Yes, I’d have to say it was definitely a good idea to work longhand with this edit. The evenings where I’m focusing solely on this project is when I take the binder to the loveseat across the room and settle in. I’m not chained to the desk, but I can still have the tunage going while I work.
Which brings me to the subject of unplugging again. It seems every six to eight months I need to unplug from the internet and do some IRL things. Or more to the point, needing to remind myself to unplug from the internet and do some IRL things.
What this usually means is that, even though I kvetch about it from time to time here at WtBt, I don’t always follow through. Sometimes I’ll just have a long day at work and want to goof off online and watch cat-drifting gifs all night. Or I’ll consistently distract myself with the Twitter feed. Sure, I’ll catch myself and shut down the browser right there and then and do something more productive with my time.
It’s not like I haven’t eased up on the distractions over the last year. I’m not as passive about them as I used to be. In fact I’ve become quite tight with my latest writing schedule of practice words, blog entries and exercises, balancing them quite nicely with the Day Job and the regular writing work.
This time out, however, I’m thinking about actively unplugging for a bit. I mean, doing some serious longhand work, for various reasons:
–Obvious: Less chance of distraction.
–Health: Reasons for me to start moving around and getting out of the chair more often. Also, considering my Day Job is to look at a laptop all day, and following it up by looking at a PC later that evening, I really should give my eyes a break more often.
–Personal: Sitting with A. instead of hiding away in the back room all day and night.
–Mental: Focusing solely on the task at hand because, well, it would be the only thing I have at hand. Also, I have something a little more tangible to work with, rather than having to remember where I was in the document, especially if I’m flipping back and forth.
–Physical: Handwriting tends to be less straining on my wrists than typing, even with my new PC and its wireless keyboard and mouse.
–And let’s be honest here: when I write new projects longhand, I need to be able to write on the fly. The habit of editing on the PC is far too ingrained right now, thanks to the Epic Trilogy Editing Seasons. Once the trilogy project is done, I can reassess.
But yes…it’s one thing to say “I’m thinking of doing [X] to make my work better” or “I’m going to close the browsers now so I can work”, but it’s another to make good on those statements. And unplugging does seem to be the only way to do this cleanly and efficiently.
Does that mean all my blogs are going on hiatus? Nope, not this time around. Those will still be around, as long as I have something to say. I don’t have to unplug for mental reasons this time.
Cooler heads have presided, and the edit of The Balance of Light has been reeled back in. I’m keeping it a single book. It won’t be the sprawling epic that my Writer Brain threatened earlier this week. Heh.
Printing out the manuscript seems to have worked wonders, as I figured it would. Having done a galley edit with a test copy of A Division of Souls (which helped me find a lot more issues I’d missed), doing the same for Book 3 seems to be working out just fine.
Which reminds me — remember that first chapter I deleted a month or so ago? Yeah, it’s back in again. Why, you ask? Well, again, cooler heads. I realized that starting the story on the original Chapter 2 was an even WORSE idea.
So…what does that mean? I need to delete at least 50k words somewhere in this behemoth. Where the hell is that going to take place? Well, that’s a good question. This is another reason for the printing out of the ms…so I can give it another reread and find those soft squidgy spots that can be cut out. Scenes I can merge or leave out.
This is still going to go far past my original deadline, but again — I’m okay with that. As long as I’m going in the right direction, that’s all that matters.
Not gonna lie, when I first started working on this writing gig with some serious effort, I was just like every other n00b writer: I’m gonna shake up the literary world with my unconventional ideas! All my stories are going to be accepted by agents! They’re gonna love my stuff!
Of course, age, maturity, knowledge and perhaps a bit of bitter reality has thankfully made me think otherwise. I’m a writer just like anyone else, and the chances of my writing being a smashing success are just about the same as any other writer’s: a complete crap shoot. Luck, a bit of sales smarts and a decent story are the only constants in this job. The rest depends on getting the right agent or editor and whether or not they think they can do something with your work.
