Thursday, April 2, 2015

Instructional Promotional Offer

            So, I’m just finishing up my last polish of Ex-Isle, which means no real post this week. Sorry.
            However...  My publisher, Crown, just started a promotion for my new book, The Fold, (out in hardcover two months from today).  Pre-order the book now from your favorite local store (if you haven’t already), enter your info over at my other website, and you’ll get a free galley copy, one of the early, unedited trade paperbacks that was sent out to reviewers, some book stores, and so on.
            What does this mean for you, reader of the ranty blog?
            It means you’ve got a chance to see an earlier draft (the first layout, essentially) and the final novel side by side.  You can read the book, then go through the earlier version and find all the places my editor and I changed things. Every tweak and adjustment as we prepared the book to go to the printer.  And there are a lot of them, so it’s a worthwhile exercise. And all it costs you is... well, pre-ordering the book.
            And heads up—there are only about a hundred or so galley copies available for this, and I think over a dozen of them have been claimed since this promotion started yesterday.  Also, just because it needs to be said... you can’t “pre-order” the book once it comes out.  So there is a time issue involved here.
            Finally, for the record, I’m doing signings at Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego, Dark Delicacies in Los Angeles, and Borderlands Books in San Francisco.  So pre-order your book from them and then come back so I can scribble in it.
            And next week... back to our regularly scheduled ranting.
            Until then, as the Trickster would say, write, write, WRITE!

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Quitters Prosper

            Never say never...
            I wanted to blather on about quitting for a couple of minutes.  There comes a point in many endeavors when you realize you’re not getting ahead.  That all the time, effort, and enthusiasm that’s been expended on this project just isn’t enough. For one reason or another, I didn’t make the cut.  The team picked that skinny kid with the limp and the glasses over me.
            At which point, I need to make a choice.  Do I keep trying to get on this team? Do I continue throwing myself unto the breach?  Forging on despite all odds with the strength of my convictions?
            Or should I give up?
            Honestly?  After working at this writing thing on one level or another for a good chunk of my life...
            I think it’s time to quit.
            If I’ve spent the past decade trying to get any publisher in the world to just look at one of my book manuscripts, and they’re not interested... that’s a sign.  If I’ve spent thousands of dollars on screenwriting classes and books and contests over the past ten or twelve years, but I still don’t even have a toe in the door...I should consider saving my money this year.  When I submit a story to a hundred magazines, journals, and anthologies and get back a hundred rejections... I need to take that hint.
            I should quit.  Cut my losses.  Stop beating my head against the wall, demanding to be recognized, and move on.
            No, hold on.  Don’t leave yet.  Keep reading ‘till the end.
            What I’m getting at ties back to an idea I’ve talked about a few times here.  I need to be able to look at my own work honestly and objectively.  Knowing when to give up on a project is part of that.  After querying a hundred or so reps or editors and not getting a single nibble, I need to consider the fact the problem may not lay with them.  My writing may be perfect, it may be gold, it may be what everyone in America is dying for.  At the moment, though, for one reason or another, it’s not what those specific people—those, dare I say it, gatekeepers—are  looking for.  And, right or wrong,  they’re  the ones who make that decision. 
