Dark Night of the Soul – Your Career in Three Acts

First, let me apologize for being grossly late with my new post. I know you’re not hanging on my every word, but I also know that  a successful blog changes more frequently than once every full moon. Gulp.

As writers, we’re all familiar with the three-act structure. If you’re not, go here immediately: three act structure or here, three act structure comparisons - time’s ticking! (yes, yes, it says it’s for screenplays, but you can use it for novels, I promise) Is everyone back? Good. Anyway, I was weaving my own novel into the three acts when it hit me: my career follows this path-worn structure to a T (or, is it “R” for rejection?). Then I panicked. Why? Because I realized that I’m in the midst of a”dark night of the soul” moment – which is the crisis point at the end of Act II. To figure out where you might be, read on. (The application of the pronoun “she” is strictly coincidental. Yeah, right.)

Act One: We meet our mild-mannered protagonist, a humble creature with a gift for story-telling. During this time, there is a call to adventure, that is, a call to write and a desire to share innermost thoughts with others. Our protagonist refuses the call to adventure, thinking that she’ll never make any money writing. In alternate story lines, her spouse or parents or friends have convinced her of this idea. An inciting event occurs (insert epiphany/personal crisis here), and our hero decides that she MUST go down this path or wither from the side effects of an Unfulfilled Dream. Allies and mentors are met in this act as well: cue the critique group. To progress to Act II, our hero slays the Guardians at the Gate (i.e., talks her spouse into letting her stay home for an undetermined amount of time and give up her cushy corporate salary).

Act Two: (part one) Now the adventure begins. This part of the story is positive and upbeat. It’s where our hero collects necessary battle skills and learns how to write along with the help of her jolly comrades, i.e., critique group partners. Of course, it’s not without pitfalls (grumpy editors, crushing critiques, machiavellian instructors), but it’s generally light in tone and full of wonder or at least gives the hero the feeling of progress, even if none is made. Backstory is worked out in the form of a first novel, which almost always includes too much of the author’s own life. Sound familiar?

Act Two Mid-Point (“sex at sixty”): For those of you who’ve never heard the term “sex at sixty,” it’s not a senior citizen parody of Fifty Shades of Gray. It refers to a sizzling mid-point in your average 120 page screen play. Now that we’ve lifted ourselves from the gutter… Our hero, after much trial and tribulation, finally scores a fairy tale book deal with one of the Big 6 after her manuscript languishes FOR A YEAR in their slush pile. The call she gets from that editor makes every hardship in Act II (part one) worthwhile. She is ecstatic and a renewed sense of dedication ensues. Alternate story lines may include self-publishing that dream novel to an audience of millions after much rejection (or, quite possibly, no rejection if you went the direct route).

Act Two: (part two) Unfortunately, adversaries are in motion in the back half of Act II, and they close down the subsidiary set to publish our hero’s book. Yeah, yeah, it’s just business. But it still hurts like hell. The main character launches an obsessive campaign to succeed and scores an agent. Loses that agent (allies lost). Then scores an even better agent. However, the adversaries are clearly winning here. This drives the hero to act “out of character” and do whatever it takes to win. Ultimately, the nasty half of Act II leads to a crisis in confidence. By some quirk of fate (deus ex machina?), the humble writer sells the SAME manuscript as before, only to have the deal fall through AGAIN, destroying the hero’s plan. The question of the story, “Will our writer get a book deal?”, is answered, and the answer is NO. Alternate story lines include the failure of either a traditionally published or indie published book in the market place (or a lackluster reception, which frankly, errs on the side of failure). They may also include mid-list paths that end in non-renewal of contracts. No matter the story line, all roads lead to a Dark Night of the Soul that drops on said hero with the weight of a two-ton truck. This, undoubtedly, is the lowest point in the story. Hey, this post ain’t pretty, but it’s honest.

Act Three: Ah, ha! This is the act of Change. This is the act where the hero uncovers an internal desire that helps push them through to the end of the story. All the things that the hero set out to do in Act One come to play here, and there is a deep re-examination of goals. Once the “soul searching” is complete, the hero either decides to stay the course or change course. Either way, she charges into battle ONE LAST TIME, giving it her absolute all in order to succeed at something. However–and this is the part that worries me most–the hero may not be triumphant. But in all good three-act stories, the hero must satisfy SOME desire, whether internal or external, in order for the ending to be emotionally resonant.