This popped into my head the other day, while thinking about the fact that I’m on the back end of an extremely long-term writing project. Lately I’ve been comparing how I viewed the Bridgetown Trilogy during its Phoenix Effect years, how I viewed it during the trilogy rewrite, and how I view it now that I’ve self-published two of the three books.
The pre-Belfry years (the True Faith era) was when I was the cockiest, that was for sure. I knew I wasn’t the best of writers, but that didn’t matter — I had an awesome story that I wanted to tell, and it was going to sell tons (once I finally finished it)! The Phoenix Effect era was a little more down to earth in terms of outlook; I knew I was far from professional, but I was doing all the required homework and revising it the best I knew how. It was that era when I wasn’t exactly sure where I stood in terms of heading towards being a professional writer. I was stuck in that phase for a long time.
Now I’m at the point where I’m looking at the trilogy and accepting where I may have gone wrong over the years. Doing major rewrites was one part of that; deciding to take control of the entire production was another. I don’t think the trilogy is a failure, far from it. No book is completely one hundred percent perfect. Are there things in the trilogy I think might still need fixing? Of course. All writers think that about their own books, and I’d be surprised if a writer didn’t feel that way about their precious projects once they’ve signed off on them.
There are many reasons why I’m self-releasing the trilogy, and that’s one of them: the ability to learn from my mistakes, fix them, and re-release the end result. Self-publishing is great for things like that, if you look past the ‘but it’s out in the world already so it’s ruined forever!’ irrational fears. Maybe I released the book too early; I can always sit on it for a few years, do an overhaul maybe five years from now, and re-release it. There will always be a new potential reader who’ll be willing to give it a chance.
One of the biggest things I’ve learned about the entire trilogy project is to accept that I should not strive for excellence in writing, but to do my best at it. Being professional doesn’t exactly mean ‘being famous’, it just means knowing what steps one needs to take to create a positive end result. Perseverance, knowledge, and maturity. And having a good solid goal (other than I’m want to be famous!, of course) does help significantly, whether it’s to be professionally published or to self-release.
I don’t need to be Phillip K Dick or William Gibson or Neil Gaiman or Ray Bradbury or whoever. I just need to be me, to the best of my ability.
Yes, I’ve blogged about this before. I have a bunch of ‘maybe’ projects simmering on the back burner, waiting to be picked up and worked on, or trunked and forgotten. It’s not going to take center stage until I finish and release The Balance of Light, so it’s going to be a while, but that doesn’t mean I can’t start with the pre-production. I can certainly start playing around with outlines, character sheets, timelines and whatnot. Just that the bulk of the project won’t begin until at least sometime this autumn.
But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the process of starting a new project. As I’ve said before, it’s been so long since I’ve come up with a completely new idea that sometimes I wonder if I’ve forgotten how to do it. [I don’t always think this, though…one of the ‘maybes’ came out of nowhere during my 750 Words exercises, so I know I can do it.]
I know I sometimes overthink this part of the process; it’s the most stereotypical of writer’s blocks: what should I write? We focus too much on wanting/needing to start something. It’s like when you need to start that term paper for English class, but you have no idea what to write about…and that’s when you start stressing, because you’re focusing too much on getting it done before deadline and not enough on the writing itself.
I try to keep my mind open when new ideas come to me; more to the point, I try not to rely mainly on chance and random inspiration, because that almost never works. The trick is to sow some kind of seed of an idea and work with it for a bit, see if you can make something out of it. I tend to be a pantser in terms of writing, so what I consider my best ideas usually come from something only distantly related to it: one of the ‘maybes’ I have on tap came to me out of someone else mentioning the Osmonds in passing on their blog. Out of that came the idea of writing a fictional music biography.
I have an idea jar here in Spare Oom, a long narrow glass jar with a plastic stopper that I bought for a dollar-something at the kitchenware store up the street. I haven’t used it in some time, but there’s a few years’ worth of scrap paper in there of passing ideas. Thoughts that came to mind that I didn’t have time to follow up on. Just images, scenes, or characters that popped into my head while I was doing something else. I haven’t even looked at these notes for some time, so now I’m curious as to what’s listed. I used a few of them for my daily practice words a year or so ago. Perhaps it’s time to do that again.
