Dangling on the Edge of (In)Sanity

Why I Read Bad Books

2012-02-03T14:20:00.000-05:00

I pick up books that others have trashed, or that smell mighty shitty, and I do so intentionally. Why? You probably think I’m going to say that I read suckish books because they can teach me how to write, or to help me improve my writing in some way. That's sort of true. I read poorly written books to determine whether or not I can pick out what’s wrong with them. It’s one thing to read a book, hate it, but not know why beyond “it just didn’t appeal to me”. There are a ton of books out there that don’t “appeal” to me, but that aren’t poorly written. Can I see the difference? Yes. I can. And all writers should be able to do the same.

But that isn’t the primary reason I spend money on books that I suspect of suckishness. To be honest, I'm always hoping to be pleasantly surprised. Let me give you an example. Recently I bought Tempest, by Julie Cross. I’ve published my review at OnFictionWriting.com so I won’t go into detail here about what I thought. The thing is, I really hoped to find an amazing new author in Julie Cross, but I knew the odds were against her being any better than the countless others before her. Bestseller means nothing in terms of writing quality. It only means that the marketing is exceptional and the author has something I don’t. Is Julie Cross a good writer? In a word, no. She is not a good writer. But she’s done something right. I’m not sure what it is, but I have much to learn from her. So do you.

You see, marketing can propel a book to bestseller status, even if the writing hasn’t earned that spot, but marketing alone can’t keep a book at the top of the Bestseller list. We’ll have to see what happens with Tempest, but I suspect Cross shares Stephenie Meyer’s talent for something that can’t be learned easily. She knows her audience and gave them what they wanted. I’m not sure what that is, but I read this book trying to figure it out. I attempted to read Twilight for the same reason. I continue to read the Sookie Stackhouse novels in spite of my growing disgust at the diminished writing quality as well. But I think I get it now.

Kate Quinn gave me the answer. She wrote an article for OFW recently (to be published February 11 - do go and read it when it's published) that shed some light on what it is I’m looking for and it made total sense. Talent is not black and white. It’s not about show or tell, plotting or any other single technique that has or hasn’t been honed to perfection. Talent is a mixture of many things, different for each writer. These ladies have it. Each shares a talent for knowing what the reader wants and playing to it. They aren’t stellar writers. They shouldn’t be bestsellers based on writing ability, but perhaps they have earned that place for other reasons.

Is it fair? Of course not. But it’s reality. If I could have nailed my audience and given the publisher what they wanted the first go round, would I have worked so hard to perfect other areas of the craft? I’d like to think I would, but that’s not how things worked out, so I can’t say definitively that I would have done that. I might have said fuck it and kept doing what I was doing, never moving forward, never improving.

So I’m glad I didn’t get a contract right away and I didn’t become the “stay-at-home” mom who is plucked from obscurity. Sure, lots of us say that. But I truly mean it. I wouldn't have turned it down, and I’m frustrated at the slow and tedious process I’ve waded through, but I think my path is the right one.

Sometimes the hard way is the best way to reach the top, because you learn the skills necessary to stay there.

2011: The Year Publishing Lost its Fucking Mind

2012-01-23T07:44:00.000-05:00

2011 was a big year for publishing. Whether events were negative or positive depends on your perspective I suppose. Some headlines made me smile, eager to see how it panned out. Most made me cringe. I’ve got a tiny optimist inside of me. She’s elusive and doesn’t come out very often. 2011 had her locking the door and refusing to reply to even the gentlest queries. Let’s examine some of the top headlines for last year. Why? Because it seems as though 2011 might be marked down as the year that publishing went batshit.

Self-publishing becomes the magic ticket to bestselling authordom:

Before last year, the ideal way to establish yourself as an author, and have any shot at a successful career, was to find an agent and sign with a traditional publisher. Hard work, determination, skill and a dash of luck were the primary focus. It was a long road, but a respected one where authors were rewarded…eventually. In 2011 this all changed. At the top of many digital bestseller lists (including Amazon) are self-published titles. In 2010, there were just over 133,000 self-published books released. Care to guess what 2011’s numbers will tally? I suspect it doubles, at least. Seems the old saying “Everyone has a book in them” is true. The question is: Is that book worth buying?

Bookstore Deaths:

Consider that in 2001 there were about 2,000 Borders stores across the U.S. making billions of dollars annually. Seems impossible that such a moneymaker could ever fail, doesn’t it? In the middle part of 2011, Borders filed for bankruptcy and put thousands of people out of work. Borders’ demise also left many booklovers in the cold. Although Borders was the store that made headlines, several independent stores collapsed as well, and that is even more saddening to me. Small, independently owned bookstores are one of my favorite parts of the whole book experience. I love the smell, the atmosphere; everything about them. A tiny piece of my heart shatters every time I hear one has closed. It’s more troubling to watch libraries fight to stay alive in this new digital landscape. They’re adapting, but will it be enough if publishers won’t bend enough to help them rise to the challenge?

Amazon is 2011’s Villain of the Year:

What hasn’t Amazon done to increase sales? I’m sure the list is short. In 2011 Amazon takes the prize for most cutthroat seller in the business, often referred to as “Bully” among booksellers worldwide. Amazon controls the largest percentage of e-book sales and a significant portion of print sales as well. Not satisfied with being a middle man, Amazon has now become publisher. In 2011 Amazon said screw these small potatoes, and started competing with Big Six, offering authors top dollar to publish with them. It’s reported it paid six figures to acquire Penny Marshall’s memoir. Amazon isn’t playing around it seems. Recently Amazon has sent book sites like Goodreads yet another blow. I’m not sure what that blow entails, but it prompted Goodreads to send a message to its librarians that is…disturbing. If you’ve got books listed using Amazon’s data on Goodreads, I suggest you investigate this a little before your book data “disappears” from the site.

Here’s what you find if you’re lucky enough to know about the “rescue me” program (which now you are):

At Goodreads, we make it a priority to use book information from the most reliable and open data sources, because it helps us build the best experience for our members. To that end, we're making a major change.

On January 30, Goodreads will no longer display book information that comes from Amazon.

This includes data such as titles, author names, page counts, and publication dates. For the vast majority of book editions, we have imported this data from other sources. Those few remaining editions for which we haven't found an alternative source of information will be removed from Goodreads.

Your data is safe.

Your ratings, reviews, and bookshelves are safe, but your data may be moved to a different edition of the book. If we can't find a matching edition, then your review will be attached to a book with no title or author

Luckily, you can help us find alternate sources for book editions and rescue those editions.

Rescuing a book is easy.

Just click the "Rescue Me!" button next to each book edition that needs help, and fill in the information on the following page. A few keystrokes can help preserve these book editions for millions of future readers.

Thanks for helping Goodreads remain the special place it is!

I’m not sure of the reason for the lack of notice on this one. It irritates me and my gut reaction is “Listen, Goodreads, you chose to opt out of your deal with Amazon. The authors who’ve been loyal to your site deserve better than this. You say that there are a few remaining editions that need saving, but your few and my few are very different. A note to each author on the site, a mass email for fucksakes, which means one letter, one click, would ensure that these books and their info doesn’t get dumped. How hard is that?” Another part of me curses Amazon for making it impossible for anyone to use anything but their site for purchasing, marketing, etc. But, it’s a business I suppose. The details are hazy, and this is the only information I have, so I won’t try to speculate what happened, but it seems that these “small fries” aren’t playing Amazon’s game. While I think Goodreads might have handled it a bit better, I am behind their decision not to use Amazon’s data 100%.

I believe in healthy competition. Amazon is a business and sentimentality should play no role in that. However, there’s a fine line between good business and villainy. Booksellers might consider the Goodreads shenanigans another cause for crying foul. Amazon is demanding exclusivity, I suspect, and that’s not playing fair, is it? Fair? It’s business, you remind us. Booksellers need to get some balls and compete instead of crying. But as we chastise booksellers for their whining inaction, let’s not forget that Amazon has played a pretty dirty game. Anyone recall the whole price check app? Devious, Amazon. Not cool. Competition is good, but shouldn’t there be a line in the sand between healthy competition and downright guerrilla? Yet again, it looks like it’s on the authors and readers to draw that line. Will it happen? I’m doubtful.

Self-Published Authors Get “Discovered”:

Possibly one of the most troubling trends in 2011 is the contracting of self-published authors by traditional publishers. It’s not troubling because these authors are terrible or don’t deserve the recognition. In most cases, they deserve to be where they are, and I say congrats and I can’t wait to see what you do next. What’s troubling is that every self-published author out there who is too lazy or impatient to at least give the traditional route a shot is now using authors like Amanda Hocking and John Locke as their poster kids. They got contracts, so can we. Self-publishing rocks! I imagine we’ll wait a very long time before enough authors realize this type of success is rare, and often fleeting if the author hasn’t put in the work to maintain it. Hell, I felt myself swaying to the tempting call of self-publishing. I’m still on the fence actually. Not because I think I’ll be “discovered”. I have no illusions there. I know it’s highly unlikely…okay, I know it won’t happen. But I’m tired of running the wheel and getting nowhere. I’ve done all that they tell us to do. Now what?

You know, perspective is difficult when in addition to those select self-published authors making it big, you’ve also got the Meyers and the Crosses out there making the big bucks for what can only be called subpar writing. They come out of nowhere, with no platform, no previous “presence” in the industry. It seems that they just fell off the nobody truck right at the publishers’ feet. There’s more at play here, and I won’t go into it now, but what’s happening in this industry is outrageous to those of us who do what we’re told to do in order to succeed and then see these hacks do none of that and get rewarded. I dream of an industry where hard work and skill are rewarded, not contrived marketability and fluff. Yeah, pipe dreams. I know.

No time to write? Just use someone else’s work.

Ah, plagiarism. Theft. Near the end of 2011 it seemed every week brought another dirty lying plagiarist out of the woodwork. Is this a new trend? Nah. It’s always been a black spot in this industry. I suspect that now, with plagiarism checkers at the fingertips of every reader on the planet, it’s just easier to catch…which makes anyone who thinks they won’t get caught the stupidest person on Earth. What troubles me is that publishers don’t have a system in place to catch it before they have a lawsuit on their hands.

Agents and Publishers: No Longer a Difference?

I think of all of the changes in publishing last year, the one that bothered me the most, was the agents as self-publishers trend. All the big guys are doing it; Bookends, Dystel, and I suspect many more this year. Actually, publishers have even started offering a self-publishing arm. What does this mean to those of us who held onto that distant dream of acquiring an agent and getting into the golden gates of publishing? Reality hit, and it hit hard. Ethics and talent play a very small role in today’s publishing industry.

What will 2012 bring? More of the same? I am hoping that something positive comes out of 2011’s shakeup. Growing pains always accompany change and this industry is long overdue for it. Those of us who can roll with the punches will leap at whatever opportunity bubbles to the top and we’ll survive. But how many more punches will we have to take before we see something positive happen?

I Wish I Wanted to Write Historical Fiction

2012-01-12T14:01:00.000-05:00

The other day I was researching literary giants for an article and I came across a little story. This is a true story…well as true as hearsay can be when it’s had a couple of centuries to mutate...and it sent the plotting wheels in motion. Why? Because it has the right amount of sick twistedness and hopeless desperation to make it a perfect love story.

Of course, the previous research was abandoned as I read all I could find about Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud. Who? Well, let me try to explain this story in a nutshell. I apologize if I leave anything out. I’ve done my best to keep it to “nutshell” and purge the less interesting parts:

Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud was a French poet, born October 20, 1854. Rimbaud is said to have produced some of his best work while still a teen, which is good because he gave up creative writing at about 20. Now Rimbaud, a restless, intolerant and childish soul who travelled three continents before his death at the age of 37, was encouraged one day to contact poet Paul Verlaine. Rimbaud did, sending Verlaine several of his (Rimbaud’s) poems.

Impressed by the boy’s poetry, 27 year old Verlaine sent him a one-way ticket to Paris, which Rimbaud accepted, arriving in 1871, just shy of his seventeenth birthday. Rimbaud stayed with Verlaine and his then pregnant seventeen year old wife. Verlaine himself had recently quit work to take up drinking, a pastime he’d continue for the remainder of his life.

Here’s where it gets good. No, it’s not Rimbaud and the young wife who get it on. That’d be boring. Verlaine and Rimbaud are said to have begun a brief but steamy affair, scandalizing the staid late nineteenth century souls around them.

Amidst their peers, the criticism and scandalousness (I know it’s not a word.) of their affair probably wasn’t quite so serious. You see, at about the time Verlaine and Rimbaud met, the Decadent Movement was about to begin. Libertine men such as Verlaine and Rimbaud were the epitome of the word decadence, so they could have been poster boys for the whole movement. The Decadent movement in literature was first given its name by critics of the writers associated with Symbolism or the Aesthetic movement. The name was given derisively, but the writers tagged as “decadents” adopted the label with relish. (For those of you who might wonder, in social settings, decadent is used to describe the “decline” of certain sections of society due to a decline or loss of moral, ethical, and sexual norms. In other words; decadents described the folks who did who they wanted, when and how they wanted.)

But back to the story:

Verlaine eventually abandoned his wife and infant son to live with Rimbaud. So you might think that love prevailed. (Don’t feel sorry for the wife. It’s rumored that Verlaine, a mean drunk, used to abuse his wife and son, so I’m sure she was like “Good riddance, ya alcoholic bastard.) Sadly, this isn’t happily ever after for anyone. The lack of money coupled with Verlaine’s violent temper and Rimbaud’s spoiled immaturity, along with a dash of hashish, a generous dollop of booze, and the vagabond lifestyle the two lived, caused the relationship to sour rapidly.

So, they broke up, leaving Verlaine heartbroken (we call it unhealthy obsession nowadays). He eventually sends for Rimbaud. Of course, being childish and immensely stupid, Rimbaud runs back to his former lover. This reunion ends in Verlaine getting drunk and shooting Rimbaud in his left wrist. He might have died had the man been sober, but booze tends to make accuracy with a firearm nonexistent. So for once in this story, yay for addiction!

So, after the firing of the gun, everyone’s like “Harsh, dude,” to Verlaine and he’s all like “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” to Rimbaud. At first Rimbaud says “Nah, I’m fine. No big deal. We’re still good.” He was probably in shock and I’m sure getting shot in the wrist hurts like a motherfucker, so he wasn’t really looking at the Big Picture. But then Verlaine’s mother (surprise, he’s a mama’s boy) escorts the two to a railway station where because Rimbaud has to go home, and she’s probably hoping to get him gone before he can consider pressing charges against her crazy baby. It’s here that Verlaine slips off the precipice of amusingly batshit and dives smack into seriously fucking insane.

Rimbaud sees this nuttier than usual behavior from his lover and finally says “Uh…no thanks, dude. I’ve got something else to do…like live.” Panicked, Rimbaud goes to the cops, has Verlaine arrested for attempted murder (you can totally bleed out if shot in the wrist) and then Verlaine undergoes what to him is probably a humiliating investigation. All of his dirty little secrets (that weren’t exactly well-kept anyway) get brought into the open. Rimbaud withdrew the charges eventually, but Verlaine was still sentenced to two years in prison because even back then, judges frown on things like shooting people, even if the people who get shot are okay with it.

Well you’d think that would be the end of the affair, wouldn’t you? But it wasn’t. Sure it’s where most tales about these two end, but in reality, they remained in love…or whatever you want to call what they had, be it healthy or not, with each other until each died.

Rimbaud traveled the world between the breakup with Verlaine and his death, although he wrote no more poetry. He didn’t wallow in wretchedness though. Not publicly at least. No he busied himself with several commercial and spiritual endeavors over three continents. Rumor has it these enterprises included gun-running in Africa and an attempt to join the US Navy. His bum wrist and French ancestry probably contributed to his refusal. When he discovered he had cancer in 1891 he returned to France, and despite amputating his leg in the spring of that year to stop the disease, Rimbaud died November 10, 1891 at the age of thirty-seven.

Four years later, in 1895, Verlaine published Rimbaud’s complete works, immortalizing his lost lover forever. Isn’t that sweet? Whether you think Verlaine is a total fucktard or not, his obsession with Rimbaud ensured that we are able to read his work today. I recommend Venus Anadyomène or Mes petites amoureuses, if you’re at all curious. Rimbaud’s work has inspired poets and artists for two centuries including more “modern” folks like Bob Dylan, Patti Smith, and Jim Morrison.

