Yearly Archives: 2014

Planning a Writers Conference

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Nancy J. Cohen

Organizing a writers’ conference is a year-long, time consuming event. Having recently attended the inaugural Mystery Writers Key West Fest, I can appreciate the hard work put in by its co-organizers, Michael Haskins and Shirrel Rhoades, to make everything run smoothly. We’re doing the same thing for SleuthFest, scheduled for February 26, 2015. What steps do you have to take to organize a conference? This is by no means a comprehensive checklist, but here are some suggestions if your group is interested in moving forward with a big event.

IMG_0794

Book the hotel and the date. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. You have to estimate the number of people attending, including speakers, editors, agents, and special guests. Why? Because you’ll need meeting rooms to fit your capacity. How many persons might attend each session? How many tracks per hour will you offer? Thus how many break-out rooms are required? Day by day and function by function, you’ll have to map things out with the hotel liaison. This includes social events like meals and cocktail parties. A contract is drawn up. What is the cost of each meal? How much in deposits are required and when? What’s the cancellation policy? If you’re in Florida, what happens if there is a hurricane warning that weekend? How many rooms of your block do you have to fill? You need a good negotiator for this aspect, and that’s only the start.

P1030801   P1030800

Obtain the keynote speakers. Once you have a date and place, you can put invites out for the key speakers. They’ll be a draw for everybody else and for press coverage.

P1030789

Devise a conference budget. This will help you determine how much to charge for registration. Decide if your goal is to break even or to make a profit.

Appoint committee chairs. You’ll want to assign volunteers to take charge of the different roles, such as Programming, Editors/Agents, Author Liaison, Raffles, Publicity, Sponsors, etc. Put your key people in place early.

Brainstorm for programming ideas. What’s your conference theme? What topics do you want to cover? Will you have panels or one-on-one workshops?

Arrange for special events. Do you want to go on a shoot-out at a local range? Visit a morgue? Have a demonstration by K-9 dogs? Offer a murder mystery dinner cruise? Will you fill up the evenings, or will attendees be on their own?

P1030737
P1030767

Once you have laid the groundwork, you’re ready to solicit speakers and post your registration forms online. Assign a publicity person to be in charge of tweets, Facebook posts, and other online promotion. Another one can be in charge of obtaining sponsorships, like for tote bags and for maybe a coffee break. Don’t forget to solicit ads for the program book. Now you’re getting down to the nitty gritty details.

Be gracious and praise your team. Putting on a conference is an effort of love. We need to appreciate the volunteers who work so hard. Giving out token recognition awards or publicly recognizing your team mates at the event itself will go a long way toward getting those same volunteers to come back next year.

Even if your event seems to be a well-oiled machine, be prepared for last-minute snafus. Tell yourself that everything will work out fine. No one will notice the glitches, and they’ll all have a wonderful time.

If you wish to read my reports on conferences I’ve attended, visit my blog at Nancy’s Notes from Florida.

Have you been involved in conference planning? If so, what has been your biggest challenge?

Planning a Writers Conference

Posted on by

Nancy J. Cohen

Organizing a writers’ conference is a year-long, time consuming event. Having recently attended the inaugural Mystery Writers Key West Fest, I can appreciate the hard work put in by its co-organizers, Michael Haskins and Shirrel Rhoades, to make everything run smoothly. We’re doing the same thing for SleuthFest, scheduled for February 26, 2015. What steps do you have to take to organize a conference? This is by no means a comprehensive checklist, but here are some suggestions if your group is interested in moving forward with a big event.

IMG_0794

Book the hotel and the date. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. You have to estimate the number of people attending, including speakers, editors, agents, and special guests. Why? Because you’ll need meeting rooms to fit your capacity. How many persons might attend each session? How many tracks per hour will you offer? Thus how many break-out rooms are required? Day by day and function by function, you’ll have to map things out with the hotel liaison. This includes social events like meals and cocktail parties. A contract is drawn up. What is the cost of each meal? How much in deposits are required and when? What’s the cancellation policy? If you’re in Florida, what happens if there is a hurricane warning that weekend? How many rooms of your block do you have to fill? You need a good negotiator for this aspect, and that’s only the start.

P1030801   P1030800

Obtain the keynote speakers. Once you have a date and place, you can put invites out for the key speakers. They’ll be a draw for everybody else and for press coverage.

P1030789

Devise a conference budget. This will help you determine how much to charge for registration. Decide if your goal is to break even or to make a profit.

Appoint committee chairs. You’ll want to assign volunteers to take charge of the different roles, such as Programming, Editors/Agents, Author Liaison, Raffles, Publicity, Sponsors, etc. Put your key people in place early.

Brainstorm for programming ideas. What’s your conference theme? What topics do you want to cover? Will you have panels or one-on-one workshops?

