" or "little picture", and remember above, how content and line editing fall into different "picture size" categories?

That means editors specialize in line editing or content editing.

Can a content editor notice and make recommendations that fall under the realm of content editing? Yes.

Can a line editor notice and make recommendations that fall under the realm of content editing? Yes.

But don't confuse the two tasks, and don't expect the same person to be able to do it all. There is a difference. Editors (and readers) do specialize.

(That's why comments saying "This book needs an editor" can be a pain in the neck. Unless the commenter gives examples, you don't know what they disliked about a story, to know what kind of editor they think it needed—and sometimes, readers pitch fits over things that aren't errors. Case in point: Hart's Hope by Orson Scott Card is intentionally written in an archaic "tell"-heavy style, and I've seen a review that called it bad writing by definition because of that. Er, no. It's just a non-modern style, which fits the non-modern story. Fact is, a lot of things called "bad writing" are merely "bad" to modern sensibilities, sometimes because newbie writers commonly screw them up. Even so, breaking those "rules" tends to be a bad idea unless you're willing to be publicly ridiculed as an idiot. Even Stephanie Meyer's adverb-heavy prose in Twilight did its job of reaching her intended audience.)

/Rabbit trail.

Of two types of editing I'm addressing here, you want to perform content editing first. Remember all those posts I did about structural, plot, character, and setting editing? Those are forms of content editing.

The line gets a bit more blurry when you're looking at transitions. Transitions between chapters. Transitions between scenes. Transitions within scenes. Are they content editing or line editing?

Yes.

Some types of transitions are content editing. (Hey, when did this person enter the hospital? Last I knew, he was in his car.)

Some types of transitions are line editing. (Hey, let's rearrange this sentence so it's in the correct order for what I'm trying to say.)

That blurred line means that you should consciously look at transitions as part of both content and line editing. Is it any wonder that transitions are often a bane of writers? ^_^

Line editing tends to work better when it comes after content editing. (Why spend time cleaning up a scene that's only going to be redone and re-edited?) (Unless you're like me and have trouble seeing content when there are too many typos and line mess-ups.)

Line editing looks at every phrase, every clause, every sentence, every paragraph, every scene—and makes sure the language flows. (And if you don't know the difference between a phrase and a clause, you probably have comma splices and maybe even other types of run-on sentences in your writing. Just saying.)

Line editing also considers writing style issues. Things can be grammatically correct and still be problems.

Take the sentence "His eyes dropped to the table." Grammatically, it's fine. Stylistically, it's not.

Why not? It's inherently unclear: Did his gaze land on the table, or did his eyeballs plop out of his head and land on the table? Some readers will get the first meaning, some the second. Therefore, autonomous body parts shouldn't be in your writing unless they're like Sally's limbs in A Nightmare Before Christmas.

Can you choose to write with autonomous body parts? Sure. You'll cut out a portion of potential readers whose automatic comprehension of something tends to be literal rather than figurative, but you can do it. Will some folks complain about "bad writing"? Probably. Does that complaint make autonomous body parts bad? No.

Autonomous body parts are "bad" because they're inherently unclear.

What's the purpose of writing? To get your point across.

Autonomous body parts interfere with that purpose. That's what's makes them bad writing.

But what if you intend to omit the audience of folks who would be confused by autonomous body parts? Suddenly, there's nothing wrong with them.

A line editor has to keep an eye out for stylistic things like that and catch actual "hard" errors, like dangling modifiers. ("Hard" errors being things that are errors regardless of your genre and intended audience.)

Example: "Falling hard, the table hurt her wrists."

That sentence says that the table fell hard and hurt "her" wrists. The most likely intended meaning is that she fell hard and hurt her wrists on the table. But that's not what the sentence is actually saying.

That makes dangling modifiers a "hard" error.

What do you think of the blurred line between content and line editing? Which type do you think you're geared towards? Do autonomous body parts bother you?

—Misti

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent writing fiction. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

New E-Zine: Qu33n of Spades' Fiction Magazine

2012-05-14T07:00:00.000-04:00

E-zine startups are a dime a dozen, so why am I announcing one? Because Qu33n of Spades is Kayla Rose Graham, a lady I've known for a while. She was one of the early commenters on A Fistful of Fire, back when it was still 17k words long, called "Evonalé", and posted on FictionPress.com. Kayla gave me some good content feedback, even on that early version, helping me make sure my characters were solid, not Mary Sue-ish.

I think this will be one enjoyable 'zine—and I say that not knowing whether they'll accept my submission or not. As far as I'm aware, they haven't even finished hammering out all the details for how the 'zine will work, but I think Kayla will do a good job with it.

Qu33n of Spades' Fiction Magazine accepts fiction and poetry. (No reprints.)
Fiction: Genre or literary fiction, up to 8k words long, though not erotica or excessively mature content. (So no gratuitous sex, violence, or objectionable language.)
Poetry: 1 poem of no more than 50 lines or up to 5 poems of no more than 30 lines each. (Same content guidelines as the fiction.)
Rights: specific rights still getting hammered out, but looks like it'll be a form of first rights, archival rights, and 6 months' exclusivity
Payment: income share
Submission Deadline: May 31, 2012
(for June issue)
E-mail qu33nofspades [dot] fiction [at] gmail [dot] com for more details.

As I mentioned above, I've submitted. It's a story that I think fits Kayla's goals for the 'zine, though she's not yet told me if I'm right.

From a business standpoint, submitting to a startup is always a gamble. There's no track record for how well that specific company will sell, how long they'll be around, or how they treat their authors (or editors). I'm trusting that Kayla get the e-zine off the ground—and in a worst-case scenario, I'm looking at that "6 month exclusivity" and thinking I can live with not releasing that particular short story for another 9 months, if it comes to that. (Assuming 3 months to verify that the 'zine isn't coming out late.)

But startups can't get off the ground if nobody submits, so each writer has to decide if they'll participate for themselves. Personally, I like working with startups.

What do you think of the sound of Qu33n of Spades' Fiction Magazine? Do you think you'll check it out to read or submit to?

—Misti

Time Log Template for Story Writers

2012-05-12T07:00:00.000-04:00

Folks talk about how quickly (or not) that they write. That they only put 100 or 1,000 or whatever number of words on the page per hour. But how long does a novel really take?

As a freelancer, I know how long it takes me to write a 500-word article. I should likewise know how long it takes me to write a 60k-word novel. But I don't.

So I sat down and drafted a word log template, which I'll be applying to the latter half of Know Thy Frienemy (sequel to Destiny's Kiss) and to the entirety of A Fistful of Water (sequel to A Fistful of Earth).

I drafted it and started using it last night (in Numbers, the Mac spreadsheet that's part of iWork). Love it. (And I very much like Numbers, for the record. It has some very annoying details—like the borders—but for what I tend to do with spreadsheets, Numbers is fantastic. So much cleaner than Excel.)

In e-mailing one friend last night, I mentioned the spreadsheet I'd just made, and I offered her a copy. She accepted…and I realized I had to convert it to Excel. *wince* I had to rewrite the formulae, and it's not nearly so neat to use, but it still works.

Then I was chatting with Stormy (the author of the Mirrorverse series) today and offered her a copy. She accepted…and I realized she uses Open Office. So I converted the Excel version over and fixed the resulting broken formulae.

(I just like saying formulae. It looks like such an intelligent word.)

…And you can tell I'm sleepy. Okay.

Anyway, I've some other file templates I use that I've been thinking about sharing but just haven't gotten them finalized so I can get them all up. I'm a perfectionist, and I prefer having something precise before sharing.

This, though, is a spreadsheet that I'm already sharing in useable form. You might want to tweak it, but the formulae work, insofar as I've tested them. So download and enjoy!

If you have any requests or tweaks to recommend, let me know. I'm fairly fluent in spreadsheet, so I might be able to pull something off if you're not sure how to do it.

Also, for some reason, the Excel one insists on giving me a macro warning when I open it. There's no macro in the file. I have no idea what's going on there, but feel free to open it with macros disabled.

You can download all three templates in a single ZIP file here. (Right-click that link and click "Save Target As…"; left-clicking on that link might also work.) I had to bundle them together so Wordpress would let me upload the Numbers and Open Office templates.)

Once you un-zip the file, you'll see 3 files, all named "Word Log" (with various endings). Your computer will most likely recognize two of them but not the third. Feel free to throw out whichever one(s) you won't need at that point.

To try the template, double-click on the appropriate template for your Spreadsheet program. (If in doubt, if you're on a Windows computer, click the "Writing Log.xlt"; if you're on an Apple computer, click the "Writing Log.nmbtemplate".) Your program will open a brand new file that applies all the template settings. Make changes as you like in that file; it shouldn't influence the template file. To use the template again, just double-click on the template file, and it should make a fresh (blank) version.

(Sorry if that was too much explanation, but I know some folks need to know these things.)

Do you think you'll try the template? Have you tried it? Which do you prefer? Have any suggestions to improve it?

—Misti

If you like any of these templates and get use out of them, please consider leaving a tip. I'd appreciate it!

The 3 Types of Grammar Editing

2012-05-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

Picking back up in the "Realities of Self-Editing" series that I interrupted in March, we've addressed multiple things you should know even before you start trying to edit your own work, along with editing your story structure, plot, characters, and setting. (We'll dig into specific techniques you'll want to apply when self-editing at another time.)

Now let's leave that "big picture" editing, the macroediting, and turn to the three types of grammar edits: line editing, copyediting, and proofreading. My specialty. ^_^

I say specialty, singular, because when you start talking about the type of edits where grammar is involved, definitions and job descriptions overlap. A line editor can resemble a copyeditor, who can resemble a proofreader. (Note that can.)

There's also some confusion because many publishers have been cutting staff for a while, so some of them rely on proofreaders to be copyeditors, too, or acquisitions editors to do line editing. (All those jobs take slightly different skill sets, and the replaced jobs get paid more than the ones expected to fill in for them.)

So, either out of concession to the general confusion about the job titles or because they're confused themselves, a fair number of professionals have effectually redefined the terms so now any one of those terms can be used to describe line editing.

Here's how I'm describing them:

Line Editing: makes sure your text flows properly and is grammatically correct (for your writing style).
Copyediting: makes sure your text says what you meant it to say and that its grammar and spelling matches the appropriate house style†
Proofreading: is the "Oops" check for grammar (and, traditionally, formatting) to make sure they match the house style†

So over the next three weeks, as I address line editing, copyediting, and proofreading, please bear my definitions in mind.

†What do I mean by "house style"?

Some grammar rules and some appropriate spellings will differ depending on your grammar handbook and dictionary.

