by Clare Langley-Hawthorne

We’ve posted a lot about online publicity and marketing efforts and how you can utilize blog tours, twitter and Facebook updates to help promote your latest novel. It used to be that authors would be sent on book tours involving in-person book signings and talks but now most of that has been superceded (and sadly, there aren’t that many bricks-and-mortar bookstores left to tour!). 


I’ve been wondering, given all the recent changes in publishing, what kind of in-person events are really worth it nowadays. While I still think there is no substitute for meeting readers face-to-face to talk about your book, getting a decent return on these events (factoring in author time and investment) can be hard to achieve (especially in these lean times). 


Fan-based and author conferences are probably still a worthwhile investment as they provide both networking opportunities as well as reader exposure but apart from Bouchercon, choosing the right conference to attend can be tricky. When my first two books came out I went to Bouchercon, Malice Domestic, the San Francisco Writer’s Conference, Mayhem in the Midlands and the Historical Novel Society Conference. It was hard to assess the actual impact of these (though I do I credit the SF writer’s conference for propelling me to the SF Chronicle bestseller list). I’ve also given readings at other local events, attended book festivals and been on library panels. All in all I think these helped provide some exposure but I’m not sure any of them were all that beneficial in terms of sales. 


Now the online opportunities for marketing and promotion are significantly greater, I would have to carefully consider what in-person events to make for my next book. Following my return to Australia, this assessment is even more complicated given the travel times and costs involved.


So I’d like to know, how do you weigh up your options when it comes to in-person events? Given the online opportunities, are you even considering book signings at bookstores? Which conferences, festivals or other events do you think are worthwhile in the new, digital era of publishing?

by Clare Langley-Hawthorne

We’ve posted a lot about online publicity and marketing efforts and how you can utilize blog tours, twitter and Facebook updates to help promote your latest novel. It used to be that authors would be sent on book tours involving in-person book signings and talks but now most of that has been superceded (and sadly, there aren’t that many bricks-and-mortar bookstores left to tour!). 


I’ve been wondering, given all the recent changes in publishing, what kind of in-person events are really worth it nowadays. While I still think there is no substitute for meeting readers face-to-face to talk about your book, getting a decent return on these events (factoring in author time and investment) can be hard to achieve (especially in these lean times). 


Fan-based and author conferences are probably still a worthwhile investment as they provide both networking opportunities as well as reader exposure but apart from Bouchercon, choosing the right conference to attend can be tricky. When my first two books came out I went to Bouchercon, Malice Domestic, the San Francisco Writer’s Conference, Mayhem in the Midlands and the Historical Novel Society Conference. It was hard to assess the actual impact of these (though I do I credit the SF writer’s conference for propelling me to the SF Chronicle bestseller list). I’ve also given readings at other local events, attended book festivals and been on library panels. All in all I think these helped provide some exposure but I’m not sure any of them were all that beneficial in terms of sales. 


Now the online opportunities for marketing and promotion are significantly greater, I would have to carefully consider what in-person events to make for my next book. Following my return to Australia, this assessment is even more complicated given the travel times and costs involved.


So I’d like to know, how do you weigh up your options when it comes to in-person events? Given the online opportunities, are you even considering book signings at bookstores? Which conferences, festivals or other events do you think are worthwhile in the new, digital era of publishing?

By John Gilstrap

John Miller’s excellent post last Saturday got me to thinking about the process of writing; specifically, how little of it I truly understand. Like John, I’ve seen some reasonable success over the years, but I’ll be damned if I understand anything about the process.

Case in point: My next book, Damage Control (June, 2012) was written under impossible circumstances, under a ridiculous deadline that had me writing madly for two solid months. I actually submitted it to my publisher without going through half of the quality control steps that I normally do. I was so worried about it that I sent the manuscript to beta readers for the first time in my career. The resounding chorus from those readers was that this is the best book I’d ever written.