Verlaine did try to move on in the years after his imprisonment and prior to Rimbaud’s death. He tried teaching and lived with one of his students (Lucien Létinois), but they went bankrupt twice and Lucien died in 1883. Verlaine spent much of the last decade of his life in the bottle, relying on public hospitals and such for shelter. He is said to have spent his days drinking absinthe in Paris cafes. The French have never be known to as the most morally restricted bunch (and good for them, I say), so it should be no surprise that the French love of all things artistic resulted in Verlaine’s resurrection as a poet in 1894, when his poetry was “rediscovered.” But this time, Verlaine’s batshit craziness and his decadent lifestyle inspired admiration rather than ridicule, and in 1894 he was elected France's "Prince of Poets" by his peers.

He died on January 8, 1896 at the age of 52. Just five years after his lover, Rimbaud.

Looking for inspiration? Do a little historical research. No, don’t write the exact stories you read, unless historical fiction’s your thing. There is so much to draw from no matter what genre you write. If I were a little more ambitious in the research department, I would write historical fiction, but I’m not really fond of research. So, instead I’ll envy those who can write it and use some of these real people and their real messed up lives as inspiration for fiction.

Cocks and Clits: Porn vs. Erotica

2012-01-05T14:00:00.000-05:00

Warning: In case you’re dumb as a stump and the title didn’t tip you off, this blog is not about good clean fun. We’re about to get a little dirty.

Profanity and slightly graphic depictions of sex will follow.

Children and Clean Fiction Advocates Move Along. This Blog Will Only Traumatize You.

Today’s topic is racy and salacious, even dirty and downright pornographic. Got your attention? Good. As you any of you who’ve read my work know, I have very healthy imagination when it comes to sex. I can imagine all kinds of things in very vivid detail. You don’t even want to know what I’ve done to Clive. Is this one of those areas where write what you know applies? That’s for me to know.

My reason for bringing sex up at all is that I’m tired of porn and erotica getting mixed up and I’m tired of them being taboo.

While some of the sex scenes I write border on pornographic, I intentionally keep them just behind the line most of the time. Why? I think there’s an art to writing sex scenes. Many authors and readers don’t seem to understand this difference. They think erotic equals sex. Period. It does not. Some think porn is the same as erotica. Two completely different things. I think the readers who mistake the two annoy me the most. Why would you read something clearly erotic or clearly “adult” when you claim to prefer clean fiction? Why? So you can sit back on your pretentious little ass and judge the writer and call what they write filthy porn. That’s why. Stop it. I hate you people. Sex happens, just like shit and other necessary evils. Why pretend it doesn’t?

Personally, I don’t think porn is a bad thing; it just has a time and a place. There are times where it is inappropriate and very wrong. Like tantrums and masturbation, porn isn’t something you just pull out whenever the urge strikes you.

How do you know where the line is? Is there a place for porn or erotica in mainstream fiction. Definitely. But let’s look at what each is, not what people mistakenly believe it is:

Erotica is intended to arouse, or excite. In my opinion, it’s a tool, not unlike characterization or setting. While it may be graphic, the story surrounding the sexual encounters is what is most important. The sex does not drive the story. The sex is PART of the story. Without it, the story makes little sense, and vice versa. Erotica doesn’t tend to use porn words either. Cock and clit are borderline words. Too many cocks and clits and you’re writing porn. A cock here and a clit there, you’re probably erotic. Those of you inserting throbbing cocks into sopping wet pussies and calling it erotic? Quit it. Goodness, that’s awful shit. Sopping. Ew.

Porn is intended to get you off. Porn is what you carry into the bathroom to view or read while enjoying your “me time” or wherever it is that you masturbate. Yep. I said it. By the way, the couch is not the place to do this. Gross. Pick a spot that’s disinfectable.

Porn is about sex and nothing else. Story? Plot? Characterization? Have you read any porn recently? I have, and there is none of that. It’s pure, unadulterated sex for the sake of sex. It’s nasty, usually cheesy, and sometimes quite entertaining to read. Skill? Sadly most writers of porn lack the necessary skills to write what I like to call “real” fiction. I’m not judging. It’s a lucrative industry. You don’t need skills. I could write a half dozen novellas or flash pieces tomorrow and they’d sell like hotcakes. I don’t because well…I don’t know. Perhaps I will.

But writers of mainstream and genre fiction can dip their toes in erotic waters and that doesn’t make their novel erotica. Hell, we can dip them in the porn stream too. (Although, I’d wash my foot when I was done with that particular fluid.) The novel doesn’t have to be tagged as porn just because you’ve got a couple of nasty dirty sex scenes either. The secret? I’ll get to that.

I want to illustrate the difference between erotica and downright porn. Oh yes, I’m gonna give you a sample. Which of the two scenes below is erotic? Which is pornographic?

Scene One

She stepped closer, so that her breath fanned my cheek. Raising a small hand, she stroked my hair. “I want to take what’s ours back. You and I could rule it all. My, but you’re prettier than I expected.”

“Thanks?”

She smiled, her dark eyes searching mine. I’d pay anything to have lips like hers. Full, perfectly red, moist…she darted a pink tongue across them. I could not be turned on. What had I turned into?

“If we joined, we could have it all. Don’t you want that?”

“I—uh, it’s not impossible, no.”

“I want to kiss you. May I?”

Since I stopped saying no a few weeks ago, I nodded. My brain screamed at me to run. But where? She inhabited my head. I couldn’t run. Her lips brushed mine. Soft. Not at all what I’d experienced with Nate or Chaos. Pleasant, but strange. I opened my mouth and she deepened the kiss. Her hand crept under my shirt, lightly stroking my ribcage, just below my breast.

“This is—I can’t. Stop.” My voice sounded breathy…weak. I didn’t want her to stop.

“You are thinking like a human. It is not wrong to share yourself with another. Not if you want to.”

I didn’t want to. Did I?

She took my hand, lifting it to her chest. Beneath the filmy material of her dress, her nipple hardened against my palm. “Have you ever shared yourself with a female?”

I shook my head. Of course not. Duh, I wasn’t gay.

“Human thoughts, dear.” She whispered, pressing against my hand. I’d never felt a large breast, only my own, which were anything but large. I imagined them to be squishy, like a bag of milk, not firm like hers. My fingers squeezed involuntarily.

Diana sighed. “Imagine what I might taste like if you trailed your tongue over my body. What if you took my breast in your mouth, sucking, teasing it until I cried out? I want you to make me beg for more. Go on. You know you want to.”

She lowered the top of her dress, exposing the breast I cupped. Removing the hand that held it there, she clasped the back of my head. I let her push me forward, until I was faced with her nipple. Licking my lips, I hesitated. Darn it, I was curious. Just once, maybe?

“Take it.” She pressed gently on my head.

I opened my mouth, closing my eyes. Her groan did funny things to my insides, filled me with a need not unlike what I’d felt when giving Nate that fateful blowjob. I sucked, rolling my tongue over the hard, yet so soft bud. The sensation turned me on. I couldn’t deny it.

“Bite it.” Bite it? This had to be a supernatural fetish. “Hurt me.”

Fine. I’d hurt her. I bit down, dragging my teeth over what I knew to be a sensitive little bit of flesh. “That’s it, sugar.” Sugar? I paused. She pushed at my head again. “The other one. Please.”

I know I should have just backed away. Stopped the insanity right there. That’s it. Bianca Smith is not a lesbian. But I didn’t. The experience was so unreal, like being a virgin all over again. Curious, terrified, unable to stop the train that I knew would careen off its fucking tracks, but I rode it anyway. I lifted my head and moved to the other breast. She didn’t have to tell me what to do this time. Didn’t have to push my face into her either. I willingly sucked at her, nipping a bit roughly at the tender skin until her breath quickened. So did mine.

“Is this all you want?” I asked. Was that my voice?

“Oh, no. I want much more than this, sugar. So do you. Imagine my tongue inside you, my fingers touching just the right places. Men know nothing about the female body. They maul it, fondle it, and pound it into submission. Not so with another female. Do you want me to show you what only a woman knows, Bianca?”

“No.” I’d never been bi-anything, not that I’d really considered it before. But damn, I could not remove the image of her dark head between my pasty-white thighs no matter how I tried. I did want to know. And although it scared the bejesus out of me, my mouth watered at the thought of tasting her.

“You lie. Why do you deny wanting me as much as I want you? They’ve got you thinking you belong to them. You don’t. If you and I were to b—pair up, we could eliminate them altogether. We’d have everything.”

The hand at my breast slipped to my jeans, under the waistband, and down. I never wore underwear. My mother told me I’d regret that.

Diana’s fingers moved against me, inside me. Oh my, she wasn’t kidding.

She kissed that place right below my ear; the one that sent my insides to mush. “So wet. Your body betrays you, sugar. You want me to make love to you. This is our purpose.

Me and you. Come on, don’t you want to know what it could be like?”

My legs trembled. Something tugged at me, deep in my stomach. I blinked. “Stop.”

Pushing against her, I tried to free myself from her awesomely inappropriate fingers. She pushed back and we fell. Her body was light, her breasts pressed against my mine. Damn these people and their clothes stealing. Grinding her hips, she covered my mouth once more. The kiss no longer gentle, and not at all soft, she thrust her tongue into my mouth.

I pushed again and she moved away. Silly me, I thought I’d won my inner battle with willpower, but no. Diana only repositioned herself over my thighs, and lifted her beautiful face to grin at me.

“They’re watching us you know. They see everything. We could own them, you and I. They’re in fits at the moment, wishing they were here, touching you this way. But, why should the boys have all the fun?”

Please, let her be lying. The thought of Nate or Chaos seeing me doing this…with her, filled me with shame.

“Silly thing. They’re not judging you for doing what is natural. They’re jealous.”

Grasping my hips, she lowered her head, her hair tickling my stomach. Cheese and crackers, the woman knew what she was doing. My body jerked, wanting to push into her talented mouth, but the tugging in my stomach intensified into a gnawing pain, despite the fireworks sparking down in my nether regions.

Scene Two

“Lay down, Cowboy. I’ll teach you a new game.”

“I like games.” Jack lay on the bed and she joined him, setting a vibrator and a bottle of lotion next to his head. “I wish you wouldn’t put that so close to me. I don’t like them.”

“You’re just jealous of it. Don’t worry, it doesn’t compare to the real thing. I’ll need it later and you’ll be glad once you see what it does.” She took his cock into her mouth and began working her magic as promised.

Jack wound his hands in her hair and pushed her face into him leaving her no choice but to take all of it in. Whitney liked that. Jenny did not.

“God, I love your mouth.” Jack groaned as she trailed her teeth along the shaft and then back down again sending shivers down his spine and fire into his balls. “Faster, I’m almost there.”

She stopped. Jack wanted to push head her back down, but he knew she had better things planned. When she picked up the lotion and rubbed it on his cock he was intrigued. When it tingled and then went numb, he was confused. Damn it. That stuff made it impossible for him to get off and she knew it.

“Whitney, you know I don’t like that shit. Now this could take forever. I don’t have all night.”

She smiled but said nothing. Squeezing more lotion on her hand Whitney reached behind her. Jack blinked. Was she rubbing it on her ass? Oh God yes, she was rubbing it into her ass. His heart raced in his chest. Shit, he was too old for this. But what a way to go. No one had ever let him do this and Jack couldn’t recall ever asking.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

She capped the bottle and knelt on the bed.

“Why don’t you come up here and see?”

Jack jumped up and moved to the end of the bed. She pointed her ass at him and he positioned himself but hesitated.

“Are you sure about this? It might hurt.” He didn’t want to hurt her, even if she did ask for it. She enjoyed it rough but if he hurt her, she’d pout for days, even if it was her idea.

“It won’t hurt. It’s going to feel amazing. The key is lubrication and relaxation. Now do it.”

Jack eased his way in, not ready to believe she would really let him do it. If she stopped him now, he’d cry. He expected her to do so any minute, but she didn’t, pushing her ass against him instead. His breath caught in his chest as her muscles clenched tight around him, and Jack heard her soft moan followed by the unmistakable hum of the vibrator. Opening his eyes he watched her place it first against herself and then just under his balls.

“Sweet Jesus,” Was that his voice?

“See, Jack? When I’m done, I’ll just help you along with my friend here and everyone is happy.” She moved the vibrator back to herself and pushed against him so that he was all the way in.

“Nguh,” Jack grunted. Nguh? He didn’t care how he sounded anymore. This was just too fucking good to be true.

“That’s what I’m talking about. Now push, Cowboy. You can move around a bit.”

He snapped out of his shocked stupor and moved in and out. The sight of her bent like that would have been enough to end it without her lotion. She cried out and pushed the vibrator inside of her and it hummed against him. Jack nearly fainted, his heart racing painfully in his chest.

Can’t tell which is which? Well, the content of the scene is not what makes something porn or erotica. It’s the purpose of the scene and the writing that surrounds it. That is the secret. Easy, yes?

Think of the second scene as a short story. Imagine Jack picks Whitney up at a bar and this is the result, the ending would be their climax. (gigglesnort) Make it about twice as graphic, with fewer pretty words and proper sentences, more cocks and whatnot, and you’ve got what sells as porn these days.

This is actually a scene out of The Legend of Jackson Murphy, which is mainstream fiction with a pornographic scene or two mixed in. Are the scenes necessary to plot? Yes. Do they need to be in so much detail? Not at all. This is what pushes them into the porn zone. I could take them out, fade to black, be a bit vague, or simply have Jack talk about the sex that occurred, but what would be the fun in that? I included it for a reason and it wasn’t intended to shock. This scene is the single scene that every one of my beta readers remembers. And they aren’t disgusted because it fits the plot and it fits the characters. I didn’t just pull it out of my ass (excuse the pun) to add interest to the story.

The first scene is from a work in progress, I haven’t quite tweaked the ending enough to consider it a finished draft. You’ll probably notice I have some tweaking to do within the scene too. Sorry for the “roughness”. It is one of a few sexual encounters in this particular work. None of them include the same two people. The entire novel is (hopefully) thick with sexual tension.

But is it porn or erotica or is it genre with erotic elements? Erotica. The focus is on the story, but the erotic elements are crucial to the plot and characterization. Part of the underlying theme is how society influences what we view as right and wrong. Society influences sexual…activities very much. Imagine if no one would judge you for what you did or who you did it to? Wouldn’t that be fantastic? What if monogamy was a choice and not an expectation? Would we see so many people sharing their bodies with just one person forever and ever? I doubt it. Without the sex, it’s just me babbling on about these theories in a narrative that would be quite boring if you ask me.

So there you have it. Porn and erotica are not the same. They aren’t bad either. If your novel calls for sex, then use one or the other. It’s okay. To keep it tasteful, or to keep it…real, make sure that it’s necessary. Don’t chicken out though. If you’re going to write a sex scene you need to bite the bullet and avoid euphemisms like loins, love caves and shafts, but also go easy on the clits and cocks. Okay? Great. I look forward to being aroused by your work. Writing work. Pervs.

I've Waited for 2012 for Too Long

2011-12-31T23:08:00.000-05:00

And so it begins. Although the original launch for On Fiction Writing was scheduled for October 12, 2011, I think it's fitting that delays and problems caused us to push the date to January 1, 2012. Why? The year is only just starting and already I've accomplished a goal I've dreamed of crossing off the list for several years. Do something big with my career that not only helps me, but that gives back to everyone who supported me through this crazy process. On Fiction Writing is that "something big".

No, I've still not landed "the contract" and I haven't published any of my novels just yet, but my goals are broad and publication is a small, but important part of them. 2011 was a year of enormous growth for me both personally and professionally. I learned to look at the "Big Picture" rather than focus on the minor details. I would love to traditionally publish. I'm not going to say that it doesn't matter to me at all, because it does. However, it's not my only option and it took me a long time to admit that to myself.

But when I peruse the amazing thing I created with Carlos, and I realize just how many amazing and talented people have supported us through every step of this insanity, I'm filled with pride in what we've accomplished here. It's a feeling that personally, I'm not really familiar with. Sure, I'm proud of my kids and other things in my life, but these are things that are going to be what they're going to be with or without me. I don't have to do a whole lot for them to be great. They simply are. This site and Writer's Companion are both packed with my blood, sweat and tears and damn it, I'm patting myself on the back and raising a glass of blackberry wine to all of my hard work. (Of course, to your hard work Carlos and to yours Luis, Veronica, Wendy, Paul, Henry, Katrina, Laura, Mike, Donna, Rita, TJ, Laura, Karmick Solutions [our programmers] and so many more that I know I've forgotten to mention.)