So before you attempt any type of grammar edits, you must first decide on a default grammar handbook and dictionary. (I recommend reading the grammar handbook, too.) Here in the US, the usual defaults are the Chicago Manual of Style and the Merriam-Webster dictionary. Some prefer the AP Stylebook and the American Heritage dictionary.

Oh, and if you have specific grammar rules or spellings for which you'd rather use a different source than your primary one? That's fine—

But you will want to make a style sheet listing those specific exceptions, so you can be consistent. (Other things go on such a style sheet, but I'll get into what those things are, what style sheets are, and some examples on how to make them at another time.)

Most folks are a lot worse at this type of editing than they think they are.

That "a lot worse" includes English teachers. I suspect the difficulty stems from the detail that it's always easier to see someone else's errors than it is your own, because you know what you intended to say and do.

But remember that. Editing is a skill. Tricking yourself into seeing what's on the page is a skill. Learning to see what you wrote how it actually reads rather than how you intended it to read is another skill. All of them are skills with limits, because we're all human and imperfect, but they are skills. Different ones.

Don't make the mistake of assuming something's easy for you and thereby making a fool of yourself.

Do you think yourself good at any of the above forms of editing? Does grammar make you want to run screaming? What's your preferred dictionary?

—Misti

Kris Rusch on What's (Not) Happening with Misreported Royalties

2012-05-04T20:21:00.001-04:00

As you may or may not have heard, Kris Rusch's blog was hacked yesterday, 12 hours after she posted her latest entry into her "Business Rusch" series, this one an update on the fallout from the misreported royalties folks were blowing the whistle on a year ago—fallout that's sadly…lacking.

Since then, Rusch's every attempt to repost the post has also been hacked.

The debate rages about whether it's someone intentionally trying to shut her up or someone just having a ball with all the havoc they're causing, but in the meantime, Rusch's given permission for folks to repost her article in its entirety.

So here's my part. I've added the post below in plain text; anything italicized is a note from me mentioning where I omitted a link.

Welcome to one of my other websites. This one is for my mystery persona Paladin, from my Spade/Paladin short stories. She has a website in the stories, and I thought it would be cool to have the website online. It’s currently the least active of my sites, so I figured it was perfect for what I needed today.
Someone hacked my website. Ye Olde Website Guru and I are repairing the damage but it will take some time. The hacker timed the hack to coincide with the posting of my Business Rusch column. Since the hack happened 12 hours after I originally posted the column, I’m assuming that the hacker doesn’t like what I wrote, and is trying to shut me down. Aaaaah. Poor hacker. Can’t argue on logic, merits, or with words, so must use brute force to make his/her/its point. Poor thing.
Since someone didn’t want you to see this post, I figure I’d better get it up ASAP. Obviously there’s something here someone objects to–which makes it a bit more valuable than usual.
Here’s the post, which I am reloading from my word file, so that I don’t embed any malicious code here. I’m even leaving off the atrocious artwork (which we’re redesigning) just to make sure nothing got corrupted from there.
The post directs you to a few links from my website. Obviously, those are inactive at the moment. Sorry about that. I hope you get something out of this post.
I’m also shutting off comments here, just to prevent another short-term hack. Also, I don’t want to transfer them over. If you have comments, send them via e-mail and when the site comes back up, I’ll post them. Mark them “comment” in the header of the e-mail. Thanks!
The Business Rusch: Royalty Statement Update 2012
Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Over a year ago, I wrote a blog post about the fact that my e-book royalties from a couple of my traditional publishers looked wrong. Significantly wrong. After I posted that blog, dozens of writers contacted me with similar information. More disturbingly, some of these writers had evidence that their paper book royalties were also significantly wrong.
Writers contacted their writers’ organizations. Agents got the news. Everyone in the industry, it seemed, read those blogs, and many of the writers/agents/organizations vowed to do something. And some of them did.
I hoped to do an update within a few weeks after the initial post. I thought my update would come no later than summer of 2011.
I had no idea the update would take a year, and what I can tell you is—
Bupkis. Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zilch.
That doesn’t mean that nothing happened. I personally spoke to the heads of two different writers’ organizations who promised to look into this. I spoke to half a dozen attorneys active in the publishing field who were, as I mentioned in those posts, unsurprised. I spoke to a lot of agents, via e-mail and in person, and I spoke to even more writers.
The writers have kept me informed. It seems, from the information I’m still getting, that nothing has changed. The publishers that last year used a formula to calculate e-book royalties (rather than report actual sales) still use the formula to calculate e-book royalties this year.
I just got one such royalty statement in April from one of those companies and my e-book sales from them for six months were a laughable ten per novel. My worst selling e-books, with awful covers, have sold more than that. Significantly more.
To this day, writers continue to notify their writers’ organizations, and if those organizations are doing anything, no one has bothered to tell me. Not that they have to. I’m only a member of one writers’ organizations, and I know for fact that one is doing nothing.
But the heads of the organizations I spoke to haven’t kept me apprised. I see nothing in the industry news about writers’ organizations approaching/auditing/dealing with the problems with royalty statements. Sometimes these things take place behind the scenes, and I understand that. So, if your organization is taking action, please do let me know so that I can update the folks here.
The attorneys I spoke to are handling cases, but most of those cases are individual cases. An attorney represents a single writer with a complaint about royalties. Several of those cases got settled out of court. Others are still pending or are “in review.” I keep hearing noises about class actions, but so far, I haven’t seen any of them, nor has anyone notified me.
The agents disappointed me the most. Dean personally called an agent friend of ours whose agency handles two of the biggest stars in the writing firmament. That agent (having previously read my blog) promised the agency was aware of the problem and was “handling it.”
Two weeks later, I got an e-mail from a writer with that agency asking me if I knew about the new e-book addendum to all of her contracts that the agency had sent out. The agency had sent the addendum with a “sign immediately” letter. I hadn’t heard any of this. I asked to see the letter and the addendum.
This writer was disturbed that the addendum was generic. It had arrived on her desk—get this—without her name or the name of the book typed in. She was supposed to fill out the contract number, the book’s title, her name, and all that pertinent information.
I had her send me her original contracts, which she did. The addendum destroyed her excellent e-book rights in that contract, substituting better terms for the publisher. Said publisher handled both of that agency’s bright writing stars.
So I contacted other friends with that agency. They had all received the addendum. Most had just signed the addendum without comparing it to the original contract, trusting their agent who was (after all) supposed to protect them.
Wrong-o. The agency, it turned out, had made a deal with the publisher. The publisher would correct the royalties for the big names if agency sent out the addendum to every contract it had negotiated with that contract. The publisher and the agency both knew that not all writers would sign the addendum, but the publisher (and probably the agency) also knew that a good percentage of the writers would sign without reading it.
In other words, the publisher took the money it was originally paying to small fish and paid it to the big fish—with the small fish’s permission.
Yes, I’m furious about this, but not at the publisher. I’m mad at the authors who signed, but mostly, I’m mad at the agency that made this deal. This agency had a chance to make a good decision for all of its clients. Instead, it opted to make a good deal for only its big names.
Do I know for a fact that this is what happened? Yeah, I do. Can I prove it? No. Which is why I won’t tell you the name of the agency, nor the name of the bestsellers involved. (Who, I’m sure, have no idea what was done in their names.)
On a business level what the agency did makes sense. The agency pocketed millions in future commissions without costing itself a dime on the other side, since most of the writers who signed the addendum probably hadn’t earned out their advances, and probably never would.
On an ethical level it pisses me off. You’ll note that my language about agents has gotten harsher over the past year, and this single incident had something to do with it. Other incidents later added fuel to the fire, but they’re not relevant here. I’ll deal with them in a future post.
Yes, there are good agents in the world. Some work for unethical agencies. Some work for themselves. I still work with an agent who is also a lawyer, and is probably more ethical than I am.
But there are yahoos in the agenting business who make the slimy used car salesmen from 1970s films look like action heroes. But, as I said, that’s a future post.
I have a lot of information from writers, most of which is in private correspondence, none of which I can share, that leads me to believe that this particular agency isn’t the only one that used my blog on royalty statements to benefit their bestsellers and hurt their midlist writers. But again, I can’t prove it.
So I’m sad to report that nothing has changed from last year on the royalty statement front.
Except…
The reason I was so excited about the Department of Justice lawsuit against the five publishers wasn’t because of the anti-trust issues (which do exist on a variety of levels in publishing, in my opinion), but because the DOJ accountants will dig, and dig, and dig into the records of these traditional publishers, particularly one company named in the suit that’s got truly egregious business practices.
Those practices will change, if only because the DOJ’s forensic accountants will request information that the current accounting systems in most publishing houses do not track. The accounting system in all five of these houses will get overhauled, and brought into the 21st century, and that will benefit writers. It will be an accidental benefit, but it will occur.
The audits alone will unearth a lot of problems. I know that some writers were skeptical that the auditors would look for problems in the royalty statements, but all that shows is a lack of understanding of how forensic accounting works. In the weeks since the DOJ suit, I’ve contacted several accountants, including two forensic accountants, and they all agree that every pebble, every grain of sand, will be inspected because the best way to hide funds in an accounting audit is to move them to a part of the accounting system not being audited.
So when an organization like the DOJ audits, they get a blanket warrant to look at all of the accounting, not just the files in question. Yes, that’s a massive task. Yes, it will take years. But the change is gonna come.
From the outside.
Those of you in Europe might be seeing some of that change as well, since similar lawsuits are going on in Europe.
I do know that several writers from European countries, New Zealand, and Australia have written to me about similar problems in their royalty statements. The unifying factor in those statements is the companies involved. Again, you’d recognize the names because they’ve been in the news lately…dealing with lawsuits.
Ironically for me, those two blog posts benefitted me greatly. I had been struggling to get my rights back from one publisher (who is the biggest problem publisher), and the week I posted the blog, I got contacted by my former editor there, who told me that my rights would come back to me ASAP. Because, the former editor told me (as a friend), things had changed since Thursday (the day I post my blog), and I would get everything I needed.
In other words, let’s get the troublemaker out of the house now. Fine with me.
Later, I discovered some problems with a former agency. I pointed out the problems in a letter, and those problems got solved immediately. I have several friends who’ve been dealing with similar things from that agency, and they can’t even get a return e-mail. I know that the quick response I got is because of this blog.
I also know that many writers used the blog posts from last year to negotiate more accountability from their publishers for future royalties. That’s a real plus. Whether or not it happens is another matter because I noted something else in this round of royalty statements.
Actually, that’s not fair. My agent caught it first. I need to give credit where credit is due, and since so many folks believe I bash agents, let me say again that my current agent is quite good, quite sharp, and quite ethical.
My agent noticed that the royalty statements from one of my publishers were basket accounted on the statement itself. Which is odd, considering there is no clause in any of the contracts I have with that company that allows for basket accounting.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with basket accounting, this is what it means:
A writer signs a contract with Publisher A for three books. The contract is a three-book contract. One contract, three books. Got that?
Okay, a contract with a basket-accounting clause allows the publisher to put all three books in the same accounting “basket” as if the books are one entity. So let’s say that book one does poorly, book two does better, and book three blows out of the water.
If book three earns royalties, those royalties go toward paying off the advances on books one and two.
Like this:
Advance for book one: $10,000
Advance for book two: $10,000
Advance for book three: $10,000
Book one only earned back $5,000 toward its advance. Book two only earned $6,000 toward its advance.
Book three earned $12,000—paying off its advance, with a $2,000 profit.
In a standard contract without basket accounting, the writer would have received the $2,000 as a royalty payment.
But with basket accounting, the writer receives nothing. That accounting looks like this:
Advance on contract 1: $30,000
Earnings on contract 1: $23,000
Amount still owed before the advance earns out: $7,000
Instead of getting $2,000, the writer looks at the contract and realizes she still has $7,000 before earning out.
Without basket accounting, she would have to earn $5,000 to earn out Book 1, and $4,000 to earn out Book 2, but Book 3 would be paying her cold hard cash.
Got the difference?
Now, let’s go back to my royalty statement. It covered three books. All three books had three different one-book contracts, signed years apart. You can’t have basket accounting without a basket (or more than one book), but I checked to see if sneaky lawyers had inserted a clause that I missed which allowed the publisher to basket account any books with that publisher that the publisher chose.
Nope.
I got a royalty statement with all of my advances basket accounted because…well, because. The royalty statement doesn’t follow the contract(s) at all.
Accounting error? No. These books had be added separately. Accounting program error (meaning once my name was added, did the program automatically basket account)? Maybe.
But I’ve suspected for nearly three years now that this company (not one of the big traditional publishers, but a smaller [still large] company) has been having serious financial problems. The company has played all kinds of games with my checks, with payments, with fulfilling promises that cost money.
This is just another one of those problems.
My agent caught it because he reads royalty statements. He mentioned it when he forwarded the statements. I would have caught it as well because I read royalty statements. Every single one. And I compare them to the previous statement. And often, I compare them to the contract.
Is this “error” a function of the modern publishing environment? No, not like e-book royalties, which we’ll get back to in a moment. I’m sure publishers have played this kind of trick since time immemorial. Royalty statements are fascinating for what they don’t say rather than for what they say.
For example, on this particular (messed up) royalty statement, e-books are listed as one item, without any identification. The e-books should be listed separately (according to ISBN) because Amazon has its own edition, as does Apple, as does B&N. Just like publishers must track the hardcover, trade paper, and mass market editions under different ISBNs, they should track e-books the same way.
The publisher that made the “error” with my books had no identifying number, and only one line for e-books. Does that mean that this figure included all e-books, from the Amazon edition to the B&N edition to the Apple edition? Or is this publisher, which has trouble getting its books on various sites (go figure), is only tracking Amazon? From the numbers, it would seem so. Because the numbers are somewhat lower than books in the same series that I have on Amazon, but nowhere near the numbers of the books in the same series if you add in Apple and B&N.
I can’t track this because the royalty statement has given me no way to track it. I would have to run an audit on the company. I’m not sure I want to do that because it would take my time, and I’m moving forward.
That’s the dilemma for writers. Do we take on our publishers individually? Because—for the most part—our agents aren’t doing it. The big agencies, the ones who actually have the clout and the numbers to defend their clients, are doing what they can for their big clients and leaving the rest in the dust.
Writers’ organizations seem to be silent on this. And honestly, it’s tough for an organization to take on a massive audit. It’s tough financially and it’s tough politically. I know one writer who headed a writer’s organization a few decades ago. She spearheaded an audit of major publishers, and it cost her her writing career. Not many heads of organizations have the stomach for that.
As for intellectual property attorneys (or any attorney for that matter), very few handle class actions. Most handle cases individually for individual clients. I know of several writers who’ve gone to attorneys and have gotten settlements from publishers. The problem here is that these settlements only benefit one writer, who often must sign a confidentiality agreement so he can’t even talk about what benefit he got from that agreement.
One company that I know of has revamped its royalty statements. They appear to be clearer. The original novel that I have with that company isn’t selling real well as an e-book, and that makes complete sense since the e-book costs damn near $20. (Ridiculous.) The other books that I have with that company, collaborations and tie-ins, seem to be accurately reported, although I have no way to know. I do appreciate that this company has now separated out every single e-book venue into its own category (B&N, Amazon, Apple) via ISBN, and I can actually see the sales breakdown.
So that’s a positive (I think). Some of the smaller companies have accurate statements as well—or at least, statements that match or improve upon the sales figures I’m seeing on indie projects.
This is all a long answer to a very simple question: What’s happened on the royalty statement front in the past year?
A lot less than I had hoped.
So here’s what you traditionally published writers can do. Track your royalty statements. Compare them to your contracts. Make sure the companies are reporting what they should be reporting.
If you’re combining indie and traditional, like I am, make sure the numbers are in the same ballpark. Make sure your traditional Amazon numbers are around the same numbers you get for your indie titles. If they aren’t, look at one thing first: Price. I expect sales to be much lower on that ridiculous $20 e-book. If your e-books through your traditional publisher are $15 or more, then sales will be down. If the e-books from your traditional publisher are priced around $10 or less, then they should be somewhat close in sales to your indie titles. (Or, if traditional publishers are doing the promotion they claim to do, the sales should be better.)
What to do if they’re not close at all? I have no idea. I still think there’s a benefit to contacting your writers’ organizations. Maybe if the organization keeps getting reports of badly done royalty statements, someone will take action.
If you want to hire an attorney or an auditor, remember doing that will cost both time and money. If you’re a bestseller, you might want to consider it. If you’re a midlist writer, it’s probably not worth the time and effort you’ll put in.
But do yourself a favor. Read those royalty statements. If you think they’re bad, then don’t sign a new contract with that publisher. Go somewhere else with your next book.
I wish I could give you better advice. I wish the big agencies actually tried to use their clout for good instead of their own personal profits. I wish the writers’ organizations had done something.
As usual, it’s up to individual writers.
Don’t let anyone screw you. You might not be able to fight the bad accounting on past books, but make sure you don’t allow it to happen on future books.
That means that you negotiate good contracts, you make sure your royalty statements match those contracts, and you don’t sign with a company that puts out royalty statements that don’t reflect your book deal.
I’m quite happy that I walked away from the publisher I mentioned above years ago. I did so because I didn’t like the treatment I got from the financial and production side. The editor was—as editors often are—great. Everything else at the company sucked.
The royalty statement was just confirmation of a good decision for me.
I hope you make good decisions going forward.
Remember: read your royalty statements.
Good luck.
I need to thank everyone who commented, e-mailed, donated, and called because of last week’s post. When I wrote it, all I meant to do was discuss how we all go through tough times and how we, as writers, need to recognize when we’ve hit a wall. It seems I hit a nerve. I forget sometimes that most writers work in a complete vacuum, with no writer friends, no one except family, who much as they care, don’t always understand.
So if you haven’t read last week’s post, take a peek [link omitted]. More importantly, look at the comments for great advice and some wonderful sharing. I appreciate them—and how much they expanded, added, and improved what I had to say. Thanks for that, everyone.
[donate button omitted]
“The Business Rusch: “Royalty Statement Update 2012,” copyright © 2012 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch.

