Funny me

You know, now that it looks like the copy editor is going to have Trust back for me May 1st...there goes my motivation to work on Trials. Oops. I dunno--today was mostly spent shopping, and while I know people who think that paradise would be day after day of shopping, lying in the sun, and consuming their preferred controlled substance, the reality is that it's boring and feels like a waste of time. I don't think that's just me--there are some way-past-their-prime beach bunnies around here, and they strike me as angry and unhappy.

I also revised the flyer to include the book description--I was thinking that it wouldn't be necessary because people would go to the link and see the description there, but of course, you need to motivate them to go to the link in the first place.

One of the reviewers (who isn't really actively reviewing right now) wants me to do a guest post, so tomorrow I'll probably work on that.

Thinking more long term: I'm kind of hoping to have a draft of Trials done by the end of the summer. My summer is actually pretty truncated because half of August and part of September is spent looking after kids, and I have a big trip after that, so we'll see how that works. I'm kind of hoping I can fulfill the need to put Trials aside for a bit by immediately starting in on a draft of Tribulations. Of course, I may be completely burned out by that point, or if I finish the Trials draft right before the kids/trip marathon, I may come back raring to edit. But the thing is, I've got almost as many notes on Tribulations as I do on Trials, which makes me think I might be able to write them in tandem. We'll see.

Cussin' in the past

This is a neat article on dialog in historical novels--do you use terms that modern readers wouldn't understand because they're authentic? It's a balancing act. (Of course, you can go the other way. In my books, the Special Forces soldiers all have fairly rude nicknames, and one of them is called Ofay, which was a turn-of-the-century derogatory term for a white person (in the 1920s it was shortened to "fays")).

And at the end the authors notes that people in the past didn't curse the same way we do. It's true! I realize that "fuck" has been around forever, but if you read, say, Chaucer complaining about how much people swear, what he talks about is the horrible blaspheming--swearing on the wounds or various body parts of Christ. That's what people did.

And that was the problem I had with the cussing in Deadwood--they even called people "motherfuckers," which is an expression that did not come into common use until after World War II. I mentioned that to my dad, and he noted that when he was growing up, the older generation was remarkably fond of farm-related curse words--"jackass," "bullshit," "horseshit" (while bullshit implies nonsense, horseshit is more malicious--if you've paid for something and the store owner isn't delivering it like he's supposed to, that's horseshit, not bullshit), "chickenshit" (cowardice).

What's going on

Yesterday I had to get up at the crack of dawn and get shots for a trip I'm taking, so it was not a good day for writing, and today and tomorrow I have too much house & family stuff going on.

But the good news is: I heard from the copy editor, and she's chugging away on Trust and thinks that May 1st is totally doable. Huzzah!

No money down! Easy payments!

I realize that I am beginning to harp on this subject but: Please think long and hard before deciding against self-publishing because of up-front costs.

I'm seeing a lot of things like this:

I’ll be honest, the up-front costs of self-publishing scare me. . . . [With a publishing contract t]here isn’t an upfront cost, nor is there a payment of any kind of front. The royalties are lower. . . , but I’m not spending anything out of pocket.

Have you ever done one of those cost calculators where you plug in your credit card debt and your rate of interest, and you figure out how long it would take and how much you would pay to pay that debt back if you only ever made the easy-peasy minimum payments? And the answer is always something like "850 years" and "a kajillion dollars"? That's what's going on here.

When people don't see an upfront cost, they tend to assume there is no cost. Intellectually, they may know it exists--but it's just a lower royalty, right? It's not real money.

Except that it is. This is called "loss aversion," and it's a well-documented phenomenon--people would rather forgo future gains than give up money they already have. If I say to you, You have to cough up for an editor, a copy editor, and a cover artist, you look at that discrete dollar amount, and you say, I can't afford that. Emotionally, you are programmed to hold tightly onto what you have. You don't want to invest, and with self-publishing, you do have to invest.

But if I say to you, With a traditional publishing contract, the more successful your book becomes, the more money you will lose, that doesn't really mean anything on a gut level. It's too vague, it's an indeterminate amount of money, it's off in the future, and it's "just" lost revenue--you'll never see that money, so you'll never miss it. It will just slide painlessly away from you, just like the interest on those easy-peasy minimum credit-card payments does.

The irony is, the very things that make self-publishing painful and scary are what will save you money in the long run. You'll (hopefully) be more motivated to shop around and look to more inexpensive alternatives (do you really need custom cover art? could a stock photo do? can you recruit a good amateur editor?). And once that money is spent, that's it--if the job was done to your satisfaction, you never have to pay for it again.

