A Great Time to be A Writer

Posted on by

by John Gilstrap
www.johngilstrap.com

Ever noticed that naysayers are a dime a dozen? Everywhere you go, there seems to be an unending supply of pessimists, doubting Thomases, bear-marketers and curmudgeons who seem to shine brightest when they can wallow in predictions for bad times. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember, but in recent years, the publishing world seems to have been inundated with pessimists, one half-empty glass at a time. “The book is dead,” we hear. “No one cares about the written word anymore.”

I’ve recently come to view these laments as the panicked cries of old-schoolers who see change on the horizon. I’ve known a lot of editors in my time, but I can’t think of a single one who was technologically on the edge. For them, the definition of a book begins and ends with the notion of ink on paper, classically bound in either paper or cloth. Looking out ten years, I’d say those folks have good reason to be fearful.

Or, God forbid, they could adapt.

According to an article in this week’s Publisher’s Weekly, ebook sales at B&N accounted for 3% of total book sales last year, up from less than 1% the year before. The absolute numbers might not be staggering, then the trend certainly is. Run the figures in your head, and you quickly see that the old-fashioned brick-and-mortar bookstore represents a pretty regressive business model. (As I blogged last week, even I, one of the Luddite hold-outs, got a Kindle; and if I can be converted, anyone can.)

For the sake of argument, let’s proclaim the book as we currently know it to be on a terminal course. (I personally believe that there will always be a vibrant market for bound books, but that $25 cover price for what will essentially be a reproduction antique will be a hard sell.) On the day the last printing press were to stop, the market for stories would still be thriving. People would still be reading.

How do I know? Watch how the members of the younger generation entertain themselves. They’ve got their iPhones and their social networking, but what are those, essentially, but words? When I was a kid, we rotted our minds by watching endless hours of bad television (“My Mother the Car,” anyone?). These days, television viewership is plummeting like a comet as kids turn to other forms of storytelling. Even gaming is storytelling. That’s what we do, folks. And with each new Internet fad comes new opportunities for people with imaginations to shine.

If J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyers have proven nothing else, it’s that the new generation craves entertainment on the page. And if the scourge of vanity presses has proven nothing else, it’s that quality still matters.

While the $25 hardcover is great for the publisher, I don’t see how it can sustain itself against the lower-priced competition. As the hardcover goes away, so does the stigma of the paperback original, and the hugely different distribution systems for the two formats. My crystal ball shows this being a heavy blow to authors who’ve grown used to 7-figure advances, but a tremendous opportunity for the vast sea of writers formerly known as midlist.

I think the publishing business is today where the transportation business was in the 1920s. The fact that automobiles rendered horse-drawn carriages irrelevant didn’t mean that people stopped traveling; it just meant that modern convenience trumped tradition. I assume that buggy wheel manufacturers who adapted to making automotive wheels did pretty well, even as the whip manufacturers found themselves with way fewer options. Carrying the analogy even further, remember that Henry Ford made a bloody fortune by producing a product that was specifically priced to be affordable.

What do you think? Do you see the publishing world imploding on itself, or do you agree with me that this is a great time to be a writer?

My Hurt Locker Experience

Posted on by

by Michelle GagnonIMG_0646.JPG

Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to have this job.

This past Monday I was given a one-on-one tour of the SFPD Bomb Squad. I realize that might not be everyone’s idea of a good time, but geek that I am, I was positively giddy.

For over two hours I got to see the inner workings of the bomb squad, from the various trucks and equipment in their warehouse to the robots they use to check out suspicious packages. A few things I learned:

  • Many of the most dangerous calls that they get start out this way: Grandpa passes on. Turns out he was a WWII vet in the Pacific Theater. While cleaning out his apartment, relatives stumble across the live ordnance he took home as a souvenir. The officer who IMG_0673.JPGgave me the tour said that his first call out involved a mortar made out of a highly dangerous and unstable primary explosive, picric acid. They’d all handled the darn thing before one member of the squad turned it around, saw the Japanese characters, and realized that one wrong move could blow the whole place. Fortunately, they made it to their containment unit outside safely (check out the photo of their containment unit. It strongly resembles one of those underwater mines. Any time they pick up explosive material, it gets put in here for the trek back across the city).