As someone who's only self-publishing e-books at this time, I can testify that keeping track of all the data for every vendor and every book is a pain to set up in Excel—but Excel isn't designed for that. Even so, figuring it out as I go, I've come up with a reasonable method of keeping track of month, vendor, sale location, number of free downloads, number of buys, amount owned, a notes section—and two handy little columns with conditional formatting that keep track of if I've been paid for that or not.

I've done this in Excel.

Excel isn't designed for data processing.

But it works okay. A little bit of tweaking and filtering, and I could print out my own royalty statement. If I wanted to, I could even add a bit to it to pull on a title's expenses, to tell me if I'm in the red on that title or not.

This is one little person, fiddling in a program that's not even meant for what she's trying to do—someone who's learning a fair bit about what data she wants in there as she goes along. Publishers should have an advantage there, since they already know what data they'll want to keep track of.

Should.

Okay, so negligence, overworked staff, or ignorance could be at fault for those misreported royalties. But I'm sure somebody's gone "Hey, everyone expects royalty statements to be screwy, so let's take advantage of that."

Math bewilders a lot of people. They have trouble with it and therefore assume that nobody will notice when a few of these numbers get juggled from there to here, since math is a jungle anyway. They miss that math isn't a jungle. It's a logical language of its own.

Miss it or take advantage of the average person's confusion. Take your pick.

So what do you think of the misreporting of royalties, the (lack of) response to it, and/or the benefits of being labeled a troublemaker?

—Misti

P.S. No, I am not a math whiz. I actually flunked out of calculus. But I somehow read the Smashwords royalty statements just fine. I think that's more a spreadsheet thing than a math thing, though.

Should Authors Blog or Not?

2012-05-03T07:27:00.000-04:00

Should the modern-day author blog or not?

Though that seems like a straightforward question, it really isn't. Some say authors should be on every social media site possible, pimping their book out for sales—and, to be fair, trade-published authors often do have a limited amount of time to make the majority of their sales. Some say authors should just spend their time writing the next book, not worrying about marketing.

And some of us just shrug, pick a few social media techniques we enjoy, and work on our next stories. *twiddles thumbs*

That said, I've kept an eye on online media and publishing information and all that jazz for… well, at least 7 years. I've seen very few folks (other than John Locke in his much-debated How I Sold 1 Million Ebooks in 5 Months) say that blogging nets them a worthwhile number of sales for the time spent.

Even if I speak as a blog reader or commenter, I haven't actually bought many books by folks whose blogs I've read. I could count on my fingers the folks for whom appreciation for their blog (or helpful online presence) led to me buying books I wouldn't have otherwise. I'd need more than one hand, granted, but we're talking over 7 years' time, here.

So, since I know it's usually ineffective marketing, why do I blog?

Short answer: I enjoy it.

Long answer: I have a big mouth and like having a place where I can share what I know (or think) and folks can listen (or not) as they prefer. I'm the type of person who will be shopping for a cupcake, hear the person behind me cough, and offer them a horehound candy, after checking if they're allergic to corn, fish, or mint.

(Horehound candies make fantastic cough drops, by the way, and they don't close your throat up like menthol. And genetically modified corn has a fish gene in it, so corn and corn syrup can trigger some folks' fish allergies.)

Back on topic…

Should an author blog?

Before I answer this question, I have a definition to share, as well as a small confession.

copy: writing that seeks to trigger a particular action in the target reader; (That's why ad text is called ad copy.)