Having just finished with the copy edits, I confess that I’m a hell of a lot happier with it than I thought I would be when I was writing it. I broke every rule I had ever set for myself. I wandered from my outline (actually, it was the outline that got me into trouble in the first place), I didn’t listen to the music that I normally do (that was a luxury that I couldn’t afford), and I didn’t obsessively proof read as I went along. Yet somehow, I was able to churn out over three hundred pages of material in just a little over two months.

I don’t get it. I don’t get any of this stuff.

We talk a lot here in the Killzone about the woo-woo of writing, that romantic crap about muses and attitude and characters talking to us and taking over the story. In my experience, all of that is bullshit. Writing is about tying your butt in a chair and letting fly with the story that’s screaming to come out. Motivation doesn’t matter, and neither does background music. If you’re a professional, you produce solid work to the deadlines that are assigned. The rest doesn’t matter.

I teach a few writing courses every year to reasonable acclaim, but I start every one of those courses with a PowerPoint slide that reads, “No one can teach you to write.” I put that up so as not to be a fraud. One learns the principles of writing the same way one learns the principles of reading or golf: You practice. As you read material that you love, you become a better reader, and if you’re wired to be a writer, you instinctively try to decode what the writer did to get into your head.

Can a pro help? Absolutely. Where there’s basic skill and a desire to learn, a teacher can help you hone. A teacher can coax you from the 80th percentile that you earned on your own, and maybe bring you to the 90th percentile. But from there, you’re on your own again. The last ten percent is about storytelling skill and voice and pacing and all that stuff that I believe you either get by birth or through osmosis or you don’t ever get it at all.

A frequent contributor here at TKZ attended one of my classes, and I could tell from the material that she submitted for review that she had talent, but that she was getting in her own way with details that no one cared about. I believe I helped her a lot by showing that the terrorists in the mall were way more interesting than the outfit the protagonist was wearing. I think I saw a lightbulb come on in her, and that was one of the magic moments of writing workshops. In that case, though, I still didn’t teach her to write. Instead, I showed her a way to improve her talent and craft.

I think that every successful writer has a handful of those moments in their past, those lightbulb conversations where someone encapsulates in a few words what you’ve been wrestling with on your own but have been unable to nail down. A dear friend named Brie Combs did that for me. She was the one who told me how my writing voice was so close, but that I loved the passive tense too much. Bingo. I got it. Nathan’s Run followed about six months later.

There’s a famous screenwriting teacher who blathers in his classes about how the secret to a successful screenplay is to have the first turning point occur before page X, and for the turning point for the second act to happen by page Y. With all respect, I think this is madness. But students eat it up with spoons the size of shovels.

Do you really think that Ernest Hemingway or John Grisham or Tom Clancy or Stephen King or Danielle Steel or god knows how many other wildly successful writers gave a rat’s patootie about someone else’s formula? I suspect that they started out to tell good stories well, and in the process created formulas for others to follow.

So here I am, on the brink of another book. It’s under contract and it’s therefore going to happen. I think I know where it’s going, but I’ll never know for sure until I’m on the other side of it.

At the end of the day, here are my words of advice for those of you in Killzoneland whose woo-woos keep evading you: Quit waiting for the muses or your characters to lead you. They’re all imaginary, and they reside exclusively in your head. They’re lazy and they’re recalcitrant, and they won’t do a damn thing to help you if you don’t grab them by the nose and tell them what to do.

As for motivation, think like a professional: Show up for work and make it happen.

By John Gilstrap

John Miller’s excellent post last Saturday got me to thinking about the process of writing; specifically, how little of it I truly understand. Like John, I’ve seen some reasonable success over the years, but I’ll be damned if I understand anything about the process.

Case in point: My next book, Damage Control (June, 2012) was written under impossible circumstances, under a ridiculous deadline that had me writing madly for two solid months. I actually submitted it to my publisher without going through half of the quality control steps that I normally do. I was so worried about it that I sent the manuscript to beta readers for the first time in my career. The resounding chorus from those readers was that this is the best book I’d ever written.