For all of you who have supported me here on the Edge, enduring my long rants, my crazy tangents and my moody weirdness, I want to offer 6 months free membership so that you can see all that we've created with this site. Just use coupon code XM827 when registering and you can wander OFW free of charge until June. After that it's less than $1 per day. Share the code with whoever you want. Although, after January, it expires. Let's see how many writers we can bring to the dark side before then.

Welcome to our dream, which we like to call "The Tribe".

Countdown to Awesome: 5 Days

2011-12-26T16:13:00.000-05:00

In less than one week, on January 1, 2012, Carlos J. Cortes and I will see a dream realized. It is a dream that has taken three very long years and many tantrums and tears (me the tantrums, Carlos the tears, although he’ll never admit that) to accomplish.

Will it be everything we imagined? Probably not right away. But eventually, yes it will. How can I be certain of that? I refuse to have it any other way, and I will work as hard as I have to in order to see the dream become full reality. I pity anyone who stands in my way.

What the hell am I talking about? On Fiction Writing: The Website. As we said in the Writer’s Companion, everything has a beginning. Ideas are no exception. The concept for this website and the book began with a “wistful breath held in a clenched fist, and that breath set the dice in motion. The idea crystallized during a transatlantic telephone conversation between Renée (the long) and Carlos (the short).”

It started with the book. We wanted to compile a reference manual that would serve as a writer’s best friend; a constant companion. As the idea blossomed and took hold of our imaginations and our hearts, it mutated, expanding to much more. Carlos started it with a couple of questions, and damn my easily corrupted brain, he had me at “What if…”

What if there was a place dedicated to writers? Imagine a writer’s website that was more than a haunt, more than just a critique group or online forum.

What if a place existed that met the needs of all writers at any skill level? What if it enabled industry professionals of all kinds to connect and exchange knowledge and skills and build careers based on trust and respect?

Just think of what it would be like to enter a tribe where you are welcome simply for being what you are; where you are encouraged to speak your mind, to criticize perceived wrongs and not be ostracized because your opinion is not the popular one?

Imagine having the ability to hone your craft and to build your platform, having the chance to spread your creative wings in a supportive and nurturing environment. No ass kissing or pretentiousness. Just real people doing what they love to do. What if there was a place that put authors first?

We have it.

When Carlos first put the idea out there, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wanted it more than I’d wanted anything in a long while. It felt so right, so perfectly suited to my goals that it felt…too good to be something I should attempt to do. It’s surely too big an endeavor for me to manage. Who the hell did I think I was? Why would anyone want to join a site built by me—a nobody? I mean, we’re both (Carlos and I) loonier than Aunt Mary after too much eggnog.

But then I realized, shit I’ve been dividing my time between several sites for how long now? I’ve been on both sides: teacher and student. I’ve often wished I could find one place that offered support in the form of community, knowledge in the form of workshops and industry news, experience in the form of critique partners and brutal editing workshops, and promotion in the form of free and easy.

We built it. And yes, I can do it. It’s what I’ve been doing all along. The only difference was I did it on other people’s sites, in small increments so that I made no visible change in my life or anyone else’s. Why me? Well why the hell not?

But these points simply justify why this website needed to be built. Our primary goal, the ethos of this site and the book, is to help other writers succeed.

Times are changing. As the Publishing Industry groans under a mighty shake up, new markets crop up like weeds and the tried and tested policies don’t work anymore. Publishers, who used to dedicate large portions of their budget and time to polish manuscripts, have had to cut expenses to the bone by paring down their once abundant rosters of copy editors. As a result, manuscripts need to be print-ready to have any chance of publication, which in turn demands from the writer considerable technical skills. Authors are treated like cattle, herded in and out and if the brand ain’t right, they’re sent to pasture where they wait for a bit of luck to roll their way.

The old way of getting published isn’t working. Authors make their own opportunities now and we have to take an active role in our success. Luck? Pfft. Ain’t no such thing. And this is coming from an Irish lass. I’m not talking self-publishing versus traditional or any of that tired nonsense. I’m speaking in general terms. YOU are responsible for your goals. All you need is the right environment to realize them.

We want to give that to you.

In a market awash with millions of poorly written—and horribly edited—manuscripts seeking a place to roost, agents and publishers have closed ranks to a point where a writer must have not only superhuman abilities but also be willing to run a vicious gauntlet to have a reasonable chance of publishing traditionally.

And even then, writers have a one in a million chance at succeeding. Is that fair? We are the talent, the driving force behind the publishing industry. Where’s our success? Why are we still fighting each other? Authors need a place to come together, to be one. It is when we work together that dreams become reality. On Fiction Writing is for dreamers who want to become doers.

Aren’t you curious?

Here’s a bit of what you’ll find:

Agora: A forum in which writers can discuss every facet of the publishing industry. Learn, exchange knowledge, goof off, and make lasting friendships with people from all walks of life and all cultures.

Showcase: A virtual bookshelf where you can post your book cover and the first five pages. Its purpose? Promotion. Free promotion. The Showcase is a place where you can tempt readers to buy your book. Want to know more? Send me an email at Renee[at]onfictionwriting[dot]com. Put "Showcase" in the subject line.

Peer Critique: A writer’s workshop where you critique the work of others, and post your own work for critique. It’s free for members. It’s awesome. It allows you to polish that manuscript until it shines.

E-zine: The homepage is an area full of information and opportunity. Articles by OFW editors and members (yes, you may submit your article and have it published on the homepage, we insist that you do), interviews with industry movers and shakers, competitions and writing contests, and the Rack, where Michael Keyton tortures the bravest souls with questions that require more than a yes or no answer. Mike demands that his interviewees take a position…not bend to the status quo.

There’s much more. These are just a sampling of what On Fiction Writing contains within its cyber walls.

With Writer’s Companion, we wanted to give other writers the tools, weapons, and skills to negotiate the Caudine Forks of the Publishing Industry. And survive with a smile at the end.

With On Fiction Writing, we wanted to give writers the community and the hands-on expertise no book can give you. Why now? Why not now? With the exponential growth of the Internet, globalized commerce, new consumer rights, and trading laws have fueled an unprecedented thirst for professional writing services. If writers have ever been in need of a place focused solely on their success, it is now.

Why me? Why Carlos? Because over the past ten years we’ve done little else except learning the hard way everything contained in this book and on this website.

Above all, we are mongrel writers, and that alone gives us the moral right to build such a haven. We wanted to put together a place that would be useful to us and our harassed kin: other mongrel writers. In our opinion, a site run one of the household names who monopolize the NYT Bestsellers List wouldn’t be of much use to us.

As we’ve said before, these thoroughbreds learned the craft (those who did) a long time ago and are used to being fussed over, groomed, vaccinated, deloused, and taken for walkies by agents, publishers, and editors. On the other hand, we’re there, on the street, under railway bridges, in mole-infested and unheated garages, and in vacant lots, burning the midnight oil in the company of other mongrel scribes because writing is our passion. We don’t wear a tag or belong to any posh kennel club, but we have never forgotten our origins, or how to enjoy a good scratch.

On December 31^st I will be posting to Facebook, Twitter and on various other discussion groups and forums, announcing the launch of On Fiction Writing. When I do, I will be providing all of you the means to join the site for six months free of charge. If we were millionaires or even slightly wealthy, we’d have offered it for free indefinitely. But this is the real world. Such a site costs both money and time, but we’ve arranged membership to be cheaper than a half-cup of coffee per day. It’s worth every cent. We promise.

We are not alone in this endeavor. We are blessed, hell blessed doesn’t even begin to describe the amazing talent we have supporting and working with us in this endeavor. Writers, editors, professionals, real hard working folks, have come together to help Carlos and I realize our dream. We hope it will be yours as well.

Welcome to our tribe.

Blacklists and Other Bullshit

2011-12-11T13:16:00.001-05:00

This is a long post. Sorry, but you know me and my tendency to ramble. Hell, even Clive left after waiting all night for me to finish. Perhaps I'm stupid for posting the following, but I'll take the risk.

Blacklisting is a myth. A scare tactic used by less than legitimate folks in the publishing industry to force authors to shut up. It’s not real. No one really has a blacklist. The Big Six and good agents certainly don’t employ such tactics.

Right?

Well…

In this 2007 post by Victoria Strauss on the Writer Beware Blogs, it is stated very clearly that the practice of blacklisting isn’t something reputable publishers (which is what the Big Six are supposed to be) do. If you don’t feel like reading the post, I’ll summarize. Victoria essentially says (IMO) that blacklisting is not used by legitimate publishers or agents, but warns against doing or saying anything online that you don’t want said industry folks to know about. From Victoria’s article:

“This idea is actively encouraged by scammers and other disreputables.”

“Don't believe it. It's nothing more than an intimidation tactic intended to frighten you or shut you up.”

“…systematic blacklisting is not something that should be high on your worry list.”

“If you take responsibility for your words, and say nothing online that you aren't willing for everyone in the world to see--including the agent you queried last week--you won't need to worry about who's doing a websearch on you, or what they might learn.”

I have great respect for Victoria Strauss and for Writer Beware. She and her associates within Writer Beware are a priceless resource for writers and have worked tirelessly to expose scams and the asshats that perpetuate them. So, I’m a little perplexed and extremely disappointed that she was so quick to judge Sebastian Marshall for his open letter to Simon and Schuster, and that on Twitter, she reacted to his actions with tweets like “O...M...G. Is this guy for real? Way to get blacklisted, dude.”

Wait. What? How is that possible if blacklisting doesn’t exist?

The rest of the discussion irritated me simply because it was so derogatory and judgmental with tweets saying things like he must be off his meds and a he’s a fool.

I’m not calling Victoria out as a bad guy. She is definitely not. She’s entitled to her opinion as everyone else is and I don’t believe she should keep it to herself if that’s what she thinks. BUT, I do have issue with the contradictions here. I have issues with many industry folks who can’t seem to stay on a single page on issues like this. It’s this type of contradictory behavior that has new authors unsure of which end is up and which way is right. Guess what new authors; there is no universal “right way” in the publishing industry. Sure we get tons of advice from various professionals and all of it is sound and logical, but because it often seems to contradict other sound and logical advice, it’s hard to be sure. All that I know for certain is that the right path is the path that you wish to take. Only you can determine what’s right for you and what you’re willing to settle for.

But Renee, what he’s bitching about is normal in this industry. It’s slow. Unresponsiveness is common even for bestselling authors. This is how the industry works.

It might be how things are done, but I don't have to accept it as okay.

Did Marshall ruin his career? Perhaps. I guess it depends on your point of view. Is publishing traditionally with the Big Six a primary career goal for him? I don’t know. If he doesn’t base his success on publishing with one of the big guys, then what has he ruined?

I found myself becoming more and more annoyed as I read discussion threads that focused on his sanity, his manic whatever, why doesn’t he wear a shirt in one of his videos, and “blaming” bipolar disorder for his actions while acknowledging that the practices of the traditional publishing industry are indeed archaic and unfair to authors. They acknowledge that he makes “valid points” but in the next breath criticize him for voicing them. People! Come on! You either agree or you disagree. Quit watering it down to cover your ass. If you have an opinion, then state it firmly or shut the hell up.

I read through Sebastian’s blog over the past week. Every post. Including a very thought-provoking post directed to his agent that discusses the publishing industry today. Why did I read every single post? I get feelings about people. You’d be surprised how often these feelings prove right. Carlos swears I’m a witch of some kind. I just call it instinct. Never ignore your instincts. Sebastian Marshall triggered a gut reaction the moment I started reading his open letter. I thought, “This guy is batshit. I like him.”

People who rock the boat intrigue me. I always wonder about their motivation, if there is a motivation, and what type of person they are. By that I mean are they someone who is rocking the boat simply because it’s rockable or are they rocking it to force change? I’m a boat-rocker. I don’t rock anything I don’t feel very strongly about however; so when I see another rocker, I want to know more.

His posts are intelligent and in many cases they’re very inspiring. Although, Mr. Marshall, I’d really love it if you could stop writing “anyways.” The “s” is not necessary and it makes me screw up my nose and growl every time I see it. Thanks.

His grammar isn’t important though. I’m sorry. We’re discussing the content of his blog posts. Some of them I disagreed with, some were so far over my head in theme that I’m not sure what I read, others were right on in my opinion. One thing I came away with is that he believes in what he’s doing. Strongly. He believes that this industry is changing drastically and that the traditional part of it must also change to survive. He believes that authors (and people in general) need to stand up for themselves and not ass-kiss industry executives and compromise their principles just to get that contract. He believes that if no one stands up, nothing will change. What’s wrong with his logic? I don’t know, you tell me. I see nothing wrong with it. Sure, he could have gone about things differently. Perhaps he might have been more tactful, more calm and rational in his “rant” but then he would be acting like something he is not. Do we want authenticity or not? Do we want authors to be real or do we believe authors should be a bunch of pussies who never offend a single soul?

I hear authors bitching daily about the publishing industry. I read rants and long moaning posts and articles about how unbelievably hard it is to get an agent and thus access the key to the Big Six and “real” publishing. I hear how many new authors hate the unfairness of the entire setup. Authors moan about pissant royalties that bring you cents per book that have to then be further cut to pay your agent. We cry about how many traditional publishers refuse to publish in digital format or to work with libraries to make said format available to readers. We’re frustrated over traditional publishing’s refusal to compete with Amazon and the drastic reductions in marketing and promoting offered by publishers. We rant over the way agency models are ethically insane. The list goes on and on and on. Problem is we don’t do any of this “publicly.”

Well? What are you going to do about it? If you sit and cry into your coffee or on private message boards to other equally weepy writers, will that change things? If you tiptoe around shit to avoid offending anyone who might be useful to you in the future, will you make things better for yourself? How? When? One of the most powerful things Sebastian Marshall says is that “if it ain’t happening now, it ain’t happening.”

He’s standing up for his principles, which he lays out very clearly in his blog.

“…life doesn’t just give you what you want – you have to go get it. I started being radically honest, radically transparent, and demanded to be treated well by everyone in my life, to the highest possible standard”

“Once someone breaks their word to you, immediately stand up and call them out. If you solider on after someone breaks their word to you, you’re their bitch after that. Don’t be anyone’s bitch.”

Is he crazy? Probably. Maybe that’s why he makes sense to me. I don’t know. Am I crazy for posting this? Probably. But you all knew I’ve been dangling on the edge of that for a while.

To be honest, I almost deleted this several times. I wrote the bulk of it last night and fought with myself over whether or not I should post it. I mean, once it’s online, that’s it right? I can’t take it back. I can’t say “oh well, you know I was just kidding” and I can’t change the opinions of anyone who is pissed at me as a result. I’ve functioned under the assumption that I will traditionally publish one day for a very long time. I’ve bit my tongue on many issues (believe it or not) and I’ve actually avoided topics that I know very few people will like my opinion on because I worried I’d hurt my chances at success. My chances at success? What success? I want to be read. I don’t care how I accomplish that. I want to write well, to write fiction that people remember. Swallowing shit doesn’t make me a better anything. I’ve been a bitch to the traditional publishing game.

This morning I scrolled through my list of followers. Does this matter? To me it does because many of the people who follow this blog I count as friends. I can’t say that it wouldn’t upset me to see one of you “unfollow” because I’ve offended you. It would. However, as I looked through your names, visited some of your blogs, I realized that I am truly a lucky gal. Most of you I can be certain are not pussies and most of you are achieving your goals without compromising your principles. I admire that and I should have more faith in your ability to handle my opinions with maturity. I think the reason I hesitated is that I lost a few followers after the profanity post (of all things) and that pissed me off. Yesterday I lost about ten followers on Twitter immediately after tweeting a link to Sebastian’s blog with a comment that essentially says I support his message. I lost a handful more when I questioned Victoria’s comment about blacklisting.

I don’t know if the drop in followers is definitely related to those tweets, but the coincidence and the fact that they were all people in the publishing game in some way leads me to believe that the two are probably connected. Those particular Tweeps, well they can suck it. Most of the ones I lost can’t find their own asshole without help, so I reckon the mass unfollowing was triggered by whichever was their head Tweep or whatever. That’s fine. I can handle it. I wasn’t popular in high school either.

The thing is if people really read the posts and read his blog, they’d see that this whole mess is not because Marshall wants to ruin Simon & Schuster. From what I’ve read, it’s not about ruining anyone. His message isn’t the poorly thought out result of a manic episode. It’s not that he’s trying to create a fuss simply to shock people either. This is about change. His message is that this industry is crumbling under the weight of the current changes because it runs on outdated practices and principles, and it won’t survive if it can’t adapt. Writers make up a large part of the publishing industry. Every one of us can choose to be a part of the problem or the solution, whether we have a publisher or do it ourselves.