Blurbs are copy. Queries are copy. Blog posts meant to trigger a comment or a sale are copy.

And that is the difference between a blog that successfully leads to sales and one that… doesn't. Its copy.

Some blogs are all information, no copy. Some have little (or downright bad) copy. In fact, my guess is that most blogs neglect to actually encourage their readership to take the action that the blog owner wants them to take.

Now, here's a secret to effective copy: It manipulates the reader's emotions to make them want to act immediately.

That's why radio ads tend to yell at you. They want you to get caught up in the emotion, the panic, and to buy Now—now—now! before you stop and realize, "Hey, I don't really need a new car…"

On a less obnoxious note, that's why some blogs (like mine) ask 1+ questions at the bottom of the post. The questions encourage you, the reader, to come up with an answer and to go ahead and share your thoughts with that "Comment" button. That's technically manipulation.

(Yes, my "small confession" is that I'm technically manipulating you into leaving that comment. But it's a kinder, more encouraging type of manipulation. Like when you're trying to get that quiet friend of yours to contribute to the conversation so you're not holding a monologue.)

Copy that produces sales is harder to write, particularly for things that are commodities, not necessities. A manual on how to efficiently write an essay, a guide on self-editing, a gas furnace—each of those is needed by someone, somewhere. Put your sales copy in front of one such person, demonstrate that they can afford it—and need it—now, and viola! Sale made. Probably. And the buyer will even be happy that they spent that money.

A novel about a runaway slave girl who's trying to avoid triggering World War III or a paranoid royal bastard who's heiress to a prophecy?

Who on earth needs that?

Add the detail that the more obnoxious and obvious your marketing tactics, the less effective they'll likely be, and I decided before I even started this blog that I would seek to build informational discussions here, not sales. Sales would be nice, but they aren't my purpose with this blog.

Discussion, commentary is. And I'm happy for all you who join in and make that a success. ^_^

So.

Should an author have a blog?

Depends on what you think the blog will do for you.

If you write fiction and your goal is to earn a bunch of sales, no. The learning curves for writing effective blog copy (and attracting an audience for it) will probably overwhelm you. Don't blog, not unless your background is in marketing. (Which is, not coincidentally, John Locke's background. Which is why his techniques worked so well for him—he jumped in already knowing how to gather an audience and how to write effective copy.)

If you write non-fiction, or if you write fiction and want discussion rather than sales, go for it.

But bear in mind that you'll start out in obscurity. A 2% action rate is often considered good. Most blogs only get comments from 1–5% of visitors, just like most books only get reviews from about 1% of readers.

No, those numbers aren't typos.

Your first goal will have to be to increase your readership, so that your primary goal (be that discussion or sales) will be successful.

Notice that my own blog doesn't have all that many followers. (Yet.) Are there things I could do to raise those numbers? Sure. Could I do more SEO than I am already? Sure, even if search engine algorithms have gotten good enough that specific keyword phrasing doesn't matter as much as it used to.

But honestly, I had a hard time even convincing myself to put the questions on the bottom of my posts. Because it's manipulation. So I feel guilty about it.

Folks tell me I shouldn't feel guilty. I'm polite and don't pressure them.

But I do feel guilty.

And that is something else to bear in mind if you blog: Would (or does) it bother you to write copy?

If so, you might be better off not blogging. Depends on whether or not your blog's primary purpose is to trigger a response in readers.

Do you blog? If so, for what purpose? If not, why not?

…And now that you know these questions at the end of my posts are technically manipulation, are you upset with or mad at me? *looks worried*

—Misti

To Penname or Not to Penname?

2012-04-26T07:15:00.001-04:00

A lot of writers angst over how many pennames they should use, or even if they should use one to begin with.

(Yeah, my post has such an original title. I know.)

/dry tone

So why might an author use a penname, a pseudonym, a name other than their* own to grace that gem they've written?

Their name is common enough that they will have problems differentiating themselves from the others with that name.
Their name is uncommon enough that nobody will be able to spell, remember, or pronounce the name.
Their name doesn't match their genre, like an author of chick lit romance named Marc MacRobertson. (Note that I'm counting name type and gender under the same point, here.)
They don't want their writing career to potentially interfere with their day-to-day life, sometimes because they write in a genre some object to (erotica?) or due to how employers or clients will view their writing (like a doctor writing medical thrillers).
They want to protect their privacy. (This has been called a "silly" reason by some folks, claiming that anybody can find an author's legal name after a few minutes with Google. That isn't necessarily true. Find mine.)
They want to escape some bad sales numbers or reputation they've developed under their previous name.
They want to attempt a new genre or publishing method without affecting their career in another genre. (Example: A traditionally published author of children's fantasy might decide to self-publish adult mystery stories under another name, to avoid potential issues with their publisher.)
Their contract might contain a nasty non-compete clause** that prevents them from publishing anything in a remotely similar genre or even under the same name for an extended period, forcing them to use a penname if they want to keep the bills paid.
They might want to avoid the stigma of "Fast writing = crap."
Their name might be built as their "brand", so stretching into a different genre or type of writing means creating another "brand" name.
They don't want readership to accidentally cross-pollinate, between the two. (For an example, keep reading. For some of my work, this is me.)
They want to clearly delineate their different work to make it easy for folks who want to stick to one type of story to do so. (Also me.)

Why might an author not use a penname?

None of the above reasons apply or matter to them.
They feel that the "brand" of their name is them, not a specific genre or writing type, and that's more important to them than splitting themselves up into multiple identities for easy classification.†

If you've checked out my website at all, you may have noticed that "Misti Wolanski" is my penname. It's probably more accurate to call it my "Internet identity" or "Doing Business As (DBA) name". I use it so much that I probably get called "Misti" more often than I get called by my legal name. (My legal name is one of those odd rare ones that you've probably heard of, though likely not with my spelling. Even if you know my first and last name, you'll get a mere handful of hits on Google.)

I've never wondered, "Do I stop using my penname?" No. I'm not writing under my legal name. I don't want to. My name gets slaughtered enough in person, thanks, and I like my privacy.

No, I've pondered, "Should I use another penname for my adult fiction?"

See, I have some works in progress (WiPs) that enter "Every character's a sociopath" territory. Some of these stories, my friends have actually confessed to being a bit scared just hearing about them. I don't want some teenager who's comfortable with the dark undercurrents in A Fistful of Fire to pick up one of these completely dark, humorless, more gruesome titles and have nightmares. I mean, these things creep me out! (If you're familiar with the Bible, think along the lines of, er, Judges.)

Then again, my Darkworld titles get… gruesome, for some folks. And even the more light-toned Aleyi titles touch on such themes as insanity.

But that's the distinction, I guess. These adult WiPs are darker than my YA+ titles. More psychological. More disturbing. More graphic. (Though in a minimalistic graphic way.) Between that darkness and the detail that I also work as "Misti Wolanski," I'm thinking it likely wouldn't be the brightest business move to release psychotic titles under the same name.

Particularly when some of those planned psychotic stories will also cross into politics. But then, I've been looking into entering that more as a freelancer, too, so that's not a good reason for using another penname.

As you might guess from my use of the same name for my YA fiction and my freelancing, I don't really believe that "Using the same name for different types of works dilutes your brand" argument. As I pointed out to Kristine Kathryn Rusch in an e-mail: "Your works all interest the same writer, so why is it such a surprise when they interest the same readers?"

(A little background: I found Rusch originally from one of her few Star Trek novels; years later, I was browsing my library's limited adult fantasy collection and happened upon the first Fey novel, and that name recognition made me try it out despite the cover. I liked Sacrifice enough that I sought the author out online, which is how I found the blogs of she and her husband, Dean Wesley Smith—and I have yet to encounter a title of Ms. Rusch's that I haven't enjoyed reading. And that includes the cute paranormal romances she writes under the Kristine Grayson penname.)

Sure, some readers don't pay attention and will flip out when they don't receive what they thought they were buying. But some readers flipped out over that Homecoming graphic novel that Patricia Briggs released, too, because they were expecting a novel—despite the detail that it was clearly marked as a graphic novel everywhere you looked. That misunderstanding was their fault, not Patricia Briggs's.

Some folks will misunderstand you no matter what you do to prevent it.

So reader confusion isn't that big a deal, in my book, and the assumption that readers won't cross-pollinate is also silly. (Not that every reader will cross-pollinate, but some will.)

But for some stories, I actually don't want my readers to be able to easily cross-pollinate. Adult readers? Sure. Mature teens who like thrillers and horror movies? Okay, if your parents are okay with it, too. Your average teen? Absolutely not.

So I've decided to use another penname when I do release adult titles. (By the way, I always suspected that I might end up using at least one other penname, which is why I use that "Carradee" handle everywhere.)

Also, some readers won't cross-pollinate. They won't want to. So while "Misti Wolanski" is a name that might release anything from a non-fiction how-to article to a fantasy movie script to a YA novel, everything under this name will be… me, balanced. There won't be dark without light. There won't be grim or serious without humor.

Stories that are skewed (or in usually male genres), will have other pennames. In those cases, though, I plan to openly link my names. Just not the names for my psychotic stories or the ones for which I'm not in the intended audience.

(Note: If you are trying to decide if you want to use a penname, check with your local laws: country, state, municipal, etc. I don't have to register a DBA name. You might.)

What are your thoughts? Do you use a penname? Can you think of a reason for using a penname that I missed?

—Carradee (AKA "Misti")

*There are historic linguistic grounds for using they as both a plural and singular pronoun, so I'm using it.

**Beware of non-compete clauses. Seriously. Beware. Get pro legal help (which I'm not) to deal with them. Maybe the horror stories are rare; maybe not. I've heard them since I was in high school, and between freelancing and short story markets, I've seen enough nasty rights-grabbing contracts to suspect that more writers have fallen prey to bad non-compete clauses than are willing to openly admit it.

†This I-am-my-brand thing is why I'm even willing to write book reviews, positive and negative, under my author name. It's also why I've been reluctant to pull out another penname.††

††No, I am not intentionally channeling Robin McKinley's blog style.

Beta Reading Etiquette: How to Give Critique

2012-04-19T07:00:00.000-04:00

If you've ever tried to give a writer feedback on their story, you've probably experienced the backlash of someone getting mad at you because you told them what they didn't want to hear.

And you, the poor person who was often even asked to give that feedback, were left wondering what on earth you did wrong. All you did was answer the writer's question, right? So why, if the writer asked you for feedback, did she snarl at you and yell and start crying when you pointed out that, er, 50-year-old men don't usually go around treating the cheerleading team to ice cream for no apparent reason, so it makes that major character seem more creepy rather than nice?