Having just finished with the copy edits, I confess that I’m a hell of a lot happier with it than I thought I would be when I was writing it. I broke every rule I had ever set for myself. I wandered from my outline (actually, it was the outline that got me into trouble in the first place), I didn’t listen to the music that I normally do (that was a luxury that I couldn’t afford), and I didn’t obsessively proof read as I went along. Yet somehow, I was able to churn out over three hundred pages of material in just a little over two months.

I don’t get it. I don’t get any of this stuff.

We talk a lot here in the Killzone about the woo-woo of writing, that romantic crap about muses and attitude and characters talking to us and taking over the story. In my experience, all of that is bullshit. Writing is about tying your butt in a chair and letting fly with the story that’s screaming to come out. Motivation doesn’t matter, and neither does background music. If you’re a professional, you produce solid work to the deadlines that are assigned. The rest doesn’t matter.

I teach a few writing courses every year to reasonable acclaim, but I start every one of those courses with a PowerPoint slide that reads, “No one can teach you to write.” I put that up so as not to be a fraud. One learns the principles of writing the same way one learns the principles of reading or golf: You practice. As you read material that you love, you become a better reader, and if you’re wired to be a writer, you instinctively try to decode what the writer did to get into your head.

Can a pro help? Absolutely. Where there’s basic skill and a desire to learn, a teacher can help you hone. A teacher can coax you from the 80th percentile that you earned on your own, and maybe bring you to the 90th percentile. But from there, you’re on your own again. The last ten percent is about storytelling skill and voice and pacing and all that stuff that I believe you either get by birth or through osmosis or you don’t ever get it at all.

A frequent contributor here at TKZ attended one of my classes, and I could tell from the material that she submitted for review that she had talent, but that she was getting in her own way with details that no one cared about. I believe I helped her a lot by showing that the terrorists in the mall were way more interesting than the outfit the protagonist was wearing. I think I saw a lightbulb come on in her, and that was one of the magic moments of writing workshops. In that case, though, I still didn’t teach her to write. Instead, I showed her a way to improve her talent and craft.

I think that every successful writer has a handful of those moments in their past, those lightbulb conversations where someone encapsulates in a few words what you’ve been wrestling with on your own but have been unable to nail down. A dear friend named Brie Combs did that for me. She was the one who told me how my writing voice was so close, but that I loved the passive tense too much. Bingo. I got it. Nathan’s Run followed about six months later.

There’s a famous screenwriting teacher who blathers in his classes about how the secret to a successful screenplay is to have the first turning point occur before page X, and for the turning point for the second act to happen by page Y. With all respect, I think this is madness. But students eat it up with spoons the size of shovels.

Do you really think that Ernest Hemingway or John Grisham or Tom Clancy or Stephen King or Danielle Steel or god knows how many other wildly successful writers gave a rat’s patootie about someone else’s formula? I suspect that they started out to tell good stories well, and in the process created formulas for others to follow.

So here I am, on the brink of another book. It’s under contract and it’s therefore going to happen. I think I know where it’s going, but I’ll never know for sure until I’m on the other side of it.

At the end of the day, here are my words of advice for those of you in Killzoneland whose woo-woos keep evading you: Quit waiting for the muses or your characters to lead you. They’re all imaginary, and they reside exclusively in your head. They’re lazy and they’re recalcitrant, and they won’t do a damn thing to help you if you don’t grab them by the nose and tell them what to do.

As for motivation, think like a professional: Show up for work and make it happen.

By Clare Langley-Hawthorne

I just saw a recent analysis by Booklr of the top 100 Amazon Kindle books versus the top 100 Barnes & Noble Nook titles in respect of their relative price points. The results are, I think pretty interesting for anyone considering ‘indie’ publishing, and in demonstrating the role price may play in different e-book ‘markets’. 