If we don’t stand up and demand change we don’t have the right to bitch about what’s happening. It’s that simple. You want to see traditional publishers stick around? So do I. You want to be able to go back to the days when new authors with innovative or unusual ideas stood a chance? So do I. You want to see an end to the shit that’s on the shelves right now? Then demand it. I am.

What’s my message? I thought I’d stopped being a doormat years ago. But for a short period this past couple of years I let myself slip back into that role because I thought one path was the be-all and end-all of success in this industry. I’ve busted my ass to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion to do all of the things I’m supposed to do to attract the attention of the movers and shakers in this industry and what have I got to show for it? Nothing. I’m still nothing in their eyes. I don’t exist.

Maybe your writing isn’t very good. It’s a damn sight better than Snookie’s or anyone who calls himself “The Situation”. For fucksakes people, they’re willing to publish celebrities who can’t write. Publishing today is based on “sure bets” not talent. I’m not okay with that. Are you?

But celebrities have readers, a platform, a fan base. That’s why they’re offered book deals. But they are NOT writers. They haven't studied the craft of writing and they don't give a shit about the quality. Even their ghost writers ability is questionable. Have you read this shit? Are you telling me that we should all work on fame first in order to publish? What? Now that is nuts.

Upon realizing that I’ve nearly killed myself doing it their way, almost destroying my love for writing in the process, I said no thanks. I’ll make my own path using what I’ve built so far. It’s not good enough for traditional publishing. Fine. It never will be and I realize that. I’m building something that I can be proud of and that requires no ass kissing or shit-swallowing.

My message is that I want to see a publishing industry where the brilliant authors I know and love actually stand a chance at being read. I want to see authors who deserve to be published reaching their goals and watching their books selling like hotcakes. They deserve success. As it stands now, these authors don’t have a hope in hell and that’s unacceptable to me. You all deserve more that you’re getting right now. We deserve more. Small presses (for the most part) see the reality and many of these businesses are making radical changes to adapt and to survive. If they can do it, why not the big guys?

Yes, this is a business and perhaps I’m naïve in thinking anything will change but I refuse to quit without even trying to change things.

Do you want to stand up for your principles or are you happy being someone’s bitch?

E-Book Vs. Paperback: Who Cares?

2011-12-08T12:13:00.000-05:00

Is this the fate of the paperback? Perhaps. But E-books aren't to blame.

I’ve got booze for today’s little discussion. Don’t say “no thanks” just yet, you might find you want it later. Here, Clive will just hold it for you. Me? I’m already hammered, thanks.

Let’s begin, shall we?

Will e-books be the death of the paperback? Are those marvelous little stacks of paper going to be a thing only mentioned in history books a decade from now? Will libraries consist of nothing but computers and comfy chairs, getting rid of those glorious rows and rows of shelves and that awesome musty-mystery smell that only libraries have?

I don’t care.

Yes, you heard me correctly. I don’t care if e-books replace paperbacks. To me it’s not really an issue of paperback vs. digital. While I’ll miss my paperback (I do so love a real book in my bubbly tubby.) and I’ll have difficulty adjusting to an e-reader, I’ll still have something to READ. This never-ending debate over which is better or whether the evil e-book has ruined fiction for millions of readers is kind of retarded when you look at the bigger picture.

Let me elaborate on that. (Did you doubt that I would?) According to a great little blog I read from time to time, The Encyclopedia Britannica Blog, (I’m a nerd.) at some point around 2010 40 million Americans read at the lowest literacy level. The lowest.

40. Million.

This blog also cites a study done in 2007 that found the percentage of teens who read nothing for pleasure (as in a never check out great YA novel unless forced to) doubled in the 20 year period before the study.

Why are fewer kids interested in books?

Our first finger points at television and movies. Don’t point. It’s rude. Besides, it’s not TV that’s to blame. No really, it’s not. I’m an avid TV and film buff, and I still read voraciously. My generation (I’m 34 if you’re curious.) is in love with books. Most of my friends love to read. Many will pass up television for a good book. We’re not old either. (Unless of course you ask my kids.) We reaped the benefits of the “new” technology of television, the remote control, cable, satellite, on demand, VHS, and eventually DVDs. We are a generation used to the luxury of seeing as story on the screen and a generation that is very addicted to it in many ways. Yet, we still read.

Why? Because as the smart guy writing Britannica’s blog said, a visual image is “neither as functional nor as versatile as text.” He’s right. We read because it allows us to go where we WANT to go in our mind. Television and film show us a story the way some director or producer or whatever sees it. With a book, we can imagine anything we wish.

So stop blaming television.

True, video does play a small role in the demise of basic literacy skills. I’m a freelance writer. This means I write content for various clients online. Some of these clients are content mills, others are news sources, and a couple of them are e-zines. Recently, many freelance writers have noticed a general shift in most (if not all) of these mediums to video supported by text. What does that mean? It means that instead of WRITING the content, we’re being asked to VIDEO the content and add just a few lines of text beneath. Those of us without the ability to do that…see ya later.

This is what prompted me to mull over the demise of books and the written word in general. What the hell are we doing, folks?

Here’s the real problem as I see it.

The other day as I waited for my kids to come out of the school (we’re not allowed to go inside, but that’s another rant for another day) I shot the shit with a couple of other moms. One of them mentioned that her oldest (14) daughter left her a note the other day. She deciphered it after a few minutes and shook her head. Over a period of a few days she realized that her 7 year old had better literacy (as in reading, spelling) skills than her 14 year old. Both girls have excellent grades, but the older child couldn’t spell literacy if her life depended on it. She used to be able to, but somehow she’d forgotten. This mom worried that her youngest would eventually write notes for her that she’d need the CIA to decode as well.

This is a sad, sad thing.

And this seemingly senseless trend where shit writing is rewarded (I won’t name names) with bestseller status and instant fame, is related to all of this too. Why? Consider you’ve never read a good writer. Imagine never picking up King, Rowling, Vonnegut, Rice, Palahniuk or Irving. (just a few of my favorites, insert your greats here instead) How would you separate shit from gold? You couldn’t. We’re so damn happy to see a book in anyone’s hands, (particularly kids) that we don’t consider WHAT they’re reading. Many savvy little entrepreneurs realized this long ago. Hello self-publishing explosion. Hello publishers going for the sure bet rather than the skilled writer. Good bye hard work and good books.

In North America, governments spend billions to teach kids to read. And they fail. These literacy programs are excellent. Teachers dedicate many, many hours to implementing them too. No one in these areas is shirking their responsibility in raising good writers and readers in my opinion. But they’re fighting an uphill battle here.

My girls have always been exceptional readers, both spelling and writing very well at early ages. (My oldest could read and write well above grade level in junior kindergarten.) Are they special? Of course they are, but not because of this. The reason that they picked up those skills is because reading has always been a primary focus in my home. There are books everywhere. I’ll buy my kids books any time. It’s the only thing that they know they can ask for and receive without much argument from me. They’ve always seen me with a book in my hand, a book in progress on the table, a book near my bed…books everywhere.

On the other hand, my stepson and a couple of kids I babysit, who are extremely smart kids, struggle to read at their grade level. They can barely spell words that are more than one syllable and they do not pick up a book unless under extreme force. These kids (in my situation anyway) do not come from what we call a “book home”. See the trend?

Yet these kids can navigate the shit out of the Internet. They text, tweet, blog—you name it, they can do it. So what’s the problem? Are these kids just stupid? Not at all.

My theory is that because they’ve grown up in this age of amazing technology, where they can have information and entertainment at the click of a button, they’ve never learned the patience or the focus required to build these literacy skills or to enjoy reading. Think about it. If you are used to punching something into Google, and this is the only way you’ve researched, and someone hands you a book and says “Find this in there”, how agonizing would reading through that book be? I admit, even for a book lover like me, it makes me shudder. I LOVE Google.

But when you have three and four year olds who can text before they can write…

The type of writing necessary for the Internet generation is minimal. “Subliterate” my Britannica friend called it. Emails, texts and tweets require no messing around with proper syntax or spelling. They require no description, no grammar. Only that you convey what you need in as few characters as possible because you’ve got other things to do.

So at least they’re writing and reading something, right? NO! They’re reading nothing. They’re writing nothing. Go take a little jaunt on a few blogs. Go on. Look at all kinds. E-zines, author blogs, forums, etc. Examine the content of the comments. Hell, look at some of the blog posts.

What do you see in a large percentage of posts? Poor grammar? Misspelled words? Punctuation? Exactly. We don’t pay attention to that shit when we’re hammering out a comment or two. Some comments are downright unreadable. Yet, the Internet aficionados can decipher it. We debated this in our forum on Goodreads. It’s a forum for writers and I stand firmly on my decision as a moderator to hold members of that forum, who are supposed to be writers, to refrain from text-speak and to strive to write proper sentences with at least an effort made to spell the words correctly.

Do u no how meny membrs we hav that right coments like ths

Too many.

This is why I bust my ass to create stories that even the most reluctant reader will enjoy. I know I’m not brilliant. I know I have much to learn. But my goal when I sit down to write is to create a world so vivid, so entertaining, so thought provoking, that the reader who is reading it to pass the time until the UFC TwitChat folks are ready to debate the merits of Griffin’s obviously brilliant fighting style vs Martinez’s heavy-handed skills (don’t ask how I know), is reluctant to put it down. I write to inspire someone else to take a shot at creating something better than I’ve given them.

It’s not about digital vs. paperback. Let’s let the big guys battle that out. We’ll keep writing no matter what format those words are read in. Technology will push forward no matter how loudly we gripe and bitch about it. But if no one is reading…

Why Do We Do This Writing Thing?

2011-12-01T20:57:00.000-05:00

It’s easy for a writer to get isolated from what’s going on around you. When you spend a good percentage of your time wrapped up in your imaginary places and people, sometimes it’s easy to forget that there is a world beyond yourself and your fiction. Actually, it’s preferable for me.

However, we can’t do that. You’ve gotta live in order to write something people will want to read. You need to experience life, people and places and you have to be aware of how others are thinking, feeling or reacting to what’s going on in the world. Otherwise, how do you write from a point of view that may not reflect your own opinions? You don’t? Well, how boring for your readers. But great for you, I suppose.

For these reasons, I try to spend time each day watching the news, watching people, and reading blogs and various articles from all over the Internet. Part of my “surfing” is marketing based and meant to build my author platform and reach out to authors or industry folks that I find interesting or (in the interest of honesty) that might be useful to me.

My reason for writing this post is that I’ve been asking myself why I write. Aside from the obvious reason: publication, why is it that I write what I do? This has occupied my thoughts morning and night for weeks. As I struggle with letting go of old dreams so that I can forge a new path toward bigger and better dreams, slightly modified to suit today’s publishing industry, I can’t help but wonder what it is that keeps me going. I mean, honestly folks, this is fucking retarded. The stress, the uncertainty, the shit and abuse that comes our way is becoming quite deep. So why do I keep doing this?

First, I love to entertain. I’m sure some of you might have noticed that. I like the idea that someone might lose themselves in a world I created. I hate that I haven’t been able to share those worlds beyond beta readers just yet, but the idea that I might have actual “readers” makes me giddy.

Second, and probably most important, is that I am passionate about it. I need to write. It's not a matter of want, but necessity. I feel...sick if I don't do it.

Last, no matter how silly the story, I also want to tempt my reader to consider something from another point of view. I don’t care if the reader agrees, and I don’t care if I change their mind. I simply want them to view something they haven’t considered before.

This need to broaden someone else's understanding or experience is what sparked the real passion for writing inside me. I didn’t really have that passion until I wrote “I Do…And Other Lies We Tell”. Before that I was dabbling because I just couldn’t help myself. I enjoyed it and I had so many ideas that I couldn’t’ NOT write them down. When I embarked on writing “I Do,” it was like an epiphany. I had to dig really deep to put some of those words down on paper. I’m a blunt person, but this story required not only that I lay it all out, but I do it in such a way that I didn’t take sides. I had to let the reader experience it and come to their own conclusions. I couldn't go with cliches either. I had to get inside the characters' heads, both good and bad, to show their actions and their reactions from a place that was real, a place that was believable. Writing took on an intensity and a meaning that it never had for me before and if I thought writing was fun before, well shit, I had no idea.

This is the only novel I’ve written that had me bawling as I typed. It’s the only one that affected me emotionally long after I shut the computer off and left my characters for the day. Why? Because it forced me to touch a place inside of me that most of us like to keep hidden away. It also made me examine the motivation for both good acts, and those that seem so heinous and cruel that we believe they can only come from a place of darkness. To think that society shares the blame in these acts is something we’d rather not face. I Do is not a story for the meek or for the easily offended. It is not a story you can read while lying on a beach somewhere catching some rays. It’s (hopefully) a story that makes you reconsider the words “it’s none of my business”. Of course, it might be 500 pages of crap. I won't know until it's out there with readers.

So, I want to share with you a few scenes from “the novel that sealed my fate” as writer and the novel that taught me that I can write. Before that, I really didn’t believe I had any ability. The writing is far different in I Do than it is in most of my other work. I’m not sure if that is because I felt so strongly about its message or because it was such a long and involved story to write, but it is definitely different, IMO. Can you still hear my voice in it? You be the judge.

Excerpt #1

Grandpa patted the bench. “Come on, it’s time we got to know each other. Don’t be so damn shy.”

Hayley shuffled to the bench, a voice in her head screamed at her to get away from him, but she didn’t want him mad at her, so she sat as far away from him as the little bench would allow.

“I don’t know.” Hayley just wanted to be out of the garage. The smell of oil and wood gave her a headache and it was cold.

He slid closer, so that his leg touched hers. “Your mom and dad, they just ignore you. I see you looking at me though, begging me to pay attention to you.”

Hayley looked at her hands, watching his wrinkly stained fingers as they moved from her hand to her knee. She stiffened. A funny warmth washed over her. Suddenly she wasn’t cold anymore, but still she shivered.

“You want to be my special girl?” He moved his hand up her leg, just above her knee.

Hayley moved away, but he followed.

“I don’t know.”

“No one else is going to want you or care about you like I will. You’re not the prettiest of girls, too fat for that. You have a job in life, all girls do, but I can show you how to be more special than the rest of them.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

Hayley wanted to cry, but terrified of angering him, she stayed rooted to the bench.

“You’ll be like your mother, all girls are, good for nothing but fucking and babies. Might as well be good at it.”

His words hurt, made her chest ache as though he’d hit her. She knew what fucking was. Devon’s friends talked about it all the time. She didn’t want to do that. It sounded awful.

“Stand up.”

Hayley stood, her legs trembling.

“Now, what we do here is our secret. Got it?”

Excerpt #2

“What about your grandfather?” Jane asked. Hayley felt a chill creep over her.

“Grandpa Barry?”

“No, Grandpa—”Jane glanced down at her book. “Warren. What is he like?”

Hayley stared at her hands. Why was she asking about him? “I dunno. He’s not really my grandpa so I don’t see him a lot.”

“No? Amy says you go there every Sunday.”

Hayley remembered what her mom said and focused on giving as little as possible away.

“Amy lies. I told you that.” If her dad knew…Hayley shivered, she wouldn’t hurt her dad by telling anyone about Grandpa Warren.

“Are you ever alone with him?”

“Never.” Jane’s eyebrow went up and Hayley mentally kicked herself for answering so fast. “I mean, he doesn’t like Devon and me, so why would we be alone with him?”

Jane smiled. “I’m sure he loves you both.”

A lump formed in Hayley’s throat, she wanted to throw up at the thought of Grandpa Warren’s ‘love’. “No, he doesn’t. They only like Amy and Jacob. Me and Devon aren’t their real grand kids. They told us so.”

Jane frowned, a little wrinkle creasing her otherwise smooth brow. She looked different when she frowned, the warmth in her eyes vanished. Hayley felt a smile tickle the corners of her mouth. She didn’t like that. It must not fit with what she wanted Hayley to say.

“Why do you think Amy would do this? Why would she tell me that people hurt her when they didn’t?”

Hayley shrugged. “I dunno. Probably because she got in big trouble and Daddy was going to find out and she hates my mom.”

“I don’t think she hates your mom, she’s a confused little girl.”

Hayley snorted. “She’s not confused about anything. She’s evil. She only cares about herself.”

