Well, you’re in good company. The impulse to tinker is universal. So universal, that some people make vast fortunes just so they’ll have the ability to tinker endlessly. People like, for example, George Lucas.

I don’t need to belabor this point too much, other than to perhaps mention that George’s newest release of the original Star Wars trilogy contains MORE changes that do nothing substantive and occasionally undermine the original work’s dramatic power. You know, just like the last four times he’s released them. The movies people know and love, the original ones made way back when? They’ll never see the light of day again, at least until George dies.

His inability to resist indulging his tinker’s urge has had three basic effects on the world:
1) It has utterly arrested George’s creative growth. In the 70s, George was a growing creative force. He got better with every film. He was experimental. He was thoughtful. Whether he was writing or producing he turned out superior products, and he never sat still. Through the 80s, he came into his own as a producer, giving us great popcorn films (Indiana Jones and Willow), sharp-tongued comedies (Radioland Murders), and some really kick-ass breakthroughs in craft and technology for films and theme parks alike. In the late 80s and early 1990s, he created Pixar, then had the sense to let it go to make its way in the world. He produced The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, which were superior in many ways to the Indiana Jones films. George Lucas wasn’t just Francis Ford Coppola’s golden boy, he was THE golden boy, and he did it on his own, as a maverick, outside the studio system.

Where’s that growth now? Where’s the energy, the expansion? It’s all gone into the tinkering. Everything stopped and slammed into reverse when he dug Star Wars out and started rewriting it. And since then, his creative chops and the quality and appeal of his work have gone solidly downhill.

2) It’s deprived his industry of one of the finest producers in the world, full stop. When George is doing Star Wars, George is not doing the noir films, the mythology films, the art films, and the TV shows that he’s been talking about in interviews since the 1970s.

3) It’s rewritten a big piece of American cinematic history. The Star Wars films that (along with Jaws) changed the entire business structure of the film industry, that created modern fantasy cinema, that kickstarted the digital revolution, and that launched the career of Harrison Ford? They’re gone. We don’t get to see them anymore. Oh, and George’s other films–like THX-1138 and American Graffiti–they’ve been revised too. Nonsensically. We don’t get to see those either, even though they also became important cultural touchstones (Graffiti much moreso than THX, granted).

— — —

So, this is just me griping, right?

Well, no. This is me jumping up and down with a big sign pointing at George and saying “SEE? Heinlein was right!” The most important (and most controversial) of Heinlein’s rules of professional writing is:

You must not rewrite, except to editorial order. With Ellison’s addendum being And then only if you agree.

That rule is there to remind you not to turn into George Lucas. Rewriting a finished piece (I’m talking rewriting, not doing the normal copy edits, continuity tweaks, and fact checks that you do as part of the writing process) is the road to nowhere. It most often results in bad work, for a very simple reason, as exemplified by the post-1997 George Lucas corpus:

Writers are not competent to tinker with their own work.

With recent work, it’s because they’re too close to see what might be broken–this is why we have beta readers and editors. It’s also because, living with our own voice all the time, we don’t understand what makes it special.

But what about an old book that you’re wanting to bring up to date and/or perfect, as George keeps trying to do?

In that case, you’re not competent to do that either. And there’s a very good reason why:

That book (film, whatever) came from a person that doesn’t exist anymore. You wrote it at a different time in your life, when you had different concerns, and different skills. You don’t have access to that creative headspace anymore, and you’re very unlikely to be able to actually improve one aspect of the book without completely fucking up another aspect.

Now, if you’ve got a book like that that you REALLY want to redo, don’t rewrite it. Reboot it. Pick your favorite scene, or idea, or handful of characters and rewrite it from scratch. Don’t just rework the style, give it a new coat of paint, or try to do a new draft. Don’t even touch the old document. Start with a blank page. Do what’s called in Television a “reboot” or a “re-imagining.” It’s always possible that the first time you wrote the book you were too ambitious, tried to do things you weren’t close to being ready for. Books like that might do well with a reboot.

But do it going FORWARD. Don’t do it looking back. You’re not updating an old work when you do this, you’re reincarnating it. Make it new, and stretch yourself. Let the storyline go different places than the original. Let it surprise you.

Or, better yet, leave your old books alone. Treat them like they were written by another person. Leave then on the market, learn from them, and move on to the next story. Work on doing better this time what you did poorly last time, and work on that improvement every time.

Growth comes from moving forward, not moving backward. Tinkering is moving backwards, and it moves your creative growth backwards. You don’t want to wind up on this path. No matter how brilliant you are, you can get stuck in your own creative swamp. And if you wallow there long enough, that’s where you’ll die.

Just ask George.

Last night, I had occasion to have a long conversation with a new writer who’s vexed and confused by the options before him when it comes to writing process, and saying “you have to find your own way” only left him more despondent. I know that look–I’ve been there many times when faced with a new field of endeavor with so many options that at once feel constraining and non-specific. So, in the hope of letting those new writers who don’t comfortably fit a category know that they’re not alone, I’m going to describe my method.

But first, the reasons why the two popular methods don’t work for me.

Pulling Down My Pants

“Pantsers” are folks that write by the seat of their pants. They trust their subconscious and just fly on from word one, muddling through as they go–and often, they’re brilliant. Many of my favorite short story writers (including Ray Bradbury, Harlan Ellison, and Dean Wesley Smith) write like this, and they are quite often bloody brilliant.

I’ve done this with short stories–sometimes, I’ve done it really well. But for every short story I’ve finished with this method, I have five that started, sputtered, and stopped. Some I’ve gone back and done in a way more suited to my workflow–others I’ve abandoned and think of fondly, like childhood friends I’m unlikely ever to see again.

Why do they sputter? Frankly, it’s because I often write from a milieu, and only infrequently is a milieu sufficient to sustain a whole story. My process often relies on the collision of two dissimilar ideas in my own head, and without those two ideas, the story won’t spin.

With novels, it’s the same problem, only worse. Unless the story itself is a discovery process with a very constrained point of view, there isn’t a lot I can get a foothold on. Even then, I only get so far before I have to resort to other methods.

Which brings us to outlining.

Sketchy Thinking

The beauty of an outline is that you never have to worry about where you’re going. You decide in advance what happens, and why, and when–sometimes in rough detail, sometimes in minutia. Many of my favorite novelists (including Gail Carriger, Stephen R. Donaldson, and Frank Herbert) work this way, to spectacular result, and the method has innate appeal. The question of “what’s next” that can get writers blocked on a project, and pre-laying the track means you don’t have to worry about going off it and losing the plot.

But it comes with a cost: spontaneity. My particular neuroses innately rebel against tight pre-plotting. Once I’ve written an entire story in my mind once, it’s a slog to write it again, and that slog sometimes shows in the finished product (which is why there are a few novels and stories that will never see the light of day–they are, according to my betas, stale-born, and I don’t have the heart to go back and redraft them from scratch).

However, for someone of my disposition there is a third way to write.

I call it “playing jazz.”

Why Jazz?

Using music as an analog, a pantser would be like a musician who has so internalized structure that they can pick up an instrument and do a solo jam that is neither dull nor directionless. An outliner would be a concert pianist who rote memorizes perfectly a pre-composed piece, and then adds texture and flourish by the way she performs the notes and accents the silences.

Jazz is an artform between. Like writing, music depends upon deviating from a well-understood structure. In both music and writing, structure is king–without it, you don’t have anything that resembles a story, or music. But with jazz, the structure is malleable within certain limits, and the bulk of the piece within those limits is made up of improvisation to such an extent that no two performances of the same piece will ever be the same. Sometimes, they may not even sound like the same song.

To play Jazz with words, you need the baseline structure–a few story beats you must hit for everything to work well. Then, in the vast spaces in between, you connect the dots by playing in between them–exploring the complications, finding the indirect ways between points A and B and C. In a long, plot heavy novel like The Antithesis Progression, the individual storylines will all have those points, and there will be planned points of intersection between them, but the jazz happens in the execution. In books with a more straightforward structure, like The Clarke Lantham Mysteries or Down From Ten, there is more improvisation–but in either case, the method lays in playing to the strengths of both outlining and discovery writing, while sidestepping the aspects of both processes that my particular twisted psychology finds unendurable.

It’s All About Process

My first million-and-a-quarter words qualify me as a neophyte in the writing world, but they have taught me why it takes so long for writers to find their voice. Learning a process will allow you to grapple with story structure in a way that will help you tell stories that connect with your audience. There is no right way. There is only the way that you find that works for you. If you, like my conversation partner last night, are feeling confused by the prescriptions offered by writers further along than you, take heart! It’s normal for all of us to think “my way worked for me, so it should work for everyone.”

But however well-intentioned that advice, the fact remains: only you are capable of working out what process works best for you. And whether you’re writing books and screenplays with highly developed structures (like episodic television, or category romance) or that are more free-form (like slipstream), the process you go through to get there will vary according to your psychology. Take my description of “playing jazz” as another possible option–but don’t take it as gospel. Your mileage may vary.

I’m one of those poor tortured souls who is a stickler for detail, to the point where I’m rarely able to meet my own standards when I write–but, let’s face it. If anyone wrote like that, they’d either write only in their area of historical specialty or after years of research. The trick with writing is to create a successful illusion, not a master’s thesis. Besides, the vast majority of readers aren’t the kind of obsessive compulsive pain in the ass that I am–a lucky thing!–so there’s a certain amount we authors can count on getting away with.

Still, I can’t help but think there’s some level of rigor that one ought to aspire to. Some minimal standard–particularly since the stories we professional liars tell often form people’s view of the past long after their high school and college history classes are long-forgotten–must surely be in order. Something that we can at least hold up to keep ourselves from being embarrassed at conventions when a fan calls us out on an obvious boneheaded anachronism?

There might just be one. Let’s call it “The Wikipedia Test.” After all, most readers who are confused on a point of history or arcane knowledge (and who are of an intellectual or curious bent) that you employ will go to Wikipedia to catch up with you. It therefore follows that if a point in your story–particularly a major plot point–turns on a bit of arcane knowledge, you damn well better make sure that a cursory glance at Wikipedia won’t make you look lazy.

Not that I have anyone particular in mind, but for the sake of illustration, I’m going to pick on two popular authors (one of whom I really like, the other of whom I admire, but don’t much enjoy).

[Be warned: Spoilers follow]

First, Jeff Lindsay, creator of Dexter. For the book Dexter in the Dark he brings in a serial killer who leaves the device “mlk” at his murder scenes. Dexter, after a considerable amount of Internet research, concludes that this is a reference to the god “Moloch.” So far so good–anytime someone’s got the guts to work some obscure mythology into his storyline, I’m a happy guy.

Unfortunately, Lindsay then goes on to say that “the characters ‘mlk’ were from an ancient language…Aramaic.” And that’s where the book, for about two chapters, descends into the kind of incoherence that only badly-researched mysticism can create.

Moloch, you see, is a Phoenician god, and the Phoenician used an entirely different alphabet from Aramaic (the language of the Canaanites), despite the languages being related. Aramaic doesn’t have any letters that look remotely like an “m” or a “k”– but Phoenician does. There are a dozen other reasons, too, that the idea the Moloch would speak Aramaic is ridiculous, but let’s just stick with these two which–feel free to check for yourself–are easily confirmed by a Wikipedia search.

And, really, if you’re going to go to the trouble to use something as esoteric as Moloch, and you’re going to try to make it cool by dipping deep into Kabbalistic Demonology, you’re going to have to do some research (unless you’re like me who reads stuff like this for fun), so why in the world wouldn’t you do a basic fact check?

A more eggregious example of this kind of thing is Dan Brown, who writes occult history thrillers (so far so good), claims that admitted hoaxes such as Holy Blood, Holy Grail are legitimate true histories (not so good–at least he could rely on hokum that hasn’t been publically acknowledged as a prank by its authors), and then goes that one further:

In The Da Vinci Code, a multinational conspiracy of elite catholics spend gobs of money and kill loads of people in order to save the church from a secret that would destroy it: That Jesus was…married?

Um…come again? Okay, yes, the Vatican is a bastion of sexual repression that has inarguably engaged in a good bit of historical forgery and cover-ups over the centuries. But of all the secrets they could be hiding about the origin of Christianity, this has to be right up there with “Jesus used Crest Toothpaste” in the annals of “inconvenient facts with the fewest possible consequences to Christian doctrine.” If Brown wanted some real dynamite, he could have gone for another fringe theory that’s actually got some scholarly support and would actually give the Catholic Church huge headaches if it were to become commonly believed(such as the fringe scholarly theory that Jesus Never Existed).

Still, sex is sexier than fraud, I suppose. And Brown writes a hell of a page-turner, as evidenced by his amazing sales numbers.

[End of Spoilers]

I humbly submit that if we’re going to be telling stories that present the illusion of reality, that delve into the “what ifs” and “what could have beens,” why not at least put in Wikipedia-level research? Or, if we can’t be bothered, perhaps we should let go of pretense to connect our illusions to reality, and just make up the names as well. Seems to me it would be much less confusing–and present much less of a liability to the coherence of the illusion–than throwing out bogus facts that put us at risk of failing the Wikipedia Test.

—-
A few great authors that usually pass the Wikipedia test:
Gary Jennings, Ken Follett, Clive Cussler, Clive Barker, Isaac Asimov, Gail Carriger, Leon Uris, Cherie Priest, Thomas Harris, Stephen King (this is what I came up with at 4AM. It’s not an exhaustive list by a long shot).

Last night on Dean Wesley Smith’s blog I made a snarky comment about the deleterious effect of a Literary Studies degree (or, in my case, 90% of a Lit degree) on creativity. The comment went something like this:

A Literary Studies course is the worst thing you can do for your creativity, other than bashing your skull in with a mallet while reciting the lyrics to “The Song That Never Ends”

Needless to say, this caused a minor row in the twitterverse among my fellow literati, and I received a few demands to justify myself (which is not easy to do on the best of days, let alone in 140 characters or less), so, in the name of entertainment, here goes, in no particular order:

1: The Premise of Literary Studies is Misguided

Leaving aside those in search of an easy “A,” people generally go into literary studies either because they want to pursue a career as a writer or because they love stories and want to teach literature to high school and/or college students. Literary Studies courses, however, don’t do much to prepare you for either.

To write effective fiction, there are a number of things you can study that will help: psychology, history, language, applied sociology and group dynamics, neurology, chaos theory, evolutionary biology, religion, semiotics, and philosophy leap to mind. And you can also learn a lot from studying literature, in the sense of reading books that you might not necessarily read for pleasure. Cultivating a habit of learning, and observing the mediums of communication around you, is extremely useful. Getting practice actually writing stories is also very important.