  • Anyone else see THE HURT LOCKER? I was a little disheartened to learn that bomb techs consider it to be roughly equivalent to TOP GUN in terms of accuracy. However, he said they did get the suits right. Eighty pounds of suit, although thanks to the even weight distribution, the cop said that if you needed to run in one, you could (I’m guessing that under those circumstances, adrenaline helps tremendously). Even in our famously temperate sixty degree weather, the suits become extraordinarily hot and uncomfoIMG_0669.JPGrtable after a few minutes. I asked how they decided which unlucky squad member is sent out in it, and he told me that they usually Rochambeau for it–however, the winner GETS to wear the suit. Apparently being the guy tucked safely in the command vehicle watching everything unfold onscreen is viewed as the unlucky one. Go figure.

  • The suit is topped by what they call the “Helm of Ignorance,” which he was kind enough to let me try on. Unlike the military ones depicted in HURT LOCKER, theirs do not have the capability for radio communication–which he thought was a good thing, since it would mainly serve as a distraction. And distractions are not good when working with explosives.

  • Here in San Francisco, all ten members of the bomb squad are SCUBA certified, since they also respond to any threats at the port. They’re also all trained in tactical response, since they share the warehouse with SWAT. That way if anything major goes down, they’re able to serve as a backup unit.

  • I asked the nice young man who gave me the tour why he decided to join this particular unit, and how his mother felt about it. He explained that he’d initially been working out of the Bayview/Hunters Point Station (one of the worst neighborhoods here in SF). But after he got married and had kids, he figured it would be a good idea to transfer to a safer unit. So he joined the bomb squad. That’s right, the bomb squad. I couldn’t help but wonder if the mounted division was full.

  • Every bomb tech in the US spends six weeks training in-house, then goes to a school in Huntsville Alabama that’s run jointly by the FBI and the military for an additional six weeks of training. My tour was interrupting a day spent on maintenance, making sure that the robots and trucks were all in working order, the SCBA tanks full- you name it.


IMG_0660.JPG


  • Oh, and here I am with their “Big Robot,” who I strongly feel needs a better nickname. Although possibly they just don’t want to get too attached. Remember the movie SHORT CIRCUIT? Couldn’t get it out of my head the whole time I was watching this guy maneuver. The photo above this one is of a napalm bomb, which he assured me had been rendered safe. Or at least, he was pretty sure it had. It was in the workshop, so…I took that as my hint to leave.

Setting the pace

Posted on by

By Joe Moore

The story in most novels takes place over a period of time. Some are condensed to a few hours while many epic tales span generations and perhaps hundreds of years. But no matter what the timeframe is in your story, you control the pacing. You can construct a scene that contains a great amount of detail with time broken down into each minute or even second. The next scene might be used to move the story forward days, weeks or months in a single pass. If you choose to change-up your pacing for a particular scene, make sure you’re doing it for a solid reason such as to slow the story down or speed it up. Remember that as the author, you’re in charge of the pacing. And the way to do it is in a transparent fashion that maintains the reader’s interest. Here are a couple of methods and reasons for changing the pace of your story.

Slow things down when you want to place emphasis on a particular event. In doing so, the reader naturally senses that the slower pace means there’s a great deal of importance in the information being imparted. And in many respects, the character(s) should sense it, too.

Another reason to slow the pacing is to give your readers a chance to catch their breath after an action or dramatic chapter or scene. Even on a real coaster1 rollercoaster ride, there are moments when the car must climb to a higher level in order to take the thrill seeker back down the next exciting portion of the attraction. You may want to slow the pacing after a dramatic event so the reader has a break and the plot can start the process of building to the next peak of excitement or emotion. After all, an amusement ride that only goes up or down, or worse, stays level, would be at best, boring. The same goes for your story.

Another reason to slow the pace is to deal with emotions. Perhaps it’s a romantic love scene or one of deep internal reflection. Neither one would be appropriate if written with the same rapid-fire pacing of a car chase or shootout.