I’m not sure what I’m going to write after the Bridgetown Trilogy is done, but at least I’m going to be somewhat prepared.
I’ll admit, that’s not a question I often thought about when I first started writing, because the answer was most likely going to be: well, ME, of course. What a silly question!
I’ve tried in the past to write for a specific audience, and it never quite panned out the way I wanted it to. Love Like Blood was me trying to write to the urban fantasy crowd. Two Thousand was me trying to write for the litfic crowd. True Faith was me trying to write for the sf/virtual reality crowd of the mid 90s. All three projects have since been trunked, as I found them to be some of my worst work. Paved with good intentions, but let’s face it: I was pandering. I was trying to write for an easy buck.
Recently I’ve been thinking about who I’m writing for, and each time, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m still writing for who I want to write for: just your regular blue-collar joe who likes to read. Yes, I’m still writing for me, but I’ve noticed the biggest response I get from readers is not always the avid science fiction/fantasy reader, but those I know who like to read a little (or a lot) of everything. Someone who might read the latest George RR Martin but follow it up with, say, a history of 60s counterculture. Or maybe not even that: someone who just likes reading what they like reading, and don’t necessarily fit into the definition of ‘avid fan’.
That’s not to say I find avid genre fans beneath my stature, far from it. I just know that I’m not a hard sf writer or a military sf writer or even a high fantasy writer. I just write what comes to mind, and I try to fill my created worlds with people and ideas that my readers will connect with.
The Mendaihu Universe might be chock full of spirituality, but I try not to write religious/spiritual fiction, which is its own genre. The characters in this universe of mine have the same issues as readers: frustration, fear, indecision, confusion, irritation. I put the characters into an everyday situation that just happens to have a supernatual/spiritual setting. And for the most part, I think I pull it off, because nearly all my readers so far have commented on that as a definite plus to the worldbuilding.
I’ve been thinking about this in part because I’ve been trying to figure out how to sell my trilogy now that two-thirds of it is already out there. It’s one thing to self-publish and release it, but it’s quite another to get it out there and advertise it. As much as I dislike sales, I do need to think about who my target audience would be. I know, I should probably think of this WHILE I’m writing the stories, but that can’t always happen. Again: if I write to order, I write horribly. I can only write what I know I can write.
But what about my other projects? The non-MU stories? Who am I writing for then? I probably won’t know until the project starts. I have some non-genre stories in mind that could easily be quirky litfic. I have some genre stories that would fit nicely in the urban fantasy mold.
For me, I guess the only way I’ll know is when I start writing the damned things!
The inspiration behind the stories, ideas, settings and characters of the Mendaihu Universe have come from all kinds of places over the years. I’ve talked about quite a few of them on various blogs as well. I’ve mentioned the albums I listened to, the movies and the books and the TV shows and and and… There’s been a lot that I’ve read and enjoyed that inspired me to write these stories. I made a semi-official list sometime around around late 2002 that included all of these. Maybe one of these days I’ll update it and paste it here on the blog, just for fun.
So where does this inspiration come from, anyway? Well, my first rule of being inspired by something has always been if it causes me to drop everything and run to the computer to start typing. If I finish reading a book or watching a TV show or a film and my first reaction is a creative excitement, if it’s made me notice the writing and the production in a good way…then it’s done its job, and done it well.
[Good recent examples: the always level-headed Christopher Foyle in Foyle’s War, no matter what mood he may be in; the deliberate pacing of the movie adaptation of The Martian, the one-person cast of driving ninety percent of Gravity; the movements of a large cast in Kate Elliott’s Black Wolves.]
I always cite music as an inspiration, though that tends to be more on a molecular level, as it were. Certain songs will inspire the mood of a specific scene; some albums will be my go-to’s for writing sessions (one recent release getting heavy rotation here is Shearwater’s Jet Plane and Oxbow). I may occasionally hear a song and imagine a scene not yet written; with those I’ll either make brief notes or I’ll listen to the song a few more times and think about whether it’ll fit in the project I’m working on.