Been there. Done that. Had my head ripped off and left dangling by a vertebrae.

*pauses and eyes above line, wondering if it's too gruesome*

*considers the content in her published stories, shrugs, and leaves it*

Yes, I have had folks call me morbid. How'd you guess?

Now, how many of you were wondering when I'd get off that tangent about my sense of humor and back on-topic about how to give critique? How would you have phrased your critique?

Rabbit trail.
That part's a bit off-topic.
Get to the point.
I'd like to learn about the beta reading techniques sometime today, please.

Each of those options have situations where they could be used, but they have their pitfalls, as well. #1 could be interpreted as a direct, concise alert—or it could be read as a snide comment. #2 conveys the problem, but in a mild enough way that the author might not realize there is a problem. #3 would probably be thought rude, the phrasing suggesting that you're bored, though it might be intended as a concise request. #4 might be interpreted as intended humor, but the recipient would likely believe it to be mean-spirited snark.

Notice that each phrasing will probably be interpreted in the worst possible way.

Many writers take critique personally. Many say "It never stops hurting." (Which makes me scratch my head, honestly. Critique isn't an ad hominem, a personal attack. At least, it shouldn't be.)

So.

How do you as a beta reader actually give critique without ticking off the writer? Use some basic psychology. Humans remember negatives better than positives, and we remember the beginning and end of something better than we do the middle.

Beta Reading Etiquette:

Always assume a writer will interpret your critique in the worst possible light.
Always sandwich critique in-between positives. Always.
If you're giving a lot of notes, also intersperse positive comments throughout.
If you're critiquing throughout the manuscript (such as with Track Changes), also comment on positive things and your emotional reactions to scenes.
Always include positives, even if the writer says you needn't bother.
The first time you beta read for someone, test the waters. Start out with a tactful overarching comment (see the previous list's #2); burrow deeper after you see that the writer's fine with what you're saying.
When the writer has solicited the critique: Always ask what kind of feedback the author is looking for before you start.
When the writer has not solicited the critique: Always take tactic #2 and say more positive things than negative.

Exceptions:

You can ignore all of the above rules if…

you have a well-established critique relationship with the writer. The relationship must be secure enough that you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you can ignore those rules—OR
you're being paid. If you're being paid, it's a good idea to still point out some positives, but you needn't be quite so careful. The author is then paying you to be negative—tactfully negative, granted, but negative.

Granted, even if you're offered money for content editing or line editing or copyediting, some authors will still expect you to treat them with kid gloves. If that's the impression an author gives you—Are they pitching a fit over their "So mean" reviewers?—be wary.

Anyone who's offended by critique or negative input isn't someone you want to work with.

Yes, that's my opinion. But I've developed it in my time as a beta reader and as a recipient of beta reading. Perhaps your mileage has varied.

Do you have any beta reading tips you'd like to add, either as a writer or as a beta reader?

—Misti

How to Become a Beta Reader (4 Ways)

2012-04-12T08:00:00.001-04:00

After last week's post on "How to Find Beta Readers", Kristi N mentioned that she beta reads to keep her skills sharp for her own work. She also asked:

Question on the flip side of finding beta readers . . . how does one volunteer to be a beta?

Good question, Kristi. I answered in a comment—but I realized it, too, needed to be expanded and addressed in a blog post. :)

4 Ways to Become a Beta Reader

Offer to beta read for a writer you're already acquainted with.

Pros: Since you already know the person, you should already have some idea how they'll handle critique, and maybe even what their weak points are as a writer. You might already know some of what the person writes, too, to know if it interests you. If it isn't a genre you usually read, sometimes just knowing someone is enough to get you to try reading a genre you aren't already familiar with. (For example, I had a classmate in high school who hated fantasy but loved A Fistful of Fire.)

Cons: Since you already know the person, expressing potential interest in being a beta can get you swamped with titles or destroy the relationship, if the other person takes things personally. The other person might also expect you to be interested in and/or like 100% of what they write.

Find some writers who interest you in the blogosphere and keep your eyes peeled. Even published ones will sometimes put calls out for betas on their blogs, Facebooks, or Twitter feeds. You could also try e-mailing someone you're interested in to ask if they need a beta buddy.

Pros: You can watch the person on the blogosphere and have some idea of their personality and ability to take critique before volunteering. There's no face-to-face contact, which can make it easier emotionally on both the writer and the beta. Also, because you're the one approaching the writer, you can specifically ask to beta a project you're interested in reading.

Cons: If the relationship goes south, the Internet-savvy person might attempt a smear campaign. Also, misunderstandings are more likely in online communication than in face-to-face communication, because text doesn't convey tone of voice or body language. If the critique is in a forum or site where other members can see it, you might also be attacked by other readers who see the critique—even if the writer's perfectly fine with your input.

Hang out in the "critique" sections on forums that promote work sharing. (On a lot of forums, these sections require a password and/or special membership, because otherwise anyone who posts their work in the forum is giving up first rights.)

Pros: The community's (presumably) built upon critique, and the members will (presumably) be professional about the giving and receiving of it.

Cons: The community might presume wrong about its goals and professionalism. It might not offer the kind of critique you need, or it might have members whose idea of "critique" is to rip your work to shreds and rebuild it in their own writing styles. The community may not have members representative of the intended audience for your work.

Visit a free-to-post site like FictionPress.com or even a fan fiction site.

Pros: Lots of stories to pick through, so you can probably find something you want to read. If you want to give a specific kind of critique, you can probably find that, too.

Cons: Lots of stories to sift through, with poor grammar and sentence structure and such. Lots of immature writers who will ask you for critique then pitch a fit if you give it, or who will see you giving someone else critique and come after you for it. You will come under attack, if you pursue this route.

Pay-to-post sites aren't worth signing up for.

They attract the professional critic—the kind of people who will mock you for "misspelling" the word fairy as faerie and give you all-around idiotic advice. ("No, don't have your older, proper, mature woman say 'Came with child'! Have her say 'Knocked up!'")

For the record, I do appreciate the experience of having been on a pay-to-post site—thanks, Grandma and Grandpa—but I strongly advise against others doing it in the hopes of getting or giving critique.

Warning about Volunteering as a Beta Reader:

Writers can be a fickle lot. How many of us have politely pointed out a plot inconsistency 20 chapters into someone's work-in-progress and had the writer and other readers of the story lambaste us for "hating the story"? *raises hand*

Or encountered a writer who claimed to want "honest" feedback but got defensive and tackled and verbally attacked when we gave it? *raises hand*

Or gave a friend the critique she requested and have her not talk to us again until we managed to approach her and figure out what we'd said wrong, and until she accepted our explanation of where we were coming from (assuming she let you smooth things over)? *raises hand*

Or given requested critique on a story only to have the author (or another reader) troll and trash our own story or stories? *raises hand*

If your hand isn't raised, just wait. If you beta heavily, you'll probably end up encountering situations like those, particularly if you don't screen the writers before offering to beta read.

A sign that the writer isn't ready for a face-to-face critique: The writer calls their writing their "baby". Even if the writer uses the term in depreciating good humor, the anthropomorphizing of the story suggests that the writer might take critique of the story as critique of themselves.

…And all this gives me an idea for another related post, "Beta Reading Etiquette" (or: "Beta Reading Techniques to Use to Avoid Ticking Off Writers"). Anyone interested?

What method do you like using for finding writers to beta? Have any beta-reading stories to share (identifying details redacted, please)?

—Misti

How to Find Beta Readers

2012-04-05T08:10:00.001-04:00

Last week, Carmen asked:

I’m still on the first draft of my first novel. When do I start looking for a critique group or beta readers? How do I find them?

Great questions. :) I answered in a comment, but let's go into a bit more detail.

When do I start looking for a critique group or beta readers?

When to Start Seeking Beta Readers:

Common advice is to wait until you have a complete edition before you seek a beta. Reason: Your beta reader(s) can negatively influence how you write your manuscript. For example, if you want to make the hero of your romance novel a fat man who can't adhere to a diet to save his life, and your beta says "Ew! Nobody will want to read that!"—it'll likely influence you to change your hero.

Changing your story to fit someone else's expectations isn't want you want to do, particularly when you're starting out. If you choose to do that later, as in ghostwriting or writing something for a specific market opening, fine. (Not everyone can do that, by the way.)

But when you're starting out, your primary concern should be telling the story you want to tell or read. Not the one you think is wanted by readers.

Once you have some experience with writing and receiving critique, you can figure out if "in-progress" betas help or hinder you.

Personally, I work well having "in-progress" betas and "final version" betas (plural) for each project, but I'm unusual. I've not met many other writers like me—but then, I don't know any other writers who had many friends willing to say "This sucks" about their work, either. :) I tend to be brutally honest, and my friends return the favor.

My one friend whines, "Another vampire story? When will you write something without vampires for me to read?"; another grimaces and says, "Another unreliable narrator? No, thanks; I don't want to read it." I don't mind their reactions one bit. I keep my eyes peeled for stories those two friends will like.

So they're uninterested in most of my work. That doesn't bother me. It's due to those stories not matching their interests, not because I'm a schlock writer. That distinction usually takes time to learn, and is why you need to be very careful when seeking beta readers.

How do I find [beta readers]?

How to Find Beta Readers:

Consider what you want out of a beta reader. What would your ideal beta reader look like? A reader, to give basic input? Another writer, to be critical? Someone from another country, to make sure your descriptions make sense?

Once you know that, consider if you know anyone like that. If not, check places where you have an online presence; ask folks you know if they know anyone who might be interested.

If you still can't find a beta, find a writer's forum and check for any open threads asking for betas. If necessary, you can make such a thread.

Personally, I'm careful to match up story types with what I know those readers like. Once, when I needed fast input because I was submitting the short story to a contest, I put a call out on Twitter and got someone to help me. (Thanks, Phoenix Sullivan!)

But if you can find someone who doesn't usually read your genre who's interested in reading your piece, that can be handy, too. You just want to be extra careful when reading their feedback. (See my below warning.)

Warning about Beta Readers:

Finding a good beta for you will probably be a learning process. Betas are good for identifying problem areas, but even other writers might misidentify a problem's cause or how to fix it. So don't be too eager and blindly apply all changes recommended by the beta.

Example: My first "novel" I wrote as a teenager, my friends read it and said they got confused about who was who because the names were too similar. Eventually, I realized the story had way too many main characters. They had the problem right, but not the cause.

Also, some betas overstep their bounds and try to put their own techniques and writing style in your work.

So don't assume that a beta reader's right, but also don't assume they're wrong. Particularly if you're newer to writing, your first reaction to critique will probably be a knee-jerk "How dare you!" or "I suck!" reaction.

Take a deep breath and consider the critique. Try to figure out what made the beta reader say that.

And keep writing.