To teach literature effectively, it helps to be familiar with the historical context of the work in question, the background and literacy of the audience, and the subtle connections and influences of the work to other works in the canon being studied (it is, for example, difficult to explain a lot of the symbolic subtext of Lord of the Flies to someone who’s completely unfamiliar with the mythology surrounding Satan). One would also do well to learn the the techniques of Socratic Dialog, effective communication, critical thinking, and rhetoric.

But Literary Studies degree programs, while they touch on many of these elements, do not focus here. They focus on deconstruction, explication, and political analysis (and in ways that are dishonest, which I’ll get into in a bit). A Lit. Studies student is required to write a lot of papers, but is very seldom required to engage in creative work (such as writing stories). Even in the best of programs that don’t display some of the problems I’ll detail below, this leads to a very one-sided understanding of the creative process.

In explicating a poem, for example, one teases out the layers of meaning and symbols, underlining the ambiguities and tensions and bringing them into sharp focus. The explicator comes to see poetry as an exercise in precision engineering–such glorious economy of syllables hyper-condensing such subtlety surely must be the work of precise craftsmanship, akin to designing a car.

So when you go to write poetry and imbue it with meaning, you fall flat on your face. You can’t imagine that metaphors are something you pluck from the air, rather than something you labor over with great deliberation. It doesn’t occur to you that the process of composing metered poetry (we’ll leave freeverse to one side), while it has its exacting mechanical requirements, is not engineering. Jazz also has exacting mechanical requirements, but they’re requirements that have to emerge chaotically from the practiced subconscious, or the result sounds like shit. The multilayered themes that Lit students pick apart are just as often subconscious and accidental as they are deliberate, and some of the best comes in the heat of the moment, by accident, when the author/poet isn’t trying to be profound.

How can this be? Like jazz, poetry (and narrative) obey rules so complex that it’s impossible to “fake it” by reverse engineering. The only way to brilliance is the long way around, training oneself and honing one’s craft through laborious trial and error. The method is too complex to learn by rote.

Explication and analysis have their place (I still very much enjoy them), but they don’t do the three things they’re supposed to do:
They don’t help you learn to be a better writer.
They don’t help you understand how the poet/author created her masterpiece.
And they don’t necessarily tell you what the poem or story means, because while looking at the pieces it’s very easy to miss the gestalt, and many truly masterful wordsmiths produce works that can only be enjoyed or understood on the gestalt level.

To use philosophical terms, a work of literature is “contingent” rather than a “thing in itself.” It is always a piece communication, and that nature has a non-trivial bearing on its meaning, content, etc. Studying “Literature” (in quotes here because “literary studies” encompasses film, lyrical music, narrative nonfiction, and poetry as well as fiction) in the way it’s been studied in the last seventy years is, essentially, to spend a great deal of time studying nothing at all.

2: The Methods of Literary Studies are Dishonest

Every field in the academy–the sciences, critical history, the plastic and visual arts, the dramatic arts–has a toolkit. In a science department you learn to do science (methodology, experimentation, reporting, peer review) and use its tools (from Bunsen burners to calculus), so that you may produce new and important work in that field (new scientific theories and data). In a history department, you learn to do history (research, evaluation, criticism, interact with the empirical and social sciences that might have a bearing on your studies) so that, in the end, you are prepared to make discoveries and communicate them. In a graphic arts program you learn to do art (sketching, painting, sculpting, photography, the ethical and legal environments you may have to navigate as an artist, etc.) so that you can grow into a competent, producing artist.

You see the trend. In every degree program, you learn to do the discipline. You don’t just learn to think about it, you are equipped to be an active participant in the creation of further knowledge and culture in that field.

If you’re pursuing a lit degree, though, you will come out of your degree program equipped to talk about written works as if you understood them (unless you’re an exceptional student and learned less popular methods of analysis, you probably don’t). That’s it. Four to six years and a hundred thousand bucks, just to learn the jargon. Here are some things that you won’t learn in any literary studies program I’ve ever seen:

Character voice, nested plot structure, cliffhangering, tension, writing effective sex scenes, misdirection, making violence interesting, structuring conflict, copyright law, libel law, contracts, the unique tax problems of writers, effective (and multisensory) imagery, subtext, dialog, and (unless you’re studying poetry) rhythmic techniques, applied psychology.

Note that those are things that all fiction writers employ to some extent, whether they do it consciously or subconsciously (and the business items are things that all writers ignore at their own peril).

Instead, what you’ll learn to do is “analyze” literature. What they call “analysis” is not something that would pass for analysis in any other field. The standard literary method derives heavily from Foucault and Derrida, and deals in things like deconstruction, post-structural approach to narrative, and social power dynamics projected through the medium of the text. These guys were the last of the Marxist/Bourgeois literary/social philosophers (each had different roots, but that great philosophical divide in many ways reaches an end point with them), and giants in artistic philosophy circles. They were both quite concerned with how narrative creates culture, frames thought, coerces conformity, and serves as the velvet glove of the power elite. Their concerns were with the meta-narrative–their word for “worldview”–of western culture.

For those of you in the know, yes, I realizing I’m simplifying this to a criminal degree. For the rest of you–I’m sorry that this stuff is so esoteric. It really is relevant, as you’ll see next.

Getting into the ins and outs of Postmodernism (the school of thought that they inadvertently codified) is a long and much more complicated discussion, but here’s where it gets dishonest with respect to literary theroy:

The devotees of Postmodernism began using literature as a way to do philosophy under the radar, so to speak. By carrying out their philosophical and political dialectic in the realm of literature, they were able to promulgate an ideology (some aspects of which I heartily agree with, others not so much) without being subject to the normally ruthless forces of substantive academic debate.

Over the course of the twentieth century, critical thinking in literary analysis gradually went out the window, replaced by ideologically driven thinking encapsulated in a jingoistic (and obfuscatory) vocabulary. And, in all of it, the one thing that wasn’t being studied was literature. Instead of the object of study or of craft, literature became the cypher through which myriad agendas were worked (because, after the Marxists learned how to use this kind of doubletalk, everyone else appropriated the shell game for their own ends).

3: The Culture of Literary Studies is Anti-intellectual

If you spend any time around academic institutions, you’ll sense a bit of tension between the sciences and the humanities. Back in the time of Percy Bysshe Shelley, these two broad fields of endeavor more or less declared war on each other. The hyper-rationalistic scientists looked with scorn upon all things emotional (believing, as they did, that superstition, indolence, and poverty were all the results of ignorance and fear). The Romantics fought back, arguing for the purity of nature and passion, and arguing that science could tell us nothing useful about the human condition. That split deepened and grew bitter over the centuries, and is a deep source of much of the culture war that plagues Western civilization right now.

In The Lord of the Rings, when Saruman declares himself “‘Saruman The White’ no longer, but ‘Saruman of Many Colors,’ for the white light may be broken and bent to more effective use,” Gandalf replies “He who would break a thing to understand it has left the path of wisdom.” This, in a single exchange, is the fight between the Romantics against the Rationalists. Because of that fight, the Romantic half of academia [i.e. The Humanities] (literary and religious studies and some philosophy–though this camp used to also include philosophy and history) has seen itself as the sanctified purveyor of wisdom about the human condition.

I consider it a good thing that the last fifty years have seen astonishing advances in our understanding of creativity and how it works. Rationality is no longer seen as antithetical to emotion and creativity, but as an expression of both. If you want to study any kind of art, you can’t do it anymore without an understanding of the latest in neurology. Applied psychology, sociology, optics, and ecology wouldn’t hurt either. Although the scientific picture of humanity is far from complete, the understanding of the mechanisms of human communication and thought are now far superior to the fuzzy mysticism that once passed for precision in the humanities. This doesn’t mean that there is no room for the ineffable, only that we better understand how and why some things feel ineffable.

The culture of critical theory (almost any degree program with “Studies” affixed to the end of it), though, don’t see it this way. Instead, like the priesthood of a dying religion, they have spent the last forty years fighting a rear-guard action against the sciences, and in the process they’ve grown moribund. If you want superb literary analysis, with very few exceptions, you have to go back to the era of World War 2 and before. Literary studies have, in the meantime, produced almost nothing new, and very little of note.

Ironic and tragic, but in a field of study where the horizon is as limitless as human imagination, the bulk of the intelligentsia are ghettoized. Only a very few brave souls, such as Steampunk Scholar Mike Perschon have dared to break out of the narrow brackets of modernist literary criticism and delve into the un-respectable “genres.”

Alas, the prevailing culture regards the unreadable, the unenjoyable, the old, and the highly political as the only works worthy of study and comment. (This isn’t a new phenomenon. The “Classics” of today were the pop entertainments of yesteryear. But it is a much more intense, and intensely unpleasant, phenomenon today).

Literary Studies and Creative Paralysis

When taking an intellectual approach to any field of endeavor, one risks short-term creative paralysis in the face of information overload–centipede problems, they’re called. I don’t have a problem with that–it’s natural, and it does pass if you relax and let the learning sink in.

But the broken culture, the dishonesty, the political doubletalk, and the intellectual vacuity of Literary Studies programs can and do produce long-term creative paralysis. The Lit student who learns “analysis” under these conditions is prone to adopting those same lazy, self-destructive mental habits as his own, forever second-guessing himself, wondering if this or that turn of phrase betrays unconscious racism, or sexism, or if it will be construed that way, opening him up to slander from his audience. If he’s one who wants to write romance novels, or mysteries, he’s left to wonder if his life’s work will be worth the bother, since he’s been trained to de-value entertainment and enjoyment, and to think of genre literature (or anything that doesn’t carry a heavy political message) as “pulp,” “hack,” “fluff,” or “trash.”

In the meantime, hacks like Bradbury and Ellison and Andre Norton just mastered their craft through practice without the benefit of literary studies (none of them went to college, one of them never even attended high school). Most authors through history, and most authors today, did not learn their craft by studying for a Lit degree.

So, like I said, if you’re wanting to be a writer, do yourself a favor:

Study literature by reading. Pay attention to how your favorite writers (or writers you don’t particularly like) use words to shape your perceptions, evoke emotions, and alter your consciousness. But for Pete’s sake, don’t go into debt to get a Lit degree. You won’t learn anything you need, and you’ll very likely use years of your creative life unlearning the self-destructive mental habits it teaches you. If you ARE interested in deep symbolic analysis, learn history, get familiar with your culture’s literary heritage, and take some semiotics courses. But don’t waste your money on lit courses.

If you find this post useful or thought provoking, please consider donating to the tip jar at the top right of this site, or buying a copy of any of the books you’ll find listed in the right sidebar. Writing is how I make my living–I enjoy it and would like to keep it up!

In the midst of the upheaval in the publishing industry, I’m seeing this a lot. As agents are conning their clients into unethical business arrangements (and kudos to Peter Cox and Kristen Nelson for going on record about the danger this represents to writers), editors with excellent reputations are getting kicked off writing forums for providing data on the change, publishers are defrauding their authors and engaging in massive rights grabs, breaking the rules can earn you some pretty serious grief from other writers who are following the rules and hoping they’ll get reputation points for it.

Trouble is, this isn’t first grade. There are no gold stars for following the rules. And a lot of people are breaking the rules.
And they’re winning.

There are the people who are pursuing the established business model of licensing their work to a large publishing house, and they’re not following the script. You know the script, right? “You have to get an agent, then your agent will sell your book on to a publisher after they help you shine it up–because publishers don’t buy books that need work, and they don’t buy books from unagented writers.”
This script is, of course, a lie, and a dangerous one. Many new writers spend years hunting for an agent. Leaving aside for a moment questions about the future viability of the agented business model, there is one thing an agent can’t do, has never have been able to do, and will never be able to do: Write you a check. You can spend an entire career trying to sell your book to someone who is unable to buy it.
Or, you can do what over 40% of first-time novelists do–including my friend Gail Carriger–and say “fuck the rules.” Mail your book to an editor who doesn’t accept submissions, the worst they can say is no. You won’t get a bad reputation for it; frankly, you’re not that important. You’re one of thousands of names they see every month, and unless you’re extraordinarily rude, your name will be forgotten as quickly as your manuscript. On the other hand, you might instead get notes like some I’ve been getting recently–notes from people who swear up and down in public that they’ll never look at an unagented mss, who are asking to see yours. (But if you mention that you’ve done that, you’re likely to get attacked by people who feel threatened when others don’t follow the rules).

Then there are the folks pursuing the new opportunities provided by the changes in the industry–either exclusively working through the new distribution channels or pursuing both the old and the new models simultaneously, with varying degrees of success. These are people like J.A. Konrath, Barry Eisler, Amanda Hocking, Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, James Melzer, Jennifer Hudock, Nathan Lowell, Scott Sigler, Brand Gamblin, and (last and least) me. These people have looked at the rules and said “Well, we obviously don’t need those anymore.” And they’re really pissing people off.

Both camps have something else in common, besides breaking the rules: The people who feel threatened by rule-breakers call both camps “Outliers.” They make out as if the normal rules don’t apply to us, because we’re somehow special. That there’s something magical about our talent, or our social savvy–something that makes us so rare that we shouldn’t be studied or listened to.

Think of this logic: The people who are most successful at what they do (or even, as in my case, marginally successful at the beginning of their careers) should be ignored, because their experience is so atypical it can’t be learned from. In other words, if you want to win, ignore the people who are good at winning.

This, my friends, is a recipe for failure. Every author’s career path is different, and you’re going to have to cobble together your own as you go. If you’re slavishly following a program rather than adapting and experimenting, your odds of success are diminished. If you’re dismissing “outlier” data, you’re cutting off your arm. If you’re slavishly following the advice of an “outlier,” you’re probably also missing out. Business requires creativity and a willingness to experiment. It also requires resilience. You don’t get that by operating on tunnel vision.

From the point of view of the people who dismiss the rule-breakers, the world is getting smaller. The business is in upheaval, and the opportunities are diminishing. Self-publishers are flooding the market with crap, and no good work will get found in all the white noise.

This argument is a load of bullshit. If white noise were capable of preventing people from finding good content, then the Internet (which is, by some estimates, over 70% spam) wouldn’t function. You wouldn’t be reading this blog right now.

But this? This is the best time in history to be a writer–better even than the Golden Age of Pulp, and that was a damn good time.

You don’t have to take my word for it. You can listen to the other “outliers,” or you can listen to the Consulting Editor at Wiley Press, who says exactly the same thing. These are times of unparalleled opportunity.

So if you’re trying to figure out why your career isn’t going anywhere, perhaps it’s time to look at your paradigm. Do you have a million words or close to it under your belt, but aren’t selling? Maybe you’re not sending material to people who can write checks. Are you selling, but not making a living? Perhaps it’s time to put a foot into the self-pub world as well, and spend the time learning how to package your work to attract eyeballs.

