Arleen Williams's Blog, page 14

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 Publishing is in flux. Advancements in technology and the ease of digital publishing have democratized publishing, allowing anyone to self-publish and causing the quantity of books available to skyrocket over the past decade. Here's how Steven Piersanti explains it in The 10 Awful Truths About Book Publishing.
The number of books being published in the U.S. has exploded. Bowker reports that over one million (1,052,803) books were published in the U.S. in 2009, which is more than triple the number of books published four years earlier (2005) in the U.S. (April 14, 2010 Bowker Report). More than two thirds of these books are self-published books, reprints of public domain works, and other print-on-demand books, which is where most of the growth in recent years has taken place. In addition, hundreds of thousands of English-language books are published each year in other countries.
When my publishers announced they were closing their doors on May 31, I felt the proverbial magic carpet being ripped from under me. It had been a wonderful ride.
I calmed. I took a serious look at my options. I made a list:let my books dietry the agent routeself-publishseek another indie pressThen I sorted through the pros and cons of each option. The clouds cleared and decisions formed.
First Decision:   I do not want The Alki Trilogy to disappear. I love Gemi and the gang. I want them available to readers in both print and digital formats.
Second Decision:  I do not want to seek an agent. I'd gone that route before. And frankly the chances of any agent or Big 5 New York publishing house taking on my three novels for re-release is basically nil.
Third Decision:  I could self-publish through CreateSpace. I've done so with No Talking Dogs Press. But I have neither time nor energy to dig into the process. The greater royalty rate isn't my driving force, and I believe the right indie press will lend my books professional appeal.
Fourth Decision:  I support indie publishing. I've had good experiences, built loyal relationshipsAll this to say, I'm very pleased to announce I've just signed a new publishing contract with Barbara Brannon and Kay Ellington of Bookadelphia.
The Alki Trilogy will be re-released under the Bold Face Books imprint with fancy new covers early next month.

Who Invented Memorial Day?

Memorial Day is just around the corner. How will you spend your three-day weekend?

Here's a post from Pamela Hobart Carter at No Talking Dogs Press about the history of the holiday. For those of you who are teachers, I know you'll find some curriculum ideas here. I know I do. Thanks, Pam!
Who Invented Memorial Day, and What Does Memorial Day Mean Now?
The post office closes. Banks close. Schools take the day off. Stores mount sales. It is a national holiday.

On Memorial Day most families relax, maybe out of town because Memorial Day always falls on a Monday and gives us a three-day weekend. Most Americans plan for Memorial Day as they do for any vacation days. They plan for fun. They plan to catch up on household chores. They plan get-togethers with friends. They plan trips. Most do not plan visits to a cemetery to place flowers on a grave.

This was once the practice. Our country shifted course in 1971 when Congress’s 1968 Uniform Monday Holiday Act became the law and moved four national holidays to Mondays to create three-day weekends. Read More...

Begin Again Giveaway

A little history. On July 1, 2013I received an email from a man I’ve grown to admire and respect, a man who has been the recipient of my innumerable questions, always with clear, good-humored responses. When Jesse James Freemansent that email on behalf of Booktrope, an offer to publish my first novel, I was thrilled, beyond thrilled, walking on clouds thrilled.
By New Year’s Eve 2013, Running Secrets was in print. Biking Uphill was in editing, and I was writing Walking Home. By April 2015 The Alki Trilogy was complete.
For personal reasons, I decided to hold off on publishing the memoirs right away. Now I see the error of my ways. I was confident, cocky, and terribly naïve about the publishing industry. Last Friday I opened my email to these words:
We are deeply saddened to share the news that Booktrope will be ceasing business …
Ceasing business? I didn’t see it coming, didn’t even think about the possibility. In today’s world of publishing, you’d think I’d have considered this. I didn’t.
Still, I am grateful to the folks at Booktrope for giving an unknown writer a chance. I am equally grateful for the friendly, supportive community of talented writers and editors, designers and publicists I’ve met through the unique team-based model of publishing that defined Booktrope.
I do not know my next step. I have no clear idea how to begin again. I’m guessing the traditional publishing route is no longer an option (if it ever was). Having lost confidence in the indie press world, I may opt to self-publish. But these decisions do not need to be made just yet.
For now I simply want to thank all of you who have bought, read, and reviewed my books. Your support has been a true gift.
To anyone who has begun the trilogy and might be considering the purchase of the remaining titles in paperback, now is the time to buy them. As of June 1, 2016 The Alki Trilogy will be unavailable in e-book or print format with the exception of out-of-print editions sold by third party vendors on Amazon.
If you prefer e-books, please contact me at aw@arleenwilliams.com. I would like to offer you a free e-book in exchange for an honest Amazon review. If you'll post on Goodreads as well, all the better!