Do you have betas? How do you find betas? What do you do when your current betas are all busy or uninterested in a piece?

—Misti

ETA: I keep meaning to add this—there was something in the water the morning I wrote this, and Jami Gold came up with a great post connected on the beta reader topic. Go check it out!

A Caveat about Self-Editing

2012-03-29T07:00:00.000-04:00

Editing comes in multiple types, and the definitions about those types will differ depending on whom you ask, but something needs to be borne in mind when self-editing:

Writers cannot judge their own level of effectiveness.

That's true for short stories, magazine articles, ad copy—all of it. (I know I've commented on this before, but this wasn't the primary focus of that post, and I want to be clear.)

Writers know what effects they intend to have on the reader. Those intentions affect how writers perceive their own writing.

So while I do believe that some writers can often accurately identify when a piece is effective, and that some writers can identify what prevents a piece from being effective, I do not believe that writers can trust themselves to identify how effective a piece of writing is.

That's why it's important for a writer to have betas, or a trusted "first reader"—one or more persons whose judgment they trust, willing to read their stuff and tell them if it works or not. (Or to tell the writers how their writing works. All of us sometimes come up with things that convey completely the wrong moods from what we intended.)

So if you try self-editing, bear in mind that you still will want at least one set of critical eyes going over your manuscript.

Some writers work best by only having one person be that reader. Others work fine with multiple betas, though betas will often give contradictory advice.

Personally, I find it particularly useful to have a manuscript read by someone outside my personal demographic (be it in age, gender, or religious affiliation), because my demographic affects my perspective. A reader who disagrees with me about life, the universe, etc., will be inclined to catch situations where I'm missing pertinent transitions.

For example, I discovered (after I published "The Corpse Cat") that many folks assume that an intimate relationship between first cousins is necessarily incest, not knowing that it's allowable per some municipalities and even by the book of Leviticus in the Bible.

There's no line addressing that legality in "The Corpse Cat". If I'd realized what a hang-up it would be for some readers, I would've sought a place where I could insert a brief explanation. As things stand, I'll be trying to (briefly) address the legality of it in the sequel to Destiny's Kiss (where Emris and Samhain appear again).

I'd thought I handled the relationship well in "The Corpse Cat". But not for folks for whom it's taboo.

I'd entirely forgotten that first cousin relationships were taboo for many people. I've been used to the concept for some years, starting from when I discovered that some of the folks I knew were married first cousins.

If I'd bothered to send that story through a first reader who didn't match my demographic—which was "people who know first cousin relationships can be legal"—I would've known that before publication.

Do you use one or more beta readers? Have you had situations where someone read your piece and got a completely different message from it than what you intended?

—Misti

Setting Editing: Making Sure Your Trail Exists

2012-03-22T07:24:00.000-04:00

You've probably heard this referred to as description. You have to describe enough of the trail of your story for it to:

make sense to the reader
keep the reader's interest
fit your story's point of view (POV)

It's therefore handy to attack the setting (the description) as its own round in editing, particularly if you know it's one of your weak points.

What is setting? Setting is your world (where the entire story's set) and its locations (where each scene occurs).

Let's start with #1:
Your setting has to make sense to the reader.

The setting should make sense to you, the writer. It's your responsibility to convey enough of the setting so it makes sense to the reader, too—and in the proper order.

For example, Evonalé in A Fistful of Fire can produce purple fire with her magic. Since that's not the usual color that's associated with fire in the real world, I had to make sure that the fire's color was mentioned immediately the first time she did it. I couldn't wait until the end of the scene and have it as a punch line. At that point, it would've confused the reader.

For an example I didn't write, take The Emperor's Edge by Lindsay Buroker. The capital city, where most of the stories take place, is nicknamed "Stumps" because centuries before, a reputably insane emperor ordered all religious statues beheaded… and that's something that's mentioned the first time the MC encounters a headless statue in the story, and only then. Otherwise, the detail wouldn't have fit.

(By the way, The Emperor's Edge is free, and I recommend the series for anyone who likes Patricia Briggs' traditional fantasy.)

That brings us to #2:
Your setting must keep the reader's interest.

That means it has to fit the context, like the aforementioned explanation of "Stumps." It also has to be suitably short and interesting.

In other words, don't write an essay or a shopping list—or a tirade about the evils of child slavery. (See the next point for an exception.)

Give your readers some credit; they have imaginations, too. A story is also not a movie. The reader needs to see the details they won't assume, not every single detail. (For more on that, see Janice Hardy's recent post.)

Exceptions to the above points come from #3:
Your setting must fit your story's POV.

Your choice of narrator will color how you must describe things. An omniscient narrator or "distant" POV is more difficult, because the narrator's barely there, so you have to carefully balance and consider what the narrator needs to say and what the author wants to say.

If you write with a "close" POV—meaning everything, even the narrative, is filtered through the POV character's "head" and "voice"—then you can get away with a lot more. You still must be careful to ensure that things fit and that the description stays interesting, but the character's "voice" help it be interesting.

For example, take the character River Tam from Firefly (TV series) and Serenity (movie). I could describe her as a young woman, a savant, who's been surgically altered by the government to be a telepathic fighter, who lacks mental shielding and whose doctor of a brother gave up everything to rescue her and try to keep her safe. That's short, gets the gist, but it also sounds a little like a dossier.

If I were to describe River Tam in one of the Destiny Walker books, Destiny would probably say something along the lines of: "River Tam: neurotic teen with extraordinary reflexes and killing ability. Sounds like me."

Destiny wouldn't really be interested in Simon (River's brother) or in the Hands of Blue (the folks who messed River up). So having her mention one of those two wouldn't "fit" her POV.

Do you tackle the editing for your setting? Do you find it easier to establish setting for the "world" itself (big picture) or for each individual scene (little picture)? Do you prefer writing and reading a "distant" (formal) or "close" (informal) POV?

—Misti

Patterns in the English Language

2012-03-15T10:33:00.002-04:00

English is a "melting pot" language. Though it can be summarized as having a Latinate vocabulary with Germanic grammar, that's an oversimplification.

There's a reason English is often called one of the most difficult languages in the world to learn for a non-native speaker. While I'm not entirely fluent in Spanish, and though I'm out of practice, I can still hear when a particular verb will be an exception to the conjugation rules, even when I can't remember how to properly conjugate it.

English isn't so simple. Even exceptions have exceptions, as in "I before e; except after c or when sounding like ay, as in neighbor or weigh—weird, agreed?

There are, however, patterns to English grammar. Commas, for instance, often work in pairs. (I intentionally structured the previous two sentences to demonstrate that.) A sentence always begins with a capital letter (which leads to the rule that any number at the beginning of a sentence must be spelled out, not in Arabic numerals). A sentence always has ending punctuation.

There are even patterns to the spelling of word families. For example, a lot of French-origin nouns have a masculine and feminine form, with the feminine denoted by an e on the end. Blond (male)/blonde (female), fiancé (male)/fiancée (female), and debutant (male)/debutante (female) are the three I encounter most often.

So when you're editing or spelling things, look for patterns.

They do exist.

Watch for them. It might just help you understand the English language better.

And frankly, I also find it helpful to think in terms of patterns when I'm picking up words in a foreign language or when I'm creating a fictional language.

Have you ever noticed patterns in the English language? Are there any you find particularly useful?

—Misti

Sorry for the Silence…

2012-03-08T19:47:00.001-05:00

Internet was down for most of the day. It's only now come back up, and it's too late in the evening for me to write a good, coherent post. (Recovering from my second virus in as many weeks. Crash, much.)

Be back next week. I'll add an extra post in there, if I can.

—Misti

Self-Editing and the Rule of Two

2012-03-01T07:45:00.000-05:00

Continuing the "Realities of Self-Editing" series, have you heard of the rule of two, that it's best to keep no more than two paragraphs of the same type beside each other? Jami Gold recently reminded me about it.

This guideline works as a general rule of thumb for many genres, fiction and non-fiction alike. The goal is to keep things 1) clear and 2) interesting for the reader.

The paragraph "type" is its function: dialogue, , narrative, action, exposition, thoughts, backstory, etc. (Note that in non-fiction, things like definition, explanation, and quotation apply.)

So, do you have more than two paragraphs of dialogue in a row? There should probably be some action or POV emotion in there.

Have you a block quote in your essay? Does it truly need to be that long?

Some genres and audiences can go beyond the rule of two for particular types of paragraphs. High fantasy, for example, can be heavier on the description and exposition, while a thriller might go above and beyond on the backstory.

The rule of two is simple. Applying it, though, can be a bit more difficult.

First, you have to know what your intended audience will expect and accept.

Second, you have to be able to see the different paragraph types. Some folks eyeball it. Others use different-colored highlighters to mark every piece of their text according to what type it is. (This highlighted copy might be a print copy, or it might be a draft that's in their word processor, taking advantage of the highlighter function.)

Most likely, you'll have some type(s) of paragraphs that you're prone to overusing, and others you're prone to underusing. The POV you write in can influence this.

But there's a way to help yourself write more balanced text, and here's the most efficient method I've found: Make yourself write a short story in the opposite extreme.

For example, I'm prone to text that's heavy on the dialogue and light on the setting. (You should see the original version of A Fistful of Fire.) When I realized that, I made myself write a short story that's almost all monologue and description.

That short story's actually how I got started writing scripts, since I was struggling with one aspect of it and my English professor at the time said I'd combined short story and playwriting techniques. I had no clue how to write a play, so I signed up for the playwriting class, the following term. And therein discovered I'm pretty good at scripts.

Writing a short story in the opposite extreme does a world of good. I'm actually due for writing another one.

Do you use the rule of two or some other rule of thumb when looking at your writing? Can you think of genre exceptions to the rule of two?

—Misti

*Explanation is not a paragraph type and should be avoided, unless you're writing a Sherlock Holmes-type mystery. Even then, be careful not to overdo it.

Character Editing: The Features of Your Nature Trail

2012-02-23T09:08:00.000-05:00

Character editing could be considered either "big picture" editing or "little picture" editing, depending on what aspect of the character(s) you're editing.

First is the question "Does this character work?" For my first expanded draft of A Fistful of Fire, the answer was "No." Evonalé was downright whiny, as one friend told me when she couldn't get through the first section.

That whining happened because I had too much paranoia in there, too much of one feature. It's like having a nature trail that's in a forest, but 90% of the trees are all oaks. Some folks will still enjoy it just because they like trees, but people tend to prefer some variety in what they see.

And then there's the question "Does this line work?" This question comes in when you're giving the characters individual voices, their own preferred words, their own vocal quirks*—and when you're making sure that the character's coming across the way you intended.

I had to ask that question in every paragraph and line of every scene as I edited A Fistful of Fire so Evonalé wouldn't be unbearably whiny. But even that is a little-picture application of a big-picture edit.