Arrange for special events. Do you want to go on a shoot-out at a local range? Visit a morgue? Have a demonstration by K-9 dogs? Offer a murder mystery dinner cruise? Will you fill up the evenings, or will attendees be on their own?

P1030737
P1030767

Once you have laid the groundwork, you’re ready to solicit speakers and post your registration forms online. Assign a publicity person to be in charge of tweets, Facebook posts, and other online promotion. Another one can be in charge of obtaining sponsorships, like for tote bags and for maybe a coffee break. Don’t forget to solicit ads for the program book. Now you’re getting down to the nitty gritty details.

Be gracious and praise your team. Putting on a conference is an effort of love. We need to appreciate the volunteers who work so hard. Giving out token recognition awards or publicly recognizing your team mates at the event itself will go a long way toward getting those same volunteers to come back next year.

Even if your event seems to be a well-oiled machine, be prepared for last-minute snafus. Tell yourself that everything will work out fine. No one will notice the glitches, and they’ll all have a wonderful time.

If you wish to read my reports on conferences I’ve attended, visit my blog at Nancy’s Notes from Florida.

Have you been involved in conference planning? If so, what has been your biggest challenge?

You Can’t Bulls**it a Baby:Kids and the Writing Life

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“When people say they don’t have time to write with small children, well, for me it was the opposite. I didn’t write anything before I had them. They gave me that.” —Toni Morrison

By PJ Parrish

I don’t have kids. Would I be a better writer if I did?

Let’s leave that one for you shrinks out there for the moment. I have my own ideas about it, which I will answer at the end. Normally, a topic this personal wouldn’t even be on my writer radar; you guys know I prefer stomping around in the weeds of craft. But I read an interesting blog over the weekend by the novelist Lev Grossman called “Fatherhood Ruined My Life Plan – And Made Me The Writer I Am.” Here’s the money quote:

 When I came back to my book, after Lily was born, I saw it for what it was: cold, dull, lifeless, massively overthought – a labyrinth with no minotaur inside. I told myself I was just taking a break from it, but the truth was I binned it and started something new. I picked up an idea I’d had years before but hadn’t taken seriously at the time, because it was fresh and weird and risky and different from anything I’d ever tried before. Six months after Lily was born, I took a week off from work to explore it, and I wound up writing 25,000 words in five days. I’d hit an artery, and the story came surging out hot and strong. Not only was it the most productive week I’d ever had, I enjoyed it more than I’d enjoyed doing anything for literally years. I was more proud of it than anything I’d done in my entire life.

Something was afoot. I was waking up. Somewhere inside me the emotional pack ice was cracking and melting, ice that had formed long ago in the Fimbulwinter of my childhood, and feelings that I’d been avoiding for decades were thawing out and leaking through, both good and bad: joy, grief, anger, hope, longing. I was like some frozen extrasolar planet, where even gases exist only in neat, handy solid forms. But now I was warming up, and buried things were surfacing.

Interesting stuff. And it poses a question for writers. But not the obvious one about how do you find the time and energy to write when you have kids? But rather:  How do life experiences mold our fiction? Grossman’s essay is part of a book called When I First Held You: 22 Acclaimed Writers Talk About the Triumphs, Challenges, and Transformative Experience of Fatherhood. In it, writers such as Dennis Lehane, Rick Moody and Justin Cronin talk about the transforming power of parenthood. To be honest, most of it is of the pedestrian “you can’t be cool with drool on your jacket” variety. But there is the occasional insight about the writing life. And it turns out that perhaps playing pretend and singing along silly songs is what every writer needs to bring some emotional depth to their characters.

What interests me most about this topic is the deeper question that Grossman is getting at: What are the primal forces that make us open a vein and bleed our emotions onto the page?

I used to work in the newspaper business. Every reporter and editor I knew either wanted to write a novel or already had tried to.  After I got published, I read quite a few manuscripts as favors to friends. For the most part, they weren’t bad. But something was always missing. For a long time I couldn’t figure out what it was then it hit me: The writers were not willing to expose themselves emotionally on the page. Journalism trains you to be detached and impartial. And you can’t be that way with fiction. Unless you are willing to crawl inside another person’s head and heart — and muck about in all the messiness, gore, grief and passion that is there — you can’t make characters come alive on the page.