Springtime Reality

Two weeks ago I joined 7000 cyclists for the Emerald City bike ride. The attraction? An opportunity to cross the new SR-520 bridge - the world's longest floating bridge - before it opened to traffic. Perhaps cars would have been safer to navigate than 7000 men, women, and kids. Lots of kids. 7000 cyclists at vastly different skill levels.
The first half mile the crowd was so thick, the pace so slow, only the best cyclists  were able to ride - those you see at stoplights balancing the bike at a standstill without unclipping from the pedals. The rest of us walked our bikes from the University of Washington parking lot, across the Montlake Bridge, and there began to ride.
The 21-mile ride included not only the SR-520 bridge, but also the I-5 Express lanes, and the I-90 tunnel. Definitely a unique ride worth the crowds. Last Saturday I rode alone. 32.7 miles from University Village along the Burke Gilman trail to the Sammamish River trail and on toward Red Hook Brewery. But no beers for me. I had to retrace those 16+ miles and I knew I couldn't do it with beer, cider, or anything else weighing me down.
32 miles isn't much. It isn't a century, my goal for this summer. But then, it's still April. Seattle biking season doesn't usually kick in this early. At least not for me. I judge spring by the lilacs. My only child was born with the lilacs. As I grew bigger and bigger, as the days dragged beyond my due date I watched the lilacs in the large yard surrounding our tiny rental cottage. When Erin finally made her appearance on May 17th, my husband cased not only our yard, but the entire neighborhood, arriving to my hospital room his arms full of fading lilacs for the two of us.

When we bought our home, we dug up that lilac bush from the side yard of the rental property and transplanted it in our own new yard. Each year it blooms bright and fragrant beside our small table in the front yard.

This year our daughter will be twenty-seven and already the lilacs are in bloom. Spring arrived early. Yet I remind myself it won't last, I mustn't let the return of the gray drizzle depress me, I must get outdoors when the sun shines because its return is unpredictable.
The weather dictates my use of time. While time is still limited by my spring quarter teaching assignment, I ride in the sun and write when it rains. I suppose one could argue that makes me neither a dedicated writer nor cyclist. Perhaps. But such is my springtime reality.

April Fools?

On the first of April friend and writing partner, Pamela Hobart Carter, sent me an email with a link to a literary magazine seeking submissions.

"Interesting. 3,500 words. What could I submit?" I keyed back.
"Combine a few posts?" she suggested.
I landed on a series titled Finding Home I'd posted between March and July 2015. After combining all sixteen posts, I had 9,090 words. I slash it to 5,713 before sending it to Pam in frustration. She masterfully trimmed it to 3,242 words. 
On Wednesday, April 27th I'll be reading this new piece at C& P Coffee Company in West Seattle.
If you're in the area, I invite you to join us. Bring something of your own to share at open mic.

What Fun!

Thanks to Third Place Books ~ Ravenna for hosting the National Siblings Day reading last night. My first public reading - at open mic - was here in 2003. What a pleasure to return to such a welcoming venue.

Thanks to the talented G. Elizabeth Kretchmer for organizing the event and keeping us on track throughout the evening with her warm humor. Check out her books. Write a review. Make an author happy.

Thanks to the enthusiastic audience and all the wonderful readers. It was a pleasure to hear your words.

Thanks to Jerry Jaz for snapping and sharing these photographs. Check out the monthly Writer's Read Out Jerry hosts and share five minutes of your unpublished work. Next up May 15th.