Or maybe you’re a new writer, with only a year or two under your belt, and like most new writers (including me when I was baby-powder fresh), you’re looking for a program to follow: solid answers and prescriptions for writerly success in a few short months or years. It’s time to stop looking, because it won’t happen. Writing is a discipline that takes practice–at least a decade’s worth–to master. And it takes constant learning of all kinds. There is no end, unless you quit.

That’s the breaks. And don’t tell me I’m an outlier, because if you’ve got the stamina and creativity to write novels, you’re already more intelligent and determined than around 90% of the population, which makes you an outlier by definition. You become an outlier among outliers by taking risks, being adaptable, and working your ass off. Don’t use the success of others who have more years in this than you do, or a bit more luck, as an excuse to avoid experimenting.

Don’t wuss out.

If you find this post useful or thought provoking, please consider donating to the tip jar at the top right of this site, or buying a copy of any of the books you’ll find listed in the right sidebar. Writing is how I make my living–I enjoy it and would like to keep it up!

All the original writing for Free Will is now done. I have a few days of continuity tweaking ahead of me, and then some cutting, but it really is now all over but the shouting.

New equipment for the studio arrives this week, and I’ll be resuming production on everything in two weeks after I give things a proper shakedown and take a day or two off.

What does this mean for you?

Predestination and Free Will paperbacks (and Free Will ebook) in June. New episodes of Sculpting God in June. New episodes of Free Will starting in July, and continuing through to the end of the book.

It’s been a marathon–two years of work plotting and researching, and four solid months of aggregated writing time over those two years.. Final count: 212k words. Manuscript page count: 848. (Don’t worry, that will shrink as I shake out the continuity).

Time to crack the champagne!

Well, no problem there. Turns out there was an excellent break point where book 1 could end naturally–and on a very nice cliffhanger–so I could move on to the new book 2 (which was originally the planned second half of book 1). I’d just sit down and write book 2 as soon as the time afforded.

Yeah.

If you’ve been following my progress with this book, you already know how that bright idea turned out. I’ve gotten four other books written in the meantime, and I’m quick on the way to finishing a further two, and still Free Will mocks me with its recalcitrance. And it’s not because I haven’t kicked ass on writing it either: Predestination rang in at 122,000 words after some serious cutting post-podcast and only had to cope with four major storylines. That’s a healthy sized book–it’s fantasy-novel length. Free Will is…well…bigger.

Much bigger. Two and a half reams of paper big. It isn’t done yet, and it’s north of 160,000 words with fifteen storylines (eight of them major). That’s too long, even though the second half of the book is wall-to-wall action and the first half moves along as a very fast clip. Too long as it is, and I’ve still got a lot further to go–easily another 50,000 words if I play the story to the original end point.

After printing the whole thing out today and separating out the storylines I had a read-through of each, and I discovered something:

I’ve done it again. My original planned Book 1 of Antithesis isn’t just two books. It’s three. Well, two and a half. And I’ve already written sixty pages of book three by accident.

What does this mean for you who’s been waiting eagerly?

Well, it means I’ll actually finish Free Will this century. Probably this month. And I’m close enough to the end to head back into production on the audio this week, which I’m doing. It also means that Free Will will be a reasonable length–it might even sneak in under the equivalent of 650 pages when all is done. It means you’ll get a book that ends on a sequence of scenes that is the biggest, brashest you’ve seen yet…

And it means that the first two acts of book 3 are going to be incredibly explosive.

This series keeps surprising me with how much story is wrapped up in it. I can’t wait to share that surprise with you.

Vanity
For your starter today, I’ve recently finished Sam Harris’s book The Moral Landscape. We recently had a three episode set discussing the premise and arguments Harris addresses in the book. I’ve also posted a review at Goodreads. It’s an interesting and provocative book–if you have an interest in ethical philosophy, I highly recommend it.

Whimsy
This is an oldie, but goodie, video of a squid filming its own escape from a skin-diver.

Civil Liberties
Are you offended and frightened by the recent shooting? Wish you could silence people who are talking about “targeting” and “taking down” the opposition? Think that such speech is the moral equivalent of a terrorist threat? I humbly suggest that you might want to rethink your position in light of this excellent piece from Slate.

In a similar vein, the attempt to silence political speech on the Internet has been whole-heartedly embraced by the Obama administration. EFF brief here.

Politics
In the “I reserve skepticism but it’s starting to look like I was wrong” department, there’s encouraging news about the early effects of the new health care bill.

Business and Writing
In the “cool research for Steampunkers” department, the Guardian talks about the FEMALE criminal underworld in Victorian London.

Ever wondered what the real scoop is on the most important part of you’re book’s marketing (i.e. the cover)? Turns out that Laura Resnick did a very extensive series of articles a few years back that goes in depth on how the whole business of covers works. Well worth the read.

The charming Kate Elliot posts a great article at SFWA offering advice to teen writers from someone who’s been there. If you’re a teen writer, check it out.

Bob Mayer expresses admirably why I’ve not yet done a book trailer, and why it would take a special project for me even to consider it. A quick read, worth the click.

For your treadmill-listening pleasure, Gail Carriger gives a delightful and characteristically witty interview with SF Signal, discussing the impact of social media on the book industry and the author’s business model.

Nathan Lowell’s publisher Robin Sullivan does a guest blog for J.A. Konrath in which she busts some myths about indie publishing and talks about the sales growth curve of her authors. Interesting, useful stuff.

If you thought 2010 was tumultuous for the publishing industry, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Borders is in the process of a crash-and-burn, and depending on how it goes down, it could do anything from expanding the print-book market to seriously shrinking it over the near-to-medium term (though I doubt it will actually sink any of the publishing houses along the way, it may mean a lot less cash going around to buy new titles). If you have print books on the market or on the way to market, it behooves you to read Joshua Blimes’s excellent and thorough Borders post-mortem report.

Science and Technology
As an enthusiastic tender of a bacteria culture (lacto bascillus San Francisco), this kind of stuff fascinates me. An in-depth article, with sub-links, on the unique ecosystems that exist within cheeses.

Perhaps I’m showing my age–and I can’t believe I just said that–but I’m still blown away by the return of lay people to the sciences. Last week, a ten-year-old girl discovered a brand-new supernova, and setting a world-record in the process.

The Singularity (in the loose sense) continues apace with the development of contact lenses that display information directly in the field of vision. This is the very epitome of “augmented reality” technology. Wonder how long it’ll be until we can buy them at Walgreens.

Another nifty extra-solar planet discovery–this one very like Mercury.

It’s early days yet, but there’s more rumblings from legitimate autism research that might just have nailed down one of the reasons for increasing incidence and prevalence of Autism Spectrum Disorders in the last couple decades. Encouraging news, as this one is completely preventable. Also weird as hell, which tickles my interest-o-meter.

In archeology news, physicists seem to have cracked the secret of the Mayan ability to make dyes that last forever.

At the end of December, the BBC did a wonderful 1-hour documentary on the most world-shaking scientific and technological advantages which, thanks to the marvels of YouTube, you can now see for yourself.

Along similar lines, here’s an article on 8 Science Fiction gadgets and plot devices that became a reality in 2010.

Laser weapons deployed for use on the high-seas! That’s right, non-lethal stun lasers are now being tested for use against pirates. No joke!

And, for the sake of great science-fictiony fun, here’s a great essay by Ronald Bailey speculating on the GOOD things that the lack of ET signals could portend.

Orwell
In other news, moral crusaders continue to Bowdlerize and lie about history “for the sake of the children.” If I can point to the single most harmful strand of human nature, aside perhaps from the propensity to commit genocide, this is the one I’d pick.

On the other hand, there are people of genuine moral fiber still circulating in the world. If you want something that will make you cry or stand up and cheer, check out this statement by the father of one the 9-year-old girl slain in the assassination attempt this week. Someone who takes his responsibility as a member of the body politic seriously enough that he’s unwilling to call for the curtailment of the civil liberties of others as salve for his grief? Uncommon! And displays most excellent character.

Weird Apps
Digital Life has info on an app for all you iPhone folks that will tell you when you can leave the theater to hit the bathroom without missing any plot points in currently-released movies. Behold, RunPee!

And that’s it for this time. Catch you around next time the world gets weird!

Vanity

On the ever-so-self-indulgent subject of, well, me, there are a few items potentially of interest.

First, I released a second Clarke Lantham novel. When Clarke Lantham goes home for Christmas, the results can’t be good.

Meanwhile, the first Clarke Lantham book has been getting some attention. KindleAuthor just interviewed me about it, View from Valhalla loved it, and Seth Harwood, Gail Carriger, and Philippa Ballantine all liked it well enough to provide blurbs. If you haven’t read it yet, you can check out the first couple chapters here. For that matter, you can check out the first part of book to, A Ghostly Christmas Present, here. Enjoy!

Art and Writing
If you’re an artist, or a writer, and you live somewhere that the influence of Hollywood reaches (i.e. everywhere), it’s very easy to forget that being “in shape,” “fit,” or “athletic,” doesn’t mean the same thing as “lean,” “6-pack abs,” or “what I saw on the cover of Vogue this month.” Forgetting this basic fact of life robs stories and paintings and graphic novels of realism, even if slightly. So, for your benefit and mine, here’s a photo essay featuring over 100 Olympic atheletes in phenomenal shape, each featuring a very unique body type.

Odd how the two most “offensive” words in the English language at the moment were words that were only mildly naughty 30 years ago. While one of these will continue to be a problem for a while, the other is redeemable. Check out Hal Duncan’s brilliant linguistic history of “cunt,” and his take-down of the implicit sexism sold with the demonization of what is, after all, a very cute word for a very delightful organ. He also goes into depth in the way usage varies on either side of the Atlantic. Unusually thought-provoking, and not played for shock value. Very useful for writers who write cross-culturally.

Publishing
We all know publishing is changing — snooze, hit the alarm, pull the other one, etc. We read about it in the New York Times a hundred times, which one would expect, as publishing is a big presence in New York. But when you read about it in the LA Times you know the movement’s gone big. Of course, this is the LA Times, which isn’t exactly a bastion of non-sensationalistic accuracy. Even so, it’s a fun read full of links to authors doing innovative things. Fun stuff!

TeleRead posted an interesting overview of the history of book piracy, it’s sociodynamics, and economics, with a follow-up column speculating on what it means for the industry. Some interesting stuff here by Chris Meadows.

For those of you who, like me, have a huge library full of books by dead people that will never be released in e-book format (or, at least, not for anothe decade or two) there is an inexpensive non-destructive way to digitize your books. This method is legal and ethically benign so long as you do not share or sell the resulting digital books. As an open source advocate and DIY culture member, I am very much in favor of projects like this. As an author who makes his living off his intellectual property, I work hard to make sure my work is always available in forms that do not strip the reader of his or her fair use rights. The other side of that contract is that the reader doesn’t steal or pirate the creative work of the entertainers whose work they consume. So, with that caveat, enjoy the workshop experience I’ll keep writing ‘em if you keep reading ‘em.

Speaking of piracy, Paul Cornell writes a provocative ethics article about illegal downloading filled with many good and some rather flacid points. Worth a read, nicely thought-provoking.

Got a book available on Kindle? You can now post the sample on your website with the Kindle for the Web app. This post from indieKindle gives instructions for embedding the app on your site or in a blog post.

And, speaking of e-books…solar powered e-reader, anyone?

Beauty
A really fun time-lapse of what looks like the blizzard from hell — over 3 feet in less than 24hrs. Most impressive – the best 30 seconds you’ll spend today.

Terry Gilliam, whose work has always been kinda steampunky anyway, is producing a steampunk puppet movie that looks really damn cool if this short film version of it is any indication.

Not to be out-done on the time-lapse front, NASA brings you a time-lapse of a sunset from another world. Click here to watch a Martian sunset.

And for breathtaking, how bout a collection of photos of man-made footprints on other worlds?

Science & Technology

Recycling. We all do it for the environment, but some kinds of recycling–like recycling plastic–are a waste of energy, resources, money, and doesn’t yeild an environemntal or economic gain. This isn’t true for everything–aluminum, scrap metal, electronics, and (thanks to a recent breakthrough in dealing with treatment of toxic de-inking chemicals) paper–all yeild tremendous benefits when properly recycled. But plastics…man, plastics are a problem. They’re all chemically different, they have to be very carefully sorted, cooked, and then are downcycled (made into things further down the supply chain) rather than recycled to the same quality. It’s a dirty secret, and it’s been a bit of a problem and embarassment for a couple decades now. That might not be true for much longer. Seems that, rather than resorting to dogmatism and moral guilting on one side, or lazy-bones naysaying on the other, one scientist has figured out a process for recycling all plastics that’s inexpensive, energy efficient, and a net environmental gain. Bravo!

In the realm of philosophy of science, Alvin Plantinga, an otherwise respected epistemologist from Harvard, is in the process of dipping his face in egg when it comes to philosphy of science. His companionable discussion with Daniel Dennet gives you the bulk of his case in his own words, and P.Z. Meyers (whom I consider entertaining but not exactly one for nuance) takes him apart very effectively here.

Research on different kinds of invisiblity continues apace. This article talks time distortion effects of certain kinds of meta-materials, and gives a roadmap for a proof-of-concept. I’ve been having a blast watching this field go from the stuff of dreams and science fiction to the stuff of serious, hard-core well-funded research in the last ten years. I can’t wait to see–or not see–some metamaterial-based invisibility prototypes in action.

In other news, 3D image editing for anaglyph is coming soon to a computer near you.

The field of linguistics has long been one of those in-between sciences–not quite a real hard science, but something more quantitative than a social science. Google Books looks to be changing that. Ronald Bailey talks about the new trend in tracking linguistic and cultural evolution using quantitative analysis of Google’s book database.

You know the insomnia you get after a traumatic experience? Turns out that trying like hell to get to sleep might not be such a good idea after all.

If you’ve heard about geopolitical unrest because of China’s attempts to lock down the rare-earth metal market, don’t worry. Turns out they’re not the only country with lots of the “rare” stuff.

Education

If you’re a strong autodidact like me, you’re always on the prowl for new educational stuff. OpenCulture just updated their list of free online courses from major universities this month, and the selection is getting really impressive. Even scarier, as one who grew up in academia, I’m starting to recognize a lot of names on that list.

Meanwhile, one of the most excellent shows on the history of technology, James Burke’s Connections, has made its way onto YouTube. Bears multiple re-watchings. Check it out.