For some, becoming a parent might be the catalyst to make this happen. Years ago, I read an essay by Michael Connelly in which he said that having a daughter made him a better writer. (Sorry, I can’t find it). It also changed his character Harry Bosch. Nine books into the series, in Lost Light, Connelly gave Bosch a daughter he didn’t know about: Here’s Connelly on the why:

Up until Bosch became a father, I had been creating a character who viewed himself as being on a mission. He was someone who was skilled enough and tough enough to go into the abyss and seek out human evil. To carry out this mission, he knew he had to be relentless and bulletproof. By bulletproof, I mean he had to be invulnerable. Nobody could get to him. It was the only way to be relentless. And this idea or belief bled into all aspects of his life. He lived alone, had no friends, and didn’t even know his neighbors. He built a solitary life so that no one could get to him. All that suddenly changed in one moment (one page) when he locked eyes with his daughter in Lost Light. Harry suddenly knew he could be gotten to.

Did having kids (fictional and real) make Connelly a more humane writer? I don’t know. It made him a different one at least.

I might be wrong about this (and I hope you all will weigh in), but I think this question is different for women writers. I think women look at the effects of children on their creative life more practically. Some claim it forces discipline. P.D. James, mother of two, got up at 5 a.m. every morning to find time to write. The novelist Candia McWilliam once said, “Every baby costs four books.”  I asked my sister and co-author Kelly if having kids (she has three) makes you a better writer. “Only if you write tragedy,” she said. (she was joking. But barely.)

I do think the fiction of women writers is maybe uniquely shaped by motherhood. Jane Hamilton’s novel A Map of the World is about the effects of the drowning of a child on a family and a community. Jacquelyn Mitchard’s bestseller The Deep End of the Ocean is about a kidnapping. Both were written after the authors had their children. Who can say if the stories were possible before that?

Abby Fruch’s novel Polly’s Ghost is about a woman who dies in childbirth and returns as a ghost to guide her son. Fruch has said she “softened” after her daughter was born and couldn’t read anything violent. She rewrote her novel Blue Water to change its theme from betrayal to forgiveness.

The poet A. Manette Ansay wrote a fascinating essay called “Drowning the Children: To a Writer, Interruptions Are Life. Yes, she talks about the time suck that kids create. But like Lev Grossman, she taps into a larger realization. After having kids, she says…

…I found myself louder and more unkempt than I used to be, more interested in food, physical activity and sexual pleasure, more interested in the physical pleasure of words, their sound and sensation in the mouth and throat. The poems I had written before were tentative and cerebral; the new ones were confident, maybe funny, and full of physicality. Being with children made me matter-of-fact. Like dogs, babies and small children don’t swerve from their attention to the present moment and they take no shame in the expression of strong feeling. They have an undisciplined sense of humor. Having children didn’t give me confidence in my writing but I learned to write whether the result would be good or not — as parents, too, we learn to abandon hopeless perfectionism.

Boy, I can relate to that — the idea that writers need to live in the moment and give up the idea that they can make everything perfect. Like I said, I don’t have kids but after I adopted two stray mutts, I did learn to slow down and savor a nap in the sun. (That’s my snoop doggies above) And where once I couldn’t go to bed if there was a dirty glass in the sink, now I don’t sweat dog barf on the sofa. I write faster, enjoy the process for what it is, and I no long try to torture each sentence into perfection.

A couple years ago, Amanda Craig created a dust-up when she wrote in the Telegraph that bestselling Irish author Maeve Bichey would have been a better novelist if she had kids. It was a snarky thing to write and I don’t agree.  Because here is where I come down on this whole thing:

Having kids might make you a more honest writer. As Lev Grossman says in his essay, “You can’t bullshit a baby.” (Or your readers). But I don’t think making a baby will make you a better writer.

I truly believe that your unique voice is the sum of all your life experiences, but that what really makes you a good writer is being able to tap deep into your powers of empathy and observation.  Then having the courage to cut open your vein.

____________________

Postscript: I hope you all will indulge me and allow for a little BSP.  I got word a couple days ago that our book Heart of Ice has been nominated for the Shamus Award. (Private Eye Writers of America). Just made my rezzie to go to Bouchercon…haven’t been there in years. Kelly and I are thrilled, needless to say.

You Can’t Bulls**it a Baby:Kids and the Writing Life

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“When people say they don’t have time to write with small children, well, for me it was the opposite. I didn’t write anything before I had them. They gave me that.” —Toni Morrison

By PJ Parrish

I don’t have kids. Would I be a better writer if I did?

Let’s leave that one for you shrinks out there for the moment. I have my own ideas about it, which I will answer at the end. Normally, a topic this personal wouldn’t even be on my writer radar; you guys know I prefer stomping around in the weeds of craft. But I read an interesting blog over the weekend by the novelist Lev Grossman called “Fatherhood Ruined My Life Plan – And Made Me The Writer I Am.” Here’s the money quote:

 When I came back to my book, after Lily was born, I saw it for what it was: cold, dull, lifeless, massively overthought – a labyrinth with no minotaur inside. I told myself I was just taking a break from it, but the truth was I binned it and started something new. I picked up an idea I’d had years before but hadn’t taken seriously at the time, because it was fresh and weird and risky and different from anything I’d ever tried before. Six months after Lily was born, I took a week off from work to explore it, and I wound up writing 25,000 words in five days. I’d hit an artery, and the story came surging out hot and strong. Not only was it the most productive week I’d ever had, I enjoyed it more than I’d enjoyed doing anything for literally years. I was more proud of it than anything I’d done in my entire life.