Jane shifted her notebook and flipped through the pages. “I think we’ve gotten off topic here. I need to make sure you’ll be safe, and that’s why I need you to be as honest with me as possible, no matter how much you want to protect your parents. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you the truth.” Her tummy felt hot and she wanted to scream at this woman to make her stop asking these questions.

“Okay, but can you promise me something?”

“Sure,” Anything to get out of this chair, Hayley just wanted to go home.

“If you think of anything, or you remember something that may have happened that would be important, you tell your principal and he’ll call me.”

Hayley stood. “I won’t. I’ve told you everything. Can I go now?”

Jane’s eyes looked sad, as though she felt sorry for Hayley. She could keep her pity. Hayley didn’t need it. A whisper fluttered through her brain that said Amy might have told them about Grandpa Warren. Part of her was angry that he’d lied about her being special, another part, a bigger part, was relieved at the possibility she wasn’t alone. She didn’t feel so bad knowing she wasn’t the only one who let him do those things.

Is that why Jane asked these questions? Did Amy say Grandpa Warren touched her? Was she lying about that too or did he really do it? They won’t believe Amy now, because she lied so much, but they might believe Hayley. Her chest tightened, the urge to tell Jane everything burned inside her but her mother’s voice echoed in her head. She couldn’t do it.

Excerpt #3 (the last, I promise)

“You’ve been drinking enough.”

“So it’s okay if your dad does it but not me?”

“It’s not okay for either of you. I hate it, and I hate how you two act. How’s your hearing, Mom? Which side is it? Still not better?”

Dana’s face reddened, and her hands trembled. “That was an accident. You don’t know what happened between us or why; you’ve had nothing to worry about in your whole life, Hayley. Don’t judge what you can’t possibly understand.”

“Nothing to worry about? Are you kidding me?”

For the first time in her life, Hayley’s temper turned to her mother. She stood. Her body shook, and tears sprung to her eyes. Hayley wanted to shake her, to make her see what everyone else saw. They were a laughing stock. She hated how people whispered about her parents, about Amy.

“Mom, all my life I’ve seen you happy like, what, two maybe three times? You’re always stressed out, you’re always banged up and you never ever see the good in anything. How do you think that affects me?”

“Hayley, I’m happy.”

“Bullshit. What happens when he finally kills you, Mom? What happens to us? Don’t you think we know how bad it gets? We can hear you. Every time we’ve heard you guys. He’s got a problem, and so do you. I’m sick and tired of seeing you sick and tired. Don’t you want more than this? Don’t you want to feel good?”

Dana stared.

Hayley waited for her to speak, cringing at the stricken look on her mother’s face. Why couldn’t she just shut her mouth?

“You must hate me,” Dana finally whispered. “I didn’t think about you guys that way. I thought I was doing what was best for you. God, I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

Hayley sat on the chair closest to her. “Jesus, Mom, I don’t hate you. Why would I hate you? I just don’t understand how a person can live their life like this. Why do you let everyone hurt you?”

“I don’t let them.”

“You do. Dad, your family, everyone. People whisper about you guys, they say things right in front of you and you do nothing.”

“What do you want me to do? Punch them? That’s not a solution. Better to ignore them. They might lose interest.”

“No, it’s better to defend yourself, to tell them you won’t put up with it.” Hayley drew lines on the table with her finger, frustrated, tired, and sorry she ever said a word.

“You’re wasting away. I don’t know why. What’s food got to do with any of this? Do you think if you disappear then they’ll leave you alone?”

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

Dana shook her head and turned away. She picked up a plate from the dish rack and put it in the cupboard above. The hinge was loose and when she closed the door it hung open just a little. “I don’t know why I do it. Sometimes it’s not about what you want or what you need, not when you want to have a family. I can’t explain it so you’d understand. I just want everyone to be happy, and you’ll see when you find someone who loves you that it’s not always black and white. I can’t change who I am, even if it’s pathetic. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Mom. You’re always sorry.”

And this is Suzy Sunshine, signing off.

Remember When Writing Was Fun?

2011-11-22T10:59:00.000-05:00

Okay, I'm going with something light today that requires little thought, because we've all had enough doom and gloom. Let's take a break from the nightmare that is today's publishing industry and I'll tell you a story.

Sit down, grab a blanket, snuggle up close to the fire Clive's got blazing over there. We've got hot chocolate too. The "special" stuff is in the red thermos and the regular, non-alcoholic stuff is in the blue.

Ready? Good. So my youngest has been writing songs and stories forever. Recently every time her best friend comes over to play, she persuades her to write a story or act out a play she's written. It's priceless. This morning I opened my laptop to find their latest work, which they've submitted to Mom's Publishing Company. I couldn't resist sharing it. She'll kill me later but it's worth making you all smile.

Here is it, unedited and completely original.

Lola and Destiny's Jorny
by K.P. and J.E.

Once opan a time there were 2 girls tht were bffs they went for a walks and they found a portal and they were walking some more and they found a dog it was a girl dog named sparkle and they were walking and they went in to a store they bot beds for there 3 brothers and 4 sisters and they bot a bed for the dog and we bot a morior we are going to rent an apartmunt and they got free beds at the ampartmunt there were water beds we got to keep them for our lives.

We walked around town and we met 2 cute boys ones name is Dalton. Dalton is Lolas boyfriend Destinys boyfriend is Michale

The End

This took me back to when I was Ken's age (7) and I used to scribble away for hours. I'd get carried away in my own head, imagining all the directions a story could go. I'd imagine these grand places, usually somewhere back in time, with elves and witches and Prince Charmings...sigh.

I needed this today. I used to at least try to pound out short fiction daily. Even if it was crap, the point was just to have fun, piss around. Exercise my imagination. I'd spend ten minutes, an hour, two hours; didn't matter. Just that I had fun doing it. Often these daily games turned into something more, fleshing out a vague idea into a novel.

This little story, with it's almost total lack of punctuation and simplistic plot that went nowhere made me smile. It reminded me why I write. Publication? Yeah, I want it. Does it matter how? No. I want to write. I want to be read. I want it to be fun again. Just for a little while. Thanks to Ken and her friend, I've got my wish if only for a short time.

What do you do to make writing fun? Or is fun the right word? How do you keep that spark alive? You know, the one that giggles maniacally at the idea of a solid day to yourself spent creating.

I challenge all of you to write for fun today. I don't care what you write. Just do it. Something that makes you giggle maniacally. Then, share it. Let me know if you share online. I want to giggle with you.

I Like Sex. Get Used to It.

2011-11-16T20:05:00.000-05:00

I’m experiencing the review-syndrome. You know when you put a book out there and you get really great reviews, really bad reviews and some scratch your head reviews and you try not to take them personally and be all philosophical about it but really, you’re dying to claw someone’s eyes out because they just don’t get it, but you know you can’t because that would be unprofessional and reputation-ruining so you just sit at home, pulling up those reviews again and again and again…right? You know that syndrome, right? It’s not just me? Cool.

We’ve been very lucky so far to have received some really awesome reviews of the Writer’sCompanion. I’m not talking about the star ratings, because to me they’re meaningless in most cases. I like to read what readers have written. This is where you learn the real dirt. Almost all have been detailed and honest, pointing to both what the reader did like and didn’t like and I have to say, in most cases, I’ve been pleased and agreed with all that was said.

Yesterday though, I read this review of the companion, accompanied by a 4 star rating:

This ain't a book - it's a tome!

An extremely useful tome. :)

Have not read this cover to cover (mainly because some topics I'm not yet ready for), but it does live up to its promise of being THE go-to reference for Writing.

This is great, isn’t it? Well, turns out that this review had a “but”…

(One slight point - IMHO, the examples written by co-author Renee Miller contain too much sex, and not only her examples, but other statements in here. Nothing is too racy or salacious - and I am no prude - but I honestly think this book could be improved by a "G" rating instead of "R/NC-17". It's for this reason alone that I'm knocking off a star - and this is just MHO.)

Now, I'm going to do what every author/agent/publisher advises authors to avoid doing. I'm going to pick apart a review on my book. Why? There are several things that can be learned here. I learned a few things and so can you.

But first, can I just say that I never imagined getting such a comment based on a handful of excerpts of my work? Can I say that? I hoped to get such “this woman is dirty and salacious” comments over the content of an entire novel—not a few lines here and there. I should add though, that I looked up the word salacious just so I could define it accurately here, and I have to say that “arousing or appealing to sexual desire or imagination : lascivious” and “lecherous, lustful” sounds about right. Not when describing the content of the Companion, but when describing me. So, she isn’t totally off the mark.

Second, the Companion is not and was never written with the intent that it be placed in the hands of a child. It is written for writers, serious adult writers who want to improve their craft. Is it possible some of those writers might not be adults? Sure. But the content, including the excerpts, is no more racy or salacious than most YA fiction out there.

I’m not angry about this review, so I don’t want anyone to think I’m about to attack a reviewer. No, I’ll save such things for assholes and idiots. This woman is neither of those things. But her review brought me back to a pet peeve of mine. Her last comment was kind of like getting kissed and then backhanded for your trouble, and it reminded me of how subjective reading really is, and that reviews are simply opinions. Nothing more.

Let’s begin by examining just what an “R” and “NC-17” rating means, shall we? These are not ratings typically used in publishing (to my knowledge) but rather in film or television. But I get what she’s saying, sort of. She’s linking those ratings to the level of nasty in my examples. Why is she wrong? I’ll tell you why.

R ratings imply that the work in question contains some adult material which includes adult themes, activity, language, intense violence, nudity, drug or alcohol abuse or other elements generally considered to be inappropriate for a child under the age of 17. However, children aren’t “banned” from R movies. They simply require adult accompaniment. But most parents are not going to bring their kids to an R-rated movie or let them watch an R-rated television show. NC-17 on the other hand contains these elements and other adult content that is completely and totally too adult for anyone under 17. You go to a theater and try to accompany your kid into an NC-17 movie and they’re going to kick your ass back out. No children admitted. Period. The two are different ratings and honestly, do not apply to the Companion. I’ll give you PG. Definitely. Not R or NC-17.

Okay, we’ve got that out of the way. The Companion contains no explicit sex, violence, language or depictions of drug abuse or any other kind of adult situational shit. Carlos barely let me have any profanity at all. (I did slip one or four in there when he was experiencing a weak moment.) There are some aberrant behaviors described but we keep sexual references to a very subtle level. Okay, so the purple prose section is somewhat racy, but to lay that content at my feet alone?

There is this example we used to show readers what might be too purple:

He dragged her roughly against his rock-hard body. She felt his manroot pressed against the soft recess of her secret place.

“What did you say?” he queried, raising a chocolate brown brow.

“I said I hate you.” She spat, bravely attempting to extract herself from his impossibly powerful grasp.

His gaze, now an azure blue, meandered down to the porcelain skin of her heaving bosom. Tears stung her eyes as she endured his loathsome scrutiny. Vile; he was the most vile, obstinate, arrogant creature she’d ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on.

“No you don’t hate me at all.” His generous lips curved into a derisive grin. “You want me, and you despise yourself for that fact.”

But it’s not attributed to me or Carlos. Just an example. Readers don’t know who wrote that section and we don’t use examples from my work there…so I’m not sure how I’m the racy one. (I did write that particular example, by the way. Maybe this reader is psychic. Creepy.)

I think this is as “racy” as it gets in the examples attributed to me:

Each time their eyes met, the naked hunger in his gaze made her want to climb over the bar and drag him off somewhere private. Hell, she’d have probably settled for the alley outside. She’d lived long enough in denial and she couldn’t fight anymore. Why would any sane woman fight Wade anyway?

Leaning over the top of the computer, Kristina traced a finger across the python tattoo that coiled around his right arm.

He shook his head. “You’re asking for trouble, little girl.”

I guess whoever finds the Companion to be a lewd little books full of sex and raciness should not ever, under any circumstances, NEVER read anything I’ve written. Nothing. It’ll just offend and shock you

and you’ll be forced to describe that horrific experience in a review.

Okay, so I guess this review did irritate me, but not because she considers the book too adult for kids. I don’t really care about that. We didn’t write the Companion for children.

What irks me is that I was singled out as the dirty mind in this venture. I’ll have you know Carlos is much more creative in the dirty department than I am. He’s as salacious as they come and you know, I think you’d be surprised to know which racy content is actually his. I also don’t like that some people reading that review may believe that it’s just a book full of porn or a poorly disguised reference manual on the art of intercourse. Boy, won’t they be disappointed when they race out to buy it.

This is a good lesson though, both as a reader and a writer. Don’t put too much weight in a reviewer’s words. If you obsess over one person’s opinion, you’ll drive yourself bonkers. If they’re critiquing writing ability or plot, sure I think most often the reviewer hits it on the head and writers should take notice. If they’re raving about the book saying it was “unbelievably awesome” or something along those lines, you have to be a little wary. It’s likely to disappoint if other readers if they go into the book expecting the same wow factor. Maybe it is awesome in terms of plot, but others might find the writing mediocre or the characterization flat. (Yes, it is possible someone will find your writing mediocre and flat. I’ve admitted it, so should you.)

On the other hand, when a reviewer rants about the awfulness or the explicit content of the book in such vague terms, you have to take that ranting with a grain of salt. I’ve noticed that many reviewers who prefer “clean” fiction or “Christian” fiction, for some strange, masochistic reason like to pick up general adult fiction and then act all scandalized when it contains profanity, violence or sex. It’s adult fiction, folks. What the hell do you expect it to contain? Characters that shit unicorns and butterflies or relationships that involve holding hands and sharing good old fashioned pecks on the cheek after church? Please.

Before I go, I want to add that the rating is not in any way annoying to me. She gave us 4 stars despite the nasty unnecessary sexual content I put in there. That’s great. But honestly, we’ve received a 3 star review that I was more proud of. The reviewer conceded that she hadn’t read it cover to cover, but she also pointed out what she gained from the parts she did read and that’s all I hoped for in writing this book with Carlos. I wanted writers to find something valuable inside. Every writer loves the 5 star reviews, I’m no exception, but now and then, take a look at the lower ratings. See what the reviewer is actually saying. Don’t get all caught up in the numbers. We’re writers. Read the white space. This is where we learn to become great writers.

And I am not a pervert. I just play one in my books.

Living on the Edge...which is more interesting than titling this as "My Week"

2011-11-13T20:47:00.000-05:00

Angry Owl.

Hello, you beautiful people. How’s shit? Good? Good. Me? Well, you know. Meh.

This weekend I’ve had work plagiarized and I made cookies. Here, try one. They’re Granny’s recipe. My favorite. Chocolate macaroons. Mmmm. Clive’s made some margaritas too. Oh, you must take one. He pouts when you don’t. Now, let’s talk about my week.

Ever seen those article directories that advertise “read articles for free”? Yeah, don’t read the articles there. In most cases, these directories steal articles from sites where authors rely on people going to the original site for income. They work like adsense, where their income depends on how many times someone reads their articles. I’m one of those authors. A site called Swebit, which I really hope is removed from existence soon (we’ve contacted Google and many of the plagiarized authors have taken further steps) appears to be using some type of feed to upload articles from sites like Suite101 and other content sites. If the site doesn’t direct you to the site that actually owns the article, it’s a fucking asshole site that is stealing the hard work of others.

With Panda being a giant pain in a freelancer’s ass, this is particularly annoying. Google now rates content sites as “low quality” so these articles rarely float to the top of a Google search. Yet, this site, which contains only “content mill” articles, shows before the original sites (which actually own the content and published it first) in a Google search. Explain this to me you big fat annoying Panda people.

Anyway, that was only one annoyance. Four of my articles (that I know of) swiped by people who don’t seem to have even a basic grasp of how to write anything. Lovely.

Plagiarism, I’m told, should be seen as a form of flattery. No. It’s not flattery. They aren’t stealing my work because it’s super awesome (Although it is I tell you, it is!). They’re stealing it because they’re too damn lazy to write something themselves. Period. Just leave my shit alone. I don’t’ need flattery. Thanks.

In other, more interesting and not so angry news, I’ve submitted Dirty Truths to Harlequin’s “So you think you can write” contest. No, it’ll never win because it’s not the typical romance. I know not all romance is formulaic. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. But as a Harlequin reader of old (my mom still reads them and I take a gander now and then to see if anything’s changed—it hasn’t) I know that they like their stories to fit a certain formula. My idea of romance doesn’t fit that. I’m not sure why I submitted it. Just seemed like I should. I had one of those “feelings” and when I ignore those, I always regret it. I’m sure they’ll be like “Well, sure she can write, but this is horrifying and wrong. It hurts our romantic hearts! This character divorces her husband, sleeps with a married man (and oh, that scene in the bar is downright…) and then she tries to help a murderer get off (in more ways than one)? And this Thomas is really a dangerous man. He needs to be locked up, but she makes him…likeable. The rules of happily ever after have been broken left and right here.”