If you’re like most people, you’ve heard about the Theory of Relativity (E=MC^2) and have a vague idea that it means all matter is energy or something like that, but you’ve never really been able to get your head around the math to understand what it really means. Well, fear not — the always-readable Bertrand Russel wrote the definitive popularization of general relativity, and Derek Jacobi read it. Now, it’s available for free to the public as an audiobook. Go grab it now, give it a listen, and prepare to have your mind turned inside-out. Fun stuff

Also in the “good clean fun” department, someone with actual sexual experience on the order of decades is now producing a sex education series on youtube. Funny, clever, and no-bullshit, he calls it the “Guide to Getting It On,” and he hits a lot of points that younger, hipper educators often miss.

Politics

This is the only political article this time, and I’m including it because of how much of a shocker it is. Francis Fukyama’s analysis of where liberal econimcs went wrong by embracing the liberalization of financial markets instead of trade-goods markets. It’s very interesting watching the Keynsians, the Monetarists, and the Hayekians all starting to converge on this point in the wake of the recent banking crisis. More interesting to me is that Adam Smith got there two hundred years ago–and that politicians and policy makers still aren’t listening.

— — — —
I got tons more in my salad bowl, but that’s already a more substantive meal than I had planned to serve up. Hope you enjoy — and have a great New Year!

Fall is crazy, right? Halloween, Thanksgiving, School restarting, Christmas, RenFaire, Dickens Faire, conventions, festivities, and all those bleeding birds nesting in my trees and eating my pears, it’s enough to make one want to accept exile to an obscure Italian island.

After my writing binge this summer, I’ve been caught perpetually in the feeling that I’m wading through treacle, and it’s been driving me bonkers. Too much time on the road, too much Real Life ™ getting in the way, not enough time podcasting, or writing, or doing any of the half dozen other things that are in the top five of life priorities.

Turns out I’ve traded up one set of problems for another. As I conquered the word-rate barrier, I ran into a bunch of other roles and problems I had to grow into right-quick. And that can take up a lot of time and even more mental space.

What problems? Well, there’s new properties to manage and market. There are old projects that went begging that needed finishing up. There are three more books to finish by the end of the year, and new short stories that refuse to wait their turn.

It’s enough to make you feel like you’re working your ass off for no accomplishments whatsoever.

So, imagine my surprise when I total up my progress for the year and discover that, even with time on the road, I’ve been consistently writing at NaNoWriMo rates or better. The binge wasn’t a fluke, it just turns out that there’s a rhythm to the way I write: 5k words one day, 10k another, 1k another, 500 words another, but it averages out to 3k a day or better, and the progress on the various projects only feels slow because that work is spread over three novels, several shorts, and two nonfiction books. But they all grow.

Lesson: The next time someone tells you that one novel a year is really fast, spit in their eye. And keep writing at whatever rate you can manage. And next time you feel like you’re not accomplishing anything, step back and take a look at the last three months. Use some kind of objective measure. Then, make a change if you need to, or power through if you don’t.

Me? I didn’t do NaNoWriMo this year, and I probably won’t do it again, but it’s not because I don’t want to write a novel in a month.

It’s because I’m already doing more than that in an average month.

But first, I begin with a special treat for my free-wheeling brewer friends. Beer has always been a problem in space — not because of drunk piloting, but because weightlessness does weird things to the sense of taste. There’s also the question of what the bubbles will do to the body, and how drinkable beer will be in zero G anyway. Fortunately, someone is officially working on these problems so that we can take into space with us the drink that made civilization possible in the first place: Click here for Space Beer!

Now, on to the main courses:

Consumerism
As part of the Book Retailer wars, Sears will double your Christmas shopping budget by effectively giving away free books.

Autodidacticism

Can’t afford a Harvard education, but have the drive and desire to get one? Well then, today’s your lucky day. Harvard has started offering some classes online for free

History
Bet you, like most people born after WW2, thought Color Photography didn’t really get going until the late 1930s, right? Well, think again. Here’s some gorgeous Color Photos from the great depression in Colorado and some even more amazing Color photos from Imperial Russia (the Ukraine and Uzbekistan, near as I can make out).

Writing
If you live with a writer, or are dating a writer, or think writers are sexy (we are), there are a few things you should know.

Here’s some advice I should pay more attention to: How to write magnetic headlines

An attempt to make an IMDB for Speculative Fiction books and audio: SpecFicDB

For those of you looking to get press for your new indie book, or those of you looking to sample something that’s not just published slush, here’s an Aggregate list of indie book reviewers

Some delightful fan mail from the Golden Age Science Fiction magazines, all written by girls.

Jordan Summers has a series of reports from the Novelists Inc. conference on piracy, some low-down contractual moves by publishers as they panic in the new marketplace, and more. A must read for any writer.

Vanity
Fair Warning: These next couple writing-related links feature me. First, my post on The Creative Penn’s blog about How To Survive the Ebook Apocalypse

And then, there’s an hour of me talking turkey and story with Mark Jeffrey on his video podcast This Week in Books The goofy looking guy is me.

Science
The man who gave us The Thumbprint of God, Benoit Mandlebrot, died this week. Check out his glorious TED talk here. If you don’t know who Mandlebrot was, or how he and a few of his friends fundamentally changed the game in ever sphere of life, check out This BBC Documentary

Over in Climate-change land, the fight has broken into four camps: The alarmists, for whom we are all doomed and deserve it as punishment for our technological/capitalistic sins; The Warners, who think we’d better do something so we don’t royally screw ourselves; the Skeptics, who are cautiously doubtful of policy prescriptions but also cautiously accepting of a preponderance of evidence; and the Deniers, who think it’s all a left-wing anti-business plot (this taxonomy stolen shamelessly from Stuart Brand). Sometimes, there’s an interesting dataset that allows the skeptics and Warners to make common cause, despite any underlying differences, because they share the same respect for good science. Here’s one such instance, very intelligible to laypeople: a climate history that takes into account all known natural climate cycles AND anthropogenic effects.

If you ever lost a pet as a child, chances are you heard some version of the “Doggie Heaven” story. The one I heard was that Heaven will be happy, and if I want my dog when I’m there, she’ll be there waiting for me. Of course, as we get older we realize that this is a lie told to us by well-meaning parents who, regardless of whether they believe in human heaven or not, don’t really believe in doggie heaven. After all, dogs don’t have a spirituality, do they? Well, according to new neurological research, if humans have anything that can be called “spiritual awareness,” then so do dogs, and most other higher animals.

Social Scientists have a lot to say about educational policy,economics, politics, family values, and culture, so sometimes it’s important to step back and take a long hard look at what they do and do not actually know at this point in history. (This is an excellent article)

Ethics:
And, finally, from the philosophy of ethics department, a paper that argues lucidly that you can’t be good without Science Fiction.

More Reprobates and the final Balticon Adventure next week!
And don’t forget to buy the new Clarke Lantham mystery And Then She Was Gone next Friday!

A man of infinite social grace he isn’t, but what former disgraced Oakland Police Detective Clarke Lantham lacks in high culture he makes up for with his ability to slip into any role he needs to to get the job done (which is probably why he got fired in the first place).

From the posh shadow of Mount Diablo to the kink clubs of San Francisco to the genetic engineering labs of Stanford, Clarke Lantham chases down pieces of the weirdest puzzle he’s ever seen, all for the sake of a nineteen-year-old girl whose face he can’t stop seeing every time he closes his eyes.

And Then She Was Gone is the first of the Clarke Lantham Mysteries, hard-boiled detective fiction with a hard comic edge, the series consists of a planned three self-contained novels and a number of short stories, though I enjoy writing this character so much I would not be surprised if it grew. This is a market experiment–how well can a relative unknown do in the suddenly wide-open ebook marketplace? We shall see. If nothing else, this experiment has yielded one result already: a book which will give you your month’s RDA of adrenaline while making you chuckle maniacally.

I hope you join me on October 29, 2010 for the all-markets rush. More details coming soon!

Since I enjoy being entertained (even while having my manuscripts torn up), I suggested something which I would be proud to hang on my wall for the sheer conversation-starting value.

So, here is my ideal rejection letter for completely hopeless writers:

Dear [writer],
Thank you for your submission. While we do not think it advisable for you to commit suicide this early in your career, your writing displays the kind of promise and angst that have made unknowns like Sylvia Plath, Anne Frank, and John Kennedy Toole into posthumous best-sellers. These writers made the crucial mistake of dying with only one or two books to take the world by storm–don’t let yourself fall into that trap!
Unfortunately, our policy only permits us to publish fiction in your genre after your scandalous death, so we encourage you to build up your backlist and contact us again when you feel you have said your piece.
Sincerely,
[editor]

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go to the mailbox to check for today’s round of rejection slips.

What are some of the best rejections you’ve given, gotten, or heard of? Chime in in the comments!

No, I’m talking about industries and businesses that don’t yet know they’re dead. The ones whose future demise is as certain as the next big earthquake: we don’t know quite when, and we don’t know quite where, but the prospect that somebody will huff and puff and blow the house down has a probability of 1.

There’s a pretty reliable way to spot a zombie, and it’s on display everywhere in publishing right now. This summer, I’ve seen it everywhere from PW to BEA to some of the audio leaking out of WorldCon to Litopia (where it’s becoming such a regular feature that I’m beginning to think that the otherwise erudite, urbane, and thoroughly enjoyable panel have all been sniffing from the same glue barrel). It’s predictable, it’s boring, and it’s the thing that will, in the end, make publishing go the way of the music industry (hopefully not the buggy whip industry, though that’s always possible):

An entitlement mentality.

In other words, when faced with changes, the industry starts talking about “value” as if it’s something intrinsic. They talk about falling prices and lower barriers to entry “cheapening” the “reading experience.” They talk of the problem of “wading through the crap” and of falling advances, and fret about how agents and publishers and writers are going to make a living.

As a writer who’s currently pursuing multiple release avenues for his work, I’ve got a vested interest here. I want to get paid for my work, more than I get through my tip jar (though, if you do drop cash in the tip jar or buy books through my Amazon links, thank you!) or through selling tech articles. I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I’m in this game for the money: I love telling stories, and I want to make my living at it.

But, I do not deserve to make my living at it, unless I can find the people who want the stories I have to tell. All businesses, of all kinds, exist for one reason (and one reason only): because they meet a market demand.

The Real Cost of a Book

Michael Shatzkin has gone over what the margins are on differrent types of books at different pricing structures, and it gives an idea at least of what publishers report their margins as.

Michael Stackpole has also done a whole series on ebook pricing, during which he makes the point that what costs are involved in ebook production could be drastically reduced if publishers would move their operations out of New York. Not only would they be able to reduce overhead and salaries without reducing quality of life for their employees, they’d also be in a position to get out of their rather expensive mafia-controlled (not kidding) shipping contracts, and their complicity in money laundering (a plus all around, I’d think).

Suffice it to say, the marginal cost on an ebook is 10-20% less than on a mass market paperback, without factoring in returns. More units sold equals lower marginal costs, while the per-unit profit grows accordingly. And that’s without moving anyone out of New York.

So, if you’re going by costs, an ebook should cost, at lowest, around 20% less than the mass market paperback of the same book.

But, believe it or not, I don’t think this matters at all.

Literary Conceit

To explain why I think that way, I have to walk you through a bit of Econ 101.

A market is anyone willing to trade, and there are a lot of different markets out there. Writers have, for years, been marketing to publishers, not to fans. We sell, or don’t sell, according to the tastes of editors. Most editors have pretty damn good taste, others not so much, but their job is to acquire books that they can sell to their market: the people who buy books.

You see a problem built into the system already: other economic considerations aside, because only a certain kind of person has the temperament and bearing to be an editor (it is, after all, a highly political job best suited for well-educated, intelligent, personable people), the books made available to the customer will appeal to only a limited subset of the potential reading audience.

As a multi-NYT Bestseller told me a while back (and no, I’m not saying who): “Fans? I don’t give a damn about the fans. I can’t afford to. I have to keep my editor interested if I want to keep writing.”

So, in books, the consumer is not the customer, which is (to put it mildly) kind of perverse. But, just as with the music industry, digital product is changing where the power lies and putting it where it belongs: in the hands of the consumer.

The consumer is, after all, the ultimate end of the supply chain. Giving them the proximate power means that a lot of the rest of the economic model of publishing has to shift, or it won’t last. And the consumer sets the price in any market. If a consumer doesn’t buy an item because the price is restricted, it’s overpriced. If the price of an item induces so many people to buy it that it creates a supply shortage, the price is too low. All businesses, whether they realize it or not, set their prices to take advantage of a sweet spot where they get the most profit possible per unit (well, not all businesses do this. Those who are unable to find this price point or control their costs so they can live at this sweet spot go belly-up pretty damn quick).

But, of course, some writers, agents, and publishers think they’re indispensable. They are the curators and bastions of culture, after all. If it weren’t for them, we’d all be awash in the lowest form of vulgar entertainment. There’d be no place for art (this is a nearly-verbatim paraphrase of a line I heard recently on a well-respected literary talk show).

This also is a huge crock of shit. Charles Dickens and Victor Hugo were paid by the word. Poe wrote for money and was considered a hack. Shakespeare was vulgar popular entertainment. There is no qualitative difference in the recipe of art versus schlock that any of us can see now, though an entire industry (critics) exists to try to hide that basic fact. The difference between vulgar entertainment and high art isn’t the intention of the writer, the heart she puts into her story, or social consciousness. The only difference is “What are people reading a hundred years from now?”

The stuff that ages well, that stays relevant and motivates people to keep recommending it, reading it to their children, and passing it on—that’s art. That’s the stuff that’s hit something vital in the cultural soul. The rest of it is just vulgar entertainment (some of it transcendentally beautiful entertainment, some of it boring or crappy as hell—your mileage may vary).

Writers. agents, and publishers (in common with other successful businesses) also tend to believe that they deserve their position. They don’t. Markets are fickle. You deserve where you are today because you earned your way there by meeting a market demand and being relevant–you don’t deserve to stay there tomorrow unless you’re relevant tomorrow.

I don’t care if that’s not fair (and I also actually don’t like it, because it means my retirement probably isn’t ever going to happen), it’s the way life works. As Doni Kollin (whose day job is as an economics professor) said to me over a drink recently, “In business, as in evolution, the big don’t eat the small. The fast eat the slow. And the big guys are usually slow.” If you’ve grown big, you have to be more competitive, not less, because the young-and-hungry are nipping at your heels.

For a recent parallel, look at the IT world. Fifteen years ago, Microsoft ran the world, Netscape was dead, Google didn’t exist, and Apple was on the verge of bankruptcy. Now, Apple is the biggest IT firm in the world, Google runs the internet, Firefox is the most popular browser, and Microsoft no longer defines the industry. This is what happens in a normal ecosystem.

So, How Do I Spot a Zombie Again?