Something was afoot. I was waking up. Somewhere inside me the emotional pack ice was cracking and melting, ice that had formed long ago in the Fimbulwinter of my childhood, and feelings that I’d been avoiding for decades were thawing out and leaking through, both good and bad: joy, grief, anger, hope, longing. I was like some frozen extrasolar planet, where even gases exist only in neat, handy solid forms. But now I was warming up, and buried things were surfacing.

Interesting stuff. And it poses a question for writers. But not the obvious one about how do you find the time and energy to write when you have kids? But rather:  How do life experiences mold our fiction? Grossman’s essay is part of a book called When I First Held You: 22 Acclaimed Writers Talk About the Triumphs, Challenges, and Transformative Experience of Fatherhood. In it, writers such as Dennis Lehane, Rick Moody and Justin Cronin talk about the transforming power of parenthood. To be honest, most of it is of the pedestrian “you can’t be cool with drool on your jacket” variety. But there is the occasional insight about the writing life.

What interests me most about this topic is the deeper question that Grossman is getting at: What are the primal forces that make us open a vein and bleed our emotions onto the page?

I used to work in the newspaper business. Every reporter and editor I knew either wanted to write a novel or already had tried to.  After I got published, I read quite a few manuscripts as favors to friends. For the most part, they weren’t bad. But something was always missing. For a long time I couldn’t figure out what it was then it hit me: The writers were not willing to expose themselves emotionally on the page. Journalism trains you to be detached and impartial. And you can’t be that way with fiction. Unless you are willing to crawl inside another person’s head and heart — and muck about in all the messiness, gore, grief and passion that is there — you can’t make characters come alive on the page.

For some, becoming a parent might be the catalyst to make this happen. Years ago, I read an essay by Michael Connelly in which he said that having a daughter made him a better writer. (Sorry, I can’t find it). It also changed his character Harry Bosch. Nine books into the series, in Lost Light, Connelly gave Bosch a daughter he didn’t know about: Here’s Connelly on the why:

Up until Bosch became a father, I had been creating a character who viewed himself as being on a mission. He was someone who was skilled enough and tough enough to go into the abyss and seek out human evil. To carry out this mission, he knew he had to be relentless and bulletproof. By bulletproof, I mean he had to be invulnerable. Nobody could get to him. It was the only way to be relentless. And this idea or belief bled into all aspects of his life. He lived alone, had no friends, and didn’t even know his neighbors. He built a solitary life so that no one could get to him. All that suddenly changed in one moment (one page) when he locked eyes with his daughter in Lost Light. Harry suddenly knew he could be gotten to.

Did having kids (fictional and real) make Connelly a more humane writer? I don’t know. It made him a different one at least.

I might be wrong about this (and I hope you all will weigh in), but I think this question is different for women writers. I think women look at the effects of children on their creative life more practically. Some claim it forces discipline. P.D. James, mother of two, got up at 5 a.m. every morning to find time to write. The novelist Candia McWilliam once said, “Every baby costs four books.”  I asked my sister and co-author Kelly if having kids (she has three) makes you a better writer. “Only if you write tragedy,” she said. (she was joking. But barely.)

I do think the fiction of women writers is maybe uniquely shaped by motherhood. Jane Hamilton’s novel A Map of the World is about the effects of the drowning of a child on a family and a community. Jacquelyn Mitchard’s bestseller The Deep End of the Ocean is about a kidnapping. Both were written after the authors had their children. Who can say if the stories were possible before that?

Abby Fruch’s novel Polly’s Ghost is about a woman who dies in childbirth and returns as a ghost to guide her son. Fruch has said she “softened” after her daughter was born and couldn’t read anything violent. She rewrote her novel Blue Water to change its theme from betrayal to forgiveness.

The poet A. Manette Ansay wrote a fascinating essay called “Drowning the Children: To a Writer, Interruptions Are Life. Yes, she talks about the time suck that kids create. But like Lev Grossman, she taps into a larger realization. After having kids, she says…

…I found myself louder and more unkempt than I used to be, more interested in food, physical activity and sexual pleasure, more interested in the physical pleasure of words, their sound and sensation in the mouth and throat. The poems I had written before were tentative and cerebral; the new ones were confident, maybe funny, and full of physicality. Being with children made me matter-of-fact. Like dogs, babies and small children don’t swerve from their attention to the present moment and they take no shame in the expression of strong feeling. They have an undisciplined sense of humor. Having children didn’t give me confidence in my writing but I learned to write whether the result would be good or not — as parents, too, we learn to abandon hopeless perfectionism.