According to the Booklr survey 35% of the top 100 books on Kindle were free or priced under $2 compared to 0% for the Nook. 61% of the top 100 books on Kindle were priced under $6 versus 39% on the Nook. In the higher price bracket, the results are also pretty different with 27% of books on Kindle priced above $10 versus 40% on the Nook. 


These results suggest that customers have quite different book buying habits in these two ‘e-reader’ markets. It also points to a potential new culture for the Kindle in which customers tend to buy what is free or less than $2. As an author, this signals to me that if I was to go the ‘indie’ route, I would need to consider price very, very carefully indeed. 


The Booklr analysis indicates that the average price for a Kindle top 100 e-book is $6.48 compared with $8.94 for the Nook – which gives us a rough gauge of the price differential between customers for both platforms and opens up the debate over the impact of free and cheap (99c) e-books on overall pricing trends. 


So for all your authors considering the indie route, how are you approaching the issue of price? If you are traditionally published, what kind of price point has your publisher set for your e-book? And how much influence do you think Amazon is going to have on driving e-book prices down?

John Ramsey Miller

I’m not here on every other Saturday to teach anybody how to write. Others here know the technicalities and can teach you or sell you books about the craft. I’m not blogging here to make what I do seem mysterious, or harder than it is, and it ain’t at all hard for a real writer. I’ll just say for you to keep your story moving. Make your characters real. Your style should be to write like you’d tell a story to an audience. Work hard to write a story you’d like to read. And think hard about your story before you write it down. That is all I can tell anyone. I expect that anything else I say is a rule is bullshit I’m making up. That’s all about it I actually know, I’ve read Elmore Leonard’s list and Stephen King’s book, and BIRD IN HAND, and I didn’t agree or disagree. That is what they think, or think they think or want me to think they think. The process is different for everybody. Some authors will say they have no idea how they do what they do. I think most famous authors are surprised they are famous for what they wrote.

I’m not in on any authoring secrets, and I worked the steps everybody has to work in order to be published, and I had no contacts in the writing community. I wasn’t discovered sitting in my studio by talent scouts, I worked damned hard. No known writer reached down, took my hand and dragged me to their publisher and demanded they publish me of they would take their money generating words elsewhere. So work your ass off or get away from this profession now.

If you can write a book that people will actually buy without being related to you, or your shamelessly flogging it to them in a crowded bar at Bouchercon, you are in the vast minority. I never say, “if I can do it anybody can,” because it is one of those things you either can or you can’t do. Anybody on earth can write badly and most do. I know high school dropouts who write brilliantly. I know learned writing professors whose books can suck lint off a cheap sweater at fifty yards. There are no shortcuts I can impart, or secrets to being published. Write a very good book and push it to the right people at the right time. I don’t know who that is, because it is different for every author. Hell, just publish it somewhere yourself and say you wrote a book. There are millions of people singing not very well on You Tube.

I didn’t set out to become an author. From an early age I wrote short stories, poems, and I did so for my own entertainment and as a way to express myself. People have always fascinated me. Stories fascinated me. I was blessed with a natural curiosity and being born in an interesting time and place. Writing found me the same way graphic art and photography did. I was interested in it and I did it for myself first. People I shared my stories with, enjoyed them. My advertising writing sold products. I wrote my first thriller without knowing it was a thriller, or what made any book a thriller. I wrote a fast moving story about violent and complex people. A very talented editor bought it and together we turned it into a very good book.

I have never read one page into a romance novel and I don’t ever intend to. I’ve had dear friends who write them, but I do not care to read any. I have friends who have never read any of my books, and in truth I could care less. Not that I think romance, mystery, or cozy authors have less talent, I’m just not into those genres. There are great writers in those genres and they have their readers, some legions of fans. Kumbaya moments bore me. I don’t like writing them.

My fans have strong stomachs. They like justice, the rougher the better. As far as I can tell, most of my fans are not violent people, but they like to read violence, and they like their violence accurate. The romance I write into my novels is that which is in me. You don’t stay married 35 years without some romance. My written romance isn’t necessarily sentimental, it’s a reflection of my affections and *effections. I can only write convincingly that which is within me.