Zombie businesses and industries suffer under a trio of delusions:

1) They’re indispensable.

2) They set the prices.

3) They deserve their position.

Not one of these things are true.

The notion of indispensability depends on the assumption that “The way we do things today is the optimal way.” It’s almost never true. No industry—not the oil industry, not the auto industry, not the banks, not farming, and not writers—is indispensable. All of them exist because they meet a market demand. Sometimes, that market is lobbyists, governments, editors, ad executives, or the teeming masses of humanity—but if they stop meeting that demand, they stop existing. Once a business starts thinking they’re indispensable, their days are numbered.

Consumers set prices. There is no such thing as “intrinsic” value. An item is only worth what people are willing to pay for it. If you price ebooks at $15.00 a unit, as many people will pirate them as buy them. Price them at $3.00-$5.00, most people will buy, not pirate (because pirating is more trouble than buying at that price), and your aggregate profit margin will be better. Start thinking that you control your product’s price, and your sales are going to fall.

And as far as deserving one’s position? Don’t make me laugh. The more open a market gets (and by ‘open’ I’m talking transparency as well as freedom), the more meritocratic it gets. The people who succeed are those who meet the needs of their consumers. Period. You don’t meet those needs, you fade.

So, no, I don’t think it matters how much it costs to produce an ebook. It only matters that there are some people and businesses who are willing to take the risk and bear the costs in an attempt to meet a market demand, because if they meet the demand well, their marginal costs will go to near-zero.

The Real Meaning of eBooks

Economists have a term for what happens when a new player enters a market and, through innovation, changes the fundamentals of how it works: creative destruction. By making old ways of doing things obsolete, or by creating viable persistent alternatives, growth happens in a marketplace. Opportunity is created. Sometimes, the fabric of society is radically transformed. Almost always, this means that folks wedded to the old paradigm are in for a rough ride.

Now, in the publishing world, the barrier to entry is so low that thinly disguised fan fiction writers can have a shot at the market. It is, truly, turning into a slush pile out there. But that’s not a bad thing. Some of those slush writers will succeed brilliantly the same way Rodriguez and Tarantino did with independent film as outsiders. Most won’t.

Why? For the first time ever, fans matter in a measurable way. Sampling, podcasts, any one of the now 31 (and growing) genre-friendly, pro-rate paying e-magazines, and market innovations such as Stackpole’s Chain Story help customers discriminate between good and bad product. They build reputations. Reputations matter.

But there’s another, even better effect of having the barrier to entry set very low: there is room for literally thousands of new niche markets to develop. Just like what cable did to TV, just like what the internet did to music and radio, so too e-readers and smart phones and POD and open marketplaces are doing to literature: filling out the bell curve, feeding pent-up demand in sectors that were previously under-served, and providing opportunities for oddballs like me to find audiences who really want us.

Viva la Revolución!

This post has a follow-up, which you can find here.
—
Copyright 2010 J. Daniel Sawyer

So, you may ask, what did I learn from writing 123k words in 50 days?

Plenty.

What do you need to know if you’re gonna try for this kind of marathon?

Try these on for size:

First, as you can read in my post about the health problems I developed as a result of crappy Microsoft workmanship, ergonomics are everything. You can actually seriously damage your arms, hands, and wrists if you don’t move around regularly, have a comfortable keyboard, and pay attention to your body. Being in a groove is no excuse.

Second, food. I tried a variety of different styles of eating throughout the ordeal, mostly motivated by whatever I could think to put in the kitchen that week. What I wound up discovering surprised me. I expected to want junk food—pre-prepared high calorie, high density, high-protein, ultra-tasty nibbles supplemented with fruits and finger-friendly vegetables. However, it turned out that I gravitated toward made-from-scratch fare. I actually learned to make wood-oven pizza, sourdough from scratch, knishes, and a few other things during this time, and not just because they were tasty. It’s because it gave me something else to do.

If I was doing anything but writing, I felt a lot of pressure to get back to work. But if I was cooking or cleaning, I was holding up my end of the household. Pouring creativity into the cooking also gave me a chance to spoil my partner rotten in return for the tremendous support she was giving me as I tried to see just how far I could push my productivity. There was a lot of culinary experimentation, and between the quality of the food, the physical activity in preparing it, and the fun of creativity without pressure, it seriously boosted the quality and quantity of my output.

Third, exercise. I didn’t get enough of this, really. I can’t write very well at the walking desk—too many typos—so I was only getting on it two or three times a week. When I did get on, though, I went for the long haul. A couple hours at a stretch, and then within an hour of stopping I’d have a new creative flood. Activity helps supply the brain with oxygen—it also flushes lactic acid out of the system, and when you’re sitting that much the cellular waste sits in your muscles and makes them sore. Like bedsore-level sore. It makes you never want to move again, but once you start moving, it feels SO much better.

Fourth, massage. I’ve been doing massage for a long time now, and I have a friend who’s a pro who I trade with. Lifesaver. Getting them kept my RSI from crippling me before I fixed my ergonomics problem (and I did fix it, resulting in a heavenly experience for the last couple weeks here). Giving them helped me relax and remember there were other kinds of touch in the world besides typing.

Fifth, socialization. Weekly gatherings with my nearest-and-dearest, some festivities surrounding my birthday, impromptu meals with friends, all very important. Getting out to help build a retaining wall or join a moving crew for an afternoon was also lots of fun. All of it kept my mind limber.

Sixth, as Number Five said: INPUT! NEED INPUT! Keep your mind ticking over. Hrab’s new album was wonderful for this (you can buy Trebuchet here—it’s a mind-blower, though not for the easily offended). My weekly doses of P&T’s Bullshit!, True Blood, and The Pillars of the Earth kept me thinking in nicely twisty ways that helped the story. My Region 2 DVDs of the British quiz show QI kept me laughing and distracted during the long hours. Reading a Kellerman novel and Mary Roach’s STIFF during down time when I just couldn’t write, and listening to Steven H. Wilson’s Peace Lord Of The Red Planet (which I plan to review soon) kept me smiling and remembering the larger world outside my little projects.

Seventh, pay attention to what motivates you. For me, sitting at the keyboard wasn’t the hard part; it was keeping the juices flowing so my time at the keyboard was effective that I found difficult. Yes, I put in long hours–tortuously long, sometimes. But it wasn’t to hit a word count–I’ve found that doesn’t work for me consistently. It was to finish a story chunk or an article or a topic-based chapter. I wanted to find out how it ended, and I wouldn’t let it go till I did.

What motivates you might be different–figure out what it is and then keep it in the front of your mind.

At the root of all of this (and the plans I have for the rest of the year) is the realization that my backlist is too small. By lifetime word count, I’ve hit pro level. I now have over 900,000 words under my belt (that means 13.6% of my entire life’s writing output has happened in the last fifty days). But the number of properties I have on the market (everything finished piece since the 500,000 word mark) is simply too small, so I’m changing that. And, I suspect, I’ll keep changing that as long as I’ve got the fingers for it.

Telling stories is life for me. Even this one. Hopefully, if you like telling stories too, you’ll find some of these lessons useful.

Happy writing!

For the first half of the duration, I did it by accident. So, I thought it might be worth something to those of you who write or want to if I documented the experience.

It started off with a chat with another author who asked me some questions about guns for a book she was working on. Over the last couple years, this sort of thing has gotten pretty common as I’ve inadvertently acquired a reputation as something of a level-headed gun nut.

I got to thinking that much as I enjoy the excuse to talk shop with other authors, the volume of conversations I’d been having on this topic should tell me something: A lot of the current generation of authors simply don’t have first hand experience with firearms, but almost all of us use them in our fiction. Wouldn’t it be handy if there were a special podcast episode that went over the basics?

It seemed like a harmless enough project when I posted my first call for questions on June 22nd.

The questions came in fast, and in a large volume. By July 5th I had an outline for a fifteen episode podcast series, each episode being roughly fifteen minutes covering information on a single topic. So, on July 8, I started writing.

By July 15, I knew I was writing a book. The chapter list had grown to forty, and I’d split it into two books. I decided to write the first now, and the second in a couple months when I had a break.

On August 4, I finished the book. At fifty-five thousand words, plus illustrations, tables, and references I thought it would shape up to be a very nice e-book release. A companion podcast goes without saying.

But I was also on a roll, drunk on my power over the English language. I’d just done over fifty thousand words in a few weeks. Some of those days I put out more than ten thousand words, others only a few hundred. I had terrible RSIs, I was having trouble keeping up with other stuff (particularly paperwork), and I nearly missed an article deadline, but the words were still coming.

I needed to get back to fiction though. For one thing, if I wrote one more word about firearms I was going to want to use one on myself. For another, I desperately needed to finish Free Will so I could get on with my next projects.

But Free Will wasn’t ticking over for me. It was going to take a lot to get back into it–a couple hundred pages of reading to get back into the characters. I needed a good short story to get my fiction juices flowing again, so I pulled the pilot project for a new series of mystery shorts up and started working on it. Those of you who were at my reading at Balticon remember this one–you were all laughing pretty hard. For those of you that weren’t, think Douglas Adams writes Chinatown.

It was just supposed to be a nice little story, about six thousand words, pleasantly twisty with an appropriately bizarre solution. That was my idea, anyway.

The story itself had other ideas. In the last few weeks, I’ve written it twice. Once as a 20k word novella, and then (after being told it was far too dense) as a nearly 60k word novel (which I finished today). I suspect it’ll grow by another 10-20k over the next couple weeks as I revise and polish it.

Which is, I suppose, a long way of saying “Projects have a way of growing on me like a fungus.”

So if you want to do something this ridiculous and write this fast, how can you do it? Click here for a list of the lessons I learned from this little adventure that might make it replicable!

I’ve been writing and hacking since the age of four, though I don’t hack much anymore, so I need an ergo keyboard to keep my wrists functioning properly. The only ergo on offer was the Microsoft Natural Pro 4000, so I paid through the nose for it ($60) and took it home.

It looked gorgeous. The spacebar was sticky as if the tolerances were a little too close, but I figured it would work out. Unfortunately, I never got to see if it would–the keyboard failed in about sixty days.

A return trip to Best Buy, and some carefully measured profanity coupled with very complimentary sweet talk, got me a new one of the same model for free.

Fast forward six months to tonight. I’ve written 70k words in the last five weeks. The first 20k were on my laptop keyboard, which is a very comfortable, light-touch HP. Unfortunately, it’s not versatile enough for the amount of moving around I have to do during marathon writing sessions–and the ergonomics really don’t work for writing on the treadmill. I had two books backed up in me that wouldn’t wait, so I grabbed the Microsoft Ergo off the audio workstation, and started smashing away.

Over the next 50k words, I acquired the single worst case of RSI I’ve ever had. Crippling tendonitis from the fingertips to the elbow on my right hand, to the point where I couldn’t even raise my tea glass without shooting pain. I still managed my weight workouts, regular chores, helped one friend move and some others build a retaining wall, but I paid an unexpected price: Any time I wasn’t actively writing or working on a task, I was so fatigued I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I’ve got a nice high pain threshhold, so it took me about two weeks to figure out that the ongoing pain was sapping my energy.

Massages, vicodin, and anti-inflammatories didn’t help much beyond making it bearable for everything but driving (driving is currently searingly painful–even holding my companion’s hand is enough to make part of me want to curl up and die).

A couple days ago, I finally got fed up and set off on a quest to find out what was going on. After a couple hours paying attention to every movement I was making, I realized that the spacebar on the Microsoft keyboard was doing it. Turns out that it is so poorly designed it took a *very* hard hit to depress the spacebar if my thumb hit even a half inch off center. Fifty thousand words of this over a very short space of time had simply worn out all the muscles and tendons in my right forearm (imagine hammering a nail with your thumb approximately 60,000 times, day and night, for two weeks, and you get the idea of what it might do to your hands). Bad juju for something that cost $60.

Nothing a little re-engineering couldn’t fix, right? I tweaked the sway bar, shaved the edges, added some silicone lubricant to the guide posts, and loosened the thing up a little bit. I gave the keyboard a thorough cleaning while I was in there.

The result? It was worse. Other keys were now binding up (after a routine cleaning). The spacebar was slightly smoother, but the effects faded after a couple thousand words. And then, the keyboard died.

Or, more specifically, the spacebar gave up the ghost. The membrane switch simply went dead.

I’ve cleaned, fixed, and even rebuilt a lot of keyboards in my life. Never have I seen one fail irreparably as a result of removing the keys and blowing out the dust.

Never. Once. In 28 years of using, cleaning, and repairing computers.

I was a Microsoft repair monkey for a chain of computer stores, and then on my own, for fifteen years during my misspent youth. I am pleased to report that the Microsoft Natural Pro 4000 keyboard lives up to all the expectations instilled in my by fifteen years of making my living off Microsoft’s engineering and quality control.

If any of you up in Redmond are listening, please communicate to the moron who designs your keyboard my sincere, earnest desire that he meet an untimely end during a sexual encounter involving a wolverine and copious amounts of PCP. Fuck you very much.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go order a proper ergo keyboard, and ice my aching arms. I got a book to finish and an article due.

Well, I’ve been writing and producing an album. Wish there was a sexier answer, but there it is. And it is fun

I’m going on pod later today to record some special episodes – one will contain Down From Ten bloopers!

The other one is the occasion for the post. I’m going to be recording a special episode about guns. Particularly, about how to deal with guns in fiction, geared for people who don’t have extensive first-hand experience with them. I’m going to be covering vocabulary, safety, different types of firearms, popular myths that come from movies, and other stuff that can shoot your credibility in the foot. To this end, if you have questions, please post them to the comments here, so I can be sure to answer them.

See you on pod soon! And fear not. The Balticon Adventure and Principles of Contracts both return next week.

It’s scared me since I was 12, when I read Writer’s Digest religiously at the library every day (which, in retrospect, was my first mistake). To my twelve year old mind, it described a world full of arcane rituals, secret handshakes, nepotism, and strange protocols – and a game at which nobody made a dime to boot.

Of course, I’ve learned better in the meantime, but the terror never quite went away. For years I’ve coped by doing other things I needed to do anyway in order to go pro – focusing on craft, learning to network at cons, podcasting and learning about how to interact with an audience, building my platform, and romancing the occasional agent, but I’ve hit the point in my career where I’ve got a hell of a backlist piling up (at least, for someone at my point in their career), and a handful of fiction sales that prove that my terror (which is largely born of the sense that I don’t understand a goddamn thing about the fiction publishing culture) is well past the point of being about 75% bullshit.

So, this summer, in addition to bringing you Free Will and working on the other projects I talked about at Balticon, I’m sending everything out that is not currently under contract — and I do mean *everything.* And I’ve got a pile of treatments in front of me to keep the pipeline full once all the existing stuff is in the mail.