Boy, I can relate to that — the idea that writers need to live in the moment and give up the idea that they can make everything perfect. Like I said, I don’t have kids but after I adopted two stray mutts, I did learn to slow down and savor a nap in the sun. (That’s my snoop doggies above) And where once I couldn’t go to bed if there was a dirty glass in the sink, now I don’t sweat dog barf on the sofa. I write faster, enjoy the process for what it is, and I no long try to torture each sentence into perfection.

A couple years ago, Amanda Craig created a dust-up when she wrote in the Telegraph that bestselling Irish author Maeve Bichey would have been a better novelist if she had kids. It was a snarky thing to write and I don’t agree.  Because here is where I come down on this whole thing:

Having kids might make you a more honest writer. As Lev Grossman says in his essay, “You can’t bullshit a baby.” (Or your readers). But I don’t think making a baby will make you a better writer.

I truly believe that your unique voice is the sum of all your life experiences, but that what really makes you a good writer is being able to tap deep into your powers of empathy and observation.  Then having the courage to cut open your vein.

____________________

Postscript: I hope you all will indulge me and allow for a little BSP.  I got word a couple days ago that our book Heart of Ice has been nominated for the Shamus Award. (Private Eye Writers of America). Just made my rezzie to go to Bouchercon…haven’t been there in years. Kelly and I are thrilled, needless to say.

15 questions for your beta readers – and to focus your own revisions

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by Jodie Renner, editor & author; @JodieRennerEd

 

So you’ve completed the first draft of your novel? Congratulations! Now it’s time to start the all-important revision process. Be sure not to shoot yourself in the foot by sending it off or self-publishing it too soon. That’s the biggest mistake of unsuccessful novelists – being in too much of a hurry to get their book out, when it still needs (major or minor) revisions and final polishing.

To start, put it aside for a week or more, then change the font and print it up and read it in a different location, where you don’t write. Or, to save paper, put it on your tablet and take it outside to a park or a (different) coffee shop to read. That way, you can approach it with fresh eyes and a bit of distance, as a reader, rather than in too close as the writer. Using the questions below to guide you, go through the whole manuscript for big-picture issues: logistics, characterization, plot, writing style, flow. Try to put some tension on every page, even if it’s just minor internal disagreement. Remember that conflict and tension are what drive fiction forward. As you read, correct minor errors and typos that jump out at you and make notes in the margins and on the backs of the pages. Then go back to the computer and type in your changes.

Now it’s time to seek out about 3 to 6 avid readers to give you some feedback. It’s best not to ask your parent, child, significant other, sibling, or bff to do this “beta” reading, as they probably won’t want to tell you what they really think, for fear of jeopardizing your relationship. Or they may be so critical it actually will hurt your relationship! Your volunteer readers don’t need to be writers, but they should be smart, discerning readers who enjoy and read your genre, and are willing to give you honest feedback.

So how do you find your beta readers? Perhaps through a critique group, writing class, workshop, book club, writers’ organization, or online networking such as Facebook, Twitter, or Google+. In the case of a YA novel or children’s book, look around for be age-appropriate relatives, neighborhood kids, or the children of your friends – or perhaps you know a teacher or librarian who would be willing to read some or all of it aloud to students and collect feedback.

To avoid generic (and generally useless) responses like “I liked it,” “It was good,” or “It was okay,” it’s best to guide your readers with specific questions. Here’s a list to choose from, based on suggestions from novelists I know. If you’re hesitant to ask your volunteers so many questions, you could perhaps have them choose the ones that seem most relevant to your story and writing style. And of course, if you first use these questions as a guideline during your revisions, the responses from your beta readers should be much more positive, or of a nature to take your story and your skills up a level or two.

1. Did the story hold your interest from the very beginning? If not, why not?

2. Did you get oriented fairly quickly at the beginning as to whose story it is, and where and when it’s taking place? If not, why not?

3. Could you relate to the main character? Did you feel her/his pain or excitement?

4. Did the setting interest you, and did the descriptions seem vivid and real to you?

5. Was there a point at which you felt the story started to lag or you became less than excited about finding out what was going to happen next? Where, exactly?

6. Were there any parts that confused you? Or even frustrated or annoyed you? Which parts, and why?

7. Did you notice any discrepancies or inconsistencies in time sequences, places, character details, or other details?

8. Were the characters believable? Are there any characters you think could be made more interesting or more likeable?

9. Did you get confused about who’s who in the characters? Were there too many characters to keep track of? Too few? Are any of the names or characters too similar?