You might also want to slow the pacing during scenes of extreme drama. In real life, we often hear of a witness or victim of an accident describing it as if time slowed to a crawl and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The same technique can be used to describe a dramatic event in your book. Slow down and concentrate on each detail to enhance the drama.

What you want to avoid is to slow the scene beyond reason. One mistake new writers make is to slow the pacing of a dramatic scene, then somewhere in the middle throw in a flashback or a recalling of a previous event in the character’s life. In the middle of a head-on collision, no one stops to ponder a memory from childhood. Slow things down for a reason. The best reason is to enhance the drama.

A big element in controlling pacing is narration. Narrative always slows things down. It can be used quite effectively to do so or it can become boring and cumbersome. The former is always the choice.

When you intentionally slow the pace of your story, it doesn’t mean that you want to stretch out every action in every scene. It means that you want to take the time to embrace each detail and make it move the story forward. This involves skill, instinct and craft. Leave in the important stuff and delete the rest.

There will always be stretches of long, desolate road in every story. By that I figuratively mean mundane stretches of time or distance where nothing really happens. Control your pacing by transitioning past these quickly. If there’s nothing there to build character or forward the plot, get past it with some sort of transition. Never bore the reader or cause them to skip over portions of the story. Remember that every word must mean something to the tale. The reader assumes that every word in your book must be important.

We’ve talked about slowing the pacing. How about when to speed it up?

Unlike narration, dialog can be used to speed things up. It gives the feeling that the pace is moving quickly. And the leaner the dialog is written, the quicker the pacing will appear.

Action scenes usually call for a quicker pace. Short sentences and paragraphs with crisp clean prose will make the reader’s eyes fly across the page. That equates to fast pacing in the reader’s mind. Action verbs that have a hard edge help move the pace along. Also using sentence fragments will accelerate pacing.

Short chapters give the feeling of fast pacing whereas chapters filled with lengthy blocks of prose will slow the eye and the pace.

pacecare1 Just like the pace car at the Indianapolis 500 sets the pace for the start of the race and dramatic changes during the event such as yellow and red flags, you control the pace of your story. Tools such as dialog versus narration, short staccato sentences versus thick, wordy paragraphs, and the treatment of action versus emotion puts you in control of how fast or slow the reader moves through your story. And just like the colors on a painter’s pallet, you should make use of all your pacing pallet tools to transparently control how fast or slow the reader moves through your story.

What additional techniques do you use to control pacing?

Download FRESH KILLS, Tales from the Kill Zone to your Kindle or PC today.

Strategies for surviving the epublishing revolution

Posted on by

One of the perks of being Program Chair of MWA, SoCal  is that I get to do outreach to interesting, dynamic people. On Saturday we had a very cool panel at our chapter meeting, including Marci Baun, publisher of Wild Child Publishing, and our own Jim Bell. Author Gary Phillips moderated the program, which was called, “Epublishing: Will it help your career, or kill it?”

Gary opened the discussion by citing some statistics: Today, epublishing is still a relatively small slice of the publishing world, but it’s growing exponentially. Baun, whose company is an innovator in the epublishing market, started off by setting aside the “myth” that publishers see huge savings by publishing e-books instead of paper.  (Gary has since alerted us to a NYT article on the same topic, Math of Publishing Meets the E-book.) Jim also fielded some questions about TKZ’s new e-book anthology, Fresh Kills.

The panelists stressed that to be successful in any kind of publishing, especially epublishing, it’s important to do social networking. Blogging, Facebook, Twitter: You have to get your name out there and work your networks. At one point they asked for a show of hands from the people who are active social networkers; many hands went up, but not a majority. I was surprised by that–I would have assumed that almost everyone in that group would be active online.  Around the lunch table, I heard some people say that they find social networking to be confusing and intimidating.


A small but consistent networking effort can be very effective  according to Baun, who said she requires an author to make a successful online marketing effort before she’ll launch a print run for their book.

The panel discussed the do’s and don’ts of social networking, including the importance of adding value to the discussion, and avoiding endless BSP. Among the strategies discussed were What to Tweet, and using ebooks as a loss leader. After the meeting I followed Jim’s suggestion to use Tweetdeck, and to get more actively involved in forum discussions.