            Now... here’s that important part.
            I’m not saying I’m going to stop writing altogether.  This doesn’t mean I should never touch a keyboard again or that it’s time for me to forget the big leagues.  It’s just time to sit back and look at what I’ve done and how I’m doing things.  Maybe the problem is the characters.  Maybe it’s dialogue.  Perhaps even something as basic as an overwhelming number of typos.   Heck, it could just be my cover letter.  At the end of the day, something is holding me back, and that needs to stop happening.
            I’ve met people who wrote one novel way back in college and have spent the past twenty years sending it to agent after agent, publisher after publisher.  They haven’t changed a single word since they first set it down on paper.  They haven’t written anything else since (“Why should I write something else nobody’s going to pay me for?”).  They’ve just got that one novel going out again and again and again...
            Same thing in Hollywood.  People write a screenplay over a long weekend, never polish or revise it, but try to use it as a calling card for years.  I know of a guy on the contest circuits who pushed the same script for almost a decade.  He hasn’t done anything else in the meantime, just sent that same script to contest after contest, waiting for fame and fortune as if winning was a lottery and he had to keep playing his lucky numbers.
            Knowing when to quit and move on isn’t a weakness. It’s not a flaw in my approach.  It’s a strength.  It’s the only way I can grow and learn new things, because I won’t get any better if I keep rewriting the same manuscript again and again for decades.  Sometimes you just have to give up on something. 
            It took me almost eleven years to finish my first solid novel, The Suffering Map.  Not an idea, not a work in progress, not something I’ve been poking at.  A complete, polished book manuscript, first page to last page.  Beginning, middle,and end.  Yeah, that’s a long time, but close to a decade of that was the film industry convincing me to go work on screenplays instead.  It probably only took about two years of actual work.
            So, eleven years of on-again-off-again work, and then the querying.  Letter after letter, rejection after rejection.  Go through it again, create a new draft, and then start the letters again.  Some folks asked to see it (one or two of them were powerful, well-placed folks).  Many letters and emails were traded back and forth. 
            In the end, though, after almost a dozen very major revisions, all of them passed on it.  And then I realized, this was done. I’d been working on that book on and off since graduating from college.  It was time to expand my horizons and write something else. 
            And that something was an early draft of a book about a government teleportation project gone wrong.  Which I followed up with a book about superheroes fighting zombies.  And then a few things since then.
            If I’d stayed focused for years on that novel no one wanted to see, though, I wouldn’t’ve done any of it.  I’d still be back there at square one.  And my list of published credits wouldn’t be the size it is now.
            I’m not saying I’ll never go back to The Suffering Map.  Many writers will tell you if your screenplay or novel gets rejected, put it in the drawer and wait a few years.  I’m also not saying it will sell in a heartbeat if I decide to try again in five years.  For now, though, I’ve given up on it. 
            So the next time you’re frustrated by months and months of trying to find a home for your work... stop and really think about it.  Maybe it’s time to move on and try something different.  Something new.
            Because that next thing could be the big thing.
            Next time might be a bit delayed.  Sorry. But when it happens, let’s flip this around.
            Until then... go write.