10. Did the dialogue keep your interest and sound natural to you? If not, whose dialogue did you think sounded artificial or not like that person would speak?

11. Did you feel there was too much description or exposition? Not enough? Maybe too much dialogue in parts?

12. Was there enough conflict, tension, and intrigue to keep your interest?

13. Was the ending satisfying? Believable?

14. Did you notice any obvious, repeating grammatical, spelling, punctuation or capitalization errors? Examples?

15. Do you think the writing style suits the genre? If not, why not?

And if you have eager readers or other writers in your genre who are willing to go the extra mile for you, you could add some of the more specific questions below. These are also good for critiquing a short story.

Captivate_full_w_decal– Which scenes/paragraphs/lines did you really like?

– Which parts did you dislike or not like as much, and why?

– Are there parts where you wanted to skip ahead or put the book down?

– Which parts resonated with you and/or moved you emotionally?

– Which parts should be condensed or even deleted?

– Which parts should be elaborated on or brought more to life?

– Are there any confusing parts? What confused you?

– Which characters did you really connect to?

– Which characters need more development or focus?

Once you’ve received feedback from all your beta readers, it’s time to consider their comments carefully. Ignore any you really don’t agree with, but if two or more people say the same thing, be sure to seriously consider that comment or suggestion. Now go through and revise your story, based on the comments you felt were insightful and helpful.

What about you writers out there? Do you use beta readers? If so, how do you guide their reading? Do you have any questions or suggestions to add that have helped you focus their reading, so you can get a good handle on the strengths and weaknesses of your novel? And beta readers – do you have any questions you’d like authors to ask? I’d love to hear from all of you!

Also, see my post, “12 Essential Steps from Idea to Published Novel” here on TKZ.

And for a lengthy list of WRITERS’ CONFERENCES & BOOK FESTIVALS in North America in 2015, with links, click HERE.

 Jodie Renner is a freelance fiction editor and the award-winning author of three craft-of-writing guides in her series An Editor’s Guide to Writing Compelling Fiction: Captivate Your Readers, Fire up Your Fiction, and Writing a Killer Thriller. She has also published two clickable time-saving e-resources to date: Quick Clicks: Spelling List and Quick Clicks: Word Usage. You can find Jodie at www.JodieRenner.com, www.JodieRennerEditing.com, her blog, http://jodierennerediting.blogspot.com/, and on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

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Amazon, Hachette, Michael Corleone and Me

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@jamesscottbell

Unless you’ve been on the surface of Saturn for the last couple of months, you have no doubt read at least something about the clash between Godzilla and Mothra.

By which I mean, of course, the strained negotiations

between Amazon and Hachette. There is a whole lot out there on the internet about this. Just tickle Google and you’ll find hours of reading pleasure.

On the macro level, this is about nothing less than the future of publishing. If Hachette “wins,” things will look brighter for the entire traditional publishing industry. If Amazon “wins,” traditional publishing will face ever-increasing challenges to its relevance and perhaps even its survival.
So this is a very big deal indeed, which is why both sides are entrenched and why so much acid is being hurled from advocates of either side. For a bit of this, consider James Patterson (Hachette advocate) versus Joe Konrath (Amazon advocate).
Which brings me to  Michael Corleone.
You’ll recall that Michael is the good son, the Army vet who comes back from the war determined not to get involved with his family’s enterprises.
That all changes when his father, Don Vito Corleone, is nearly assassinated. Michael comes to the hospital one night and foils another attempt on his father’s life. Outside the hospital he confronts the dirty police captain, McCluskey, who proceeds to break Michael’s face.
At a meeting of the Don’s inner circle, Sonny Corleone rants and raves. Michael then quietly suggests a plan to take out the traitor, Sollozzo, and the dirty cop. He, Michael, will be the shooter. (This, by the way, is the “mirror moment” for Michael).
Sonny rejects Michael’s suggestion. After all, Michael is just a “nice college boy.” What does he know about such things? He’s mad just because a cop slapped him around? “You’re taking this very personal,” Sonny jokes.
But Michael lays it all out in further detail, convincing everyone to go along with it. Then he looks at his brother and says, “It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s just business.”
And that’s what’s going on with Amazon and Hachette. It’s business. Big business. Really, really big business.
But it’s not personal. This is what businesses do: jockey for the best position in a competitive marketplace. (Of course, if a business runs afoul of anti-trust law in this competition, the Department of Justice is liable to step in).

