Writing

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Three unrelated items, except that they’re all very loosely about writing, I guess.  Sort of.

First, a wise and insightful (by which I mean complimnetary about my work, obviously) review of Speculative Horizons, Patrick’s St Denis’ anthology coming from Subterranean Press in a couple of months or so.  Apparently orders made through the Subterranean Press website get priority, so that should probably be your first port of call if interested, but it does seem to now be avilable for pre-order through the usual online channels (such as here and here) and they should be able to fill your order assuming it doesn’t sell out elsewhere first.  Either way, get your orders in!  Buy, buy buy!  Or not.  No pressure.

Second, one of the things I like listening to on my tiny little mp3 player: recordings of convention panels.  Yeah, I know.  Most folks like up to the minute tunes from popular musical combos; I like convention panels.  What can I say? (In fact, the truth is, to my knowledge there is not one single piece of music on my mp3 player.  Not a one.  It’s podcasts from top to bottom. Weird, huh?)  Anyway: panels.  You never quite know what you’re going to get with them, but that’s part of the fun.  Wordpunk radio has put out a few recordings from the recent Alt.Fiction event in Derby (which I’d recommend, by the way: I was at the 2008 version, and it was good fun.).  Here they are:

The Publishing Panel

The Writing for Comics Panel

The Authors from BBC Books Panel

The Fantasy Panel

It’s just like you were there yourself!  Virtual conventioneering!  There might be more to come for all I know, but those are the ones they’ve released so far.

Third and finally, I wasted a good two minutes with the entirely pointless I Write Like gizmo.  Here’s the verdicts:

First chapter of Winterbirth: I write like Margaret Mitchell.

Second chapter of The Edinburgh Dead: I write like James Joyce.

The blog post preceding this one: I write like Dan Brown.

So there you have it … wait, What?  Winterbirth is stylistically indistinguishable from Gone With the Wind?  Holy cow.  And as one of the legions of well-intentioned folk who’ve started but never finished Ulysses (and I even quite liked the bits of it I read, just couldn’t bring myself to see it through to the end, and my attention span’s much, much too short these days to launch another attempt on it – in fact, come to think of it, there’s a blog post somewhere in the category: ‘books I really quite like, but despite that never finished’) … anyway, I promise – promise – you The Edinburgh Dead is not remotely Joyceian.  Not remotely.  And surely if my blog posts were Dan Brown duplicates, I’d have an awful lot more readers, wouldn’t I?  And a bigger house, come to that.

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The Tools of my So-Called Trade

What I’m Up To

Only one question this time around, but it’s a ‘can o’ worms’ question, so lots of meat on its bones: What’s My Advice on How to Get Published? To which my answer is … well, not much, beyond: write the best book you can, submit it to the people who make decisions about such things (agents and/or editors, generally speaking) and cross your fingers.

There’s a bit more to it than that, obviously, and I’ve been asked about various related issues over the last couple of years. Fortunately, others more focused and organised than me have provided many of the answers out there in internetland, so rather than spouting detailed thoughts on all aspects of the ‘getting published’ craziness, I thought I’d just offer a few briefish comments and point you elsewhere for more intelligent commentary.

First, an important caveat: we’re really talking here only about getting picked up by one of the biggish commercial publishers of speculative fiction in print form, since that’s the only thing I know much about and it’s the only thing I really get asked about. One other important cautionary note: the surveys and information I’ll be linking to below has a pretty heavy emphasis on the situation in the USA. I think some aspects of the situation may be slightly different for aspiring authors chasing UK publication. But it probably is only slightly. That said, onward!

Do I need to get an agent first? Not necessarily, since there are a handful of thoroughly respectable publishers of sf/f who are prepared to consider unagented manuscripts (at least in the States, I think the numbers are even more limited in the UK but I could be wrong). But you probably want an agent, for three main reasons: (a) there are many more thoroughly respectable publishers who will only seriously consider manuscripts brought to them by agents, (b) there is plausible evidence, selflessly collected and analysed by Tobias Buckell, that agented writers get higher advances than unagented ones, and (c) if you’re highly motivated, smart, outgoing and time-rich, you could probably do for yourself much of what an agent can do in terms of figuring out what all the details in that 15+ page publishing contract actually mean, whether the terms are industry standard or not, chasing your publisher to make sure you’re getting paid the right amount at the right time, trying to sell foreign translation rights etc. etc. But maybe you can’t, particularly at the start of your career. And even if you can, is it really a sensible or enjoyable use of your precious time?