I’m scared to death to enter Act III, the final battle is always bloody, but I think I’m ready. I only hope I’m the hero of a comedy and not a tragedy.

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Where are you in the three act structure? Does any of this sound familiar to you? How many battle scars have you endured? Have you experienced the ending to your own story?

Lessons From the Titanic – Staying Afloat While Writing

It’s been a hundred years since the Titanic sank, and we’re still learning from it. When I viewed an exhibit on the disaster yesterday, I was struck by the tragedy, not only from the sheer amount of human suffering that occurred, but from the subtle lessons that applied to my writing life. Here’s my takeaway:

1. Overconfidence is a Bad Thing – Even with repeated iceberg warnings from other ships in the area, the Titanic captain chose to cruise, in the dark, at 21 knots–nearly top speed–toward his destination. I have no idea why, but I suspect it was because he, too, thought the Titanic was unsinkable and failed to exercise the same care and diligence he would have on a different ship. Now, when I feel like “This manuscript can’t possibly be improved!”, I’ll think back to the overconfident captain and remind myself that no ship (or book) is unsinkable.

2. Caring What Others Think Can Cost You – Hundreds of men neglected to get in life boats, even when spots were available, for fear that their peers would think them less manly. No one wanted to be branded a coward. I’m guilty of this myself. Seeking approval and needing to do things “the right way”  or “within guideline” have only limited me as a writer. In the future, I promise to care less about what I should do, and more about what I could do. I have a feeling that my work will see an uptick in creativity.

3. Small Efforts May Not Be Enough  - When the White Star Line sent a recovery ship to collect bodies, they found over three-hundred people bobbing in the water with their life vests on, seemingly asleep. They’d all died of hypothermia in the 28 degree (F) water. This was a grim reminder that even though these people had made a small effort to save their own lives, a much larger effort was needed earlier in the game. I’m not arm-chair quarterbacking these poor souls. I’m sure the chaos on board was pretty debilitating. But in applying this to my own life, my bottom line is this: why cling to a life vest when you could build a life raft? Don’t know about you, but I’m picking up my hammer and some wood…

4. People in the Trenches Hear The Biggest Thud – When first class survivors were interviewed, they remarked that they barely heard any noise at all when the Titanic struck the iceberg. A “dull thud,” some called it. When the lead fireman, who’d been working in the bowels of the ship, was interviewed, he said the moment of impact caused a deafening roar, as if lighting had struck the hull. What a difference in perspective! As someone in the trenches, I can tell you, my ears are ringing.

5. Decorum is Overrated – Someone, I can’t remember who (the cruise line director?) asked the orchestra to continue to play music on deck because it soothed the passengers and kept them calm while they boarded the lifeboats. The orchestra played and played, and when they were done, all the lifeboats were gone. As the ship began to submerge, the conductor lifted his baton to direct one…last…song because, well, there was nothing else they could do. Yikes. That one got me. Under no circumstances do I want to be the violinist in the third row, madly sawing my strings as the ship goes under. Why did the doomed orchestra stay? Decorum, perhaps? Well, quite frankly, to hell with decorum. I’m ready to make some noise.

Where will my career be in three months? Six months? A year? I’m not sure, but after taking these Titanic lessons to heart, I can tell you this: it won’t be underwater.

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How about you? Any pearls of wisdom to impart on the business of writing? Did this strike the right chord with you? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

When Self-Publishing Makes Sense…And When It Doesn’t

"Of course I love your book, dear. Just please don't write another one."

Some would argue that self-publishing always makes sense, no matter what. And when you hear of mega success stories, ala Hocking, Konrath, and Eisler, it’s hard not to side with the indies. And yet, I’m not self-published. Not today, anyway. So why the heck not?