Once people figure this out, that's when they start foaming at the mouth about how you should pay cash for your car and you should pay off your credit-card bills every month and you should save up for stuff before you buy it and you should never give anyone a share of your royalties. Those people are a pain, right? And one reason they're such a pain is that you know that they're right--they're the voice of experience and they used to do what you're doing until they figured out how absurdly expensive it was.

Here's one; he goes by the name Dean Wesley Smith. He writes:

If you pay for a task to be done, pay a set price. Period. There are lots of new start-up businesses that offer a menu of tasks for set prices.

But let me also say this clearly right now. If you are worried about money, spend the time to learn how to do this yourself and have no real costs. This is not rocket science.

And what did I do today?

I sent out offers for advance review copies of Trust to various reviewers. I used this list this time. I believe you have to register to access it, but I have to say, the sites looked much more professional than the ones I found last time--no odd and pathetic requests for love, affection, and [redacted] in the submission guidelines. And he won't list anyone who asks for money! Yay!

I wound up mainly just going for the places that focus on science fiction and fantasy (although with some of them it's more like science fiction and FANTASY). Not only does this mean I spend less time sending out queries, which is good because I am lazy, but I feel like science fiction is a specialized genre, so it's not actually very helpful to market to a general audience.

It took longer than I thought it would. That happens whenever I send out queries--it's amazing how long it takes, especially if you want to take care and not send out a bunch of robo-queries to people who clearly wouldn't be interested. I was kind of beating myself up about it because it meant that I didn't write more on Trials, but then I thought about it and was like, duh, Trust is coming out fairly soon (hopefully), it's totally OK to work on the launch. I don't have to be in angsty artist mode all the time....

For the person who Googled Mary Sisson + sexual harassment

I have kept the e-mails and would be happy to provide them to anyone from the EEOC or your lawyer. Don't believe anything you are promised--I was promised many things, many times, and it was all hot air. They will never change anything unless they are forced to, and it just wasn't worth it to me. Some good guidance for you is here: http://www.equalrights.org/publications/kyr/shwork.asp 

Two hours of sleep and a sick kid...

...left me with some free time but no ability to concentrate. So, I noodled with the flyer (I think I'm going to slap a big ole portal on there) and tried to set things up so that I can waste time on-line more efficiently by plugging most of the blogs I look at into the RSS feeder. I also had to fix Twitter: TweetDeck stopped working for me, only God knows why, and I really hate the regular Twitter interface (honestly, it's slow, it's clunky--when multiple companies exist selling new interfaces to your Web site, that means yours sucks). So I went to HootSuite, which seems to work fine.

I also am trying to get it together to query reviewers, but that above-mentioned problem with concentration is making it hard to...what was I talking about?

The hardening of a position

It's been interesting for me to read the recent posts by Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Katheryn Rusch and Lawrence Block, because they're all basically saying that, at this point, they wouldn't bother to traditionally publish a novel. This is definitely a shift--before they were of the "Why not keep a foot in both camps?" mentality, but now they're saying, gee, the contracts are really bad and the money really sucks and there aren't actually any advantages to being traditionally published.

And I've had a similar shift: Obviously, on a personal level I had already decided against trying to be traditionally published by a small press in favor of self-publishing, but when someone like Amanda Hocking got a traditional publishing contract, I said rah-rah! There were people whose reactions were more like, OH NO, but I thought they were being unduly negative.

But now, I've realized, my reaction would also be OH NO. And I was wondering why that is--is it just the echo-chamber effect? Is it a reaction to all the stupid anti-Amazon stories out there?

I think, though, that it's more a reaction to recent events, and their implications.

Event #1: The DOJ's agency-pricing lawsuit. What bothered me about this was just how stupid the publishers were. They did something that was quite obviously illegal, and they did it very publicly. And now, predictably enough, they're going to have federal prosecutors climbing all over them for years to come, which is not going to be good for business.

And why did they do it? Well, the world was changing, and they couldn't cope with the changes.

Do you how bad that is for a business? What this means is that they looked at the future, and they saw no room for themselves. They looked at industry trends, and they looked at their own particular business model, and they said, "Holy crap, we're going to go under."

That is their take on the situation. They are expecting disaster. And what they did in their panic can conceivably only make that disaster worse.

I don't know about you, but I'd rather not sign a long-term contract with a company that believes it is going to go under, especially since, if they do, I may never get my book back. They may be wrong about their prospects, but it's never a good sign when a business is expecting the world to end.