As can be seen in the results of Jim C Hines’ survey of published novelists (we’ll be linking to this more than once, trust me!), submitting first to an agent and then leaving the publisher-hunting up to them is still the commonest route to first publication amongst authors.

How do I get an agent? Well the way I did it was by identifying agents who appeared to represent genre fiction in one of the many available comprehensive guides to such folk, and making a few phone calls (and then submitting my work, obviously). Interestingly, those phone calls revealed that quite a few of the agents concerned didn’t in fact want to see any fiction of the sort I was trying to sell – some ever, some just not at that particular time – so it just goes to show you can’t entirely rely on the guide books.

But you can also be a bit smarter and more organised about it than I was. Check out the websites and books of writers working in a similar genre/style to your own. They often reveal who their agent is on the website or in the acknowledgements in their books. At least then you can be certain those agents sometimes represent (and more importantly sell) the kind of stuff you’re producing.

Should I write short stories before trying a novel? Depends. If your expectation is that getting some short stories published is going to significantly enhance your chances of then selling a novel to a big publisher, I’d probably say don’t bother. It might help, but the days when it was almost the expected route to publication, at least in the sf field, are long gone I think. (and Mr Hines’ survey would seem to confirm it’s not at all necessary). BUT … I’m personally fairly convinced that writing short stories made me a somewhat better writer. It can be fun, challenging and educational (which is sort of code for ‘difficult, but in a good way’). It’s also less of a mountain to climb: I’ve heard from one or two people really struggling to start, progress and finish what are intended to be great big long novels, for whatever reason, and in such cases there might be something said for turning to the short stuff just to get into the habit (and the discipline) of getting words down on the page in sufficient quantity to be able to the type ‘The End’.

Do I think xxx sub-genre is a good or bad bet for getting published? [Shrugs]. These things change more or less unpredictably and sometimes quite fast. The sub-genre towards which the aspiring writer should be bending all their will and effort is that of ‘fiction of a commercially publishable standard’. If you hit that target, you’re halfway there. Considerably more than halfway, in fact, given the gloomy reports agents give regarding the average quality of the submissions they receive.

As far as I know, fantasy in general still tends to outsell most other varieties of speculative fiction (there are exceptions, of course – individual sf writers who have sales many fantasy authors, including yours truly, can only dream of). Within fantasy, urban fantasy, or paranormal romance or whatever its being called today, has been doing gangbusters in terms of sales and new authors in recent years. How long that’ll last, I don’t suppose anyone knows, but I suspect it’s a trend that’s got a lot of mileage left in it. Does that mean every apsiring author should be writing in that sub-genre? Well, it probably wouldn’t do your chances any harm, but at the end of the day I imagine the best idea is just to write whatever comes most naturally to you, and whatever enthuses you. The results are likely to be better than if you try to shoehorn yourself into a genre that doesn’t instinctively appeal.

How not to get published. Rather than say anything about this, I’ll just point to an interesting site that contains much sensible commentary on how to avoid the numerous traps, scams and cruel delusions that afflict so many as yet unpublished writers: the Absolute Write forums. It’s an intimidatingly vast site, and it might take a lot of time to find your way through to the most useful or relevant bits of info and advice, but one place to start might be the How Real Publishing Works thread. Again, there’s a USA focus to much of the discussion there, so bear that in mind if you’re geographically elsewhere.

And that’s enough of my waffle for now. The full results of Jom C Hines’ survey come in three parts: Part I, Part II, Part III. All interesting, and recommended reading.

I am not here. I am over at the jolly good Orbit blog posting on the subject of the short life expectancy of characters in The Godless World.

People ask me questions. Which is nice. I try to answer them if I’ve got the time, but that’s a commodity that’s in rather short supply these days so I can’t always be as volubly responsive as I’d like. As a fair proportion of those questions tend to congregate around certain topics, I thought I’d try the bulk purchase approach, and offer up some answers to some of the more frequent queries here. We’re starting with some housekeeping-type questions today, but I promise to get to (possibly) more interesting writing-related stuff in a future episode. Onward!