If I think the story should go there, I will kill both cub scouts and cats without a second thought to the reader’s reaction. Some readers make the association that murdered fictional animals are the real ones they love, which isn’t my problem. The same readers could care less if I kill children. I don’t give a damn. I really don’t.

It is my opinion that most new Thrillers are that they are just rehashes or reshuffles of thrillers that came before them. I know that’s true with other genres as well. You can’t think of an original story because they have all been done. It is the rare twist that Thriller readers or writers don’t see coming before the writer thinks they will. A fresh new story gets harder to write all the time. Early Thriller writers had it good because that wasn’t yet true. Think of books like you might a gun. There are just so many places you can put the barrel. The barrel has to point forward else the shooter is in imminent danger of not living through the shooting experience. The bullet rests in the chamber, which has to be very precisely located behind the barrel. There are a finite number of firing pin, hammer and grip designs to be put with the barrel designs. There are just so many bullet calibers to be put into the mix. So any new gun has more to do with cobbling together varying design elements that have come before them than those that can come after. There will be ray guns and particle beam guns, but those will be less guns than machines that can do what a gun does, only better or differently. Maybe thrillers that are written so differently that they don’t just entertain, but maim or kill the reader as well.

I have been brutal to would-be authors whose work showed no inkling of talent at writing fiction. Other writers think I should encourage everybody who tries. Bullshit. If someone is wasting their time, they should know it so they can follow another dream, or perhaps start bending sheet metal into ducts that might prove useful. It is hard enough when you have some talent or even some mechanical ability with words. If you can’t write fiction, you can become a technical writer, or write non-fiction. But if you can’t write on a fundamental level… Ok, so who am I to judge. I don’t like hurting feelings or dashing dreams. I never asked to be put in a position to judge ability, but when I’m asked to judge, I do. Don’t want to hear it, don’t friggin’ ask. That’s certainly cool with me.

I am not a drum major for deluded people who only dream of being authors to prove something to themselves, to make a quick fortune, to impress their friends, or to allow their egos to bloom. I feel sorry for people who truly love books and have a real desire to contribute their own visions to literature, all the while knowing that is as impossible as me becoming American Idol. Delusions should not be fed, else you’ll have people going postal all over the country. So I like to imagine I’m saving lives by being critical.

Nothing pleases me more than seeing raw talent. If someone has that, I always do my best to encourage and help them any way I can.

John Ramsey Miller

I’m not here on every other Saturday to teach anybody how to write. Others here know the technicalities and can teach you or sell you books about the craft. I’m not blogging here to make what I do seem mysterious, or harder than it is, and it ain’t at all hard for a real writer. I’ll just say for you to keep your story moving. Make your characters real. Your style should be to write like you’d tell a story to an audience. Work hard to write a story you’d like to read. And think hard about your story before you write it down. That is all I can tell anyone. I expect that anything else I say is a rule is bullshit I’m making up. That’s all about it I actually know, I’ve read Elmore Leonard’s list and Stephen King’s book, and BIRD IN HAND, and I didn’t agree or disagree. That is what they think, or think they think or want me to think they think. The process is different for everybody. Some authors will say they have no idea how they do what they do. I think most famous authors are surprised they are famous for what they wrote.

I’m not in on any authoring secrets, and I worked the steps everybody has to work in order to be published, and I had no contacts in the writing community. I wasn’t discovered sitting in my studio by talent scouts, I worked damned hard. No known writer reached down, took my hand and dragged me to their publisher and demanded they publish me of they would take their money generating words elsewhere. So work your ass off or get away from this profession now.

If you can write a book that people will actually buy without being related to you, or your shamelessly flogging it to them in a crowded bar at Bouchercon, you are in the vast minority. I never say, “if I can do it anybody can,” because it is one of those things you either can or you can’t do. Anybody on earth can write badly and most do. I know high school dropouts who write brilliantly. I know learned writing professors whose books can suck lint off a cheap sweater at fifty yards. There are no shortcuts I can impart, or secrets to being published. Write a very good book and push it to the right people at the right time. I don’t know who that is, because it is different for every author. Hell, just publish it somewhere yourself and say you wrote a book. There are millions of people singing not very well on You Tube.