Writing Destiny's Kiss put me face-to-face with the "little picture" form of "Does this line work?":

With what's already in the scene, does this line go overboard?

Destiny's Kiss features a vampire, Ambrogino Romazzo, who's… an unusual blend of traits, in part because he's had to raise his little sister, who's the narrator's age. The narrator has to figure out if he's a nice guy or a creep, and one little line garnered beta comments that it went too far in the wrong direction.

Granted, I've also received "Ick!" comments on the pair of first cousins who are also a couple in "The Corpse Cat". Folks' "too much" meters differ from each other, but too much of anything will wreck your character.

Nice contradiction there, no?

All you can do is make sure the features balance out and don't all congregate in a particular section. Vary up the oak trees with maple and apple and shrubbery—and intersperse them appropriately, so the reader doesn't get distracted by a sudden willow when no creek's been built to water it.

Having a trusted first reader of a different upbringing than you can help find these sorts of problems—because folks with your same upbringing will probably make the same assumptions you do, understand things the same way, so they won't catch when you leave out character motivations and such—they'll understand what you meant.

At least, folks with similar upbringing to you will be more likely to understand what you meant.

Have you ever read something where a single aspect or line made the character not work? What about written something where something made the character come across differently than how you wanted? Who caught it?

—Misti

*For an example with fantastic individual voices for the characters, I recommend Chime by Franny Billingsley.

Plot Editing: Your Muse's Nature Trail Type(s)

2012-02-17T09:01:00.000-05:00

Last week, we discussed—well, I monologued on—structural editing, comparing it to the paint that marks a nature trail. Another form of "big picture" editing is plot editing, which can be compared to determining the type of trail your muse follows.

Plot editing has one goal: to answer yes to the question "Do the events of this piece of writing line up?"

Does each event naturally lead to the other? Was anything forced? Was anything missing?

One way to find missing parts, by the way, is to look at each event and consider what would happen if that event occurred elsewhere, elsewhen, or to someone else. What else could or would or should result?

For example, let's say one character kills someone. What's the logical result in real life? The authorities find the body, and there's an investigation, maybe some arrests and a trial. If that standard due process doesn't happen, why not? Is killing legal in that story "world"? Was it somewhere nobody would know? Maybe the character is one of the authorities, who killed someone in the line of duty (which has its own set of "logical results" that stem from it).

If your story deviates from standard perceptions of reality (insofar as they are standard), you need to know it, and your story has to support and explain it.

That means you also need causes and effects, so you also want to look at every event in your story and make sure they fit. You might not reveal everything in order, but it does have to occur in order.

I could name one traditionally published novel* where the protagonist is (presumably) more aggressive than usual—before the event that the book later gives as the cause for her unusually high aggression. Personally, I suspect that error was added in the editing. But as a reader, I find myself reluctant to try the author again, even though I think it was her debut novel and it had a few more signs of probable editing damage.

Plot editing, paying attention to the order of things, is meant to avoid situations like that.

There's a reason that skittish little Evonalé pretty much kicks and screams in the end of A Fistful of Fire**; but that fit of temper had causes, which appear in the story, and even her temper itself doesn't come out of nowhere.

(Yes, I realize I'm overlapping "plot editing" with "character editing", here. They're intertwined.)

To include that event—Evonalé losing her temper and pitching a fit—I had to set up previous events that demonstrated: 1) she had a temper; 2) she would blow her top over certain things, despite her skittishness; 3) the ending event was one of those things; 4) she would display her fit of temper that way; and 5) the ending event would actually happen. (Which required quite a bit of setup that I can't say for spoiler reasons—but a political and several previous character events connect to that one.)

So that fairly straightforward plot event required a minimum of 5 things, depending on how you look at it.

This "plot editing" applies to non-fiction, too. Cause and effect must line up.

So look at each plot as a trail. Does the trail go back down the same mountain it took you up? Is there a bridge over that stream? Are there gaps in the trail? Does it ever fold back and double up or mysteriously go back over the same bit of terrain?

To be sure, stories can be more complex than nature trails, and they can repeat and double up on themselves like a nature trail can't. Being limited to three-dimensional space, you can't spontaneously walk over the same patch of ground twice without circling around or changing direction. A story, though, has no such physical limitations.

That means it can be a bit tricky, for some books, to figure out when you have a functional trail that connects properly, and when you have redundancies that don't quite work.

But here's the trick: Even redundancies are parts of a linear trail.

Meaning, even though a story trail might have lines or bits that look like they're going over the same bit of ground again, they can't actually be doing that—it has to be a point later on the trail. It might resemble the previous one, or it might even mirror something that's come before, but it must still move the story forward.

Depending on your particular story, that might move things just a hair. But it must move forward.

If your story has multiple timelines, each storyline is its own trail. But each trail has to intersect or at least be in view of each others at the right points.

How on earth do you do that?

You could outline each storyline, possibly even more than once, to make sure they fit together properly. You could set up timelines. Personally, I like 3x5 cards, which you can line up and rearrange so nicely.

But honestly, I personally tend to wing this one, going by instinct for when I need to break it down and look more closely. And that's because I haven't found a method that stops my obsessive side.

When I really get into it, I try to make the structural numbers of my story mean something. For example, due to the major event in Destiny's Kiss being a 17th birthday, I tried to get it into 17 chapters.

Fortunately, I've managed to control that obsessively nitpicky side of me enough that I can ditch those urges if I can't easily indulge them. (That's also why I tend to be oblivious about dust and mess, actually—because otherwise, I get obsessive about how it should be. And then very little gets done because I'm fighting to make it perfect.)

I still want to write a story that perfectly parallels word counts and contains a meaningful number of chapters, though.

Do you edit your writing with an eye for cause and effect? Do you have any other techniques to share?

—Misti

*I'm not naming the author to be polite. I know of other folks who enjoy her, and I did really like one of her related short stories. She writes some memorable characters.

**I am not calling my debut novel perfect. Nor am I saying that it's an ideal example. It's just one that I know intimately, and I've had more than one reader comment positively on how everything draws together and mention that scene specifically.

Structural Editing: Your Muse's Trail Markers

2012-02-09T08:46:00.002-05:00

We've already addressed editing before you write, as well as the two different types of editing.

Now let's look into one type of "big picture" editing: structural editing.

Picture your story as a nature trail. Some trails are easier than others. Some are more straightforward than others. Some only need you to walk in a straight line, while on others, you have to hop across a river on some rocks.

Some trails are easy to see, but most (at least in my experience in the southeastern US) will have a specific paint color and pattern marking the trail every so often, on trees or cliffs or whatever is handy at an alert point.

That trail-marking paint is the structure for the trail. The markers must line up and be placed appropriately, for those who follow the trail must know where to turn when the trail curves and bends, or when it meets up for a time with another trail. The markers must also match the trail you're on—you don't want the markers defining the novice trail on a trail that features 6 days of hiking over rough terrain.

Your story's structure is like those markers. The structure defines the path of your novel—and it often lets the reader know what they're reading. And it makes sure that your story is, in fact, a story and not some random blob.

One easy example of the structure as "markers" is in the x-act structure. (X being 3 or 4 or however many acts you like to use.) Those different points in that structure provide trail markers to ensure that your story actually has a plot.

Plot is conflict. There's a protagonist and an antagonist who are at odds, whose goals each interfere with the other's even if they're not contradictory. The protagonist might be trying to find and save her sister, while the antagonist is trying to seize power using those like the protag's sister (referring to The Shifter by Janice Hardy). Or the antagonist might be a coming flood that's going to wipe out the valley, and the protagonist has to find her daughter, who's aquaphobic, and get her to come outside into the storm so they can evacuate before the flood comes.

Plot = conflict = story.

Well, sort of. Fans of vignettes and flash fiction see story when there's no plot, but I'm talking about the standard definitions for the majority of English readers. A writer who ignores story convention might find some folks who love her for it, but she'll still get dissed.

Shoot, even folks who know what they're doing and break the writing "rules" (of thumb) will get readers who sniff and say they have no clue what they're doing. For example, there's an Amazon review for Hart's Hope by Orson Scott Card that says "a great storyteller will SHOW me not TELL me what is going on"—as if "telling" itself is an illegitimate style. (If you've not read that book, the style is an integral part of the story.)

"Telling" can be used properly, by the way.

But this means that the "trail markers" of structure for your particular story will depend on your particular piece of writing. If you're intentionally writing a vignette, you'll have different trail markers than a short story. And a blog post will have different trail markers from a how-to article or a research paper.

Different genres also have markers specific to each genre. The two lead characters must always be introduced to the reader early in a romance novel, for example—that's a structural marker that "I am a romance!" Mysteries must always have the crime early in the book if not at the actual beginning, and they also tend to feature red herrings. (Rabbit trails that make you think someone else "dun it".)

So the first step to structural editing: make sure your trail markers match your intent for the story—and that they line up in an appropriate order.

Make sense?

Can you think of other types or examples of "trail markers" for writing? Have you used this type of evaluation in something you've written?

—Misti

Update on A Fistful of Earth

2012-02-07T09:21:00.000-05:00

After many false starts and much confusion when my subconscious and conscious understanding of the story didn't match up, the end is in sight…

And remember that Kickstarter fundraiser I mentioned? It funded! So that means print copies will soon ensue for A Fistful of Fire and A Fistful of Earth, after my cover artist makes print-quality covers for them. (As things stand right now, the plan is for her to just recreate the cover for A Fistful of Fire in higher quality, not to change it.)

Okay, so "soon" means a month or so, since the funds from the fundraiser won't reach me for 3 weeks, and I don't expect the cover artist to start working until I can pay her, and then there's the shipping time for the proof. (The onscreen preview thing can't function on my computer.)

But I already have the the innards file almost ready for A Fistful of Fire, and then that'll be the template for the innards of A Fistful of Earth.

I'm still tweaking some things like font and page size to try to keep it both legible and as few pages as possible, but right now, it looks like the paperbacks will be 5.25x8 inches and cost $9.99 each.

I'm trying to get the price lower, but I don't see how to do that without making the book the 6x9 size, which I don't like; or by making the book a bit hard to read.

And unfortunately, CreateSpace doesn't offer mass market paperback size. Lulu does, but I'd have to charge something like $15 a copy. For a mass market paperback. Ulgh. Not happening.

So here's where we are. Thanks to those of you who donated and/or helped spread the word, and even to those of you who just help with encouragement. Everything helps. ^_^

Now pardon me while I head to work on my day job and squeeze some working on A Fistful of Earth in. (I'm a freelancer, so I don't have to worry about anyone else owning what I do "on the clock.")

I hope your week's off to a good start!