Other than doing my weekly blog posts, I’ve been hit or miss in my social networking efforts up until now. As a result of Saturday’s meeting  I’ve resolved to spend at least 15 minutes a day making the networking rounds.


What about you? How much time do you spend social networking every day, and are you consistent?

Panels from Hell

Posted on by

by Clare Langley-Hawthorne


This weekend I am going down to Carmel (a favorite spot of mine) to do a panel at the Harrison Memorial library with the very talented Hannah Dennison and, since I also just received my panel allocation for Malice Domestic, I am mulling over the whole ‘what makes a successful panel’ issue. Believe me I have seen some stinkers in my time – I dread being on the panel from hell more than just about anything (except perhaps being moderator of the panel from hell…) – but what makes or breaks a panel?

  • First of course, the topic has to be interesting and one that resonates with the panelists. I was once put on a panel about hot sex and had to admit from the get-go that basically there was no hot sex in any of my books! (The panel still was great, despite that:)). However, even with the most exciting of topics there’s still a risk of boring the pants off the audience. I have seen plenty of excellent presentations on some of the most mundane topics (and let’s face it, there’s a limit to how many topics there can be on mystery writing…) and some of the most boring presentations on the hottest of topics…so there must be more to it than merely topic alone.
  • A terrific moderator – a good moderator can ameliorate against some of the worst panel sins (microphone hogging, long-winded answers, blatant and constant self-promotion) – but I’ve been on panels where it is immediately clear that the moderator hasn’t even bothered to read up on the panelists work! In my mind a terrific moderator is prepared, professional, witty and unafraid to step where angels fear to tread in order to prevent the above mentioned sins from ruining a perfectly good panel presentation. What I think turns off many in the audience is a moderator who either sits back and lets the panel degenerate into a rant/lecture/ego-fest, or one who is so intrusive it is as if she (or he) was a panelist rather than a moderator.
  • Well prepared participants. There’s no point being on a panel if you think you can just ‘phone in’ your answers without giving the topic any thought. Some of the worst panels I’ve been on have had an author who clearly spent no time at all thinking about anything except how to promote his (or her) next book at any given opportunity. The best panels I’ve been on have been where the moderator has given everyone a heads-up on possibly questions first, though this is still no guarantee that the panelists will have anything interesting to say about them!
  • Professionalism – as with all the worst panel sins mentioned, the most horrible panels occur when one or more of the participants completely takes over and (disregarding any professional courtesy to others on the panel) hogs the limelight. Equally well, the authors who ramble on for ten minutes answering the question are just as unprofessional in my book. I believe authors should treat the panel as a showcase for themselves as both a writer and a member of the writing community – so no unprofessional behavior please! My motto: Be gracious – dress for the occasion, act for the occasion, and shut-up when necessary.
  • Pass on the Jerry Springer moments. I’ve only witnessed one panel degenerate to this kind of in-fighting – but some authors do allow themselves to get carried away. As far as I’m concerned arrogance and vitriol needs to be left at the door.

So have you had any horrific panel experiences? Any tips from being on a panel or from being in the audience on what makes (or breaks) a panel? What was the best (or the worst!) panel you ever saw or participated in?

Toyota 0 – Deer 1 Toyota

Posted on by
John Ramsey Miller

I asked James Scott Bell to come in and post early this week because on my way home the other night I killed a deer. It was a small, but nice four-point buck, who presented himself broadside to me and I shot him with the front end of my Toyota Highlander, which I’d owned outright for exactly one month, having paid off the note after five years of installments. I was lucky I’m too old to have fast reactions or I might have been killed or killed somebody when I swerved to avoid him. I didn’t even leave skid-marks on Highway 49. Mr. Deer took out my grill, radiator, plastic engine cover, hood, fenders and my windshield and did two dollars short of $5,000 dollars worth of damage.