For one, I’ve been writing longer than self-publishing has been a viable option (that’s viable, not available). This allowed me to make a lot of private mistakes with my prose, the kind that should never, ever be inflicted on the public. And because I’ve been at this a number of years, I’ve got enough perspective to judge–at least 80% of the time–when something I’ve written stinks. Maybe not at first, but after a month or two, after that crushy “This is brilliant!” feeling wears off, I can see when something isn’t up to par and needs to either be revised or buried in the backyard, usually because of lackluster response from my family, my critique group, my agent, editors, or even my own gut feeling of “meh, it could be better.”  Anyway, I suspect many new writers either neglect to seek feedback or dismiss it too readily. Why? Because I did the same thing myself back in the day, and because I’ve seen it happen time and time again across different critique groups. And before you leave something in the comments about how Grandma just loved your Born Again Bondage novel or how your third grade class couldn’t stop howling when you read them chapter 2 of Binky Goes Potty, realize that readers MAY be less than candid with you when you a) have power of attorney over them or b) have the power to revoke their bathroom privileges. Or both. Sorry Grandma.

There’s a popular blog I read that advises writers to just write it, publish it, and keep going, not stopping to worry too much about quality in the early years. But from a business standpoint, I’m not sure that makes sense. Think about it. If you self-pub a real stinker (and you may not realize that you have), then anyone who buys your book probably won’t buy another from you again. Your second book may be a little better, but still mediocre. Again, you pull in a few hundred suckers, er, readers, they quickly figure out you don’t have chops, and put you on their DO NOT BUY list. And so on, and so on. Not to mention any bad reviews you might garner as a result. Even if, say, after your third or fourth novel you become passable (or even terrific), within a few keystrokes, the brand new “I just got a Kindle!”  buying public will discover your lousy Amazon ranking, your one-star reviews on Goodreads, and your desperate “buy now!” Twitter stream from your first two novels and will pass you up faster than a plate of turnips at a barbecue. Let’s face it, as the publishing wars rage on, buyers are becoming more and more savvy. To put it another way, would you cobble together a tap dancing routine, rent out space for your performance, and sell tickets to the public after only taking lessons for a few months? No rational person would. Except hundreds of people upload their freshly penned still-wet novels to an audience of millions every day.

The other reason that I haven’t self-published yet comes down to strategy. I didn’t want to jump on the bandwagon just because it rolled by my house; I wanted to jump on it when it made sense to my career. I won’t go into detail at this point because I’m not ready to share yet–probably a hold-over from my marketing days where information is kept close to the vest and revealed only when one is mobilized to execute. But I hope to write more on this soon.

Without further delay…

You Know You’ve Published Too Soon When:

• Amazon had to create a new sales ranking system–just for you–that accommodates infinity
• Your fans share your DNA
• The six people who bought your last book formed a support group
• You’ve collected enough flaming reviews to start a small forest fire
• You find nothing wrong with this sentence: Its to bad they went too the store, and left they’re money behind.
• You earn 4 digits a month, except two of the digits are on the right side of the decimal
• Villagers with pitchforks gather at your mention of a sequel

Okay, okay. But surely there’s a right time to self-publish, isn’t there? In all seriousness…

You Know It’s Time To Self-Publish When:

• People who don’t owe you money (or live under your roof) actually like your book
• Your critique group zeros in on errant commas because they can’t find much else to gripe about
• You’ve gotten rejection letters that started off so positively that they sucker-punched you into believing your work had been accepted
• You’ve already published books traditionally and have a languishing out-of-print backlist

I’m not against self-publishing. What I am against, however, is RUSHING to self-publish before the book and/or the writer is ready. If you’re just putting stuff up for some voyeuristic thrill, then more power to you. But if you’re looking at writing as a long-term career, then treat it with as much care and consideration as you would with any other. And if you decide that your work is ready, I wish you the best of luck. If not, well, there’s always tomorrow.

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What about you? Did you rush to self-publish? Or did you take your time? Also, how did you decide the time was right to take the indie plunge?

Critiques The Rip: Why Criticism Trumps Praise

I recently wrote a guest post on Yawatta Hosby’s blog (what follows is an excerpt). To read the whole thing, I hope you’ll click over to her page!

Quick, what’s the worst thing you can hear during a critique?