Event #2: The IPG/Amazon debacle. Seriously--your publisher's choice of distributor could cause you to lose half your income? How the hell can you protect yourself against something like that? You could do background checks until the cows come home and it's not going to help you. "Hey, Ted, don't worry, we've been in business for 40 years, we're very respectable, and our distributor is a totally above-board industry leader. Oh, sorry about those Kindle sales--sucks to be you! Good luck with the foreclosure!"

Event #3: Gee, we can't sell your book after all! Yeah, Boyd Morrison--he may not actually have to pay back that advance, but it's hardly a happily-ever-after ending here, is it? More importantly, it points to the serious limitations of traditional publishers--with their high costs, they can't afford moderate successes, and they can't reliably create major ones.

Event #4: Math is your friend. Oh my God, the post I did guesstimating Stephanie Meyer's share of the Twilight money in 2010. Holy crap. What's the upside supposed to be, again? Against all odds, you write a huge blockbuster and your publisher keeps 90% of the money, if not more? Isn't this the reason pimping is frowned upon?

And don't say, "Well, she got $21 million, she should be happy!" ("Yeah, bitch, you got your 10%!" Slap!) There is a pot of money there. It exists. The question is simply, how should it be divided? The $160 million Meyer's publisher took did not vaporize or go to charity or anything--it went into the pockets of publishing company executives and shareholders, who have no greater moral or ethical claim on that money than the woman who created those books out of thin air.

Writers' incomes

The other night I was hanging out with a group of writers and would-be writers. One of them was a self-published novelist who is making a living that way. And she was talking about how it's pretty amazing to see these "self-published midlisters, who are making $10,000 a month, while a traditionally-published midlister...."

"Would be making $10,000 a year," I finished. (I wasn't interrupting, I swear. She had trailed off.)

Anyway, the majority of the other people there had little to no experience in publishing, and they were all shocked by what I said. A published author! Making $10,000 a year! A pittance!

And it is, of course, but that's not an unrealistically low number. Between my work background and the fact that I have befriended a lot of literary types over the years, I know quite a number of people who have had books traditionally published, in many different genre. Romances, memoirs, journalism, fiction, nonfiction--you name it. Good books, too!

None of those people have been able to quit their day job and write books for a living. None of them.

Which is why, when self-published writers are able to go from "no books" to "quit the day job" within about a year, it astounds me.

It's one thing for someone with a huge backlist and an established fan base to become successful. It's one thing for someone to get lucky and hit the jackpot with a runaway bestseller. But for people who have no big hits, and who aren't coming into this business with a big infrastructure behind them, to be able to make a living, oh, a year or so after publishing their very first book--that is amazing.

No-progress report

Yeah, sorry--it's supposed to rain tomorrow, so I had to go leak-hunting (this is one of the things with the house that is going to require an expensive permanent fix--yes, there are others) and I took care of some stuff in the yard while I was at it. In the process I got to deal with a lovely lady at Home Depot who wanted to make sure I had "someone at home" to help me carry all those bulky things I purchased, because, of course, one can't carry things and ovulate at the same time.

After adding that blog archive, I looked at it and thought, Jesus, I blog a lot! Imagine if I put all that effort into writing books instead! But the thing is, if you look at the months when I wasn't blogging much, I wasn't writing, either. Again, I think lots of blogging is just a sign that I am in Book Mode....

If you're looking for a little background....

The Wall Street Journal has a great article on U.S. antitrust law and how Apple & Co. really, really violated it very badly with their agency-pricing agreement. If you can't read it, Passive Voice has an excerpt. It's really worth reading, because one of the basic premises of U.S. antitrust law is that it's geared toward protecting consumers, not businesses--"competition, not competitors" in the words of the article. If you don't understand that basic concept, nothing that antitrust regulators do will make any sense.

And the article notes that books are not really all that special:

Even if publishers did seek an exemption [from antitrust law], it isn't clear that lawmakers would agree that consumers should pay more for e-books in order to save publishers or physical bookstores. The list of companies that have vanished at least in part because of digital distribution grows longer each year: Tower Records, Borders, Circuit City, local travel agents. How would Congress decide which ones should be protected from online competition?

"Why this guy and not that guy?" asks Mark Cooper of the Consumer Federation of America, a nonprofit advocacy group. "You'd end up saving everybody."

I would add only that, if you are going to commit a red-flag, must-prosecute sort of offense, have the sense to do so quietly--law enforcement does read the paper.