I was going to just do this quietly and wear my glory or shame quietly, but after some conversations at Balticon and then reading Mur’s blog post this morning, I’ve realized I’m not the only person in this boat.

I’m getting off my ass. And I’ll put up ten bucks against anyone who wants to race me. Let’s make this a proper horse race. Here’s what I’ve got in mind:

We’ll go from now till the end of the year (or perhaps we should go to next Balticon?). Everyone bets $10. Every story we submit gets 3 points. Every novel proposal we send in gets 4 points. Every nonfiction submission/query gets 1 point. Every sale – of any fiction – gets 8 points. Every sale of nonfiction gets 3 points. Any sale that pays money and has a contract counts. Non-paying and/or clickthru and/or under-the-table markets do not count.

At the end of the year, the person with the most points wins the pool (which will operate on the honor system – those of us that lose will paypal our $10 to the winner).

We can keep a running tally for this and a forum at ANMAP. We prove our submissions and sales by posting photos/scans of the query and acceptance letters.

Thoughts? Should I formalize this, start a forum dedicated to it, and get this rolling? Any ideas for how to make it better/more useful? Chime in in the comments!

—Edit—
We have a few participants, so I’ve officially opened things. You can find the rules and competition forum here.

It’s a handsome trade paperback with pretty cover-art, and will sit handsomely on your bookshelf or coffee table. Hours of entertainment – and, in my case, new and improved versions of stories you love, now available to enjoy at your own pace instead of at mine.

Share and Enjoy!

With all the talk of the podcasting revolution a few years ago, I wonder how many people truly grasp the potential enormity of what we’re doing. Just like good old Mr. Ballantine who invented the paperback, we podcasters are creating new kinds of intellectual property. However, unlike Mr. Ballantine, we don’t fully appreciate what we’re up to.

As a culture we value the Creative Commons, which is (in my opinion) a net good for both our work and for the broader markets we’re trying to engage. However, viewing the CC as the whole picture of intellectual property is, in my estimation, an error.

More importantly, as those of us who have been in the game get more sophisticated about how we do things (using custom-composed music, guest voices, licensing music from other commercial sources), we’re wading into more complicated legal and business territory. Some of us, such as Philippa Ballantine, have gotten broader distribution deals on Internet or satellite radio – others of us struggle ever to get noticed beyond the very niche podcast fiction community.

The bar-raising we’ve been doing is pushing podcast fiction, and perhaps podcasting in general, out of the realm of a hobbyist community and into the realm of being a true grass-roots industry. There will always be hobbyists, of course, and I think we should encourage them every inch that we can. But the last couple years have opened up vast new creative, legal, and business territories that few of us are properly equipped to deal with.

This leaves us vulnerable to the kind of exploitation that went on with musicians in the 1960s. At the Monterey Pop festival in 1967, most of the groups we identify with the hippie movement were signed to record deals. It was, for them, a dream come true – they suddenly had distribution – someone was paying them for their art! The community’s revolution was going mainstream, and the days of begging and busking and eating brown rice to get by were over!

Except that the hippe community, much like our own, had always worked on family trust and handshake deals, so when faced with something on a larger scale offered by people who spoke the right language, they signed up. And most of them got taken. They generated fortunes they didn’t get to participate in, they got locked into indentured servitude-like obligations, and they lost creative control of their own work and catalogs – and they had no one to blame but themselves. They signed the contracts without doing due diligence, and they were so happy at any opportunity for exposure that they literally didn’t look at the fine print.

We don’t want that kind of thing to happen to members of our community/industry. Whether friends or rivals or enemies, I know of nobody on whom I would wish that kind of misery, and I suspect most people in the industry feel the same.

At the same time some of us are scaling up to other opportunities, the gulf between those who have established audiences and those who are new to this is getting pronounced, and it’s getting harder (very subtly) for new voices to find the coaching and advice they need on anything but the most basic issues. Sure, there are a lot of resources about how to use Audacity, or where to find a good USB mic, but there’s very little newbie-accessible information on nailing down advertising deals, or improving one’s mic technique or audio engineering, or making the leap into full cast audio, or creating good working relationships with beta readers or voice actors. Or what about a place to get boilerplate contracts, or marketing strategies, or (for those faced with opportunities they’re not prepared for) good basic business resources?

I think the time has come for us to create an industry association for New Media creators, starting with podcasters. Over the next couple months, both Allen Sale of Astral Audio and I will be working on pilot projects and keeping hold of the resources we generate from them – contracts, tutorials, strategizing, a compendium of podcasts that are friendly to publicity interviews, basic legal and business information that we learn or employ along the way – and we will start packaging them for use by other content creators. When we’ve hit a critical mass, we’re going to look into forming a non-profit with the aim of becoming the SFWA of podcast fiction and YouTube video.

Some very good resources, such as the Podiobooks Mentorship Program, already exist, and what they do is vital. But it’s not enough, not if our industry is to grow beyond its little ghetto and more reliably generate opportunities for us in the broader world. We’re looking to augment what already exists, rather than replace it, and create a resource available to everyone to enable them to play in this sandbox at whatever level they want to, whether it’s as a hobby, a podiobook author, a multimedia producer, or a serious powerhouse transmedia content business. Our community has gotten big enough that it has the potential to get in its own way, and our visibility is still rising and generating opportunities many of us simply aren’t prepared to negotiate.

I think we can do better than the hippies did. I think, if we put together a definitive educational resource pool, the individual artists in our community might be able to transition upward without getting ripped off.
As Allen told me when we talked about this project: “We don’t want to fit in – we want to find ways to stand out so that we can’t be ignored.”

Let’s rock.

Related post from Allen Sale

[Correction: MWS chimed in in the comments to correct my misapprehension of his current attitude toward podcasting, which is considerably more complex than the paragraph above makes it seem. My apologies for inadvertently misrepresenting him.]

The two of them are generation one podiobookers who appeared in the space hot on the heels of the three founders, and seeing them throw in the towel has a lot of other creators wondering: “Are we all just being idiots giving stuff away for free?” And it’s got a lot of fans wondering “What’s going to happen now? Are all my favorite writers going to give up?”

The Gospel of Free has been pinging around the internet for a while now, it’s even got its own official book. There are folks in the fiction space – like Doctorow and Sigler – that have made it the cornerstone of their publicity strategy and turn a consistent profit at it. The use of free content in career building is a well-established promotional strategy, but it’s a difficult tool to use, and suffers from the reductio ad absurdum that most people hear when they first encounter the message, no matter how subtly it’s preached: “If you build it, they will come.”

So if I just put my stuff on the web I’ll find an audience? Well, no. You might find an audience, if you get yourself seen by the right people (and by “right people” I mean people who are prone to telling everybody they know about their latest new and great thing). You might even find a good audience – but you have to bear in mind, “Free” doesn’t mean what you think it does.

Let’s take what I do for free (well, free to my audience): I use a segment of my professional time as a writer and as a sound engineer to produce full-cast audiodbooks. I pay for this – billing my professional time out at normal rates, and factoring in what I pay my actors in trade (whether they’ve collected on it or not), my cost (not including what I should be paying the author) is in the neighborhood of $10-15k. Now, am I out of pocket that much? No. I do go out of pocket a little bit, but not a lot – however, that’s all time stripped out of my life that I could be billing at that kind of rate. If you’ve wondered why I do less in the way of publicity than some other podiobooks authors, now you know – the time is my main expense, and I have a life and a business. I intend, eventually, to have my writing income make up a greater-than-fifty-percent share of my household budget, but I’m not there yet. I’m nowhere near. This is what is called a loss-leader.

In business terms, a loss-leader is the bait on the hook – the hook is what gets the audience to spend money. Matching the right bait to the right hook and fishing in the right water is a learned skill set, and it relies somewhat on how fast one learns from experience, how lucky one is, and (in the writing game) how good a lawyer one is and/or has. There’s a reason more than 75% of authors wash out of the game after their first book contract runs out, and why only a minuscule percentage of people with authorial ambitions ever get even that far – being a good writer is not the same as being a successful author. It’s even possible to be a successful author without being a good writer (for example, Dan Brown), but I wouldn’t bank on it and I know damn few successful authors who would, particularly over the term of a career. Craft does matter – it’s just not all that matters.

If podcasting is your loss leader, what’s your endgame? If all you’re trying to do is get your voice heard, podcasting or blogging your novel is a perfectly fine idea. If you’re looking to get published, it might help, or it might be a distraction or a detriment, depending on your approach and a host of other variables. If you’re looking to build a sustainable long term career as a professional author, it’s time for you to stop and think about a few things before you go into podcasting:

1) What will podcasting give me?
2) What is my professional time worth – and if I were to bill myself for this, how much of a loss will I be taking?
3) What kind of author do I want to be?
4) Why do I think “getting published” is a worthwhile goal?

Why should you stop to think about these things? Because I guarantee you that your answers to at least one of those questions is wrong enough to set you up for some serious disappointment.

What will podcasting give me?
Podcasting will, if you stick with it and actually produce a decent product with broad enough appeal, give you an audience ranging anywhere from a few hundred to maybe twenty thousand regular listeners. If you’re very innovative in evangelizing your product beyond the established fiction podosphere, your chances for good numbers go up. If you host in a high visibility place like Podiobooks and leave your content there for a few years, your numbers will climb over time due to the long tail effect.

Podcasting may also help you learn the market in terms of audience. This is the primary reason I started fiction podcasting: Market research. I was looking to find out what kind of people would enjoy the stories that I’m interested in writing, so that I could figure out how to find and deliver to that market that, in the long term (and I’m talking about a time scale of decades) I will be able to consistently turn a profit on. Notice I said “stories”, not “books” – that will become important later.

Podcasting may give you a creative community – this isn’t something I was looking for, but I have made some friends through the process as well as more than a few good business contacts that have been helpful along the way.

Podcasting (if you’re good at it) will win you respect and accolades as well as the adoration of at least a few fans along the way, and this feels really good. Just remember that, as encouraging as it can be, it’s a limited kind of street cred. Audience tastes change, and what they love about you today they may hate about you tomorrow. Glory feels wonderful, even in small doses, and can put an extra bit of shine on a life well lived, but it will never make up for insecurity or the need for the kind of relationships you can only have with people who really know you.

Podcasting may give you pleasure – if you enjoy the process and enjoy interacting with people, it’s something that you might like even as a hobby.

But unless you are supremely lucky and very canny, there is something podcasting will not deliver: a paycheck of any substance. If you’re expecting to be have your audio audience put you on the bestseller list once you get that book deal, good luck to you. A few people have pulled it off. Those people are, without exception, people that – by chance or by cleverness – wrote exactly to market. They were selling stories that resonated perfectly (or at least well enough) with the public that a larger-than-average segment of their fan base wanted to own a physical copy, and the same larger-than-average segment went out of their way to pimp the shit out of the books to their friends, family, and strangers who might not even own iPods. A few others have pulled it off by their books being noticed on a site like Podiobooks, and subsequently selling film options.

If you want your book to perform well enough to get to your next contract, you need a publishing house that will throw its weight behind you, a print run that is realistically scaled to your book’s performance, and a property that is going to sell in the current market. If you don’t have at least the latter two of these three things, then (again) good luck to you. You’re going to need it.

How Much Is My Time Worth?

I hate to sound like a schoolmarm (or worse), but time that you’re podcasting is time that you’re not doing four other things, all of which are arguably more important. It’s time you’re not making money at whatever your profession is, it’s time you’re not spending with friends and family building the memories that make life with living, it’s time that you’re not learning, and it’s time that you’re not writing.

If you intend to write fiction for any significant fraction of your life, you need to be doing all of those things. You have to write to grow as a writer, and you have to make money to be able to live while you’re writing. But if you have a life that isn’t worth living – say, a life without significant relationships or learning and enrichment – then it’s highly unlikely that you’re going to have anything interesting to write about (and you may be too depressed to write about anything at all, except stories about depression).

Every hour you spend podcasting is billable time – somebody’s paying for it, and it isn’t always just you. Don’t cheat on your mental accounting sheet – There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch. Even in a down economy, your time has a dollar value attached to it – figure
out what that value is, and then keep track of what you’re spending. If nothing else, being aware of the cost will help you keep from feeling cheated at the far end if you wind up not getting a good return on your investment, because you’ll be spending on purpose.

What Kind of Author Do I Want To Be?

If you’ve been in and around the writing business for any length of time, you’ve heard the old saw “you can’t make a living as a writer unless you’re in the top 1%.” This bit of conventional wisdom is what lies behind the blockbuster mentality on the part of authors: you want to have a brand name, you want to be the biggest thing ever, and you must relentlessly self-promote (the blockbuster mentality of some publishing houses is another animal entirely, and Charles Stross and Dean Wesley Smith have both covered it very well on their blogs recently).

If you’ve heard that and are still intent on trying, then you are either mind-numbingly stupid, a heroically-minded risk junkie, a hobbyist, or someone who actually has a clue about business and doesn’t listen to the conventional wisdom of creative people (in which case, good for you).

So you want to be the next Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyer? You’d be better off going to Vegas – that kind of trend really is a game of chance, and depends largely (though not entirely) on unforeseeable market forces. That said, there is a whole swath of writers who make a living on their names, which they worked very hard to establish, and who aren’t blockbusters (and yes, Scott Sigler is one of them. He might be a blockbuster by our standards, and his ambition is to be the next Stephen King, but by broader market standards he’s a respectable front-lister, and there’s nothing at all wrong with that).

But blockbusting is not the only way to win this game, and here’s why:

Most authors who make a living at it don’t make a living on their book advances. Oh, the advances help, but they’re not even close to the whole pie. Subsidiary rights sales, foreign rights, royalties from the long tail, article sales, and commissioned work for other commercial ventures (such as being tapped to do a Star Trek or a Dragonlance novel) make up a large part of the income flow, with investments helping keep the rent paid during lean years. These authors generally (though not always) sit solidly on the mid-list, and some of them write under a variety of names for different markets. I know and have known (personally) at least a score of authors who make their living with their words, and the two qualities that distinguish them from the authors I know who haven’t been able to pull it off are: 1) insufferable, bloody-minded perseverance, and 2) continual growth in craft and breadth. In other words, these authors actually treat it like a career, rather than a brass ring.