This time, we assume everyone’s playing by the rules. How does the game look?
Amazon does not owe Hachette a profit and Hachette does not have to do business with Amazon.
If Amazon loses Hachette’s business, it will not have a huge affect on Amazon’s bottom line (one that is fed by other items than books). If Hachette walks away from the world’s biggest book seller, Hachette will suffer a major hit.
On the other hand, Hachette believes that if it accedes to the current offer by Amazon it is accepting a long, downward trendline.
But it’s not personal. Except for authors. Because right now Hachette authors are being squeezed out of the Amazon store, and that means real harm to actual careers. This week Hachette revealed just how much they are being impacted in the Amazon dispute. And several Hachette authors have gone public on said harm, often making Amazon the villain in very Godfather-like terms (“Amazon stabbed me in the back!”).
So when I see frothing and vitriol from authors over this fight, I am not surprised. I’m even sympathetic. Yet I remind myself that such fights are just business as usual, and fuming does not put steak on the table.
I am a Hachette author and I am an indie author.
But I am also a cork riding on top of the roiling sea. No matter what happens around me (most of it out of my control), my job is to keep writing and then find the best place for what I write.
Which is why, as Godzilla and Mothra decimate Tokyo, I sip coffee in Los Angeles writing my next novel.

So how do you view the Amazon/Hachette kerfuffle? Do you see villainy here or simply the free market at work?  

Amazon, Hachette, Michael Corleone and Me

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@jamesscottbell

Unless you’ve been on the surface of Saturn for the last couple of months, you have no doubt read at least something about the clash between Godzilla and Mothra.

By which I mean, of course, the strained negotiations

between Amazon and Hachette. There is a whole lot out there on the internet about this. Just tickle Google and you’ll find hours of reading pleasure.

On the macro level, this is about nothing less than the future of publishing. If Hachette “wins,” things will look brighter for the entire traditional publishing industry. If Amazon “wins,” traditional publishing will face ever-increasing challenges to its relevance and perhaps even its survival.
So this is a very big deal indeed, which is why both sides are entrenched and why so much acid is being hurled from advocates of either side. For a bit of this, consider James Patterson (Hachette advocate) versus Joe Konrath (Amazon advocate).
Which brings me to  Michael Corleone.
You’ll recall that Michael is the good son, the Army vet who comes back from the war determined not to get involved with his family’s enterprises.
That all changes when his father, Don Vito Corleone, is nearly assassinated. Michael comes to the hospital one night and foils another attempt on his father’s life. Outside the hospital he confronts the dirty police captain, McCluskey, who proceeds to break Michael’s face.
At a meeting of the Don’s inner circle, Sonny Corleone rants and raves. Michael then quietly suggests a plan to take out the traitor, Sollozzo, and the dirty cop. He, Michael, will be the shooter. (This, by the way, is the “mirror moment” for Michael).
Sonny rejects Michael’s suggestion. After all, Michael is just a “nice college boy.” What does he know about such things? He’s mad just because a cop slapped him around? “You’re taking this very personal,” Sonny jokes.
But Michael lays it all out in further detail, convincing everyone to go along with it. Then he looks at his brother and says, “It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s just business.”
And that’s what’s going on with Amazon and Hachette. It’s business. Big business. Really, really big business.
But it’s not personal. This is what businesses do: jockey for the best position in a competitive marketplace. (Of course, if a business runs afoul of anti-trust law in this competition, the Department of Justice is liable to step in).

This time, we assume everyone’s playing by the rules. How does the game look?
Amazon does not owe Hachette a profit and Hachette does not have to do business with Amazon.
If Amazon loses Hachette’s business, it will not have a huge affect on Amazon’s bottom line (one that is fed by other items than books). If Hachette walks away from the world’s biggest book seller, Hachette will suffer a major hit.
On the other hand, Hachette believes that if it accedes to the current offer by Amazon it is accepting a long, downward trendline.
But it’s not personal. Except for authors. Because right now Hachette authors are being squeezed out of the Amazon store, and that means real harm to actual careers. This week Hachette revealed just how much they are being impacted in the Amazon dispute. And several Hachette authors have gone public on said harm, often making Amazon the villain in very Godfather-like terms (“Amazon stabbed me in the back!”).
So when I see frothing and vitriol from authors over this fight, I am not surprised. I’m even sympathetic. Yet I remind myself that such fights are just business as usual, and fuming does not put steak on the table.
I am a Hachette author and I am an indie author.
But I am also a cork riding on top of the roiling sea. No matter what happens around me (most of it out of my control), my job is to keep writing and then find the best place for what I write.
Which is why, as Godzilla and Mothra decimate Tokyo, I sip coffee in Los Angeles writing my next novel.

So how do you view the Amazon/Hachette kerfuffle? Do you see villainy here or simply the free market at work?  

What the %#$@?