“Your dialogue reads like an Xtranormal video on horse tranquilizers.”

Nope.

“Your plot has more holes than Homer Simpson’s underwear.”

Try again.

“I couldn’t find anything wrong. I liked it.”

Bingo.

Now don’t get me wrong. Hearing that someone else likes your work can be a real ego booster. And at times, we writers need some of the good stuff to keep us going in a rejection-happy industry bent on destroying our optimism. Trouble is, if you keep hearing “I liked it” too often from fellow critiquers, you’re 1) in the wrong group or 2) in the right group, but everyone knows you’ll key their car on the way out if they tank your story. Either way, seek help immediately.

If, however, you ARE hearing things from your early readers, and you’re choosing to ignore them, then do so at your own publishing peril. I’ve been in many, many different critique groups over the years, both through SCBWI and through online classes, and those resistant to criticism are usually one of the following writers:

• Shrinking Violet: Attends group once and only once, having relied on Grandma (without her reading glasses) and her cat, Mr. Snickles (with his reading glasses), to review her work in the past. Any negative comments will cause her to wither, abandon her literary pursuits, and take up knitting cat hair ponchos instead.

To read the rest of my guest post, I hope you’ll click over to Yawatta Hosby’s blog. You can either leave a comment on her page or come back to mind and leave it. Happy reading!

Lighting the Creative Spark – Finding Inspiration in Unlikely Places

Me and the Blue Whale of Catoosa

I just got back from vacationing in Oklahoma.

That’s a real head-scratcher, isn’t it? Why not Belize? Or Paris? I’ll answer in two words: Route 66. (Okay, two more words: I’m broke.)

Ahem. Anyway…

I’ve been in love with the Mother Road since the day I stumbled onto its neon lit byways in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It really is the Main Street of America, passing through eight different states and showcasing the best of what our country has to offer in the way of roadside attractions and art deco gas stations. If you haven’t driven at least a few miles of it, you’re missing an essential piece of Americana. But I got more than my kicks on Route 66. I got my creativity back.

You see, for the last few weeks I’ve had a raging case of the writing yips. If you know anything about baseball, you know that the yips come from over-analyzing. And boy, have I been over-analyzing. Do I write something I’m passionate about, but isn’t popular at the moment? Or do I give in to whims of the Publishing Gods and write one of those seething, angsty YA novels where The Chosen Girl with Hidden Powers must Save the World from Evil Forces while swooning over an Outcast from Another Tribe. (shudder)

If you read my previous post about Karma and Writing, then you know I’ve wrestled with this before, ultimately siding with my passion. Unfortunately, the book idea I had back in January turned out to be crap on a cracker, and I’ve been floundering ever since. Enter Oklahoma. Traveling got me away from Twitter, Facebook, and, yes, this blog. It got me away from

Chandler, OK Icon

the shrapnel flying over the Indie vs. Traditional debate, the Big Six vs.The Library debate, and the Scott Turow vs. Rational Freaking Thought debate. It even got me away from writing. Just reflecting on someone else’s creativity, like Dale Chihuly’s glass sculptures at the Oklahoma City Museum of Art, or learning about the fossil record at the Sam Noble history museum, did wonders for my brain. So did hiking the Wichita Mountains and pondering the plight of the bison, which were wiped out to near-extinction levels in the nineteenth century. 

Bison of the Wichita Mountain Wildlife Refuge

Point is, I gave myself permission to stop thinking so hard about writing and start thinking about something else. Anything else. And I came back home with a well-shaped idea for a YA novel and enough energy to write the picture book I’ve been noodling with for awhile.

Let’s face it, with all the chaos and uncertainty involved with being a writer these days, it’s hard to hold onto the one thing necessary for success: inspiration. So much doom and gloom and worry kills the desire to create. So if you find yourself with a bad case of the writing yips, here’s what I recommend:

1. Get out of the house. Go some place you’ve never been, even if it’s just to a different neighborhood or a different coffee shop.

2. Bask in someone else’s brilliance, preferably outside of a book. Reading a masterpiece will only make you feel incompetent, and reading a sh*tty novel will only make you mad. Better to spend your time at the art museum or the indie record shop.