The Social Networking Question. No, I’m not a member of the Twitterati, so you can’t follow me there. No, I don’t frequent LinkedIn or Myspace or a. n. other social network of your chocie, so you can’t connect with me there. Sorry. All that stuff is appealing, but it’s a prodiguous time sink which feels dangerously like doing real work without actually falling into that category. For now my social networking energies (not vast at the best of times, being the dour and reclusive soul that I quite obviously am) are fully occupied by this here blog and by Facebook. On the latter you are welcome to befriend me or befan the Godless World trilogy, the latter perhaps being the more highly recommended option since (a) the books are arguably more interesting and deserving of your affections than I am, and (b) you might benefit from one of the occasional giveaways hosted there (of which more might be in the imminent offing – I’m toying with some options for next month at the moment).

Will I Answer your Interview Questions? If you want to publish the interview in a blog, magazine, whatever, the answer is probably yes. Like most newish writers, anonymity is my deadliest foe, so I crave attention with much the same desperation as a starving man craves chocolate cake. If you can offer me eyeballs I will endeavour to offer you some answers. Can’t guarantee it, but if time permits I’ll certainly try. If you want to interview me for a school or college project (I never knew asking writers questions was such a popular project activity for students!) – the answer’s still probably yes, but that ‘probably’ is starting to take on strong ‘possibly’-like characteristics. It’d help if (a) there aren’t too many questions, and (b) they indicate that you actually know who I am and what I write and that you’ve put some thought into them. Even then, I might sometimes have to say no if my to-do list is getting ugly. Don’t hold it against me.

Will I Read Your Manuscript? That’s a very flattering question, given the implication that I might have something sensible to say about your book/story/whatever. I never object to being asked it. But the answer’s no. (Unless you’re an old and dear friend friend of mine in which case: maybe, if there’s a beer or two in it for me). There’s a whole unruly host of reasons why I must decline, of which that bugbear of ambition, time, is by far the most important. I mean, manuscript’s are big, you know? And my not exactly impregnable finances are dependent on me producing my own, not reading other folk’s.

Also, consider: You are no doubt a thoroughly pleasant, grounded, sensible sort who genuinely wants constructive criticism with a view to improving your manuscript. There is another sort – a very small minority, occasionally seen frequenting discussion boards here and there – who may think that’s what they want, but are actually in search of praise and validation above all else (such people, I’d suggest, are not the most likely candidates for future publication, but you already knew that, right?). They might not appreciate being told their manuscript is less than perfect (which it is – believe me, I know from personal experience that virtually no manuscript, including those that end up being published, qualifies for the description ‘perfect’). So although you’re not going to bite my head off, take a look at that person behind you in the queue for my notional free manuscript review service: don’t they look just a little wild-eyed, a little feverish, a little … too keen?

And honestly, what I think of your manuscript wouldn’t matter all that much. I like to think I can broadly tell the difference between technically competent and incompetent writing, but beyond that my opinion isn’t the one that counts to an aspiring writer. I’ll certainly have one, but like everyone, I read plenty of highly successful published books that leave me mystified as to what their appeal is, so what I think really doesn’t amount to a reliable guide to anything much. The opinions that matter are those of the agents, editors and publishers who control access to the sunlit uplands of commercial publication, and the only way to get their feedback is by submitting stuff to them (after you’ve revised said stuff to death, of course). You have to develop your own ability to assess your work, and getting rejected – or, joy of joys! – accepted by those people is, IMHO, while not the only way, certainly the most reliable way to sharpen that ability.

Here endeth the Q&A for today. More to follow in due course, including a brief meditation on one of the more interesting questions I’ve ever been asked: What Lies East of Anlane? On the off-chance anyone has specific questions they’d like to see me fumble around with, feel free to e-mail me, and if they’re of possibly wider interest, I’ll see if I can work them in to a future blog post.

Not for the first time the inimitable John Scalzi kicked off a bit of an internet fuss recently. The particular feline lobbed unceremoniously into the pigeon house on this occasion was this post laying into a new short story publisher for offering dismally tiny payments to writers. Cue much wailing and gnashing of teeth in various bits of the internet (both for and against his views), a nice sample of which can be found in this post, and particularly the lengthy comments thread attached thereunto.

Perhaps the most fruitful outcome of the whole kerfuffle – that I’ve seen, anyway – is a couple of livejournal posts by Anne Leckie that are, I think, well worth the attention of any aspiring writers out there. Especially writers of short fiction, but wannabe novelists as well. The first explains why getting your short stories published in certain types of venues will not help your nascent writing career, is such a thing is your goal; the second delves into the much more nebulous question of what makes for good fiction. Both are worth a read: there is a good deal of stuff in there that I think aspiring authors (and published ones like yours truly, too) could profitably ponder, whether they agree with it or not.