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Tomorrow is the hundredth anniversary of the publication of James Joyce’s Dubliners. It’s perhaps the greatest short-story collection ever written, and yet Joyce had to struggle for eight years to get it published.
Why did it take so long? For one thing, publishers objected to disparaging comments about the English royal family in the story “Ivy Day in the Committee Room.” They were also worried about the sexual references in “Counterparts” and “Two Gallants.” But one of the strongest objections was to Joyce’s frequent use of the swear word “bloody.” Joyce eventually agreed to remove the offending word from some of the stories, but not all of them; it remained, for example, in “Two Gallants” (“two bloody fine cigars”) and “The Boarding House” (“if any fellow tried that sort of a game on with his sister he’d bloody well put his teeth down his throat, so he would”). Joyce insisted that in those instances no other word would do.
But Joyce was a genius, so he could take certain liberties. What about the rest of us, the merely mortal writers? How do we walk the fine line between underuse and overuse of vulgarities and swear words? Many characters in thrillers are unsavory types, and in the real world such people often use words that are a lot more offensive than “bloody.” If we’re going to show their dialogue and thoughts in a realistic way, we can’t avoid typing “shit,” “fuck,” “piss,” and all the other dirty words on George Carlin’s famous list. And yet many readers strongly object to the foul language.
I confronted this issue a few years ago when I got an e-mail from a reader who enjoyed my first novel Final Theory. She wanted to share the novel with her 13-year-old son and asked me if there was a kid-friendly version of the book with none of the swear words. I had to tell her there was no such animal, but I made a solemn vow: if I ever wrote a Young Adult book intended for the twelve-and-up crowd, it would contain no swears whatsoever.
I started writing a YA novel a couple of years ago, and in the beginning I had a hard time complying with my no-swears rule. For instance, I’d developed the bad habit of having my characters either think or say the word “Shit!” whenever something shocking happened. I realized that I was using the word as a crutch, an easy way to signal strong fear or surprise. When I forced myself to avoid the word, I came up with more imaginative ways to convey these emotions.
In the end I wrote nearly 100,000 words with nary a vulgarity among them. The most offensive word in the whole novel is “freaking.” The book is scheduled to be published a year from now. (We haven’t officially announced it yet because we’re still trying to choose the title.)

I’m still using swear words in my thrillers for adults, but now I’m trying to exercise some restraint. I’ve learned that less can be more. As Joyce might say, you better bloody well believe it.  

What the %#$@?

Posted on by
Tomorrow is the hundredth anniversary of the publication of James Joyce’s Dubliners. It’s perhaps the greatest short-story collection ever written, and yet Joyce had to struggle for eight years to get it published.
Why did it take so long? For one thing, publishers objected to disparaging comments about the English royal family in the story “Ivy Day in the Committee Room.” They were also worried about the sexual references in “Counterparts” and “Two Gallants.” But one of the strongest objections was to Joyce’s frequent use of the swear word “bloody.” Joyce eventually agreed to remove the offending word from some of the stories, but not all of them; it remained, for example, in “Two Gallants” (“two bloody fine cigars”) and “The Boarding House” (“if any fellow tried that sort of a game on with his sister he’d bloody well put his teeth down his throat, so he would”). Joyce insisted that in those instances no other word would do.
But Joyce was a genius, so he could take certain liberties. What about the rest of us, the merely mortal writers? How do we walk the fine line between underuse and overuse of vulgarities and swear words? Many characters in thrillers are unsavory types, and in the real world such people often use words that are a lot more offensive than “bloody.” If we’re going to show their dialogue and thoughts in a realistic way, we can’t avoid typing “shit,” “fuck,” “piss,” and all the other dirty words on George Carlin’s famous list. And yet many readers strongly object to the foul language.
I confronted this issue a few years ago when I got an e-mail from a reader who enjoyed my first novel Final Theory. She wanted to share the novel with her 13-year-old son and asked me if there was a kid-friendly version of the book with none of the swear words. I had to tell her there was no such animal, but I made a solemn vow: if I ever wrote a Young Adult book intended for the twelve-and-up crowd, it would contain no swears whatsoever.
I started writing a YA novel a couple of years ago, and in the beginning I had a hard time complying with my no-swears rule. For instance, I’d developed the bad habit of having my characters either think or say the word “Shit!” whenever something shocking happened. I realized that I was using the word as a crutch, an easy way to signal strong fear or surprise. When I forced myself to avoid the word, I came up with more imaginative ways to convey these emotions.
In the end I wrote nearly 100,000 words with nary a vulgarity among them. The most offensive word in the whole novel is “freaking.” The book is scheduled to be published a year from now. (We haven’t officially announced it yet because we’re still trying to choose the title.)

I’m still using swear words in my thrillers for adults, but now I’m trying to exercise some restraint. I’ve learned that less can be more. As Joyce might say, you better bloody well believe it.