—Misti

Orient Your Muse: Edit Before You Write

2012-02-02T07:00:00.000-05:00

If you're any kind of writing perfectionist, someone's helpfully chimed "You can't fix what's not on the paper." I might even be the one who said it.

And it's true: You can't fix prose that's not on the page.

But if your story idea is going in completely the wrong direction, wouldn't it be nice to figure that out before you spend those weeks writing it?

Thought so.

I had a similar problem when I was trying to start writing A Fistful of Earth. (Yes, that one's given me about every type of trouble you can imagine.) I couldn't figure out why it felt like such a mass of… mush, when I thought about it.

So I tried the method of writing the blurb before I wrote the story, which worked. A Fistful of Earth has 3 major events going on, and I had to figure out which one the story was really about: the political problems, the family problems, or the love story.

Yes, it's still all 3, but writing the blurb helped me untangle which were the actual story and which were only what the narrator thought was going on. (That comment will make sense once the book comes out. Or at least it should.)

Now, no two writers are exactly alike. But sometimes, everyone can benefit from a little story analysis before they sit down to write that story. The question is, what are your particular strengths and weaknesses as a writer, and what methods work for checking your weak spots?

So. What techniques can a writer use to make sure a story's ready to be written? (Note: when I say "outline," I'm referring to all types of outlines: sentence outlines, topical outlines, numbered outlines, bullet outlines, cork board plans, note card plans, etc.)

The gut check: Does the story excite you? No? That's a major problem sign, right there, even if the problem is that you fear you'll screw up that idea.
The elevator pitch: Figure out the "elevator pitch" for your story or book: one sentence that sums it up. Jami Gold really has the definitive post compiling all possible pitch sentence types, as of February 2012. (Specifying because you never know when someone will top it.)
The cover blurb: Write for your story or non-fiction piece. Pitches are short, probably 2–3 paragraphs long, and capture the primary conflict of the story or the primary focus and intention of the piece. (This can also be what goes in the query letter.)
The structural outline: Take a basic outline of the points involved in 3-act structure (or however many "acts" you want to use) and make sure your story fits the structure before you start writing it.
The rough outline: Outline down your goals for the story, which may involve the plot, characters, situations, themes, etc. Make sure they match up. If your theme is that some sins can't be forgiven, making your MC a devout Christian who's theologically required to forgive his enemies may not work—or it might, depending on other details involved.
The detailed outline: Organize your entire story before you write it, breaking it down as far as you want, making sure that each chapter or scene (or however far you've broken it down) naturally leads into the next one.
The idea tests: Jot down all your ideas for scenes, etc., to have in the story, even the contradictory ones. Arrange the ones that fit best for the story you want to tell, fill in the gaps, and put the ditched ones aside in case you need them later. (This one seems like it would be easiest with note cards.)
The research test: Research your idea, whether that means conducting the data research or researching comparable stories (or books). The author's goals will determine if a lack or a surplus of results is better. (For example, if 4,747 people already wrote books comparable to what the author has in mind, she might be pleased at the evidence of a market, or displeased that it's such a well-tapped niche.)

That's all the pre-evaluation methods I'm familiar with, just now, but then again, I only started doing this recently.

Have you ever evaluated something you were to write before you sat down and wrote it? (School papers count.) What method(s) did you use? What worked for you? Do you have any not-listed methods to share?

—Misti

(Self-)Editing and Efficiency

2012-01-26T08:02:00.005-05:00

Is it possible to edit yourself efficiently? Yes, in the sense that you can make use of different self-editing methods to speed yourself up.

By efficiently, I mean that you can self-edit, producing a quality product in the least amount of time. Some commenters have mentioned that they use the "Let it sit" technique.

While that's a good one, that technique caters to letting you do whichever type of editing you're best at: big picture or little picture. (Remember my post on the two main types of editors?) It doesn't necessarily do you the most good for the other one.

On the whole, all stories will need a "big picture" check and a "little picture" check. Some folks spew words on paper and check both afterwards. Some labor over an outline to make sure the overarching story will even work before they start the prose. Some edit as they write the story (*raises hand*).

Here's the thing. On a purely objective level, you might expect it to be most efficient to start out outlining (to check the big picture), spewing everything out on the page (because you can't fix what's not on the page—well, sort of), and then polishing everything up.

But everyone's wired differently. That method is only efficient for some people.

Some folks, those of us who are naturally best at spotting the "little picture," actually work best by cleaning up the "little picture" first, because even if that means we "waste" time polishing text that'll be tossed, it saves time by making us able to see beyond the misused commas to fully process the content beneath.

Can such a "little picture" editor get better at seeing the content beneath the grammar errors? Yes. But that requires the "little picture" editor to practice "big picture" editing, so it becomes more natural.

Hey, I've never said this learning to self-edit thing was easy or quick.

So the most efficient editing method for you might not be be what you'd expect to be efficient.

Personal example: It's mentally impossible for me to use an outline as a fluid structural guideline.

Folks talk about using the outline as a rough idea, something to be changed as the story goes, but it is practically impossible for me to rearrange a standard alphanumeric outline, even when it's on the computer screen.

The reason? As soon as everything's organized with numbers and letters, I cannot visualize it any other way. It's like permanent brain freeze.

It gave me a ton of trouble in school when teachers would demand I provide one of those alphanumeric outlines before I wrote a paper. I can sometimes manipulate a topical outline, but a sentence outline? Forget it.

Let's just say I learned to write the paper's rough draft before I wrote the outline. *twiddles thumbs* My teachers who found out weren't happy about it. So, for classes where my grade would've been docked if I'd written the paper first, I would create and reorganize a bulleted list, which I'd then modify into an alphanumeric outline to turn in to the teacher, looking at it for as short a time as possible.

I suspect it's my learning style. Most visual learners are polychromatic from pictures. In other words, color, pictures, and their own handwriting all help them.

I'm monochromatic from typed words. In other words, I struggle to read handwriting (even my own), a good way to get me to not notice something is to highlight it and not tell me there's color on the page, and pictures are difficult for me to process. (Then again, my lack of depth perception might contribute to that last one.) If I don't think to check for anything other than black text on a white background, I actually won't see that alternatively-colored text.

I include that personal story as a case in point: alphanumeric sentence outlines are efficient for some people. Not everyone.

So when you approach self-editing (or even editing in general), remember: what's efficient for you might not be intuitive, or even what's efficient for whatever author(s) you personally look up to.

Do you have any fun personal stories about an "efficient" technique being incredibly inefficient for you? Care to share?

—Misti

A Fistful of Earth Is Almost Here…

2012-01-23T08:02:00.000-05:00

And maybe to be followed by print versions of both books!

I know, I know—I've been saying that awhile, but I have something new, something that'll let me fund the paperbacks (and maybe more?) even if I have another unexpected money drain pop up:

I've set up a Kickstarter fund.

If you've not yet bought A Fistful of Fire in e-book format, head on over to there to pledge $3 and get the e-book for a dollar off when the project funds.

If you're interested in A Fistful of Earth, head over to Kickstarter to pledge $4 and get the e-book for a dollar off, too from what the price will be when it comes out ($4.99).

Other items available include autographed bookmarks based on the book covers (no limits), signed copies of the paperbacks (limit of 10), and a character named after you in book 3 (limit of 1).

The amount I'm needing to raise? $500.

If the project is wildly successful, there's a possibility of hardback editions and audiobook editions, as well. (I've listed the needed amounts to definitely be able to produce each item over on the Kickstarter page.)

So. Whether you're looking for a deal on the e-book form of the stories, or if you're interested in signed copies, or you just would like to help me out, check out my Kickstarter page.

It ends on February 6th, before 8am EST. The project will only happen if I hit the $500 before the project ends. (The way Kickstarter works, if I don't hit that $500 threshold, nobody will be charged, and I won't get any money.)

I appreciate your help, be it by donating or by spreading the word.

Thank you.

—Misti

Tricks Instead of Treats: Tricking Yourself

2012-01-19T09:37:00.002-05:00

We've covered everything from how self-editing isn't innately "unprofessional" to why it's difficult to edit your own work and how to avoid the worst of your writing problems.

Now, to get into some of the nitty-gritty of how exactly this self-editing thing works.

Can you trick yourself?

If you can't, your first step in self-editing will have to be figuring out how to trick yourself. (Don't worry; there are many tactics different people use, and I'll be bringing them up in this series.)

When you read something you've written, you see what you meant to do—the "treats," as it were. To edit and revise it appropriately, you must trick yourself into seeing what's actually there.

Not what you think is there. What's actually on the page.

On a copyediting and proofreading level, there are several options available for tricking yourself. All of them are tedious, but they work pretty well, particularly when you combine methods. (If you want to know something now, see an old article I wrote here—but on this blog, I'll be more thorough.)

Not that those methods do you much good if you don't know how to copyedit or proofread (or if you're particularly dyslexic), but I'm going to assume that you're honest with yourself when you evaluate your ability. (And if you can't edit or afford an editor, have you checked out the possibility of crowdsourcing?)

With big picture editing, however, tricking ourselves is a bit harder. We have to see the scenes and plots as they actually fit together, not how we want or meant them to fit together.

For doing this, some writers use note cards, one per scene, then organize those cards for each of the different things they're checking and take notes about what needs fixing. (Example: a story with multiple POVs could have note cards arranged for the author to see how many of each POV there is and where. The author could also then rearrange them to see how many cards dealt with a particular, say, romance subplot, and where those scenes fell, to make sure they were well-spaced.)

Those of us with Scrivener can also make use of the program's keywords to view such things. Some just take a notebook and read through the manuscript multiple times, checking different aspects each time.

Some folks do a single read-through and leave it, but the ones who pull that off tend to have more experience with the entire "reading and writing stories" thing.

Though Scrivener's keywords can be incredibly handy for making sure a minor character didn't mysteriously vanish for half the book, I generally do my scene-by-scene analysis with physical 3x5 note cards. I use a variant of methods I've read from Holly Lisle and Shanna Swendson, as I recall.

The main unique thing I do is that I don't use colored note cards to indicate how much work a scene needs (green for next to none, red for scrap and redo, etc). Instead, I put all my scenes down on white cards, then take highlighters or markers and mark along the top edge of the card. (So when you take the stack, flip it so the text is facing you for you to read, and the color shows on top of the stack.) I also make a "Key" card, with the colors and what they mean.

Afterwards, for organization, I might hole punch them all and misshape a paper clip to use as a ring. More often, I take a small check envelope and write the book title on it, then stick the note cards inside.

I'm being intentionally vague here about what to check, because that'll differ depending on your type of story and how you write it, but I'll try to get more into that later.

Can you trick yourself into seeing what's actually on the page rather than what you want to be there? How do you do it?

—Misti