True, but it’s all in the name of love. If Harlequin had any balls, they’d totally publish it because this is the romance we all wish we could live…except for the psycho ex-husband part…and maybe the severed finger would make me reconsider. I’d totally buy it.

While I wait for Harlequin to say “no thanks” I’m editing False Prophet—okay, I’m thinking about editing it. I keep pulling it up, reading where I left off and then I set it aside to do other work. But I will edit. Then, I’ll send it on to beta readers. Really. I must. Then there’s this paranormal-erotic-weird-humor-thing WIP that I’ve almost finished. The ending is not sitting right with me. I haven’t written it entirely because I feel like it’s…blech. And you know what? I think this for every damn novel I’ve written. I always hate the ending. It takes me twice as long to write the final two chapters as it does to write the entire novel. Why is that? I don’t know.

Last, I’m toying with a new outline. Yes, I’ve got a file full of shit I’ve outlined and should start working on, but this idea is just nagging at me relentlessly. Time travel. I know it’s been done but I think I could write something awesome. (Don’t we all?)

I’ve always secretly loved time-travel stories in any genre. The idea that one could go back in time, knowing what we know now is just…awesome. Also, I’d love a hero from another time period. I don’t care that showers, toilet paper, and good soap might not have been invented. I like the dirty boys…unless they have lice. Did they have lice? Was that a common problem? Did people even realize that those bugs were a bad thing? Ew. No lice.

Anyway, the question is how do I do it? No time machine. That makes me cringe. I’m thinking magic. But what kind of magic? Research. I know. I hate research but it seems to like me very much. If any of you has an idea…

In case you’re wondering, yes I’m out of my funk. Screw the querying. I’m done with it. I’ll submit to small publishers that feel are right, but I’m quite disheartened by agents at the moment. I’ve discovered another one that has opted to go with the “agents as publishers” model, only this one has opted to forget the royalty and just charge fees for everything. Makes me nauseous and pissed off. Whatever. They must do what they must do to survive in this insane industry and I guess some feel that jumping on the self-publishing bandwagon and milking it for all it’s worth is the way to go. Me? I think there are other options, but what do I know.

I’m moving on. Bigger and better.

The Writer’s Companion is chugging along and we’ve gotten great reviews so far. I no longer feel nauseous mentioning it to people because I finally believe it is good. (I had this crazy oh-my-god-who-do-we-think-we-are-people-will-hate-it moment in time but that’s over now) Carlos and I worked damn hard to produce a book that would be useful and that would help improve any writer’s skills and I’m proud of that work. Now, if you could get this crazy Spaniard to stop with the damn ideas that I can’t resist agreeing to, that would be great. Thanks.

I have other projects keeping me firmly in Loony Land for the foreseeable future, so I’m sure opportunity will show up soon enough. What kind of opportunity? The fun is in not knowing.

And you all? What’s your week been like?

Chasing Rainbows

2011-11-05T19:29:00.002-04:00

First, I've lost some followers. Hmmm. Was it the NaNo thing? Oh come on. Oh well, more booze for the rest of us.

Well, the last (at least I hope it’s the last) of my rejections came creeping into my inbox last week. It was unexpected, because I assumed that after the months of no reply, I’d been rejected anyway. And it was the best and worst rejection I’ve received yet. Best because it was very personalized and they took the time to tell me exactly what they didn’t like, proving that they did read at least part of the manuscript. And worst because they described the manuscript as “little more than a detailed synopsis”. Ouch. It hurts just writing that.

Do I agree with what they said? In part. Most of what they didn’t like about it is subjective and I can shrug and say, “Whatever.” The bit about detailed synopsis, well…I had to take another look to decide. The conversation in my head went something like this:

-The first chapter stinks.

-Yes it does.

-Worse than Kurt after hockey and wing night at the Fare and Foul.

-But the second chapter is good. Why not start there?

-Because the first chapter is necessary for the second and third…isn’t it? Well it sets the tone.

-Damn it, Renee. You don’t need to set the tone. It should be present from the first lines. What the hell were you thinking? Make it work without the first chapter.

-But I like the first chapter. It’s good.

-But it contains neither of the protagonists. Why bother? It begins with a character that dies. What is that about?

-I don’t know.

-Of course you don’t. Fuck, you make my brain hurt.

-Wanna get some chips or something?

-Yeah. I’m done with this shit.

-I think we’ve got cookies too.

-Yeah? Chocolate chip?

-Oreos.

-Oreos are gross.

-You’re an ass.

-So are you.

And then it happened. That psycho bitch that lurks in the deepest, darkest part of my brain found her opening.

You suck. The manuscript sucks. Why did you even send this out? Hell, everything you’ve written is boring as shit. You’re not special. You’re never going to publish unless you do it yourself. You’ve been lying to yourself this entire time. This “author” dream is a fucking joke. You could be out working and making a decent living instead of chasing rainbows or saving pennies for a stupid editor so you can do it yourself. God, you’ll never learn will you? Just keep on trying to achieve the impossible.

Yeah, that bitch. I had a day or two of what you could call utter depression and then the real me, the one who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to step on/crush anyone to get it, came out to play.

First, the manuscript can use some work. Manuscripts can ALWAYS use more work. That’s not something that should shock me. Second, I am an author. I’ve published short fiction, over 1000 articles (that someone else paid me for), and that little book Carlos and I wrote, which is doing well so far. Just because I haven’t achieved my primary goal does not mean that I suck, it means I haven’t been chasing the right rainbows.

The rejection still stings and I’ll probably wince every time I read it. Oh yes, I’m keeping this one. As I said, it’s the best and worst I’ve gotten so it should be framed so that on the day I achieve my goal, I can burn the fucker right on top of the rest of them.

What to do now? I’ve been thinking over this whole “traditional” publishing goal. Why do I want it so much? What’s wrong with self-publishing? Do I have a choice?

I do.

I will not self-publish my fiction just yet. But I am giving up on the agent search. I don’t feel that with the way the industry is at this moment I’ll be able to find an agent no matter how kickass my writing is. (And I’m not saying it is kickass, but it doesn’t suck either.) Also, I don’t think I need one at this time. True, an agent is the key to getting the big publishers’ attention, but what can I do with that right now?

Instead, I’m looking at small presses while I research this new growth in self-publishing. My mistake for a very long time was in thinking a “real” contract meant print and possibly digital. Obviously that’s just a retarded way to think. I haven’t even scratched the surface of what’s available to new authors in the e-publishing industry. And what an opportunity wasted.

A very good friend recently reminded me that I have been focusing on the wrong things. (Thanks, Katrina.) In my head it’s been agent, publisher, book, agent, publisher, book. No deterring from that path. I’ve sent out about 300 queries. 300. Three-zero-zero. Do you know how much damage that many rejections can do to an ego? It can crush your soul to pathetic bits of nothing. (And I have a pretty healthy ego most of the time.) Never once did I consider that maybe my approach was wrong or maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the right path to take. I was adamant that I NEEDED an agent. But again I come back to the question; Do I?

When I make plans, goals, etc., I tend to forget to adjust them now and then. I mean, nothing stays the same, right? It stands to reason that occasionally, you should look at said plans and change them accordingly. Duh. This industry has changed drastically in the past few years. Sure, when I started writing, my plan made sense. Now? As a “new author” I can’t succeed with this approach. Not before I reach 40 anyway. Hell, who am I kidding? I’ll be in diapers and putting my teeth in a damn jar on the nightstand before it happens with the path I’ve been on.

My biggest weakness is my impatience. I want what I want and I want it NOW. This process has been really hard because of that. It’s been several years since I “decided” that I wanted to publish my writing; years that I’ve wondered many times if that was the right decision.

It was and it is.

You all have inspired me in different ways. Some of you I know well, have inspired me personally, others I know just by the comments you make here on The Edge, but you’ve inspired me through those comments and what I read on your blogs. So I’ll ask you and I really want to know what you think: After two years of hammering on agents’ doors and trying to publish traditionally, am I crazy for giving up that dream? Or do you agree that there comes a time when something just isn’t working anymore and you have to abandon it?

Hate Me. I Can Take It. Just Don't Ask Me About NaNo EVER Again.

2011-10-27T08:07:00.001-04:00

National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo) is approaching. How do I know? It’s ALL I’ve heard about since the first of October. From “Oh, I have to get ready for NaNo” to “Are you doing it? Are you doing NaNo? Why don’t you try it? It’s so long till NaNo. OMG, I want to start right now. But I can’t. I mustn’t! NaNo NaNo NaNo NaNo NaNo…”

Perhaps I exaggerate a little, but this is what my brain hears as soon as the NaNo insanity begins. I’ve never understood why grown people get so damn excited about this. I mean, if you’re a grownup who has chosen to write “seriously” and try to publish your work, aren’t you focused on your writing during the other months too? Why wait for November to begin a novel? How does this pressure to reach that word count goal affect your home life, your work life? Does your family hate you at least once each year?

Will I be participating? No. Will I ever? No. Why? The answer is simple: If I want to write 50K words in a month, I’ll do so. Any month. I have done it before and I’m sure I will again if my brain feels so inclined but NOT by intentionally putting myself in the position that if I don’t do it, I’ve failed at…what? Being a writer? Because word count is obviously the most important thing when writing professionally right? Of course.

I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Let’s begin at NaNoWriMo the definition, and work our way back to my tirade, shall we?

Let me backtrack by saying the NaNoWriMo program does really awesome things for some people. First, the young writers program teaches our youth “perseverance, and radically alters their relationships with writing and literature.” according to the NaNoWriMo website. Anything that gets kids interested in their own creativity is awesome. Yes. However, I wonder at the youngsters who don’t reach the target word count or that wind up with a wonderfully awful hunk of story at the end? It’s meant to encourage self-esteem, but I think there is the potential for utter devastation. I know that the “environment” is designed to be a back-patting encouraging sort of thing, but some kids are sensitive. The intensity that NaNo brings with it is going to affect some kids negatively if they can’t do it. No amount of back-patting is going to put those crushed dreams back together. What if a child who is destined to be a truly great writer gives up before she’s given it a good chance? NaNo is not that good chance and this should be clear to these kids. Finishing or not finishing doesn’t make one kid more of a writer than another. Rather than a target word count, why not use this event to teach them the process of writing and how each writer works a different way? The goal tracking, progress charts, and such set my irritable bone on edge. It is NOT what they should be taught about writing, but sadly it is what most of them learn if their comments in discussion groups is anything to go by.

NaNoWriMo which is run by OLL (Office of Letters and Light) is described on the official website as a “fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing.” The goal is to write 50,000 words during the month of November in an event that focuses on “valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft” and is targeted at “everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.”

If you’re scared by time and effort then a writer you will never be. Writing is all about time and effort. Lots of both.

Well, I don’t really want to work at writing a novel. So why don’t I just take 30 days each year to churn out some stinky word vomit instead?

That made absolutely no sense to me. But then I read a little further…“the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It’s all about quantity, not quality. This approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.”

And then there was this: “You will be writing a lot of crap. And that’s a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.”

Okay, so in that little bit is a gem. I mean it. I like the last paragraph. We do need to give ourselves permission to make errors in the rough draft. That first draft should be a great rambling mess.

However, I fear what is focused on by many participants is the whole “it’s all about quantity, not quality.” I can’t tell you how many times I want to thump “writers” who obsess over word count. I mean really thump them. I want to thump them so hard with a big heavy object so they’re unconscious and bleeding on the ground and not typing a single fucking word.

I used to be one of those writers, so it’s not like I don’t understand the sense of accomplishment you feel when you meet a target. But I also know that focusing on your output crushes your self-esteem and the natural process as well. It’s not how much you write every day; it’s THAT you write every day. By writing I don’t just mean churning out new words, I mean editing, writing queries, outlines and synopses; working on your craft in whatever way needs doing at that time. Hammering out words is not important. NaNoWriMo has played a large role in this “word count” obsession. Perhaps that wasn’t the intention, but I’m telling you, it’s what many, if not most, writers take away from it.

“Must write this many words today no matter what I have to sacrifice to do so.”

Erm…no. You must work at your craft. But if your kids want to go to the park, the words aren’t important. If you have a million things to do around the house, the words aren’t important. If you have to work at 5am in order to pay the bills, the words aren’t so important you should stay up until 2am to get them done. Doing this will burn you out. Believe me, I know. Quantity should never come before quality in fiction writing. Never.

That mentality, folks is why agents and publishers either hide away, or drink copious amounts of hard liquor from December through…oh, about June. Not because all of what is written during NaNo is crap, but because as soon as the thousands of participants finish their novels at the end of November, many feel these novels are worthy of submission. Agents and publishers are buried under these manuscripts which, no matter how kickass a writer you are, cannot possibly be close to publishable. The submission process for those of us who took the time to polish our work becomes a pit of hopelessness. Not that it isn’t usually a pit of hopelessness…it’s just a deeper, darker pit with lots of crap on top.

Worse than the crap-submitters are the “winners” of NaNo who promptly log on to Smashwords, Lulu, Createspace or whatever platform they prefer and self-publish said novel. Yikes.

Of course these people are proud of their accomplishment and eager to be considered a real writer. I mean the site says participating in NaNoWriMo makes it possible “To stop being one of those people who say, “I’ve always wanted to write a novel,” and become one of those people who can say, “Oh, a novel? It’s such a funny story–I’ve written three.”

No, you haven’t written three novels. You’ve written three drafts. Now, become a real writer by rewriting.

I was all for the “spirit” of NaNoWriMo, even tempted to participate at one point, until I read over the site and now, it makes the serious writer in me, the one that busts her as every day of the year to become the best writer she can be, cringe. Why? Because writing IS about quality. It is NOT about churning out the most words. It’s about churning out the BEST words. It’s about writing a book that is worth reading and worth publishing. A writer isn’t simply someone who can hammer out 50K words of awfulness. My seven-year-old can do that. A writer is someone who can hammer out the story and then wants to edit the shit out of it so it’s perfect.

I am not against NaNoWriMo, although most of this rant certainly feels like an anti-NaNo rant. I’m saying that those participating need to do so with the understanding that this process does not make you a writer. It is a launching point. It can kick-start a sleepy muse, or get a new writer over that all-important first novel hump and onto bigger and better later on, or it can get young people passionate about creating more than LOL’s and emoticons with their keyboards. If everyone would realize that, or if the site stated the reality rather than a bunch of hype so that participants could understand this from the beginning, it might be enough to justify the annoyance I must endure every October through December. (no, you guys don’t shut up about it until at least the New Year)

Perspective: Here’s something to chew on. In 2010 OLL reports over 200,000 participants in NaNoWriMo. Out of that huge number, only about 30,000 “won”, completing the 50K word goal. That’s not even half. Get it? Even if you can write, achieving that many words in that short span of time is really hard if you’re not really into writing...or have a life. And all you get is a badge for your website. I mean…pffft.

But at least NaNo takes a reasonable amount of time to complete a novel. The 3-Day Novel Contest is another story. “Entrants pre-register and then grit their teeth, lock their doors and try to produce a literary masterwork in 72 short hours.” A literary masterwork in 72 hours? I just puked in my mouth at the thought. And the winning novel is published…

And with this one you pay a fee to participate in this insanity.

No, I won’t even begin to describe how this makes me feel. Besides, I’ve ranted enough for one day.

So, if you’re participating in NaNoWriMo this year, good for you. I wish you luck. I also want to ask a couple of favors.

Could you not start threads in discussion groups that have nothing to do with NaNoWriMo? As a moderator of a couple of these groups, I have to say, by about mid-November, I lose the ability to be polite about deleting these threads. I mean, you guys have a whole site and all to do these things, so keep it over there. Could you also try to avoid clogging up social media feeds with hourly updates? I’m not saying not to update your progress, but once every 24 hours is plenty. Seriously.

And when you finish, if you “win”, could we all promise that what you’ve written doesn’t see so much as a beta reader until you’ve edited and rewritten at least twice…preferably three times? Thanks. The rest of the writing world appreciates it.