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Moor Vocabulary Mistakes

             Many thanks for your patience.  Hope you enjoyed the photo tips while I was off doing other things.
            Speaking of which, I gave you all the chance to suggest a topic for this week and nobody did.  So you all know what that means...
            It means I’m going to ramble on about spelling and vocabulary again.
            Hey, don’t blame me.
            A few times in the past I’ve talked about how a good working vocabulary is the most basic part of a writer’s tool chest.  But I realized today that’s not really true.  Well, not so much that it isn’t true, but that it’s a poor metaphor.
            A much better way to put is that vocabulary is my raw material.  It’s my concrete.  My brick and mortar.  It’s going to be the foundation of everything I build on the page, supporting all the weight of my clever ideas and images.
            Now, that being said...
            It doesn’t take a lot of construction experience to know the foundation of a structure is very important, and the materials I use to make that foundation is just as important.  I’m willing to bet you’ve probably seen a pothole or two because the contractor who built the road used sand as a base instead of gravel.  The sand’s much cheaper and they work exactly the same... until it rains.  I once saw some fast-cheap condos getting built in San Diego and they were using 1x3s for all the interior walls instead of 2x4s.  It’s all wood, right?
            But those are the easy ones to point out.  Anyone can see the difference between sand and gravel at a glance.  The really dangerous mistakes happen when people can’t tell the difference at all.   Balsa wood could pass for pine from a few feet away, but they hold up very differently under pressure (there’s a reason one gets used for houses and the other gets used for model planes).  Concrete and cement may look similar, but they’re two very different materials and not interchangeable at all.
            Heck, I read a big article once about the science of bricks.  It was a huge advancement when people began to realize the correct ratios and heating time bricks needed.  Bricks went from lumps of dried mud to man-made rocks, and human construction leaped forward—from wattle-and-daub huts to cities and pyramids, just like that.
            If I use the wrong material, or the wrong ratios, it’s a recipe for disaster.  We’re not just talking potholes.  This can be a structural-collapse level problem.  Cracks in foundations.  Walls coming down.  Buildings crumbling.
            As a writer, words are what we use to make our foundations.  They’re what holds everything up.  I can have the most amazing imagery, the most brilliant metaphor, the most mind-blowing plot twist, but if the wards I’m basing it on aren’t spilled rite, or jest the wrong words, no won is gong to rake it seriously.
            See what I mean?  You laughed a little bit at that last sentence, didn’t you?  Maybe not out loud, but it got a reaction from you.  And it wasn’t the reaction the rest of the paragraph was leading you to, was it? The whole point I was trying to make got brushed aside because you were knocked out of the flow of reading and started focusing on the mistakes. 
            And laughing at them.
            I don’t want my amazing imagery blown because I used the wrong word.  I don’t want a reader to skim over my mind-blowing plot twist because I wrote they’re instead of their.  And I really don’t want an editor or agent putting my manuscript in that big pile on the left because my brilliant metaphor on page five is making me look like... well, like I don’t know the raw materials of the trade.
            Of course, part of the problem here is that a lot of writers depend too much on their spellcheckers to do the work for them.  See, I didn’t call those words up above spelling mistakes—they’re all spelled right.  Even in the title.  They’re just all the wrong words.  It’s a case of cement where I needed concrete, and neither the writer nor the spellchecker knew the difference.
            Well, okay, I knew the difference.  I did that to prove a point.  But it’s bothersome how many times I see things like this slip by people.
            In fact, here’s a list of all the things like this I’ve seen slip past people.  The word they used... and the word they meant to use. Some were getting paid for it.  Others thought they should be getting paid.  Or getting paid more.
            Do you know what all of these words mean? 
diffuse vs. defuse - You can only do one with perfume.
knew vs. new - The irony on this one was painful...
bred vs. bread - One of these should not involve children.
break vs. brake - I only want to do one of these with my car.
retch vs. wretch - Only one of these is a poor bastard.
fare vs. fair - The taxi driver only cares about one of these.
instill vs. install - Only robots use both of these for emotions.
drought vs. draught - Only one involves a lack of water.
heroin vs. heroine - Two very different things to be hooked on.
breath vs. breathe - One is a verb, one is a noun.
hoard vs. horde - I can only fit one of these in my house.
cologne vs. colon - I don't like the smell of one of these.
eminent vs. imminent - The Pope is one of these.
drivel vs. dribble - All these rants only count as one of these.
prosecution vs. persecution - One only happens in court.
prophesy vs. prophecy - Only one gets written down
your vs. you’re - If you get this one wrong, you have to leave.
incite vs. insight - Only one of these is usually granted.
juts vs. just - This is sloppy.  Just sloppy
palate vs. palette - Only one is for food and drink.
palette vs. pallet - Only one is for packaged food and drink
patients vs. patience - Gregory House only had one of these.
healed vs. heeled - One of these can refer to money.
            Full disclosure, I screwed up with one of these (but caught it in my last draft before it went to my editor).  Another one I found in a friend’s proof I was reading for a blurb.  And another was in a self-published book (actually, three of them are from that book).  There’s also a few from some entertainment websites, lengthy blog posts, and other places where people claimed they knew how to use these raw materials.
            Now, I’m not saying your spelling has to be 100% perfect.  To save time, it won’t be.  We all make typos.  When we’re in the zone, we’ve all thought one thing and written another.  But when someone comes across multiple mistakes of this type... well, they start to laugh and shake their head. I know I do.  You just did, too, up above.
            That’s why it’s so very important for a writer to know what words mean and how to spell them.  It’s why I need to take the time to go over my manuscript—me, not my spellchecker—and make sure all the words I’m using are the right ones.
            Because I will never, ever get ahead if the main response people have to my work is to laugh at my inability to use raw materials.
            Next time... I’d like to talk about putting a stop to things.
            Until then, go write.