Much of what’s discussed in the links above made me think about where my head was at when I was actively writing and submitting short stories to magazines (note that what follows is decidedly not advice; my route through the thicket of obstacles facing the aspiring writer was my own, and does not remotely constitute a generally applicable map).

Back then, I was just starting to take the idea of one day being a professional writer seriously – i.e. thinking about what was involved in getting there, rather than just daydreaming about it. The crux of it, to my simple and innocent brain, seemed straightforward: if I wanted to be a professional writer, I had to be able to write to a professional standard.

So I worked on some stories – most of which were never submitted anywhere because I was never quite satisfied with them – and sent a few out to magazines. I only sent them to what I thought of as professional-standard magazines, i.e. those paying towards the upper end of the general scale for stories, or those that were clearly high profile and respectable and publishing stories of a certain quality.

I didn’t try to place stories with non-paying markets, or obscure magazines making token payments; not because I’ve got anything in particular against such publications, but because I had a project, and it wasn’t a ‘get a story published anywhere‘ project. It was a ‘learn how to write to a professional standard‘ project. So I was only interested in the judgement of those – the editors and publishers – who set that standard by their acquisition decisions. To paraphrase Anne Leckie: I was interested in being a pro, so I aimed for the pros. Aiming lower, I reasoned, would only teach me how to miss my chosen target, not how to hit it.

Now things worked out OK for me, because I did sell a couple of stories in the 90s (which sounds hopeless, but actually wasn’t a bad hit rate, because I only ever sent out a handful). But just to prove that mine is not necessarily the example to follow, having tasted that tiny little bit of success, I stopped trying to write and sell the things entirely. Why? Because I’m nuts? Not entirely, though it’s arguable. (As it happens, I do often wish I’d held onto the short story habit a bit more firmly. It’s got a lot to recommend it.).

No, I stopped for my own, possibly rather eccentric, reasons. The second story I sold (to what was then called The Third Alternative and is now Black Static), was one that, before I sent it out, I was pretty sure was good enough to be publishable in the kind of markets I was interested in. For the first time, I felt I could instinctively identify a piece of my own writing as meeting a basic professional standard. Turned out, I was right.

More importantly, if I’m remembering things rightly, I submitted one further story after that sale. And it was rejected. At which point I basically stopped writing and submitting short stories. Not because I was discouraged, but because I had known, in my heart of hearts, before I sent it out, that that last story was not quite up to the necessary standard. It was OK, with some nice ideas and passages, but it didn’t have that feel. Turned out, once again, that I was right.

That was good enough for me. I’d more or less learned what I wanted to. I could, at least on occasion, write to a professionally publishable standard; and I could identify the necessary quality – and its absence – in my stories before the editors passed their own judgement. (Yes, two is a ridiculously small sample size to base such sweeping conclusions on, and I was building on some very dodgy foundations there, but I did say mine wasn’t an example to follow). What does that quality consist of? Ah, well … that’s a whole other, decidedly complicated story, and one I’d need a whole other post to even start picking away at. But I do think Anne Leckie’s second post offers much food for thought on the subject.

And I will say this – and I guess this, despite what I said earlier about not giving advice, is advice of a sort: irrespective of what mysterious bricks that ‘quality’ is built from, one of the most important skills anyone who wants to turn their writing into a career can acquire is that of recognising its presence, or absence, in their own work. And the only way you do that is by writing for, submitting to, and probably being rejected by, the markets which define the level of quality you aspire to.

One of the things I occasionally get asked is how I make up names for my characters. To which the answer, if you’re talking about secondary world fantasy like The Godless World, is: mostly I just make them up, playing around with sounds and letters in my head until something vaguely plausible (and roughly consistent with the other names I’ve already used) volunteers itself.

Generally speaking, I reckon it’s worth sticking with the idea of inventing your own names, even when the creative juices are flowing sluggishly, just because names are – or should be – a pretty important element of a story. They’re more than just badges: they can convey mood and character and cultural affiliation; they can create expectations in the reader’s mind that you can then confirm or subvert; they can carry symbolic and metaphorical weight.