Here’s the thing. I wasn’t shaken up, but I was pissed off at myself for not seeing the thing until it was being eaten by my SUV. And I was mad that I’d have to waste all that young meat that had just been tenderized by thousands of pounds of flying Japanese hammer. My dear wife had to come the six miles get me in her Miata and there was no room for the animal. I think wasting a game animal is a sin, and I never kill what I won’t eat or what won’t eat my chickens or dogs. The point of this story is that a man in a pick-up the size of a Sherman tank (and its bed filled with split logs) pulled over, turned around and drove back to where I was standing, surveying the dead animal, which was behind me. This man drove off the highway, parked on the slope twenty feet above me, and rolled down his window. The first thing he said was, “Are you all right?”

“I am perfectly fine,” I said. “Would you like a nice freshly killed deer? I seem to have one on my hands.”

Turned out he was not a hunter, nor much interested in the animal’s meat. He raised meat cows, which are never referred to as “cows,” but “steers or Doughgees.” Evidently males are what you eat if you are not a vegan. What he offered me was a warm backseat to sit and make my phone calls. Wife. Insurance company. The deer’s parents.

I realize very often that this kind of thing is what living in the country is all about. Not hitting deer so much as people surprising you with their concern and unselfish assistance. Scott Cress was his name and he stayed with me until my wife got there and he invited her into the warm truck and she climbed in. After we all started talking, it turned out we knew a lot of the same people, and his brother-in-law is an acquaintance of mine. But Scott didn’t know me, but he stopped and took an hour out of his evening at home with wife and kids to make sure I was all right.

When the highway patrolman pulled up, my new pal, Scott, called him by his first name, and the patrolman asked me if I wanted the deer. A warm deer on the ground is a commodity in some places, even a deer with four broken legs and half its antlers gone God knows where. We all agreed what a shame it was. That nice young patrolman stayed there until the wrecker showed up and we had all driven away.

As I’ve said before, I am a mall-town boy, and I love living out in the middle of nowhere. A lot of the reason beside the amazing quiet and the privacy is because neighbors are just so gosh-darned neighborly. You get to know your neighbors slowly in a rural setting and friendships (like anything that cures as it ages) are better that way. They don’t trouble you, but if you need them they are right there. After the third generation of you grows up around here the locals even stop calling your descendants “newcomers.”

When I went into town the next day I saw the deer lying where my Toyota had left him, but by that evening, he was gone, just as I knew he would be. You see, Scott Cress raised cattle, but his day job was working for the state running a road crew. He told me he’d get the deer tidied up the next day so I didn’t have to look at it and cuss when I saw it, and he was as good as his word.

So now I’m hauling chicken feed in a fancy rental car that is a Chevy that looks like a 30’s roadster. So I have to drive a pug ugly silver Dick Tracy looking low rider for the next two weeks while they fix my Totoya with its NC plates and the all-important NRA sticker on the windshield.



Jim’s L.A. – Musso & Frank Grill

Posted on by

James Scott Bell

[I’m jumping in early for Mr. Miller, who will take my regular slot tomorrow]

Fellow thriller writer Brett Battles wrote a post this week at Murderati, on the use of actual locations in fiction. I am all for it. Since I grew up, and still live in, the greatest noir city on earth, I’d like to offer you from time to time a bit of my city. Take you to some of my favorite spots and tell you what they mean to me as a writer.

I’ll start with with Musso & Frank Grill in Hollywood.

As classic writers’ hangouts go, you can’t do much better than Musso’s. Walk inside and history overtakes you.

It’s the oldest eatery in Hollywood. Since 1919 the big green sign says. In fact, most of the waiters look like they were original hires. That’s part of the appeal: red coated, old school waiters with accents and attitude. Don’t expect perky twenty-somethings with fake smiles and flair.

And please don’t call the place “Musso & Frank’s” with the apostrophe S. While the S was sometimes on the end of Frank in early menus, it was decidedly dropped. Angelenos call it “Musso’s” for short.

Probably every L.A. writer who ever lived has had a martini at Musso’s, or at least seen them poured. Many a writer has had too many. Jim Thompson, the perennially struggling scribe of hardboiled novels in the 50’s, often had to be helped home after a night at the bar. Likewise the notorious drunk Charles Bukowski, who references Musso’s, and his drinking therein, in his novel Hollywood.