The truth is that most people who get counted as “authors” in surveys of author incomes are people who publish a single book, or who have a book they haven’t sold. They’re not career writers. They don’t count screenwriters, ad copy writers, stage play writers, or other such folks. In other words, this bit of conventional wisdom is horse shit because it counts every dilettante, aspiring amateur, and washout as an “author.” Authors such people may be, but professionals they ain’t. Some of them will become professionals (I must hasten to add, I’m on this tier — I’m not prolific enough or churning enough cash enough yet to be called a professional, but I’m heading deliberately in that direction) – others are hobbyists. I daresay that if such a survey were taken of all the auto mechanics in the world, with hobbyists and people that change their own oil counted with the same weight as ASE certificate holders, the numbers for auto mechanics wouldn’t be dissimilar to what we hear about with writing.

If you’re looking to do this for a living, writing is a professional business (i.e. a business that relies on being an expert in a particular domain), with all the problems that implies: It relies on individual expertise, a broad skillset, at least a vague awareness of market dynamics, a certain legal acumen, the ability to adapt to contingency, a high tolerance for risk and uncertainty, and a little bit of luck. You know, just like any other non-franchise business.

Why Do I think Getting Published is a Worthwhile Goal?

More than any other question, the answer to this gets to the heart of the matter for an author who is thinking of podcasting their work, because in answering this you’re probably going to answer a significant portion of all the other questions.

My answer to this one is simple: It’s a step on the road. I got a huge thrill with my first short story sale – now, after only a couple more, it’s an exercise in contract negotiations and another tick on the scorecard. It’s fun and exciting, but it’s not the life-affirming experience that the first sale was. Why? Because my sights are on the next set of goalposts, and I need to get to those so I can see the next set, and so on.

But my self-worth is not wrapped up in this. This is business. If I can’t make it work one way I’ll make it work another, and if, in the end, I turn out not to have the chops, I’ll shift my focus and continue writing as a hobby to whatever extent I can justify it. Yes, I am one of those rare people who will write no matter what – it’s the reason I’m making a go of turning it into a profession. But that doesn’t mean that everything I do will be available for free. Some things will, some things won’t – just like, right now, some things are and some things aren’t. My time is billable hourly, and my free stuff is there so that I can 1) build my audience, and 2) learn how to navigate in my marketplace(s). It’s an investment I’m making because it seems sound to me – I know what it costs, and for me the price is right.

Is the price right for you? Think hard about it. I daresay there will always be hobbyists in the podcast fiction space, but if you’re a pro or an aspiring pro, look at it as a business investment. It’s not a magic bullet, and it’s not a shortcut. Even podcasting’s biggest success, Scott Sigler, doesn’t see it as either of those things. Scott needed a platform to prove that there was a market for cross-genre horror, so he essentially invented one. His focus now is on figuring out where the next place to grow his audience is, and what books will be best to write next. There’s a reason he’s made this work, and it goes a lot deeper than “he writes in a popular genre” (although that also is very important).

Wrapping It Up

The Gospel of Free is a pernicious little meme that’s burned out some talented people and seriously burned others, but it’s not a new one. Every get rich quick scheme, every investment bubble, every motivational speaker that comes along has the same basic blend of bullshit and wisdom: “Look at this new thing – it’s no-lose! Look at its merits! Imagine how much you could do with this!” Network marketing, real estate flipping, dot com stocks – there’s always something, and it nearly always takes a pretty clever idea and isolates it from all good business sense.

Don’t fall for it. Free has always been with us, and it’s always been good business when done right. New tools, new media, and new toys are great, but excitement about the opportunities they present can easily obscure the most basic thing about business: supply and demand must meet, and they must trade. If they don’t, then at best what you’ve got is a rewarding hobby, and at worst you’re in a financial disaster. There is no such things as a fast buck except at the craps table, and there is never any such thing as a free lunch.

Me? I’m in this for the long haul. I’m building a business, with all the risk that implies. Right now, my business model includes podcasting. Will it in three years? It depends on what happens between now and then.

So, in sum, my advice to other writers and podcasters, for what it’s worth: Podcast what you will. Keep track of what it’s costing you. Cut your losses if it’s not returning what you need for it to be worthwhile. Above all, don’t buy the bullshit that motivational speakers and other sharks shovel. Celebrity status might be useful, but it’s like Monopoly money: not negotiable currency outside of the small circles that generate it.

For fans of mine and other’s podcast fiction: remember that while this is free to you, it’s not free for us. Your feedback, your cash in the tip jar, and your evangelism are much appreciated. We podcast authors know that we’re being wasteful and reckless – and not all of us will stay in this space forever. For now, I at least am getting what I want out of the bargain, and I do enjoy entertaining you all.

For everyone reading, remember: Life is precious. Don’t forget to enjoy whatever it is you’re doing, and treasure the memories it gives you. Treat your time like an investment, and savor what you buy with it. In the end, the moments are the only thing we have to make a life out of.

Buried Alive In The Blues is the story of Irene, a widow who finds herself trapped by a months-long rainstorm that’s drowning the world, but she doesn’t care, because she’s got a pass to see the best blues band in the world play at an old speakeasy in the neighboring town. But when the bass starts thumping and the lights hit the stage, she realizes she may get more than she bargained for – but that’s okay, because the blues are worth it.

If you haven’t heard the story and would like to, you can find it here. Definitely not work safe, it contains explicit sexual situations and a heavy dollop of the blues, Buried Alive is a southern gothic romance that will keep you guessing right up to the end.

I’ll keep you all posted on publication dates for the anthology!

Beginning in December, we will be working together on a Steampunk YA novel set in San Francisco, about a pair of young troublemakers who just can’t seem to stop fighting about a car, or the strange monsters that come out at night, or the steampunk world they keep stumbling into, or…well, that’s for you to find out, isn’t it? And find out you will, either through podcast or through print, when Philippa Ballantine and J. Daniel Sawyer present The Auto Motive sometime in 2010.

It’s going to be so much fun!

First, the appearances. You can find me on recent episodes of Podioracket, The Dead Robots Society, and doing voice work as the German Army in Philippa Ballantine’s Weather Child. You can also hear my fantasy story Buried Alive In The Blues, for which I also did some of the voice work, on the excellent (if racy) anthology series Erotica A La Carte.

For those of you who enjoy my Open Source madness will be pleased to hear that there are new LinuxJournal articles – one is a review of the Indamixx portable recording studio, and the other, which hasn’t yet published, is a review of OpenGear’s new KVM management console. I’m currently stalking a couple more regular writing gigs, so if the internet gods smile upon me, you may be seeing quite a lot more out of me in this vein in the coming months.

Podcast monkeys, you may have noticed the new buttons on the right side of the page – each podcast feed now has an iTunes one-click subscription link, as well as the normal RSS buttons. There’s also now an Uberfeed, which will give you everything I podcast (except Apologia, which you can get here).

You also may have noticed that I’m now podcasting my new novel Down From Ten. This is a comedic country house mystery with elements of romance, horror, and science fiction around the edges – it’s a change of gears from The Antithesis Progression. It’s also listed on iTunes now, so if you’re listening and enjoying it, please leave a review and tell your friends.

I’m also the subject of, and participant in dialog to, a blog series about the doctrinal foundations of Christianity by Scott Roche on the Spiritual Tramp blog. If you like my arguments on Apologia, you’ll definitely find this one entertaining.

I’ve also recorded MORE Reprobates Hour episodes, which, along with all the other special features I have on my hard drive, I’ll hopefully start spooling out here again this month.

As far as writing projects go, Free Will is picking up steam and is now officially on schedule for a November release. I’m also working on a couple more secret projects, which hopefully I’ll have news about soon here.

Finally, I hope to have some good news on sales in the next couple weeks, so watch this space!

Here you are, all you wonderful listeners — a sneak preview of Down From Ten. Enjoy — and please distribute widely!

If you enjoy world religions, are wondering where science fiction can go from here, or are curious about transhumanism or The Singularity, you’ll find something to entertain you and possibly get your dander up here.

Enjoy!

This year, particularly the second half, has seen a lot of people turn very pessimistic about, well, everything. Yeah, the economy’s slowing down. Yeah, people like me are scrambling just to make ends meet – when money goes slow everywhere, it hits the arts hard. And yeah, some things just sucked. But you know what? Today’s “awful” is a hell of a lot better than “great” was when my grandparents were growing up. Despite environmental problems, terrorists, crooked investment bankers, and crookeder politicians (yes, in all parties), I’m living in a time when “five-percent unemployment” is really bad. When I was a kid in the early 80s, that would have been music to everyone’s ears. Ditto for crime, poverty, war casualty, plague death, and violence figures almost everywhere on Earth (though some of us are a lot luckier than others, through no merit of our own).

So, yeah, 2008 might have been a scary year. But as I look back at the global “Big Picture” there aren’t a lot of things that are truly scary in the long run – not like there were twenty, fifty, or eighty years ago – not to mention longer ago than that.

On a personal level, it’s been a mixed year, but as I was drawing up this list I can’t help but be staggered by how far the scales tip towards the wonderful. Click on the link to read my self-indulgent recap.

The Bad or Bittersweet

In May of 2001 I started preproduction on a film I’ve spent the intervening years working on. Hunting Kestral, a science fiction action film set in the universe of Antithesis, was officially retired from the active projects list. Of all the things I’ve done in my life, this project has to be the most important so far. I met people I still work with to this day, I learned the meat of the different trades I now call my career, and the process irrevocably altered the story and universe of Antithesis. Perhaps most importantly, I spent some of the most rewarding months of my life to that point in the company of actors who taught me far more about life than I ever thought I’d learn at the age of 24. Unfortunately, I had to admit that on this one I bit off way more than I can reasonably hope to finish chewing in the foreseeable future, so the dream of doing a professional level live-action independent film is something I have to set aside for now. I’m planning on a post-show article on it sometime in January.

My first website, Blenderwars, which had for years been a vibrant hobbyist community, finally died. It was a long time coming, but last May I finally gave in to the inevitable and pulled the plug. We were online from 1999 to 2008, hitting our peak of half a million page views per month in 2002. Some of the folks I met through there have gone on to work with me on various film projects, and have proved to be excellent people all the way down the line.

A lot of death touched my life this year, both first and second degree. I’d say I could have done without it, but the truth is that I’ve lived an unusually long time without someone close to me dying – I was expecting it sooner or later. Needless to say, I’d have preferred “later.”

My nonfiction publishing momentum slowed down in the second half of the year as a result of my podcasting endeavors.

The Unfinished
Filmed and have nearly finished (finally) a short film called “Lights Out” for Project Obsidian. Early 2009 will see its completion. Better late than never.

Began writing The Auto Motive, a steampunk young-adult urban fantasy novel. It’s got a ways to go, but it’s rocking.

Sculpting God: Bedtime Stories For Adults is half done – the final half will see the light of day in mid-2009.

The Good
Saw eight friends and acquaintances get book deals.

Made my first fiction sale: My steampunk story “Cold Duty” went simultaneously to Steampod and ClonePod and did very well among fans of both podcasts.

Finished and garnered publisher interest in book one of the Antithesis series. Plotted, outlined, and roughed out the remainder of the series.

Podcasted the first 15 episodes of the 27 episode audio version of Antithesis, Book 1: Predestination and Other Games of Chance with full cast, full production sound, and an original score.

Did my first professional publicity events.

Wrote a 6 hour miniseries for Canadian TV. The deal fell through, so the script is now in the process of novelization. The resulting novel, Down From Ten, is now 25% done.

Finished Season 2 of The Polyschizmatic Reprobates Hour. Recorded Season 3, and it is now half edited.

Garnered my first cover story in a magazine.

Interviewed (either for podcast or for publication) Michael ShermerM, Cory Doctorow, Elizabeth Pisani, Tee Morris, Richard Carrier, Philippa Ballantine, J.C. Hutchins, Seth Harwood, and Mur Lafferty.

Apologia, a show I participate in, got picked up for radio distribution.

Got to hang out at the Googleplex.

Technically this and the next item both belong in “unfinished,” but they’re here because they are undeniably good. First, I had great fun doing some very satisfying photo shoots with both new models and old, and made serious progress on bringing the long term Sophi and Logos projects together.

Hit BayCon and SteamCon with my friends, and got to moderate a few panels along the way.

Discovered Twitter.

So many other memorable moments of wonderfulness I can’t even begin to enumerate them.

Final word count for the year, including novels, short stories, screenplays, articles, and non-trivial blog posts: ~350,000

Parting Thoughts for 2008

From my very limited perspective on the world, I wouldn’t trade this year for any other. 2008 saw a lot of reconnection with old friends, strengthening of connections with new friends, and meeting more fascinating and decent people than I dare to count – some of them well on the way to becoming close friends. It’s been an emotionally intense year, much moreso than I expected. This time last year I said that 2007 was my best year so far, but I think 2008 surpassed it handsomely, despite the heartbreaks and hardships which I’m sure none of you want to read about here.

For all of you who’ve touched my life this year – friends, fans, colleagues, and fellow travelers – from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

The chapter ends, and always on a cliffhanger. There is only one question:
“What happens next?”

Cold Duty: Selected Readings from the Diary of a Gelusian Repairman is the tale of a stable boy who gets caught working on a steam engine, which lights off an adventure in the big city and a 100-years too early scientific and technological revolution. Steampunk memoir – and a tale very close to my heart. If you haven’t heard it yet, I hope you’ll give it a listen.

Often, fantasy and historical fiction falls prey to this far too easily, because we don’t often question where certain expressions in our language come from. For example, you wouldn’t want to describe a complete package as “Lock, Stock, and Barrel” if the story you’re writing takes place before the seventeenth century when the musket became widespread in Europe. The reason? “Lock, stock, and barrel” are the three major components of a musket, and all three together means that you have everything you need to assemble one.

This kind of thing can shatter the illusion that you work hard to create, as it did for me in Peter Jackson’s “The Two Towers” during the sloppiest moment in the film. At the battle of Helm’s Deep, Aragorn commands a brigade of elf archers to “fire” on the enemy. I can’t emphasize this enough: nobody in the history of the world has ever fired an arrow. The notion of “fire” being synonymous with “activate” was nonsensical before the invention of the first ever fire-powered weapon, the cannon in the 13th century in China (not introduced into Europe until much later). Even so, archers were not commanded to “fire” until many generations after bows, arrows, ballistas, catapults, and crossbows ceased to be used in military combat. When commanding archers, the term is “loose” or, less frequently, “release,” “arrow,” or “trip” – NOT “fire.”

To further the historical literacy among fantasy, science fiction, and historical fiction writers, I recommend bookmarking the phrase finder and using it frequently when writing and proofreading. A good etymological dictionary and slang dictionary wouldn’t hurt either.

To start with, on Saturday night, I joined Chris Lester and Seth Harwood at a delightful pub in Berkeley, CA called Jupiter. Between my fans, Seth’s fans, and Chris’ fans, we had about a dozen fans show up and the conversations went long, long, long into the night. Servicable food, great drinks, and even better banter – arguing about philosophy, talking future projects, discussing the finer points of history, religion, ethics, mythology, brains, and just about everything else.