3. Become involved with someone else’s problems/life for awhile instead of your own. Have lunch with a friend, volunteer, call your mother.

4. Jump your brain off the tracks. Rent that Spanish language CD from the library, take up piano, build a house out of beer cans. Just do ANYTHING that gets you moving in a new direction, capiche?

5. Last, but not least, stop thinking. Thinking screws up everything. Believe me, I know.

So while my agent is off at the Bologna Book Fair, doing what she does best, I’ll be here, in my little corner of Texas, doing what I do best: writing. Finally.

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How about you? Ever suffer from the writing yips? Where do you get your ideas from? What’s the best place for writing inspiration?

 

Beautiful Sentences II – Metaphor and Simile

No one does metaphor and simile like F. Scott Fitzgerald. He overwhelms and delights us with comparisons that slip so vividly, so precisely from the page that they leave us with little doubt about the emotion or detail the author was trying to convey. Consider Fitzgerald’s description of Daisy Buchanan’s home in The Great Gatsby:

“A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling–and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the the sea.”

I don’t know about you, but reading this made me feel like I was standing in the apartment with the main character, Nick. In this sentence, Fitzgerald uses two similes (like pale flags, as the wind does on the sea) and one metaphor (wedding cake of the ceiling). But these devices aren’t just handy for describing physical objects. They can lay human emotions bare enough for us to feel the sting and blush of them, even from the written (or e-inked) page. The following sentences are also from The Great Gatsby and describe Jay Gatsby’s first kiss with Daisy:

“His heart beat faster and faster as Daisy’s white face came up to his own. He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.”

Wow. “Romp again like the mind of God” and “she blossomed for him like a flower” are two beautiful similes. But the metaphor that describes the rush of anticipation experienced by Jay is my favorite because it’s so unexpected: “listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star.” That’s voice, isn’t it? Given the same task of describing this emotion to the reader, I don’t think I would have EVER put these two items together. But they totally work. I’m there on that moonlit street with Jay and Daisy.

Be warned, however, that you can have too much of a good thing. If you place too many similes and metaphors on one page, they lose their punch and fatigue the reader. Save them for when you really need to make an impact, describe something just so, or firmly put the reader in the shoes of a character.

Another thing to think about, especially writing in first person, is frame of reference. A pastry chef and a garage mechanic are going to describe things differently. Allow me to illustrate. Upon meeting a girl with freckles, the pastry chef might recall that she “had cheeks dusted with cocoa powder,” whereas the mechanic might remember that “her face was spotted, like my shirt collar after an oil change.”

A character’s region, too, has an impact on the number of metaphors and similes they might use. In my novel, SLEEPWALKING WITH DEER, my main character is a backwoods Texas girl. If you know nothing else about the Lone Star State, know this: we take crafting similes and metaphors to a competitive level. You can’t sling a dead cat without hitting one, especially when conversing with country folk. And I say this with love, since I come from country folk. However, in another one of my novels, UNIVERSAL FORCES, I use metaphor and simile sparingly, even though it’s got a West Texas setting, because my main character isn’t Texan, thinks very concretely, and has an academician for a parent.

So there you have it. If you love metaphor and simile, then I hope this article supplements your writer’s toolkit. If you’ve shied away from them in the past, then Fitzgerald just might give you the inspiration you need.

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How about you? Do you wield metaphor and simile like a surgeon’s blade? Or do you shy away from their glitter, preferring a modernist approach?

Rejection Mind Shift – Changing Perceptions of the Dreaded “No”

Before my self-pubbed readers click away, thinking that this post couldn’t possibly have any relevance to them, let me say this: if your sales are dismal or you’ve gotten a lot of one-star reviews, you’re getting rejections. Only they’re from readers, not editors. I hope you’ll read on…

So I got a rejection yesterday. It wasn’t a particularly bad rejection. One of those that’s best described as a not-for-me-gram. Except–dang-it-all–it was another rejection.

Now, by no means am I defeated. This is only my second (or third?) pass on a project that’s been on sub (via my agent) for a mere a two months. It’s still waaaay too early in the game to think my battleship’s been sunk.