I like to keep my eyes and ears open for these sorts of things. I’m not one to read or see something and think I want to write THAT! Mainly because I know by the time I finish it, it’ll no longer be in season. It’s more on a creative level; if I’m amazed by the writer’s dexterity in weaving a complicated plot, or their ability to look at a well-used storyline from a completely different angle, that’s what will inspire me to take the same route.
I suppose it all boils down to: how did the creator get his or her creation stuck in my mind? It has to be more than flashbangs and shock-and-awe and disturbing scenery; there’s a time and place for all of that, but it’s nothing I can or should completely rely on. It has to be the whole as well as its elements; the artistry as well as the work.
I subscribe to a handful of writing magazines, many that I’ve been picking up for a good few decades. Over the years, they’ve helped me rethink how I look at my stories. Sometimes they’ll point out the blatantly obvious that I’d been ignoring for one reason or another (weak prose and word repetition for a start). Sometimes they’ll provide insight on what agents and publishers are looking for and how to contact them. It’s all helpful, and over the years their advice did help me get a lot farther than just guessing or assuming I was doing it right.
On the other hand, I’ve been quite contrarian lately, and I’m not entirely sure why.
Well, maybe I am sure; I think it has to do with self-publishing my work. Also that I’ve been a nonconformist at heart since I was a kid.
Thing is, lately I’ll read these advice articles and think, ‘well, why can’t I do it that way?’ For example, I saw an article earlier this morning regarding a novel having too much plot. I get where they’re coming from, don’t get me wrong; the example they used was bombastic and ridiculous (some litfic plot regarding way too many characters causing way too many plot twists and coincidences that even reality gave it the side-eye), and in that instance, it’s probably for the best that you back it up a bit and maybe narrow the focus. My reaction, however, was this: well, how is it that apparently readers don’t like way too much plot, and yet we love reading doorstop novels from George RR Martin, Kate Elliott, Neal Stephenson, and so on? How can I write the plot-heavy book and still make it readable and enjoyable? The kind of doorstopper that makes readers go ‘damn, that’s some great world building!’ In other words, the kind of books I love to read.
That’s when it dawned on me: it’s not that the writer of the article is stifling creativity; they’re just trying to keep your novel’s highway from gridlocking. If you’re going to write a doorstopper, just make damn sure it’s navigable.
Getting back to my bit about nonconformity, here’s an ironic admission: I’m also a pathetic conformist as well. Let’s just say that even though I touted my individuality in my high school years – sometimes to annoying extremes – and tended to question authority when needed (again, usually in the form of “well, why can’t we…?”), I also found myself desperately trying to fit into the status quo at the same time. I’m a proud self-contrarian in that respect.*
[* – A good example of my proud self-contrarianism: Yes, I am aware of the irony of using a Psykosonik song in a blog entry about writing my sf trilogy, considering that one of the band’s principal songwriters was one Ted Beale, aka Vox Day. I’m not a fan of his politics in the least, but I did love the Unlearn album when it came out in 1995, so I’m fine with keeping the two separate.]
With regards to my writing, I went through quite a few phases of trying to shape my novels into something that agents and publishers would enjoy. The truth is out: one of the reasons it took me so long to self-release the Bridgetown Trilogy is that I spent a good number of years trying to figure out how to revise it so that it was more commercially acceptable to agents and publishers. Suffice it to say, I never successfully figured out how to do it. I didn’t want to give up on the Mendaihu Universe, I just wanted to make it marketable.