Sometimes, though, I guess a little bit of external inspiration might help, and there’s a ridiculously large amount of it available.

You can just go the direct route and press a few buttons on a purpose-designed fantasy name generator (though with this, and all other methods I’ll mention, I’d suggest still tweaking any results to take proper ‘ownership’ of the names and make sure they fit your setting and story and intent).

Or if you’re looting real world cultures for a fantasy milieu, you can mine the rich and varied strata of baby name lists. They come in all flavours, whether you’re looking for Celtic influenced names, or Native American.

Or you could make the quest for names a rewarding and educational process in itself and immerse yourself in some weighty historical tomes. Personally, I’d recommend trying some Byzantine history, since it covers in excess of a thousand years and a whole load of different cultures, from Roman and Greek through Turkish and Armenian and Arabic. There’re some very fine names buried in there, let me tell you.

Or, and here we get to the thing that made me think about all this in the first place, you could put your faith in a weirder approach. I noticed a while back that the anti-spam comment filtering process on this, and presumably all other Blogger blogs, had subtly changed (unless it was always like this and I’d never noticed). When the software shows you some wobbly letters and asks you to repeat them back to it, those letters have started displaying a strange and appealing coherence. They are no longer random; instead, they’re clearly psuedo-words. Or, more relevantly, wannabe names.

Just by hitting the refresh button repeatedly, I harvested (amongst a few clearly unuseable tongue-twisters) the following list of what looks to me a lot like name seeds for fantasy characters: phathea, miculap, porev, potlycos, sches, speres, cysedi, incia. Now these are weird fantasy names, admittedly, but there’s potential there. I particularly like Porev, Sches and Cysedi as starting points for some name play, myself.

Not what the designers had in mind, obviously, but I’ve no doubt the cockles of their heart are warmed by the thought that they might unintentionally offer aid to the desperate and despairing fantasy writer in his or her hour of name-blocked need.

Earlier this week I spent a pleasant hour or two in the company of the students who make up Strathclyde University’s Writers’ Society, inflicting upon them some of my experiences, views and prejudices regarding the whole writing thing. I’ve done this kind of thing a handful of times now, and so far it’s always proved enjoyable. I can report that our nation’s students – at least the aspiring writers amongst them – are a fine body of folk. (But when did they get to be so young? More to the point, when did I get to be so old? Surely it was only a year or two ago that I was a student myself … oh, wait. Maybe it was rather longer than that … don’t think about it. Ignore the harsh realities of time’s passing. If you don’t pay it any attention, it’s not really happening …)

Some universities, it has to be said, benefit from the wisdom of writers rather more … well, rather more consequential than me. Here, for your Friday viewing pleasure is a whole half hour of a speculative fiction legend talking about his craft at Point Loma Nazarene University. Take it away, Ray Bradbury:

As promised in the last post here, some brief details on the new book I’m writing. Yes, the fine folks at Orbit, in their infinite wisdom, seem to feel that the world could withstand further literary output by yours truly. (I say wisdom, but it might just be some ghastly administrative error on their part, of course. No matter. They signed the contract, so they’re stuck with me now).

The working title (and so far everyone, including me, seems to quite like it, so I imagine it’ll probably survive all the way through to publication) is The Edinburgh Dead. The setting is, as you might guess, Edinburgh; specifically, Edinburgh in the first half of the 19th century. Since I write fantasy rather than history, though, it’s not quite as simple as that.

I’m taking some gruesome and rather famous aspects of Edinburgh’s past and spicing them up a bit with veteran warriors, magical conspiracies, killers both human and decidedly not, desperate combat and sinister goings-on in general. In short, it’s a dark, heroic fantasy set in 19th century Edinburgh. With swords and gaslamps.

As for publication date – because I know someone will ask about that sooner rather than later – I can’t say exactly, but I’ll be delivering the manuscript next year and barring exceptional circumstances it takes at least nine months, more likely something approaching twelve, to go from that point to publication. So you can do the math yourselves.

I’m having a lot of fun working on this so far. It’s a stand alone novel, and that makes a very pleasant change after turning out a hefty trilogy like The Godless World. I’ll no doubt report back here on the creative process and progress (watch out for that mid-book slump of despair and self-doubt!), but I’ll leave it there for now. Got stuff to write.

There is, however, something to see over at Dark Wolf’s Fantasy Reviews, where I’ve hijacked the blog briefly to make a guest post.

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