Of course, actors love the place too, and have since Valentino and Chaplin used to nosh there, most of the time at Booth #1 by the front window. Come at night and you’ll walk by somebody in the movie biz, even if you don’t know who they are. There’s always a lot of “Let’s take a meeting” talk over drinks and dinner.

You can find the history and some of the stories here.

I like to drop by Musso’s when I’m in Hollywood, mainly to get my favorite dish (see below). In fact, I mention Musso’s in all three of my Buchanan books. In Try Darkness, Ty Buchanan, lawyer, is staking out Musso’s with an unlikely helper, the nun Sister Mary Veritas.

I had Sister Mary park at the curb. “Looks like a little early dinner at Musso’s,” I said. “Ever been there?”

“No.”

“Want to go in? Have a martini?”

“Mr. Buchanan—”

“Ty, please.”

“—don’t mess with me.”

“Not messing. They’re famous for their martis. One of those and you’ll be so theological you’ll—”

“Thank you, no.”

“A milkshake?”

“Some other time.”

And in Try Fear, Buchanan has my favorite dish:

I checked my watch. Almost eleven-thirty. I was in Hollywood, so I drove down the boulevard to Musso & Frank. I found a meter in front, fed it, went in, and sat at the counter. And ordered liver and onions.

That’s what I said.

My mom used to make liver and onions, and I always liked it. With ketchup. The old waiter—there is no other kind at Musso’s—gave me a plate of sourdough bread and a dish with butter pats. He asked if I needed anything else.

“Ketchup,” I said. “For the liver.”

He leaned over, and with a slight Hungarian accent said, “Don’t tell the chef.” Then added, conspiratorially, “I like it that way, too.”

If you’re ever out this way, doing the L.A. visit thing, and you get tired of the tourist spots and the faux stars posing in front of the Kodak Theater—and if you want a taste of authentic old Hollywood—come to Musso’s. It looks pretty much the way Cary Grant and Sterling Hayden and Raymond Chandler saw it. Step inside, go back in time, enjoy. Just be aware that the prices are not the same as they were in 1950. But the portions are generous.

So what about you? Do you have a favorite hangout in your hometown?

And if you’re coming to the Left Coast Crime convention next month, be sure to check out my walking tour of classic noir L.A., “From Angels Flight to Darkest Night” on March 12 starting at 11 a.m.

Trapped Between Centuries

Posted on by

by John Gilstrap
www.johngilstrap.com

I’ve mentioned before that I have a day job with a trade association in Washington, DC, and I’ve alluded to the fact that the job keeps me on the road a lot. I might not have been clear, however, on the definition of “a lot.” During the month of February, for example, I have not spent a single day in my office–every day has been on the road somewhere. The first two weeks of March aren’t looking much better, although a chunk of that will be spent at Left Coast Crime in Los Angeles.

I get to spend most weekends at home, though, and I genuinely love what I do. Airports, airplanes and hotel rooms provide ample opportunity to take care of the writing side of my life, so for the most part, when I’m home, I’m there in both body and spirit. Good times.

Reading, books, on the other hand, is a pain in the neck when you have to schlep books on and off of airplanes. But there’s a solution.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I finally broke down and bought a Kindle, and I’m already in love. Each morning, for the bargain basement price of $11 a month, the Washington Post is delivered directly to my briefcase, where it takes a spot right next to the books I’ve purchased, and one outstanding manuscript that a friend of mine asked me to take a look at. It’s thinner than a children’s book, weighs virtually nothing, takes up no space in my briefcase, and holds more books than I have probably read in my entire life. I’ve also subscribed to Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, and heaven knows what else I’ll find enticing.

Really, the Kindle is the coolest toy in years. And yes, in case you’ve got a good memory, I am in fact the man who wrote an entry on this very blog about a year ago entitled, “Kindle Schmindle.” I am man enough to admit that I was way wrong before.

So, with that side of my brain and persona slogging ever so slowly into the 21st century, I now confess that the other side–the creative one that tells stories–is moving back toward the 19th century. I’m handwriting my manuscripts more than I ever have, fountain pen to quality paper. I think I probably wrote 50% of Hostage Zero (July, 2010) by hand, and thus far, I’ve written every word of my next novel by hand. Barnes & Noble sells really nice leather-bound lined journals made of quality paper, and I take one with me wherever I go. No batteries to run out, no switch to turn off during takeoffs and landings, and a solid, tactile connection to my writing. It could be a passing fad for me, or it could be the future; only time will tell. For now, though, it feels right.