I didn’t set out to become an author. From an early age I wrote short stories, poems, and I did so for my own entertainment and as a way to express myself. People have always fascinated me. Stories fascinated me. I was blessed with a natural curiosity and being born in an interesting time and place. Writing found me the same way graphic art and photography did. I was interested in it and I did it for myself first. People I shared my stories with, enjoyed them. My advertising writing sold products. I wrote my first thriller without knowing it was a thriller, or what made any book a thriller. I wrote a fast moving story about violent and complex people. A very talented editor bought it and together we turned it into a very good book.

I have never read one page into a romance novel and I don’t ever intend to. I’ve had dear friends who write them, but I do not care to read any. I have friends who have never read any of my books, and in truth I could care less. Not that I think romance, mystery, or cozy authors have less talent, I’m just not into those genres. There are great writers in those genres and they have their readers, some legions of fans. Kumbaya moments bore me. I don’t like writing them.

My fans have strong stomachs. They like justice, the rougher the better. As far as I can tell, most of my fans are not violent people, but they like to read violence, and they like their violence accurate. The romance I write into my novels is that which is in me. You don’t stay married 35 years without some romance. My written romance isn’t necessarily sentimental, it’s a reflection of my affections and *effections. I can only write convincingly that which is within me.

If I think the story should go there, I will kill both cub scouts and cats without a second thought to the reader’s reaction. Some readers make the association that murdered fictional animals are the real ones they love, which isn’t my problem. The same readers could care less if I kill children. I don’t give a damn. I really don’t.

It is my opinion that most new Thrillers are that they are just rehashes or reshuffles of thrillers that came before them. I know that’s true with other genres as well. You can’t think of an original story because they have all been done. It is the rare twist that Thriller readers or writers don’t see coming before the writer thinks they will. A fresh new story gets harder to write all the time. Early Thriller writers had it good because that wasn’t yet true. Think of books like you might a gun. There are just so many places you can put the barrel. The barrel has to point forward else the shooter is in imminent danger of not living through the shooting experience. The bullet rests in the chamber, which has to be very precisely located behind the barrel. There are a finite number of firing pin, hammer and grip designs to be put with the barrel designs. There are just so many bullet calibers to be put into the mix. So any new gun has more to do with cobbling together varying design elements that have come before them than those that can come after. There will be ray guns and particle beam guns, but those will be less guns than machines that can do what a gun does, only better or differently. Maybe thrillers that are written so differently that they don’t just entertain, but maim or kill the reader as well.

I have been brutal to would-be authors whose work showed no inkling of talent at writing fiction. Other writers think I should encourage everybody who tries. Bullshit. If someone is wasting their time, they should know it so they can follow another dream, or perhaps start bending sheet metal into ducts that might prove useful. It is hard enough when you have some talent or even some mechanical ability with words. If you can’t write fiction, you can become a technical writer, or write non-fiction. But if you can’t write on a fundamental level… Ok, so who am I to judge. I don’t like hurting feelings or dashing dreams. I never asked to be put in a position to judge ability, but when I’m asked to judge, I do. Don’t want to hear it, don’t friggin’ ask. That’s certainly cool with me.

I am not a drum major for deluded people who only dream of being authors to prove something to themselves, to make a quick fortune, to impress their friends, or to allow their egos to bloom. I feel sorry for people who truly love books and have a real desire to contribute their own visions to literature, all the while knowing that is as impossible as me becoming American Idol. Delusions should not be fed, else you’ll have people going postal all over the country. So I like to imagine I’m saving lives by being critical.

Nothing pleases me more than seeing raw talent. If someone has that, I always do my best to encourage and help them any way I can.