But here’s the interesting thing: When I got the rejection, I didn’t flinch because I knew, deep down, that there was nothing essentially “wrong” with my prose or story mechanics. I assumed that the pass was, in all likelihood, a matter of reader preference. This is quite a shift from the writer I used to be, but a completely natural progression that I suspect many experience during the six to seven year “apprenticeship” that all scribes go through (whether they know it or not):

The First Year of Rejection (The Honeymoon Year): Those idiots in New York (or millions of Kindle owners) have no idea what they’re doing. I’m brilliant.

The Early Years of Rejection (The Spanish Inquisition Years): Oh, God, it’s true. I suck! I’m a hack! Why did I ever think I could do this?!?!?

The Middle Years of Rejection (The Lightbulb Years): Ohhhhhh. Crap. How could I have not seen this (stilted voice, snarled plot, lousy opening) before? Jeez, and I submitted (self-published) this to how many people?

The Late Years of Rejection (The Zen Years): My writing is solid. I just haven’t connected with the right editor (group of readers). After all, a flower needs but a single bee to flourish.

Okay, that last part got a bit too Obi Wan Kenobi, even for me. But you get the idea.

I’m guessing many of you identify with one of these stages. For those in the early years: it is going to get better, Sunshine, as long as you don’t quit. For those in the middle years: learn, but don’t over learn from your mistakes. Okay? For those who made it to the late years: congratulations. But we’re only at the threshold of our careers. Don’t let up. Ever.

There will always be those super human outliers who skip to the head of the line, bypassing much of this angst by magically scoring a book deal or a million downloads seemingly overnight with a dewey-green manuscript (or blog or Twitter feed or manifesto inked on toilet paper). This may, however, be more indicative of their ability to resonate with the right people at the right time than their ability to write. For the rest of us mere mortals still chasing that lightening strike–our golf clubs held aloft to the storm clouds–it’s going to take time. And rejections.

Do I ever have moments of doubt or days when I get crabby and impatient? Yeah, I’m human. But I’ve built up enough confidence, learned enough of my craft, and gained enough perspective to know when I’ve written a good book. And I’ve written a good book. Several, in fact. Soon, someone is going to believe in one of them as much as I do.

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Where are YOU in the apprenticeship? Do you take rejections personally? Do you let them slide? Do you incorporate suggestions into your writing? For the self-published among you, have you ever re-written a book (or tinkered with a cover, etc.) because of low sales or wonky reviews? I’d love to hear from you!

Instant Guru – Just Add Spin (or, How To Be An Expert By Saying You Are)

Photo By Sam Segar

I think my head just blew off.

Minutes ago, I finished reading a blog post by a writing/publishing “guru” with thousands upon thousands of loyal followers. This person’s even got a few (self-published) books, a nifty headshot, an online community, even an agent. All good, right?

Um, no. I met said guru a couple of years ago at a retreat. It was clear from numerous conversations that this person was ready to move manuscript mountains by the shear force of their will, despite a gross lack of knowledge and experience. After a little digging, I discovered that many of the accolades the guru spent the day bragging about were blown more out of proportion than job descriptions on an entry-level resume. Now, I find it staggering that they’ve built the online equivalent of the Taj Mahal out of these simple mud bricks. Could they have gained required wisdom over the last few years in order to become an expert? Sure, anything’s possible. Is it likely, given what I know? Hmmmm…

Bottom line: anyone can be anything on the internet by saying it enough times.

I am a famous author, I am a famous author, I am–  Sorry, got caught up in the moment.

Hey, I’m not against blowing your own horn (or, lest I offend, listening to actual Gurus). Au contraire, mon ami. Social networking provides us with the means to tell others about our projects, our lives, our dreams, even offer advice. But I am against the “all sizzle and no steak” model and am generally wary of those without demonstrated real-world accomplishments to back up their words when they bill themselves as one of the Three Wise Men of publishing. I read tons of blogs by everyday people sharing advice on what worked for them and even some by honest-to-God experts who’ve fought in the trenches. But I’ve never fallen into the trap of believing one person has all the answers. Maybe I’m jaded from too many years in marketing and sales where my life’s work was, to quote a former boss, “put a shine on that turd.” (You think I’m kidding, don’t you?) Or perhaps, it’s made me more aware of the dizzying sway that the cult of personality holds over some.