Sooner or later, of course, I have to type what I have written into a submittable form, and when I do that, I make many, many changes and corrections, so I don’t want to overblow the intent here. Still, it occurred to me as I put down my Kindle and picked up this computer for the first time to write something other than an email, that even as things change on the surface, maybe important things never change much at all.

Mistakes Authors Make

Posted on by

by Michelle Gagnon

I recently read an excellent post by Rowena Cherry on some of the cardinal sins writers commit, and it really struck a chord, probably because in the past I’ve been guilty of most of them.

So here’s my advice on how to to make blatant self-promotion (aka BSP) less blatant…

  • Mailing lists: only add people who actually agree to be added. I’ve opened my inbox to discover newsletters from people I served on panels with, people I helped out by reading their manuscripts, and people I’ve never even heard of. As it is, I receive a few hundred emails a day- the last thing I want is more to sift through, UNLESS I signed up independently. The irony is that some of these newsletters I probably would be interested in, but being added without my permission is such a turn-off, it puts a black mark next to that writer’s name for me.


  • Newsletters: Send them out occasionally, and as John so aptly said on Friday, only when you have real news to report. If I’m getting a newsletter from someone on a weekly basis, I tend to delete it without opening, or to unsubscribe. Not many of us have exciting news occurring on a daily basis (I’m lucky to have one exciting thing happen a month, actually). I tend to send out newsletters 4-6 times/year, mostly clustered around release dates.


  • Newsgroups: A large portion of those hundreds of emails that I receive originate from various newsgroups and listservs. And invariably, on almost a daily basis, there’s a post that starts, “If you like reading such-and-so, you’ll love my new thriller about…The best way to get people interested in your book is not to push it every time someone starts a thread about Lee Child. Participate: if you enjoy those author’s books as well, say so. Be an active member of a listserv, not just popping out of lurkdom to announce the release of your latest opus. Because unless the other participants have some familiarity with you, chances are it will do more harm than good. As you build up a presence, then you can-OCCASIONALLY- mention your next book. Better yet, just include the title and release date as part of your signature. As members start to recognize your name, they’ll most likely become curious about your work, too. Anything else smacks of tooting your own horn.


  • Groups like GoodReads, 4MA, Shelfari, Dorothy L, and many others exist mainly for fans. I remember one time when the author of one group’s monthly read discovered they were discussing his book. He joined the list, and popped up with all sorts of explanations. And the conversation promptly shut down. Because the truth is, sometimes fans are thrilled to have an author participate in their discussions- but if that’s what they want, they’ll usually invite you. If you show up unannounced, you become the equivalent of a party crasher. They clearly were not about to say anything negative about the book when the author was reading every word (after all, some of these fans have their own manuscripts tucked away in a drawer, and wisely didn’t want to annoy someone they might seek a blurb from down the line). If you’re going to take part in these groups, do so as a fan. If you want to directly promote your book, take part in GoodReads giveaway program, or buy advertising with one of the sites targeted to readers of your genre.


  • Likewise, if all you do on your Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter pages is post updates on your own work, everyone outside of immediate family will probably rapidly tire of it. It’s the virtual equivalent of the guy at a cocktail party who won’t stop talking about himself. Instead, post links to interesting articles you stumble across, writing-related or otherwise. Respond to people who take the time to comment on your links. Answer messages people send. The trick is to have a real dialogue, rather than perpetually shouting the title of your book from the rooftops.
  • Poking, hugging, and otherwise molesting social network friends: personally, I find the deluge of emails inviting me to join fairy kingdoms, battle mobsters, or start a farm annoying. I barely have time to maintain my ongoing feud with the Petriarca family in real life, for Pete’s sake, never mind planting green beans that I could actually eat. Now, I know there are people out there who love those aspects of Facebook and MySpace; but don’t assume that others want to participate. That checkbox, where you can invite all your friends? I recommend avoiding it. Same goes for virtual hugs, flowers, postcards, angels, and whatever else is out there.