Profanity, And The Assholes Who Use It

2011-10-20T18:30:00.003-04:00

Fuck. Shit. Asshole. Bitch. Bastard. Jesus. Damn. Hell.

There will be profanity in this post. Those of you offended, take your wimpy ass to another blog.

For those of you that know me well, it’s no secret I’m not afraid of profanity. In fact, I embrace it. I’m giddy when I learn new ways to curse, swear, or whatever you want to call it and sometimes, I make up my own, combining words, both offensive and inoffensive to stock up my arsenal.

Why? Perhaps because my father, a good and loving parent, knew nearly every nasty word in the book and tossed them out freely. Oh, we knew not to repeat them. If we did, we got “The Battery” and that was enough of a deterrent for my sore tongue.

But in my childhood home, the swear words that got us in the most hot water were not your more common profanities. My mother would let a goddamn and a shit pass without comment now and then, but utter the words goof, stupid, retard, dink, idiot, dumb or that horrific c-word (hint: rhymes with “hunt”) and you’d get such a talking to…and then you had to lick the battery. I got away with calling my brother an asshole, but call him a butt-muncher or a dink, and man, did I get a blast of hell.

My mother believed, as do I, it’s not so much the word that you use, but how you use it. Those words were meant to belittle someone, to make them feel “not good enough” and that was unacceptable for her children to do. We could get into the why’s of that, but really, you don’t want to be here all day (or night), so we won’t. The awfulness of these words were so hammered into my psyche, that to this day I flinch if I hear them. I rarely use them myself, even when I’m really pissed. The c-word? Can’t even type it. See how our “training” works? I use a lot of profanity daily, and yet, my kids aren't out there cursing their little heads off. Training. I took the time to explain why these words were unacceptable for them to say and didn't make a big deal of it when they did use them. Take the taboo away, and it's not so tempting. Do they swear when I'm not around? You show me a kid that doesn't at some point.

When I got to an age that the battery no longer bothered me, possibly because I had no nerve endings left in my tongue, and the amusement of it had faded for my dad, I let loose with all the profanity I could muster. Oh, the words I used could make a trucker, sailor, and a construction worker blush. They did actually. But only rarely did I ever use these words to hurt someone. I won’t say I didn’t ever use them in an insulting or derogatory way. I'm no angel. I mean, you load a 16 year old up with the proper weaponry to shut that snotty little bitch that thinks she's better than everyone up, she’s going to use it. But I had to be pretty angry to do so.

The truth is I love our language. Period. I love every bit of it, including the profanities. I learn a new word, and I use the shit out of it, even if it’s not obscene. I just enjoy words.

When I became “serious” about writing, as in willing to work my ass off in order to publish my work, I realized that not everyone appreciated the colorful language I so loved. Some people actually became quite angry that I felt I ‘needed’ to use such horrible language. To them I say: Suck it up. Bunch of whiny jerks. I’m not the first to love profanity and I certainly won’t be the last. Words such as these are only as powerful as taboo makes them because essentially, fuck is a word just as window or dog is a word. The difference? No one blushes when you say window or dog, unless you’re announcing that you caught them dancing naked with the dog through said window.

Profanities are a source of emotional release. I stub my toe on the bed for the second time in an hour and “ow” just ain’t gonna cut it. “Fuck” or a string of unrelated obscenities (which is usually what comes out) releases a whole lot of that pain. Sure, it’s psychological. But those of you that yell “Fiddlesticks” or “Jeepers”, you know what you really mean and so do I. You might as well let the swear out and be done with it. Believe me, it’s much less taxing on your brain. And it feels so good.

Swear words are and always will be an integral part of human language. Profanity is universal. Every language ever studied, whether spoken by millions or by a remote little tribe, has contained some type of “forbidden” words. These words exist because we create them. They serve a function. At some point, someone said “Oh, that hurts my delicate sensibilities.” And then another person said, “Well, such words are to be expected from a commoner.” And that was repeated until someone decided that profanity represented a lower class of person, with inadequate intelligence and breeding. I’ll give you intelligence and breeding…

Before you all say that decent folks don’t need to include profanity in their books to elicit the right reaction, stop. I’ve heard it before. I still don’t agree.

Let me turn your attention to one of the oldest pieces of literature we’re all familiar with; the Bible. Oh yes, if you want profanity, the Bible has it in spades. Perhaps not curse words we’re familiar with nowadays, but they’re in there. For words, we’re familiar with, I give you II Kings 18:27 (KJV) that uses two profanities:

But Rabshakeh said unto them, Hath my master sent me to thy master, and to thee, to speak these words? Hath he not sent me to the men which sit on the wall, that they may eat their own dung, and drink their own piss with you?

While “dung” might not be considered profane to you or me, back in the day, it was. So were many more words used in scripture. Is it wrong? No. Those ancient scribes wanted to emphasize or color certain bits and these words worked more effectively than other, less interesting words.

I suppose I should pause here to say that I’m not making excuses for my use of swear words. Basically, I don’t feel there’s anything to excuse. This is a sort of rant, aimed at a few bits I’ve read, heard, or comments directed toward me that insinuate I’m not a good person for using profanity in my writing. I want to put some perspective on how we judge each other on something as silly as swear words. Any phrase can be hurtful, offending and damaging, with or without these words. It all depends on the speaker’s intent.

And this is a tangent, but for those of you that think substituting “Golly” for “God” is a pure and sweet way of not cursing. Think again. I did the research. Guess what? Golly is a compaction of “God’s body”, and as such, used to be considered a profanity (many moons ago) because using it was still taking the Lord’s name in vain. So. There you have it. Cursing and you didn’t even know it.Oh golly.

And I often wonder why Hell is considered profane and yet, Heaven isn’t? Why is using God profane and Satan or Devil is not? The intent. But we become all sensitive with the religious words, don't we? I mean, I’ve used heaven while having some pretty obscene intentions. Yes, I have. I’ve used “God” when saying something that had only positive connotations, so…

Why is one word obscene, while another isn't? If the word is not meant to hurt or insult, then why is it worse than another word used in the same way?

Once a word is closely associated with a particularly nasty bodily function, such as poop or pee, or a taboo act, like sex, or a “private” body part, like vagina, penis or anus, it creeps into taboo territory. When used in a manner that is derogatory or insulting, it firmly takes its place and is no longer considered acceptable in polite conversation.

For an example, I give you pussy. Use pussy when referring to a furry little nightmare that shreds your curtains and kills the mice, and no one cares. Use it to describe another potentially furry bit and suddenly you’re obscene. Or, why do some consider pecker or dick to be profane and yet tally-whacker and sausage are not? Because the former have been used in a derogatory manner one too many times. Just wait, if enough men are called a sausage in an insulting way, we will have to rename our second favorite breakfast meat to spare polite company.That's my goal anyway.

My point is that profanities are only as powerful as we make them. They’ll always be fun to use, because they’re fun to say. So are “salsa” and other inoffensive words. For the most part, they’re short, easy to spell and roll off the tongue with ease. But since no one has associated salsa with shit, piss or semen, it’s still safe to use. And I use it often.

The intent is the key factor here. So if I were to say “Did you piss your pants?” Piss means urinate and really, is not meant offensively. However, if I were to say “Piss off” people get all gaspy and shit. What if I said “Get lost, you worthless loser.”? Is that offensive? No profane words used there. Not one curse. It’s the intent behind those words. Personally, I’d rather have someone tell me to fuck off or piss off than call me a worthless loser. Just saying.

In terms of novels, which are really the point of this rambling mess, profanity is a part of our daily lives. When depicting real people, profanity is a natural part of speech. How can you not use one or two? What’s that? Because you choose not to? Great. Good for you. I choose to use them. Does that make you better than me? Hell no. It means you create characters that don’t swear. Mine do. Big fucking deal.

Do my characters swear when it’s not needed? I don’t think so. Believe it or not, I weigh the use of every profanity I write. Is it needed? Does it add anything? Is it more distracting than enhancing? If it takes the reader from the story, then it’s not used. If it adds flavor to my character or intensity to the scene or line of dialogue, I’m sure as shit going to use it. Those who are offended easily, you've been warned.

The Oracle Series Part 6: The Future of Publishing…A Blow Best Given with a Velvet Hammer.

2011-10-15T05:00:00.005-04:00

Whew, what a week. Did you hang out through the whole thing? You’re awesomesauce. You know that? Here, have a velvet hammer. No, it’s a drink. It’s tasty, I promise. For those of you who are new to The Edge, we’ve been running the Oracle Series, a follow-up to my guest blog post in Rita’s World.

For each day this week, I’ve been exploring the logic behind the predictions that Carlos and I shared in the Writer’s Companion about where the publishing industry will be in ten years. On Wednesday, we took a break from rocking the boat to welcome Rita Webb to The Edge.

Now, for the final predictions that we made in the Writer’s Companion.

Prediction #9

Most of the Internet free services to writers will be subscription only.

We meant to write that most of the valuable or relevant Internet content will be subscription only but we exercised restraint. The digital bubble has burst once or twice and it will do it again because the business models (or the lack of one) are untenable. Some people will maintain informative sites without expecting any income, as a hobby or for the hell of it, take your pick.

Other commercial ventures will have to rely on heavier advertising practices to survive; after all, to go by the name of “business” an enterprise is supposed to attempt making money. Services to writers, such as promotion, retail, edition, and review will have to be paid for one way or another, to provide income to whoever has built a website and staffed it. The dream of an Internet where everything is free is... well, a dream, a beautiful dream, but one that shatters before the shrill of an alarm clock.

Prediction #10

Traditional writers will be on the road to extinction.

By this we mean the scribes of old (such as Carlos) who would hammer away at keyboards and typewriters sixteen hours each day to complete a manuscript and rejoice when typing THE END.

These writers still linger, but they’ll soon be a memory like the Dodo. The writer of the future will be a hybrid of politician, speaker, pimp, blogger, publicist, hustler, diplomat, and writer—almost as an afterthought.

This has been the easiest prediction to make, because the signs are already upon us. Nowadays, many publishers and literary agents demand that submissions include a sample of the writing and a detailed marketing plan or “platform.” Without a platform, we doubt Conrad reincarnate would manage to publish anything.

Whether you see this as a good or a bad thing, it’s a train that can’t be stopped. Believe me, I’ve tried. If you can’t put yourself out there and be more than “just a writer”, the odds of establishing a writing career are very slim. But you know, it’s not a horrible thing. I don’t enjoy being the center of attention (I know that’s hard for you all to believe) and the idea of putting myself in the middle of the fray of authors I see slogging their way to the top absolutely terrifies me.

But I do it anyway. I swallow the fear and the anxiety and I jump in with enough force to make a tiny wave now and then. And you know what? It’s kinda fun.

I know some of you have different opinions on these last two predictions and I’m eager to hear them. Do you think a writer can be simply a writer, focusing entirely on his craft to the exclusion of marketing and pimping his talented self out? How would he manage to be successful?

We close the Oracle section in the Writer’s Companion with a little bit of advice and I'd like to close this series with the same advice. You may take it or leave it, but it’s well-meaning and I hope new authors at least consider what we’re trying to impart here.

“In closing, we’d like to leave all new writers with this heartfelt counsel: Build a marketing platform concurrently with your fiction writing; create a presence, a following, and expectations. Without it, your chances in the flux of the New Publishing Industry are close to nil.”

The Oracle Series Part 5: The Future of Publishing…Drowned in Martinis and Poutine

2011-10-14T05:00:00.009-04:00

And just like the sex you wish you could have with that stripper, you're dying to experience la poutine. That's why we've got the martinis; liquid courage.

Well, hello again. Here, Clive’s making apple martinis and poutine today. Mmmm. For those of you who are new to The Edge, we’ve been running the Oracle Series, a follow-up to my guest blog post in Rita’s world. On Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, I expanded on the first five predictions that Carlos and I shared in the Writer’s Companion about where the publishing industry will be in ten years. For the entire list (so you can properly build your argument for or against our predictions) check out my guest post over in Rita’s World. On Wednesday, we took a little break and Rita came over to The Edge to share her journey in self-publishing and how her YA novel "Tears" came to be. Thursday we jumped right back into the future of publishing with Prediction #5.

Today we’re diving once more into the fray, with the Oracle’s sixth, seventh and eighth predictions for the publishing industry. What have we cast into the fire this time?

Prediction #6

Two-thirds of traditional book retailers will have disappeared.

The trend is unstoppable. Some Indie book retailers will scrounge a living from keepsakes, but the bulk of leisure and impulse books will be digital. A few will survive by diversifying their offer, much as bookshops at airports where one can find luggage straps, aspirin, diapers, drinks, and snacks among the books.

The big chains will fare worse and will be forced to drastically change their business model, to a point where books contribute only a fraction of their turnover. This doesn’t mean that their book division will vanish. They will regroup it in the Internet and live to fight another day.

Prediction #7

The number of readers will increase.

People read fewer books, this might be true, but the time dedicated to absorb information has increased dramatically in the last decades. While people may spend less time reading books, they use phenomenal chunks of time to text, blog, hang about social networks, play games, and watch TV (all of which need content).

With more free time and so much information floating about, people soak up information and are greedy for content. This is great news for writers.

In addition, though the number of readers is decreasing in the West, it’s exploding elsewhere. In the East and Africa there’s a trifle of over three billion potential readers. THREE BILLION!! Come on, that’s a lot of eyes.

Prediction #8

A large percentage of successful writers will issue from the East.

This sounds insane and completely out of left field, I know. But it’s not. This is another logical outcome of the development of Eastern countries. English is the Esperanto of the XXI century. In almost every country, millions are learning English as a vehicle to communicate with a wider segment of the world’s population. This will promote generations of freelance and creative writers using the English language as their vehicle of choice, which in turn will overflow to Western countries. The East is taking over, however surreptitiously, scores of niches in the global market and it’s naïve to assume they won’t try their hand at all levels of publishing and writing.

My personal opinion on this (as in, not Carlos’s) is that because these new writers have studied English, and I mean not half-assed as we “native” English speakers do, they will have the necessary skills to write well. They will succeed in this industry.

I believe that anyone not taking the time to understand the language of creative writing, to know the nuts and bolts of your own language and how to use those to construct coherent, smooth prose, is a fool. You’ll be left behind, choking on the dust of these men and women who did take the time to fully grasp the intricacies of English and grammar. Won’t it be embarrassing to have someone for whom English is a second language writing circles around you? I think so. In fact, Carlos has taught me a thing or ten about English. Made me sit up and take notice of what I blindly refused to learn because I thought I didn’t have to. And boy, did I make sure I worked my ass off to catch up to him.

Now, I’m really curious to know your thoughts on this one. I know for some of you, it’s a head-scratch-worthy prediction, but we feel that writers like these really will change the face of publishing. Would it be a good change? For readers, I think so.

Come join me tomorrow for the final installment of the Oracle Series, in which we become somber, and hammered.

The Oracle Series Part 4: The Future of Publishing…with Chocolate Monkeys

2011-10-13T05:00:00.014-04:00

You didn't think I meant the other kind of chocolate monkey, did you?

Oh look, you came back. Here, have a drink. Clive’s making Chocolate Monkeys today. Mmmm. For those of you who are new to The Edge, we’ve been running the Oracle Series, a follow-up to my guest blog post in Rita’s world. On Sunday, Monday and Tuesday, we discussed the first four predictions that Carlos and I shared in the Writer’s Companion about where the publishing industry will be in ten years. For the entire list (so you can properly build your argument for or against our predictions) check out my guest post over in Rita’s World.

Yesterday, Rita took over The Edge to share her publishing story with us. It’s very interesting. You should go read that when you’re done here.

Let’s dive right into Prediction #5, shall we?

POD will shrink down to a tenth of its present size.

How is that possible with e-books taking over traditional publishing?

No, Carlos and I haven’t lost the few marbles we’ve managed to hang on to. Independent (self) and vanity publishing has existed since Guttenberg. There’s a difference between these two terms.

Independent or self-publishing has been the only recourse open to those writers who, by the nature of their work and its intended audience, couldn’t use the services of a traditional publisher. On page 585 of the Companion, we point out that 10,000 copies is the minimum break-even figure for a traditional publisher.

Therefore, any book with a total audience of fewer than 10,000 readers is almost impossible to publish, unless the book retails for a small fortune. Writers who create books for small groups, or touch specialized subjects (such as how to care for your suit of armor) have known this unpalatable fact from time immemorial. Poetry and family histories are often published independently, as they have a limited market. These books will continue to be printed on demand or published in small runs because there’s no other option.