And this (via PV) is a great history of book publishing and book retail. It manages to be both very informative and very, very, VERY funny. Rusch has a less-funny but equally informative history of what she calls the book trade--how book publishing and book retail affect each other.

I think the larger lesson from this is that the publishing industry has always changed--it's changing very rapidly right now, but change has been constant. What we call traditional publishing has only been the tradition for the past few decades, and in the form it is in now, really only the past 10-15 years. That's why I could peg the publication date of Jodi Picoult's first novel so accurately: She was obviously published when publishing looked more or less the same as it does today but was somewhat easier to enter; ergo, she was published 20 years ago.

If it looks like bullshit, and it smells like bullshit....

Passive Guy is riling me up again: Consumers are upset and "confused" about e-book pricing! For some strange reason, those silly consumers think that buying tons of paper, running a massive printing press, and shipping enormous quantities of books all over the country costs money!

The mendacity of claiming that e-books and paper books cost about the same to make is what gets to me. These cost claims are bald-faced lies--no one with any background in the industry believes them, and the people making them think the general public is a bunch of drooling idiots who will believe anything they are told.

Just so you know: Before it became strategically important to pretend that e-books cost no less to make than paper books, the rule-of-thumb estimate was that the editorial part of making a book (writing, editing, copy editing) accounted for a whopping 10% of costs. In fact, it was such a small piece of the costs that oftentimes a company would allow all that to happen before deciding whether or not to publish the book. That was really annoying if you were in editorial, because you'd do all this work on a book, and once it was finished, they'd scrap it, but that was how the finances worked.

Now, according to a lying piece of Penguin shit, editorial accounts for 90% of costs! Amazing!

I have linked to this before (warning: if you don't like the language in this post, you won't like the imagery in that one), but now I am going to quote extensively from Dean Wesley Smith's post comparing the costs of Pulphouse Publishing, his old traditional publishing company, to those of WMG Publishing today:

Not only is this new world faster by factors of a hundred or more, but the production costs don’t even come close to what was needed in 1990 to put out a book.

For example, from 1989 to 1992 we did a series of books at Pulphouse called “Author’s Choice Monthly.” The series let each author pick five or six stories, around 30,000 words, for a collection. We did one per month, sold them both in limited hardback form and unlimited trade paper form. We used the old warehouse method, meaning we had to guess ahead how many to have printed and bound. We did our own printing, then we had to haul the printed books an hour north to either a perfect bindery or the hardback bindery. Then we had to pick them up when done and bring them back to the office to be unloaded, packed, and shipped to stores and customers.

Let me put it this way as to costs. The price of the gas (for the 60 mile one way drive north to the binderies and back in 1990) for the van we used IS MORE than what WMG Publishing pays right now to put a collection of mine or Kris’s into electronic and trade paper edition.

That’s right, just the gas (in 1990 money) for 240 miles is more than I spend now for everything needed to get a collection into print.

(So, yeah, Smith's wife knows what she's talking about when she calls this cost claim "bullshit.")

Let's put it this way: I make more money selling a $3 e-book of Trang on Amazon than I do selling a $12 paper book there.

And if you think it's oh-so-different for a large corporation, remember that they are reporting higher profits as well.

Liars.

In search of lost marketing opportunities

I finished Proust's In Search of Lost Time! Whoo! I liked it--it gets more and more engaging as it goes on, which is actually kind of a problem because it's so damned long....

Also, looking at my plan for when Trust comes out (assuming it ever does--God, it's tiresome to have to wait on someone else; it makes me all the happier that I don't have to deal with an entire publishing house), there's another thing I want to look into: science-fiction conventions. There's a bunch around here, and you know, part of the challenge with science fiction is that not a hell of a lot of people read it. When a large group of people who do read it gather near me, it seems like the sort of marketing opportunity it would be stupid to miss.

Clearly, advertising in the program doesn't work. I think a potentially more-fruitful approach would be to do a flyer saying, Hey, wow, the Trang series, it's just the thing for you 60s-throwback-loving sci-fi enthusiasts! and then include a Smashwords coupon for a free copy of the first book. I could even give away the copies of the paper book I was going to give away on Goodreads. Of course, the book needs to be on Smashwords for that to work, so the three months of being exclusive on Amazon need to be scheduled in around the cons....

A Plum of a novel; or, what editors actually do

I was talking to another writer last night, and I was trying to explain what it is editors actually do, and how they don't edit to the standard of "good" (which doesn't really exist anyway) and instead edit to the standard of "appropriate for our audience."