I could never figure out why nobody was biting, though — and that’s the downside to the form rejection letter. No one is telling you why. I understand the reason behind the process…most agencies and publishers are actually quite small in crew and literally can’t respond personally to thousands of submissions. At the same time, though, it doesn’t help the writer one bit. It’s like being trained at your workplace for a new system, and when you’re baffled and stuck and ask for clarification, the trainer responds with “Well, what do you think it does?” My initial response to that kind of question is almost always “How the fuck should I know? That’s why I’m asking you!”** I get that they’re trying to make you think it through, but some need a frame of reference first before they can answer that question. If I’m not doing it right, I want to know how I should be doing it to your specifications. I’m a writer: asking that question of me provokes about 3,425 different responses. I have no idea which one is the right one or which would bring me success. I have nothing to base it on.***
[** – Yes, this has actually happened at one of my day jobs.]
[*** – I am aware that this is what writing groups and beta readers are for, but they’ve never quite worked for me. They’re great for talking out ideas and suggestions and I love the camaraderie, but more often than not they end up doing little more than confirming problems and issues I’ve already noticed and hadn’t yet acted upon. I’ve come to the conclusion that I just happen to work better solo and should trust my instinct more often.]
And the nonconformist in me, after so many years, finally decided that DIY seemed like a more viable and entertaining option. The time was right, the field has been quite strong, and I’d already done my research on it. This time I listened that rebel in me.
I’ve mentioned here before that music is an incredibly huge influence in my life, and I took that to heart this time out when I chose to rethink how I viewed publishing. I’ve read so many music bios about punk bands scraping by on a meager pittance and a beat up van yet absolutely loving the lifestyle; I’ve read about their wonderfully creative ways of getting their singles out to radio stations and audiences. There’s a reason why the image of a telephone pole covered with the bark of a thousand nightclub flyers is so iconic; that was punk’s social media of the time, to let all and sundry know that you were in town and were going to play at some seedy bar close by.
So this is what happened in 2015: I chose to unlearn the process of publication as I knew it. I already understood it all too well…if I want to publish commercially, I already know what steps I need to take, and I think I have a bead on how I can make my lighter stories marketable. What I had to do for my self-published work, though, was think like a nonconformist: what makes sense to me, first and foremost, and be consistent in that belief. I taught myself to react to moments of weak prose and plot. I learned to completely trust my creative instincts. I taught myself the mathematics of creativity (thanks again to music), of being aware of what makes a pleasurable work. And most importantly, I taught myself to ignore any self-doubt that popped up. I’m proud of the creative things I can do; I love writing and drawing and playing music, always have since I was a kid, so it was about damn time I followed through with those long-held dreams and make them realities.
I won’t lie…sometimes the DIY route can be daunting. It can be emotionally nerve-wracking. It can also be expensive. But I really do think unlearning the process of trying to be a commercial writer was one of the best moves I’d ever made. I’ve never been happier and more excited about being a writer.
I’m not entirely sure how the concept of balance popped up in my trilogy, it just sort of happened naturally.
I think it’s because, when I was writing The Phoenix Effect back in the late 90s, I’d become fascinated by yin-yang relationships in life, and especially how neither side is inherently heroic or villainous. Each side has good and bad qualities, perfections and impurities. It’s up to each individual to decide how they want to act (or react) to their surroundings, or to the other’s actions. Some go with the flow, some do what’s expected of them, some are rebellious and still others refuse to do anything at all.
Originally the trilogy was going to focus mostly on the Mendaihu, with the Shenaihu relegated to textbook villain. But the more I tried writing that, the more I felt it was horribly contrived. What if the Shenaihu were doing what they do for a legitimate reason? Maybe the Mendaihu aren’t all that perfect and awesome after all? And with Earth stuck in the middle of it all, how are they affected?
It’s not just the character balance I watch for when I write, though. I pay attention to the plot arc, and where the characters’ defining moments are placed.
A day or so ago while revising/editing The Persistence of Memories I hit the exact midway point. I was curious as to what that scene would be, as I’d subconsciously put a pivotal Denni scene at that point in A Division of Souls, a point where the book is no longer ‘starting up’ and is now in full acceleration mode. It seems that I did the same exact thing here as well: another main character’s pivotal scene that sets the tone for the rest of the book (and the trilogy). I’ve yet to see if I did that with The Balance of Light, but we shall see, once I start revising/editing that one.