But don’t let me stop you. If you want to set up shop as a guru, there’s never been a better time. All it takes is a few mud bricks and an internet connection.

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Gurus abound in all industries. But the rise in indie publishing has created more than its fair share. Anyone else out there have experience (good or bad) with them?

10×10 Jumpstart – Creating Momentum in Your Writing Career

Okay, so I’m tired of waiting for my career to “take off.” Who isn’t? I don’t care if you’re a writer, a surgeon, an editor, a mail carrier, or a janitor – we’ve all been there. We knock ourselves out, do the best we can, and still we’re at the mercy of decision makers. Now, the self-pubbed among you may say, “Ah ha! I wait for no one! I make my own destiny!” To which I respond, “Yes, but you rely on customers to make purchasing decisions, don’t you?” There’s the rub. No one makes money in a vacuum. Actually, no one does anything in a vacuum because it would be harmful to their health, but I digress…

I’ve been toying with the idea of 10×10–something I dreamt up when I should have been writing–for awhile now. It’s simple: list ten categories designed to create momentum for a given objective, list ten short-term actions for each category, work like a fiend to execute in the shortest amount of time possible, let things pick up steam all by themselves. Let’s face it, even a puny snowball can level a town if it’s rolled down a big enough hill.

For your enjoyment/ridicule, here are the first two of my ten categories, along with the actions I’ll be taking for each:

Objective: Jumpstart My Writing Career

Time Frame: 3 months

Category One: Broaden My Network

Actions for Broadening My Network:

1. Follow three new people on Twitter a day and commit to posting one new thing on FB and Twitter each day
2. Produce one short piece of content per week that I can post elsewhere on the web (with hooks back to my website), including guest blogging, etc.
3. Update my own blog weekly
4. Attend monthly SCBWI meetings, even when I don’t feel like it – and talk to people, for pity’s sake
5. Join (or start) a new online network of writers
6. Join HARO (Help a Reporter Out) and offer to help when possible
7. Actively post comments on other people’s blogs, especially when I agree with the content!
8. Join a second offline network of writers in my town
9. Start a second blog (that has nothing to do with writing)
10. Attend a conference

Category Two: Improve My Craft

Actions for Improving My Craft:

1. Read at least ten works of fiction (in and out of my genre)
2. Make notes on what works, what doesn’t in the above, and incorporate into my own projects
3. Read five works of non-fiction (pertaining to the craft of writing)
4. Pick at least one technique from each of the above and incorporate into my own projects
5. Find new beta readers for my projects (online or off)
6. Research mentoring programs, find mentor if possible
7. Sign up for a workshop
8. Read five works of non-fiction (pertaining to the craft of illustrating)
9. Spend thirty minutes a day (or more) improving my illustration skills and applying learned techniques
10. Find someone to critique my illustrations and/or sign up for an illustration workshop

All in addition to my usual writing projects.

I’m still working on the rest of my “ten” and may publish them as I go along, but my goal is to begin this monster “to do” list in March and finish it by the end of May. I won’t put anything on the list that I can’t control, like “get a publishing contract” or “make $10k,” and I also won’t put anything on the list that might feasibly take longer than 3 months, like write an adult novel.

So why three months? For a number of reasons. The first is, I don’t think I could sustain all these activities any longer than this! The second is that it’s a nice compact chunk that leads up to summer (when publishing slows down and reading/buying books picks up)–a small window is key to accumulating momentum. And third, I’ll accrue enough data during this time to support what is and isn’t working and adjust any ongoing activities accordingly.

The beauty of the 10×10 method is that it can be applied to just about anything that needs a jumpstart (your marriage, your social calendar, your health, etc., etc.).

I’m excited to dive into my list in March. I know for a fact that any results I get will move me further along my career path. How can they not? I’ll report back on them in the coming months to let you know if I’m making progress. Will my 10×10 bring me Fame and Fortune? Who knows? But it’s more likely to happen than if I cross my fingers and hope. Though, I’ll still be doing plenty of that, too.