Now, what you can do…

  • Make it easy for people to sign up for your newsletter, and to friend you on the social networking sites (in other words, clear and user-friendly website design is crucial). Also make sure to keep the information on your website current.
  • If you see that someone has read your books on Shelfari or Goodreads, extend a friend invitation- then it’s their choice (this works better with people who liked your books).
  • Keep your author pages up to date across all social networking sites, focusing mainly on the ones you have the time and inclination to maintain.
  • Bring a notebook to any and all author events, making it clear that people only need sign it if they want to join your newsletter mailing list.
  • When you craft a newsletter, keep it short, to the point, and interesting.
  • On the newsgroups, follow my Southern friend’s “ABC” rule- Always Be Charming. Getting into a spirited debate is fine, but there are people on the listservs who quickly become notorious for abrasive or obnoxious posts. That sort of behavior definitely won’t help sell books.

And finally, remember that the most important thing is to achieve a balance. Don’t spend so much time discussing other people’s books that you neglect to work on your own.

The Plot Thickens

Posted on by

By Joe Moore

When you write a story, whether it’s short fiction or a novel-length manuscript, there are always two major components to deal with: characters and plot. Combined, they make up the “body” of the story. And of the two, the plot can be thought of as the skeleton while the characters are the meat and muscle.

skeleton1 When it comes to building your plot, nothing should be random or by accident. It may appear random to the reader but every turn of the plot should be significant and move the story to its final conclusion. Every element, whether it deals with a character’s inner or outer being should contribute to furthering the story.

In order to determine the significance of each element, always ask why. Why does he look or dress that way? Why did she say or react in that manner? Why does the action take place in this particular location as opposed to that setting? If you ask why, and don’t get a convincing answer, delete or change the element. Every word, every sentence, every detail must matter. If they don’t, and there’s a chance they could confuse the reader or get in the way of the story, change or delete.

Your plot should grow out of the obstructions placed in the character’s path. What is causing the protagonist to stand up for his beliefs? What is motivating her to fight for survival? That’s what makes up the critical points of the plot—those obstacles placed in the path of your characters.

Be careful of overreaction; a character acting or reacting beyond the belief model you’ve built in your reader’s mind. There’s nothing wrong with placing an ordinary person in an extraordinary situation—that’s what great stories are made from. But you must build your character in such a manner that his actions and reactions to each plot point are plausible. Push the character, but keep them in the realm of reality. A man who has never been in an airplane cannot be expected to fly a passenger plane. But a private pilot who has flown small planes could be able to fly a large passenger plane and possibly land it. The actions and the obstacles can be thrilling, but must be believable.

Avoid melodrama in your plot—the actions of a character without believable motivation. Action for the sake of action is empty and two-dimensional. Each character should have a pressing agenda from which the plot unfolds. That agenda is what motivates their actions. The reader should care about the individual’s agenda, but what’s more important is that the reader believes the characters care about their own agendas. And as each character pursues his or her agenda, they should periodically face roadblocks and never quite get everything they want. The protagonist should always stand in the way of the antagonist, and vice versa.

Another plot tripwire to avoid is deus ex machina (god from the machine) whereby a previously unsolvable problem is suddenly overcome by a contrived element: the sudden introduction of a new character or device. Doing so is cheap writing and you run the risk of losing your reader. Instead, use foreshadowing to place elements into the plot that, if added up, will present a believable solution to the problem. The character may have to work hard at it, but in the end, the reader will accept it as plausible.

Always consider your plot as a series of opportunities for your character to reveal his or her true self. The plot should offer the character a chance to be better (or worse in the case of the antagonist) than they were in the beginning. The opportunities manifest themselves in the form of obstacles, roadblocks and detours. If the path were straight and level with smooth sailing, the plot would be dull and boring. Give your characters a chance to shine. Let them grow and develop by building a strong skeleton on which to flesh out their true selves.

When you begin working on a new story, do you develop your plot or characters first? Do you believe that a book can be primarily “plot driven” or “character driven”?