After about 11 the bar got way too loud to hear people shouting across the table, so we adjourned across the street to a lovely gelato joint for more gabbing, loitering, and generally diserputable behavior. It was a great time, I met some fabulous people, got some new listeners, and then wound up sneaking into someone’s hot tub to skinny dip at the…oh, right. Sorry – that’s a different story.

Sunday morning came around like a smashing mirror. I’m rather gifted in the sense that I don’t need alcohol to give me a hangover, I get one naturally from the sun. That fusion reactor and I have a rather unsteady relationship, so if it suddenly goes out, you’ll know who finally sunk a Q-ball into the center pocket. Anyhow, I dragged my lazy keester out of bed and stumbled along to Silicon to attend a panel about self-promotion for new authors hosted by an editor who currently has Antithesis on his desk.

After the panel, he pulled me aside and told me that I could expect to hear back from him on the book soon (hooray!), but that irrespective of whether he wanted it I needed to do two things: 1) change the series title, and 2) rewrite the synopsis.

Regarding the title, it seems that “Antithesis” is a word that sends people looking for their dictionary much more often than it makes people think of forces in conflict, rebellions, and contradictions. It also is, for some reason, a good title for an RPG (a fact I found out on my own as I handed out cards for the podcast over the last week – - everyone thought it was a new RPG rather than a novel or a podcast, but not for a thriller. I suspected that the title was a bit cumbersome and would need a change, but I’m stumped as to what to change it to. Current candidates are “The Gods of our Children” and “And We Surveyed…” — if you have an opinion or a suggestion please leave a comment below.

As far as the synopsis, the particular issue is that it sounds too generic. This is my problem with synopses in general – they’re not ad copy, they’re supposed to be a sweeping description of the plot progression. Unfortunately, in a spy novel or any political story, there’s pretty much a formula that you’re tweaking: bad politicians, good politicians, crime lords, spies, someone who’s being framed/chased, someone who knows too much — let’s be honest, it’s all been done before, and done over, for a hundred and fifty years now (or longer, if you start with Hamlet). Like mysteries, what sets a thriller apart is not the trappings of the plot, it’s the richness of the setting, the depth of the characters, the style of execution.

So, knowing this, I got a couple friends who HAVE sold novels before (and thus, presumably, have a handle on how to write a good synopsis) and who read – and enjoyed – Predestination. The result was this very run-of-the-mill synopsis that technically fulfills all the requirements of a synopsis, and yet manages to make Predestination sound like every spy novel, political thriller, and science fiction novel ever written. Obviously, the way we all approached it is wrong. So, my second question for all of you reading, particularly if you’ve sold a novel or worked as an agent or editor: What do you *really* want out of a synopsis, particularly for a charater-driven story? It seems to me that a blow-by-blow plot synopsis (like I delivered) is not well suited to give a feel for the work.

Anyhow, that’s the weekend – a whole lot of great, a little bit of frustration, and some new challenges to chase down. This week, I’m rendering out the final FX shots for my short film Lights Out, which is destined for J.C. Hutchins’ Obsidian project, and hoping I can make the deadline. It’s all in the hands of the CPU gods now!

Suffice it to say that psychoses are back in full swing, and it’s a beautiful thing.

Okay, I know, it’s late again. I’m really trying to get ahead on these and they keep kicking my ass, as real life bears down on top of me. Hopefully, next week will actually be on time.

This week, we find out what happens to Joss after he escapes the Hartmans, learn about oranges in the sky, and meet a couple new characters as the camera pulls back and we get to see more and more of the universe our characters inhabit. Turn down the lights, lean back, and enjoy!

This week, the incomparable Seth Harwood, author of the excellent Jack Palms crime novel series, the spinoff Young Junius, the short story series A Long Way From Disney, and the host of CrimeWav, brings us The Story So Far as only he can.

Cast this week (in order of appearance):

Robin Hathaway as Marian Shelley

Stephanie Sawyer as Cassy Orinthal

Michael Lemonjello as Hakim and The Second Drunk

Kitty Nic’Iaian as The woman in the bar

George Chlentzos as Doug Reeves

Well, look no further. You can find my collection of fantasy, science fiction, and erotica stories here. It’s called Sculpting God and it’s chock full of adult-oriented bedtime stories, with a new two-parter coming next week.

The first volume of my podcast novel Antithesis – costarring the lovely Chasing The Bard author Phillipa Ballantine – will be posting shortly. There is a feed up right now, containing the promo, and episodes will start dropping before the end of the month. We’ve already got a couple of them produced – a couple more and we’ll have a comfortable buffer lined up so there won’t be any story interruptions once we get it started. In the meantime, you can read the back-of-the-book summary here, and watch the Sculpting God feed for more details.

Those of you who are of a vaguely intellectual bent might also enjoy my nonfiction podcasts, The Reprobates Hour (soon to enter its third season), and Apologia, a philosohpical roudtable discussion about matters of ethics, secularism, religion, and epistemology.

Feel free to poke around, read my older posts, and check out my photography work if you’re looking for some good desktop wallpapers.

Thanks for stopping by!

Entitled? Really? It would be folly not to acknowledge that everyone has an opinion, but I see no reason to hold that reality as an entitlement. Everyone, after all, also has two arms. Does that mean they are entitled to their arms? Or does it merely mean that they possess them and will continue to do so, barring an unfortunate encounter with farm equipment, Sharia law enforcement officials, industrial presses, or auto accidents? I tend to think the latter. By analogy: evidence, argument, experience, and relationships are the analogous forces capable of ripping our opinions from us and leaving a bloody stump. Most people seem to understand this implicitly, as they tend to want to smuggle opinions into the “fact” category to render them immune from criticism.

Formal reasoning isn’t a required course anymore in either high school or most colleges, and common sense can only get you so far, and when it fails, well…let’s just say that most people have a pretty shady understanding of what an opinion is and how much weight it actually carries. Not all opinions are created equal. An initial reaction is qualitatively different from a conclusion (which is an opinion based upon exposure to information and/or argument, and is subject to correction in light of further evidence). So, to bring us back to first principles, I present two distortions of the foregoing maxim:

“You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant. — Harlan Ellison

You are entitled to your opinion. But you are not entitled to your own facts. – Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan

In other words, as far as Ellison is concerned, if something is worth believing, it’s worth being well informed about. While people who hold stubbornly to opinions in the face of contrary evidence or in the darkness of ignorance are being merely human, they aren’t being terribly adult. But Moynihan is also on to something. People do have a tendency to smuggle their opinions in as facts, or fail to distinguish between the two. This gets particularly thorny in matters of ethics or of public policy.

Below is an incomplete list of “facts” that aren’t. Some are conclusions, some are scare tactics, some are opinions, some are outright lies, and some are misapprehensions. In the forthcoming months, I plan to do some essays on these or other points, so if you guys have any favorites or some good ones I’ve missed, leave them in the comments section or email me at dan at jdsawyer.net. This should prove fun!

Overpopulation will cause widepsread famine and end civilization.

We are at the tipping point for runaway global warming that will decimate the biosphere.

The Bible is (in some sense) inerrant.

Sexual immorality caused (or significantly contributed to) the fall of the Roman Empire.

Republicans are waging a war on science.

Democrats are waging a war on science.

The Bildeberg Group/Illuminati/Freemasons/etc. control the world economy.

Evolution is a theory in crisis.

Intelligent Design is a scientific hypothesis.

The design of the universe testifies to the existence of a God.

Modern “allopathic” medicine treats symptoms instead of causes.

Organic food is more healthy and/or more environmentally friendly than factory farmed food.

Having oral sex with an HIV positive person puts you at risk for contracting AIDS.

Religious folks are more bigoted than non-religious folks.

Conservatives are more sexually repressed than liberals.

Nuclear power is dangerous.

Abstinence followed by Monogamy is the only reliable way to prevent STDs.

The world is running out of oil, and when we run out civilization will grind to a halt.

All consensual sex is good for you.

Sex outside marriage is immoral.

Rent controls keep the cost of living down and prevent gentrification.

Abortion is murder.

Embryonic stem cell research kills babies who would otherwise have been born.

Feminists believe that all sex is rape.

AIDS is a clear and present danger to everyone.

Free loving people (polyamorists, swingers, and the promiscuous) have more sex than monogamous people.

Illegal drugs are all bad for you.

Cuban citizens have better health care than most Americans.

Politics and science are entirely separate disciplines and should not mix.

The world would be a better place if scientists dictated public policy.

There are a few more, I’ll probably add to the list as I go along – but keep in mind:
Without exception, EVERY ONE of those statements is a lie, a distortion, a misapprehension, or an opinion falsely cast as fact. Almost everyone in the U.S. believes one or more of them enough to vote with them in mind – either at the ballot box or with their wallets.

It’s gonna be fun writing these essays in between other projects.

Dr. Seuss wrote marvelous childrens books filled with clever word plays that kept them interesting for the adults that had to read them over, and over, and over. His books were like crack for two year olds who were learning their way around the language.

Infected, by Scott Sigler isn’t really the kind of thing you’ll want to read to your two year old unless you want her to jump off the apartment balcony to her death, but, like Suess, Sigler delivers a healthy dose of suspense-filled narcotics to adults who (if they’re smart), are always trying to learn their way around the world. After all, contra Disney, the world is not filled with singing meerkats, hearts and flowers, and happily ever afters. Most of what the world is filled with is, frankly, quite disgusting.

Infected is the story of former college linebacker Perry Dawsey, now a systems engineer, who has a couple of problems. He’s given to intense fits of rage, which he has learned to control through long and careful dicipline and which he feels profoundly guilty about. He also has an itch – seven itches, to be precise. Little pimples with black centers that just…won’t…stop…itching. There’s nothing worse than having an itch you can never scratch, especially when you’re over six feet and two hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle, given to psychotic rages, and can snap bones like fireplace tinder.

It’s also the story of what might be the ultimate in weaponized nanotech. Somewhere, someone released nanotech spores across the world which eventually fell to earth and landed on thousands of people. Finding a suitable environment, they do what spores everywhere do – they grow in the soil they rest on. Like any parasite, they cleverly use their host’s body to advance their own ends. Unlike other parasites, they can think, and talk, and they can give instructions to their host. Those instructions often involve killing people. They’re spreading fast, and a pair of crack scientists are doing their best to figure out what it is before more people die on the hands of their parents, spouses, and children at the point of a kitchen knife.

For Parry, it all starts with a little itch that he ignores. As the parasite’s lifecycle progresses, he shuts himself up in his apartment and battles the chorus of alien voices in his head and with the psychological demons that his ironclad self control had managed to supress for years. In a character arc worthy of Robert Bloch or Franz Kafka, we see the tendrils of Parry’s control unwind, one by one, as he attempts to keep himself sane, to find a way to remove the parasites, and to keep his self respect and self control intact.

While the olympian struggle rages in a small apartment building, the scientists across town discover, bit by bit, the nature of the parasite unfolding under their microscopes. Their struggle for discovery and Parry’s struggle for self-posession ratchet each other up to a fevered pitch of stomach-churning suspense as we, the readers, succumb to the creeping dread that something very, very bad is going on.

Infected is not for the feeble-minded, or the feeble-stomached. It’s a strong dose of acid against a strong constitution. Sigler’s use of hard-core biology, parisitology, and nanotechnology are so well-researched and spot-on that you can’t walk away from the book without a keen awareness of how edible we large organisms really are. The world is filled with parasites whose lifecycles are not very different from the nanotech beasties that Parry’s got under his skin, and out skill with nanotech as a civilization is quickly rising to the level where such weaponization is inevitable. There’s a lot of crazy bastards in the world, and a lot of them have a lot of money and a sincere desire to see a lot of other people die.

But every inch as disturbing as the biological and geopolitical implications of Sigler’s soul-scratcher, his characterizations consistently hit far too close to home. Unlike what one most often sees in books – even horror books – most people are not warm and fuzzy creatures. Consistent over Sigler’s body of work are well-drawn characterizations of upsettingly realistic people. Not everyone is a Nietzschian superman, not everyone is redeemed, and the good people are not always the good guys. In Infected, self-interest throws the reader in on the side of Perry, and pity keeps you there, but a keen awareness of the man’s unpleasantness, unlikability, and his burgeoning psychopathy keep him at arm’s legth as long as possible, until the reader is forced, inch by inch, to admit how much of Perry truly is everyman. He is a throghouly average fellow with a frustrated gift, turning a his dicipline, character, and a certain breed of integrity just a few degrees off prime into something twisted, terrifying, and monstrous.

I’ve enjoyed every one of Sigler’s podcast novels so far, but of the ones he’s completed, Infected is my favorite. It does in microcosm what his larger novels do in macrocosm. Claustrophobic, intelligent, pulse-poundingly suspenseful, it draws the reader forward with a feeling of dark inevitability, taking a “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride” tour along the seam between everyday neurosis and psychopathy, and ending with a climax that will doubtless leave the poor author crushed to death beneath a leigon of fans stampeding his home with cries of “Sigler, you bastard, where’s my sequel?!!?!”

Not for the faint of heart, weak of stomach, or fragile of mind, Infected nonetheless is top drawer fiction. Highly recommended!

Buy Infected here.

At this speed, I’ll finish at least two novels this year.

Total composition time on the rough draft of Down From Ten: 27 days

Total page count: 315

Down From Ten
This is a mystery/suspense/science fiction/comedy/drama film I’m writing for production, hopefully later this year if the financing comes through. More news on this as the deal progresses. I got tapped for it two weeks ago and had to drop everything to get it banged out. I’m a little over halfway through it and it’s going splendidly. If the production deal goes through, this will be unlike anything that’s been filmed in a long, long time, if ever.

The Haunting of Emeritus Greenbough
Originally the Nanowrimo project that got derailed in favor of writing lectures for the Blender Boot Camp. Currently on hold until Predestination is finished.

Predestination and Other Games of Chance
Currently on page 360 of the revision. It’s coming along nicely, but is on temporary hold for another week to ten days while I finish this month’s articles and the Down From Ten screenplay.

“Cover Artist” and “Pressure Gauges”
A pair of mystery novellas introducing a new “hero” who finds himself in the midst of murder investigations at a night club and a new year’s eve party. Don’t want to say more at the moment, but hopefully I’ll be able to finish these up and sell them before too long, so you can all read them

And, of course, Sculpting God continues along swimmingly. This week, We Create Worlds part 2 will be up. Then, for Valentine’s Day, you’ll get the story of Lilith – the first woman who had far more particular and provocative ideas about what it meant to be a woman than did her successor in Eden.