Things People Are Just Now Figuring Out About Publishing (that seemed obvious to me)

I’ve read several blog posts this past week about publishing that had me rolling my eyes. Maybe it’s because I spent ten years in marketing before I committed myself to the insanity of writing. While I’ve never worked in publishing, selling is selling and products are products, no matter the industry. Without further pre-amble, I give you the 4 p’s of marketing, applicable to igloo salesmen and book hawkers alike, even in the digital age:

Product – Everyone may have a story to tell, but not every story will sell. Okay, I was trying too hard for the rhyme on this one, but here’s what I was trying to say: just because you wrote a book, doesn’t mean people will fork over money for it. Especially if you’re one of those people who thought you’d give self-pubbing a try because, hey, everyone else is making a bundle and you’ve got a really great story about a vegetarian werewolf that’s just dying to be told. How hard can it be to write a book, anyway? If Snooki can do it, anyone can. (Read more about the projected hysteria here.) Bottom line: to be successful, you have to offer the public a good book (i.e., a good product) and learning to write takes time. Years, not a few spare lunch hours, folks.

Price – There is a race to the bottom, but not everyone is running the race. First, ebooks were $2.99, then they were $.99, now they’re free! (no, really, F-R-E-E, while supplies / hope lasts) Now, that vegetarian werewolf novel may need to be .99 or free in order to leave the shelf, but will Stephen King ever need to price his books that low (outside of a limited promotion) because of market pressure? In a word, no. Why? Because quality products can and should command a higher price. The car industry leads with a perfect example. Ferraris will always sell for top dollar, even in a recession, even when other manufacturers are scrambling to make econo-cars, because Ferraris kick a**. Bottom line: you can command a higher price for your product if you offer quality. If you don’t offer quality and price accordingly, you’ll have to make it up in volume, which will be harder to do if your book sucks.

Place – If you’re on the bottom shelf, you’re on the bottom. This has nothing to do with the “place” you’re sold, but, rather, how your products are positioned in the market. If you come right out of the gate with an unedited book, complete with a crappy cover and a bunch of fake Amazon reviews posted by suckers who owe you a favor, then guess what? You’ve positioned yourself. And it ain’t with the Ferraris. Traditionally published authors have it easier because of the halo effect that automatically comes with professional alignment (never said it was deserved in all cases). Does this mean self-pubbers can’t achieve a similar effect? They can, it’s just going to take more work and money. Hire that editor, that designer, establish yourself as an expert through speaking or teaching or interviews, maintain a professional web presence…so many others have said this before. But how many people are actually following this advice? Bottom line: if you position yourself as a dabbler (whether you intend to or not), people will view your products as inferior.

Promotion – Pull, don’t push when selling. I’ve read numerous posts questioning the effectiveness of Twitter, FB, and other forms of social media in selling books, including one by Publishers Weekly that backs up this supposition with data. Here’s the answer: social media won’t sell jack. Does it have an overall impact in the perceived value of a product? Yes, if it’s done professionally. Will people run out in droves to buy your new book because you told them to do it in 140 characters or less? Not likely. I’m sure it happens on a limited basis. But is it a reliable and time-worthy method of sales? No, and I’ll tell you why not–because EVERYONE IS DOING IT. If you want to be heard in a crowd, the first rule is whisper, don’t shout. What the heck does this mean? It means, dear reader, that your primary goal as a writer is to entertain. So entertain, don’t sell, and people will come to know your genius and decide to purchase it for $2.99 and above. And another thing, please target your efforts with a sniper rifle, not a shotgun blast. In other words, pasting an Amazon link to your vegetarian werewolf book at the bottom of your witty and/or snarky blog comments is nice and all, but you’ll sell a lot more if you send comp copies to the folks who host veggie blogs or werewolf blogs, or both (in the hopes that they’ll evangelize). Bottom line: You can’t make someone buy your product, you have to make them want to buy your product. This is best done with a slight tap on the shoulder, not a crack to the head with a sledgehammer. 

There you have it. The 4 p’s of marketing. Go forth and sell, dang it. But subtly.