That’s not to say the pivotal now-or-never scene needs to be smackdab in the middle of the book; this just sort of happened organically for me. Another character’s defining moment won’t show up until near the end of TBoL, with mere chapters to go until the end. The point here is balancing the character’s evolution. They start at one level and ascend (or descend) to another, somewhere within the timeline, because otherwise they’re boring.
Point being, by the end of the trilogy, everyone, even the most stubbornly static characters, have changed somehow. The trick as to when they change is in the pacing. Don’t just think about how you want the character to change, but how they’d act afterwards. A character’s evolution too soon might render them boring for the rest of the book; too late and it looks forced. Think about their timeline within the context of the entire book (or series): what would be the perfect time for them to change, and how would it affect the rest of the plot and the other characters?
Again, with the music parallel: where would the chorus of the song fit best? After the first verse? Just after the bridge? (Or like Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin'”, waaaay over at the end of the song, after the guitar solo?) It’s completely up to you, the writer. As long as you do it right.
Make it pleasurable not only for you, but for the reader. Creating balance in your creation is a trick on the subconscious level; we feel pleased by a perfectly balanced shot in a film or painted image. We’re equally pleased by the slow build of an arc that finally explodes in glorious 3D at the perfect moment (again, think the “Don’t Stop Believin'” solo and chorus, or maybe even The Beatles’ “Hey Jude” when it finally hits the “na na na” coda).
The trick is to figure out where to best place it so you achieve the perfect balance.
The decision to pull out of a writing project is a strange one. It’s never a knee-jerk reaction. More often than not, it’s a laborious, emotional, drawn out process. All kinds of questions arise, whether it’s worth soldiering on or cutting losses. The feeling of frustration and irritation due to wasted time. And even the relief (and the guilt of feeling such, despite the decision) when the deadline is no longer hanging over the writer.
I say this now, as I seem to be on the fence on a current long-term project at this time (don’t worry, it’s not Mendaihu Universe related). I won’t go into detail just yet, as I’m still debating on what move I’ll take, but suffice it to say, the end result is different than what I’d expected it to be. It’s starting to feel less like a publishable book and more of a private ‘vanity’ book…something that would appeal to me, but probably not to too many others. Will I finish it? I most likely will, given that I’m close to the end of the initial rough draft anyway. I just may not self-publish it.
It’s a tough decision, and one I’m not taking lightly. It’s not exactly frustrating that it may take this direction…just that it feels weird, signing off something that had potential at one point.
Hey there, everyone! Lots of movement here in Spare Oom. The Day Job has been keeping me busy, though I’ve been sneaking a few minutes here and there to edit.
At this point, it looks like the release of The Persistence of Memories will more than likely be end of March rather than February…I do apologize for the delay, but this edit run is taking a bit longer than expected. I’m still about a quarter of the way through, but I’m making good headway. I’m giving myself a bit more of a buffer so I can do the formatting and the cover, and so I can release both the e-book and the physical version at the same time.
I’ll have more to blog about my editing processes to date, but that will be after everything is done. Yay, future blog posts! And thank you for your patience, as always! I promise, it’ll be worth the wait. This one’s still my favorite of the three.
But seriously, I’ve been taking extra steps to make sure I get all this work done on time and with minimal distraction. I’m still utilizing the habit of closing down all web browsers when I’m not using them for something important (like checking my word choice against the Merriam-Webster website). I’m even doing this during the day when I’m editing during slow moments, as you can see from the above picture. Making good on my plan to scale back on my internet usage in general has worked out just fine. I’m more productive and less distracted.* Once I post this, I’ll be closing down the browsers again.
* – Okay, I may have returned to my FreeCell playing habits, but the trade-off is worth it. A five-minute game is a lot better than a half hour of Twitter.
Oh — and if you’re curious, here’s the wallpaper I currently have. I took this out Spare Oom window with my nice camera during a rather spectacular sunset late last year.
Welcome to Bridgetown 