I wasn't explaining myself very well, and of course it wasn't until I was far, far away when the perfect example of what editors actually do came to me: Stephanie Plum.

Or actually, Janet Evanovich. Many moons ago, Evanovich was a reasonably successful romance author. She had written twelve romance books, and she was getting good and sick of the genre. So one day, she wrote a book that had lots of action and adventure...and basically no romance.

She turned this book into her editors.

Did they say, "This is fantastic! Janet, this is your breakout book--you'll be winning awards and topping bestseller lists in no time!"

No.

Did they say, "What the hell is this? This isn't a romance! What's wrong with you--get out of here!"

Dingdingdingding! Yes! Despite the fact that she'd been writing for her first publisher for years and years, Evanovich had to take her new work to a completely different publishing house for it to see the light of day.

Why? Why? you wonder. Why didn't her original editors recognize that this was going to be a really good book?

Because that is not their job. If you are a romance editor at a romance publisher, your job is to make sure you are producing romances. That is your job. If your writer comes in with the most wonderful book you have ever read, and it's not a romance, it is not acceptable. Period.

If you self-publish, it's important that you position your book correctly as to genre, right? You need to get an appropriate cover and an appropriate book description so that people know what they're getting.

The editor has a similar mind-set, but the approach is different. Their imprint only produces certain types of books. Those are the books that are appropriate for that imprint. If a book isn't appropriate, it's no good to that editor, no matter how good it is. The editor's job isn't to make the book better; it is to make the book more appropriate.

Which is why I suggest that, whoever you tap as an editor, that person should be someone who understands and likes your genre. You do want someone who will edit to a standard appropriate for your book--you don't want someone yanking the cowboys out of your Western or anything like that. But nowadays you don't have to toe the line or your book won't come out--that bit of nonsense is of the past.

Throwing Occam's razor

This is a post from my old blog, written in 2008. I'm posting it again because I recently saw a play in which somebody had clearly gone to great efforts to rationalize a very unsatisfying story ending in a highly intellectual way, and it didn't make the story ending any less unsatisfying, nor any less essentially lazy. Also, some months after I posted this, I read an interview with one of the Lost writers, in which he parroted the New York Times article almost word-for-word--you could practically see the thought process: "Thank God! Someone's come up with a plausible-sounding excuse!"

Here's the post:

Ah, yes, the New York Times has this long article about how the television show Lost makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. (I stopped watching about halfway through the first season for this very reason, even though the show had some very fine individual episodes.)

And there's all this philosophical rigmarole about how the show rejects the very notion of resolution. So the incoherence isn't really incoherence: the show is sooo deep it goes beyond coherence; it's coherent on a level that you and I and everyone else who has ever watched it cannot possibly grasp, just like real life! Oh, please. Sometimes you'll hear this kind of thing trotted out when something has a really unsatisfying ending--real life doesn't tie up neatly, so why should fiction?

Let me let you in on a little secret: It's hard to write something coherent. It's also hard to create a really satisfying ending. Whenever anyone starts telling you that real life BLAH BLAH BLAH, what they are really saying is, This is hard, and I am lazy. The writers of Lost cash equally large paychecks whether the show makes any sense or not--why should they do it the hard way?

Risk, risk, risk, risk

M. Louisa Locke has a well-thought-out blog post about why she's continuing to make her book exclusive with Amazon. She's not saying it's the right decision for you, or will always be the right decisions for her--just that it's working well for her now. It's a more nuanced view of short-term and long-term thinking than Dean Wesley Smith's.

One thing she talks about is risk, and how it is unavoidable:

[A]lmost any action an author takes in the midst of the rapid changes within the publishing industry can be characterized as short-term. Putting your ebooks in the Barnes and Noble Nook store, given the effect of the Department of Justice decision on agency pricing, might turn out to be a short-term strategy if this corporation goes under. Concentrating on building relationships with bookstores to get them to carry your print on demand books (a strategy that...Smith is currently advocating) may be a very short-term strategy if those bookstores go under in the next 2-3 years.

And we've just seen how unavoidable risk is with Boyd Morrison. He's a successful self-published writer who got a contract with Simon & Schuster. And then they canceled his contract. What does that mean? Remember that fancy advance a writer is supposed to live off of as he writes his book? Morrison has to pay it back. (ETA: OK, it turns out that he may not. Hopefully he won't.)

Ouch. And a cautionary tale for those who are hoping to find a safe harbor with a large publisher. (Rusch and Passive Guy both have good analyses.)