Siblings Are Not Friends

Siblings are not friends. We do not choose them. We get them like unsolicited mail, and we're stuck with them for a lifetime. We don't pick our siblings in the schoolyard, at a teen party, or during a spin class at the gym. Though we rarely hear of young children begging their parents not to have a baby, stories abound of those who desperately want a little sister or brother. Either way, some of us end up with a houseful of siblings while others with none at all.
Siblings are not friends. Yet if we're lucky, we're able to build friendships with our siblings in childhood, adolescence, even adulthood. Friendships rich in a shared past and strong enough to overcome the inevitable baggage most families seem to accumulate. Friendships of binding love and honesty, mutual respect and admiration, shared interests and activities.
Siblings are not friends. But they can be. Please bring your siblings and friends to join me for a special reading to celebrate National Siblings Day.
Third Place Books - Ravenna6504 20th Ave NESeattle, WA  98115Sunday, April 10th5:00 - 7:00 p.m.  

Heal! by Randy Hale

I'm pleased to share the winning essay of the 2016 Intima Essay Contest written by Randy Hale. Sunday mornings I'm fortunate to share the writing table with Randy. This essay is testimony to the value of that practice. HEAL! | Randy Hale
The sign reads: “Correctional Facility – Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers.”

With a hair trigger reflex, I conjure scenes of mayhem and murder, complete with ominous score, courtesy of The Doors: 

“There’s a killer on the road. His brain is squirming like a toad. If you give this man a ride sweet family will die.”

“Snap out of it,” I admonish myself.

But I can’t help wondering how often a hitchhiker, freshly escaped from the prison we’re approaching, actually travels this road. Often enough to need a sign, is my uneasy answer.  Read More ...

On Hummingbird Wings

Our last visit, Kim and I sat on her sofa, an expansive view of Puget Sound beyond the deck, a large tree so close it felt as though I could touch it if not for the glass separating us.
"Look. There it is again," she said as a tiny hummingbird flickering in the tree caught her attention.
I saw no flowers and wondered at the proximity of this beautiful bird. "Is there a feeder?" I asked.
"No. It just comes to visit me."
I nodded. It never occurred to me to question whether a hummingbird would come each day to visit my friend as she sat on her sofa. Instead, I imagined her out on the deck in warmer weather, the hummingbird settling for a brief rest on her thin shoulder. Kim was that kind of woman, the kind birds would visit. Joyous and friendly, loving and kind. Imagine Cinderella in skinny jeans and short hair, a twinkle in her eyes and a wide smile.
We met when our daughters were in primary school and  a group of us formed a mother-daughter book club. After the girls graduated high school and headed off on other adventures, the mothers continued to meet each month. We added wine to our potlucks and spent less time discussing books and more time getting to know each other as more than just the "mother of Caitlin, Calla, Claire, Deepa, Ellen, Erin, Kari, Karly, Sage, Stephanie."
As a nurse, Kim worked at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. Only five and a half years ago she cared for another friend, Sandra E. Jones. Sandi and I were in the same writers group. When we launched a collection of works we titled Sunday Ink: Works by the Uptown Writers, Kim attended the reading to support her patient. One month later, Sandi died.
Now Kim is gone. Cancer took her Tuesday morning, her husband at her side. I'd like to think she was carried away on the wings of the tiny hummingbird who befriended her during her final month. I know I will never see another of those lovely creatures without remembering my dear friend.
Kim Stokstad-NicholasDecember 24, 1955 - March 15, 2016

Elena Hartwell Interviews Pamela Hobart Carter

This two-part interview with Pamela Hobart Carter appeared on Elena Hartwell's Arc of a Writer on February 1 and 15, 2016. With Elena's permission, I'm very pleased to reprint the complete interview for you.
Author, Playwright ... Geologist!
Pam grew up in Montreal. A geologist by training, Pam taught everything from preschool to science pedagogy for thirty years. She practices timed writing with two Seattle groups. With Arleen Williams, she founded No Talking Dogs Press which puts out short books in easy English for immigrants. She is writing a novel.
You wrote a series of short books for Adults learning English. How did you get started with the series? What was the process of working with Arleen Williams? 