Vanity publishing is another matter. One of the best descriptions of the practice we’ve ever read is from an anonymous contributor to Wikipedia:

“While a commercial publisher’s intended market is the general public, a vanity publisher’s intended market is the author.”

We think the quote is self-explanatory. When the millions of writers out there learn that self-publishing without the backing of good editors and better distributors is a chimera, POD will dwindle to pre-Internet-era values. Everything will once again be right in the Universe.

Why? Because there won’t be this rush to publish shit that we’re experiencing right now. Writers who give a damn will slow down, polish their work and those who don’t, well they’re the tenth that will still use POD services. It is what it is and what it always will be.

Wow, how’s that for deep and completely meaningless?

What do you think? How do you see POD in ten years? If it doesn’t shrink, will this be bad or good for writers?

Come back tomorrow for predictions 6 through 8. They’re good ones. Oh, and bring your hunger. Clive’s been cooking.

Rita’s World Joins the Edge and You Could Win a Free Book!

2011-10-12T00:00:00.000-04:00

Today we’re taking a break from the Oracle series because Rita Webb, who recently published Tears , a YA novel that my daughter is absolutely in love with, is hanging out with me and Clive. So, while I sit back and enjoy that massage Clive's been begging to give me, Rita is going to share her journey to publication. Thank you, Rita. The Edge is yours.

My Road to Publishing

Five years ago, a dear friend of mine sent me these words by Mark Twain:

Who was it who said, "Blessed is the man who has found his work"? Whoever it was he had the right idea in his mind. Mark you, he says his work—not somebody else's work. The work that is really a man's own work is play and not work at all. Cursed is the man who has found some other man's work and cannot lose it.

My two favorite figures in history were both writers and publishers: Benjamin Franklin and Mark Twain In fact, it is Mark Twain’s words about work and play that led me to becoming a writer and setting up my own publishing business.

A publisher, like any investor, has a vision of what a story can become. They see the potential and take the monetary risk to bring that potential into fruition. They invest time, money, resources, and experience into a writer.

As a writer, I had a vision of what my stories could become, but I lacked the money, resources, and experience. How do you make a cover? How much does it cost? How do you write the copyright page? Where do you get a printer? How do you market? Those were just a few questions, but the scary side of becoming my own publisher was the questions I didn’t know how to ask. You can’t ask your guide how to get around the snow giant blocking the mountain pass if you don’t even know the monster is there.

My road to becoming a published writer and an entrepreneur publisher alongside my husband TJ started when my job laid me off after 10 years of service. I had to ask myself, “Who do I really want to be? What do I want to do with my life?”

I dabbled in writing since I was 12 years old, and in high school and college, I handed in my first drafts and always got an A+ whether the assignment was creative writing, business writing, or research reports. I thought I could waltz right into my first novel and be a bestseller—except I really had no clue what I was getting myself into.

Maybe if I had known how much work went into polishing a manuscript, I never would have jumped into the fire, but once my fingers started clicking away at the keyboard and the words marched across my screen, I couldn’t stop. In fact, I tried to give up many times. My family needed me, and I wasted my time on a foolish dream… But the next day, I was back at it—thanks to my husband who was always there: believing in me, encouraging me, pushing me to try harder, supporting me, reading my stories again and again to catch my mistakes. I never would have made it without him. Even now, I still couldn’t get by without him; he has an intuitive sense that keeps me grounded.

150K words and 2 novels later, I faced the criticisms of my beta readers: my characters were flat (I call them “Yes Men” because without motivations, they said “Yes, whatever you want, master”); my world was empty; my prose was weak. My writing just sucked.

Devastated, I cried—not because of the criticism but because I didn’t know how to fix the problems. I thought I had failed, my dreams crashing and burning in a hopeless mess. Again, I tried to give up, but my mind started working on solutions the moment I resolved to put my writing away for good.

I checked out every book about writing from the library. Working at my new job by day, helping my husband homeschool my kids in the evening, studying and writing by night, I practiced on short stories. By trading editing favors with other writers I met online, I learned from my mistakes. They taught me how to add description, vary sentence structures, find active verbs, cut out repetitive phrases, plan a plotline…

This is when Tears was conceived. It started as a short story series as a sequel to my crash-and-burn novels I had written the previous year. What would happen to my world if my character fails to save it from her enemy? We would have an apocalypse with the destruction of magic. Technology would take over and a military state would form. Maybe one cyborg girl could save her people, restore magic, and bring dragons back.

It took me a year to write and a year to polish. Round after round of editing, I wanted to say, “Good enough.” But my husband insisted I keep working on it. Another round and then another. Then beta-readers. Then more polishing. Again. And again. Until my mind was numb.

But everything worthwhile takes time and elbow-grease.

When Carlos J. Cortes called for submissions for an anthology Ménage à 20, I submitted two stories. My first publication. I watched the process carefully: from the planning to the editing to the contracts to the blurbs. I saw the frustration and joys that went into this process.

Six months later, my writer friend Wendy and I decided to put together our own not-for-profit anthology. We collected 10 stories, edited, typeset the interior, created a cover, wrote blurbs, and planned the marketing. Months of work later, we published Unlocked in August of 2010.

I loved the whole process and realized I would hate not having my fingers in the pie if I went with a traditional publisher. I wanted to make my own schedule, plan my own covers, and organize my own book interior. Just writing wouldn’t be enough anymore. I did some half-hearted querying for Tears, got a few nibbles, and then started plotting my next adventure.

Being the go-get-’em girl that I am, I plunged into studying again: business, publishing, marketing, and accounting. I don’t do anything by halves. I spent six months alone just writing my business model and marketing plan.

July 4, 2011, Robot Playground Inc was born, and a month later, I released Tears. Four long years after the company I worked for first announced the impending layoffs, I finally see the fruits of my labor.

It feels good and right to be responsible for my own dreams and to be the Queen of my own Destiny, but the work has just begun. Writing and self-publishing is no get-rich-quick scheme. It’s a work-your-ass-off-until-you-drag-yourself-to-the-top-of-a-treacherous-mountain path.

My advice to any would-be self-publisher: Mountain climbing doesn’t include helicopters, and there are no shortcuts to publishing.

Well said, Rita. Thanks so much for stopping by. I seldom have guests here because people annoy me. But I like you. You can come back any time.

And here’s a big pat on the back as well. You have worked your ass off to see Tears published, so be proud of what you’ve achieved through that time and effort. As one of your beta readers, I was able to see this story evolve and the difference between the first draft I read and the final product is phenomenal. This should be the reality for self-published authors. It shouldn’t ever be a matter of write a draft and send it out.

Writing a book should never be easy. If it is, you’re doing it wrong.

Here, take the soapbox. I use it far too much. So, how would you all like a shot at winning a copy of Rita’s novel?

Of course you would! Entering is easy. Just share a link to The Edge on either Twitter or Facebook and then share with us (in the comments) your favorite quote about books, writing or writers, and provide an email address so I can contact you. It’s that easy. I’ll announce the winner on Friday. And don’t forget to come back tomorrow to read the Oracle’s next prediction.

The Oracle Series Part 3: The Future of Publishing…and Whiskey

2011-10-11T05:00:00.026-04:00

Welcome back to the Oracle series. Sunday and Monday we explained the first two predictions Carlos and I shared in the Writer’s Companion about where the publishing industry will be in ten years. For the entire list (so you can properly build your argument for or against our predictions) check out my guest post over in Rita’s World.

Today, let’s share bottle of Crown Royal while we look at predictions 3 and 4. Why whiskey? Because it’s always a good conversation helper, right?

Prediction #3

E-publishers will only accept submissions through literary agents.

As in the past with paperback novels, traditional publishers will pass onto agents the onus of sifting through the trash because it makes economic sense to make the writer pay for the selection. Publishers eliminated a sizeable chunk of their staff by compelling writers to submit their work through an agent—and foot his wages.

Professional e-publishers will follow suit because it doesn’t cost them anything and removes a considerable burden from their shoulders. Besides, literary agents have to live. Their role as critics and reviewers doesn’t change because the format of the final buyer’s product changes.

Personally I don’t see this as a terrible thing. Quality control has to begin somewhere and why shouldn’t agents have a piece of the electronic pie? Survival of the fittest, and all that fun stuff. There’s sharks out there in Agent Land and I’d prefer having one of those looking after me and my interests, rather than fending for myself, thanks very much.

Prediction #4

E-books will be rated by an agency, as to their literary and editorial merits.

Again, this is logical and sensible. No, we don’t mean literary agencies. We mean a separate agency built for just this purpose. Why? Through the argument about other forms of publishing, we have taken into consideration the writer, the publisher and other forces involved in the merchandising of books. But there is a most important and forgotten player: the reader. As a consumer, the reader will demand protection, and we wouldn’t be surprised if our predicted rating agency comes imposed by circumstances. In the U.S., a country with such a zest for litigation, we’re surprised no writer has been dragged through the courts and made to pay damages. A book is a product and a reader its consumer.

There comes a point when a book is so badly written as to be unreadable. An unreadable book is not a book. Extracting money for an object that doesn’t fulfill its natural usability is fraud, misrepresentation or whatever the correct legal term is. We have spoken with many readers who bought a book and felt cheated because they couldn’t read it.

Imagine buying a Whopper from Burger King, only to discover there’s no meat in the bun. Most people would demand to receive their meat or have their money returned. Others would sue.

Just as most products have a stamp of approval certifying its usefulness to fulfill a given task, we think that something along these lines will be mandatory in self-published books. We don’t mean a label rating the story, voice, style, plot, or characterization but a stamp certifying the book is written in accordance with current standards of grammar, syntax, and a limit on typo contents. This will be good news for all writers: the professional ones will see their work certified, and the others (without quality stamp) will have a level of protection against litigation since the reader will have purchased a product without that guarantee.

What do you think? If this happened, would it be good or bad for writers? Have I lost my mind completely to see this as a fantastic change? Please, share your thoughts. If you’ve got a rant, well you can share that too. Whiskey makes everything okay.

And come back to The Edge tomorrow to spend some time with Rita Webb, who will be here with Clive, discussing her journey to publication and the decision to self-publish. On Thursday we discuss Prediction #5 with me. What is it? Go on over to Rita’s World and check it out.

The Oracle Series Part 2: The Future of Publishing…and Clive Dances for Us.

2011-10-10T05:00:00.020-04:00


Don't worry, he always gives me that look when I ask him to dance. Secretly, he can't wait to move like Jagger.

Welcome back to the Oracle series. Yesterday we explained the first prediction Carlos and I shared in the Writer's Companion about where the publishing industry will be in ten years. For the entire list (so you can properly build your argument for or against our predictions) check out my guest post over in Rita’s World.

Clive’s got quite a show planned for you all later, but only if you behave. Now, let’s get to Prediction #2:

E-publishing with reputable publishers will be as hard to access for new writers as traditional publishing is right now.

Let’s face it, this is inevitable. The market is awash with manuscripts, a few sublime, some good, but most of them unreadable. Traditional publishers will embrace e-publishing with a vengeance and other publishers, those whose livelihood will depend exclusively on e-book sales, will have to be selective and offer good products to stay afloat. This will entail a ruthless selection process, not unlike the harrowing gauntlet new writers have to negotiate nowadays. Of course, there will be outlets for writers to post rough manuscripts, but we’re referring to the publishing industry not the hobbies of the delusional. (That’s right, we went there.)

What do you think? Do you think the term “reputable publishers” will even hold water in ten years? With the free-for-all in the e-book industry right now, I sometimes wonder. In the end though, it comes down to the reader. In order to ensure the reader gets what she’s paying for, which is a quality book, this change is needed.

Come back to The Edge tomorrow to discuss Prediction #3 with me. What is it? Go on over to Rita’s World and check it out. But first, Clive’s on stage. Yeah, it’s gonna be good.

Oracle Series Part 1: The Future of Publishing…and Margaritas.

2011-10-09T05:00:00.004-04:00

I’ve gotten organized and swept the cobwebs that seem to breed like rednecks here on The Edge. By the way, since I am a redneck, that statement is not offensive. We really are prolific breeders. Anyway, pull up a seat. Not on the couch, that’s my spot. Okay fine, sit. Here, Clive’s made margaritas for all of us.

Let’s get to the Oracle.

Recently I was a guest over at Rita’s World, where I shared what Carlos and I predict will happen within the publishing industry in the next decade. Go on over to jump into the discussion.

Here on the Edge, I wanted to expand on our predictions and share the logic behind them, which we’ve laid out in the Writer’s Companion. These were not just guesses that we pulled from a hat, or even out of our asses (or ass?), although sometimes we find fascinating things there.

But seriously, our predictions are based on our collective experience and a ton of research. Does it make us any more accurate than someone pulling a guess out of an ass? Not likely. But just for shits and giggles, let’s pretend we might just have a point.

Today we’ll look at prediction #1:

E-publishing will overtake traditional publishing.

As we state in the Companion, there are four kinds of books: Reference, leisure, keepsakes and educational. When we discuss reference books we mean encyclopedias, dictionaries, and all those books that compile facts. Carlos points out:

“To date, almost every paper encyclopedia has disappeared. The reason must be found in the implicit obsolescence of these publications. Take the Spanish Enciclopedia Espasa, the world’s largest. In its origins, the work consisted of seventy-two volumes published from 1908 to 1930 and enlarged by a further ten-volume appendix and updates from 1930 to1933. The encyclopedia was enlarged with biannual volumes until 2005, when the publishers gave up. It ended as a 118-volume unwieldy monstrosity occupying a full wall and containing 165,000 pages and 200 million words. The problem for its owner was to find anything, without having a good idea of the item’s background. Trying to find Burkina Faso (an African country surrounded by Mali, Niger, Benin, Togo, Ghana, and Côte d’Ivoire) was a nightmare, unless the researcher knew that the country changed its name in 1984. Before that date, the country was named Republic of Upper Volta.”

The same is true of reference works touching every area of human knowledge or endeavor. Let’s be realistic. Theories are proven or ditched, phenomena are understood, technology advances, societies change, and there’s no way we can keep track unless we continuously update our references. Reference e-books are not only a logical development but, in our opinion, unavoidable. Newspapers could be classified as reference publications as well, but while they might last a bit longer than that giant encyclopedia, their days are numbered in paper format. They have no place in a technological society.

Leisure books include novels and comics, or those we use, store for eons, then toss out when we run out of room on our overburdened bookshelves. Often we read novels once. Bad ones less than that. Those we like enough to read several times are few. We agree that you can’t replace the feel of a book in your hands. Of course, we might be biased because we grew up surrounded by books. When we learned to read we also learned to love the smell of that yellowed paper, the soft, marred texture of a weathered cover, the sound of a spine finally cracking under years of loving abuse. But younger generations haven’t developed this fondness for a pile of paper. Neither do they miss a dial telephone or having to wash the dishes by hand. They cringe at the idea of writing a letter with pen and paper because they’ve never had to do it. We can’t miss what we haven’t experienced and buying a paperback you’ll read once before storing it away for indefinite amounts of time is wasteful. Once it’s read, what use do we have for it? If prices of e-books level out to be around half of a paperback (as we believe they should be) wouldn’t you rather two books instead of one?

The remaining obstacle for e-books to become the norm is a versatile and cheap e-reader. These are around the corner. Five years ago, most people had a clumsy monitor sitting before their eyes and occupying most of the table. Now we can buy a compact flat panel for a fraction of the cost.

Now, keepsakes will remain, as their name indicates they are special. In our libraries we have books, some useless, others dear, and others still in daily use—religious, poetry, inspirational, etc. These books will survive in paperback because their intrinsic value goes further than their cost or usefulness; they are objects with emotional attachments. There’s always a market for sentimentality.

Educational books are also undergoing a dramatic change. Things in the U.S. may be different, but in Europe several countries are providing young children with discounted laptops. The study books are then downloaded into their machines (with previous payment, of course). This way, the students can move from home to the school carrying their laptop and lunch box, instead of a carry-all on wheels piled high with a ton of books. Once more, this seems an unstoppable trend. And those of you who’ve ever had to carry your child’s backpack laden with textbooks will join me in saying “Amen!” to that development.

What do you think? Are we wrong? I know you all love your chunks of paper and for me personally, nothing will ever replace a worn old paperback, but I can acknowledge the wastefulness of such sentimentality. I can see the convenience of a reader. Actually, I can’t wait until I get my very own this Christmas.

Come back to The Edge tomorrow to discuss Prediction #2 with me. What is it? Go on over to Rita’s World and check it out.