I wrote The Old House on South Sixteenth Street because my friend, Arleen, couldn’t find the texts she wanted for her ESL classes. The Old House … features adult characters with adult problems in picture-book-easy English. It was really fun to write with the constraint of keeping the language simple, so I wrote two sequels and a second series. Meanwhile, Arleen wrote a series of stories centered on American holidays, explaining many of their oddities. We each wrote six stories. We wrote the drafts independently, then read and edited them aloud, together, so they became joint-efforts. Our process involved lots of cups of tea, dozens of brownies, and pounds of walnuts and almonds. In 2015 we published them under the imprint NoTalking Dogs Press.
How does working as a playwright differ from working as a novelist?

I am finding I do a few of the same things whether writing plays or my current novel. I plunk down some stuff, then I sort out actions on index cards and churn out scene lists and diagrams—a repeating cycle of seat-of-the-pants generating of stuff followed by organizing stints. I think of what a drawing teacher in college told me, “Don’t erase the wrong line until you’ve drawn the right line.” I like to have material on the page which I can erase or embellish.
I shuffle the material a lot. My current novel has had a slew of different openings and I haven’t even roughed in a first draft yet.
When I’m writing a script, I hear voices. But they’re useful, so please don’t call in the white coats yet. I read aloud if I’m not hearing them. Before writing their speeches I prepare the script by alternating, or otherwise intermixing, my characters’ names. Sometimes I have to delete these, but sometimes having the character’s name waiting ahead of me makes me come up with how that figment of my imagination would respond to the last remark.
I am lucky to have a wonderful playwriting critique group. We read each other’s scripts aloud so the playwright can listen, and we discuss. I depend on their suggestions to rewrite. I am extra lucky if a group of actors reads my script and I get feedback from them and any audience. From one “mean” reading by an excellent actor, I realized I needed to rewrite her character. I gave her character a softer lexicon so she could not be interpreted as a mean character in the future. Plays become group projects. When my plays have been produced, I’ve been fascinated to see how the director and actors make something new, which may not resemble what I initially imagined.
I broke off from the novel I’m working on to write a one-act comedy last fall. The playwriting buzzed along in a way that the novel-writing had not. The form of a play, as speech-and-response, action-reaction-reaction …, feels natural to me. Now that I’m writing a novel, I have all those other aspects of scene-writing, such as descriptions of person, action, location, thought, and emotion to contend with. Readers of my first section urge me to flesh these out more than I have. Most of all, I have the greater length to contend with. I need bigger stretches of time and longer focus.
So, the biggest difference may involve pace. I’m finding it’s okay to move slowly in writing the novel. I’m learning to take my time and not rush. A novel is big. It’s a lot to figure out and make sense of, but the schedule is wholly my own. This novel will take much longer than a play!
How does your training as a geologist impact your approach to writing?
I am a scientist at heart. My training in geology gives me an experimental approach. If something doesn’t fly, I change it, and send it off again. I love collecting and tracking data, as in, how many times I submit in a year, how many of those are rejections, and so forth. (Last year a poem I had submitted twenty times was published.) I’ve written plays with science content—one thought experiment for Infinity Box Theatre Project about robots, The Robot Decision, and two featuring the endangered parrot, the kakapo. Geological content crops up in a few of my poems.
      What impact does your timed writing practice (with two different groups in Seattle) have on your writing?
Timed writing practice is the opposite of writer’s block. Writing to the clock, allowing the writing to be ugly and/or raw, and writing with company keeps my pen moving and words falling onto the page. If ever I’m feeling stuck, I know to give myself a time-frame, to sit, and to write until the alarm sounds. Practicing timed writing keeps me optimistic. Practicing timed writing with a group transforms my solo activity into a social one and has given me community.
What are you working on now?
I’m working on a novel about color, art, and creativity. My novel’s heroine protects art and color in her beige-dominated world where Color Rules restrict. It’s a mess and it’s going to take me a long time to arrive at a first draft, and I’m having a blast.
The poem I’m wrestling with is “All Lines Dissolve” which features a goddess and waiting.
And I’m hoping for a couple of play readings this year.
Final Words of Wisdom
Wisdom is a big ask! Are final words of randomness okay?
When I’m scared or too serious, I remind myself:No one is making me write. I do this because it is a good time. I can make it anything I can imagine, and I can imagine much.