K.M. Vanderbilt's Blog, page 2
February 11, 2016
In a Pinch: Forboden Characters, Making Images, and Formatting
Hello again, friends. I greet you this fine Thursday morning with more nuggets of wisdom.
Are you publishing soon? Going the self-publishing route? Formatting your book yourself? Here's some junk you should probably know...because I found out the hard way and it sent me into an apoplectic fit trying to figure out how to fix it.
Okay, so, Amazon--the behemoth. You'd think these guys would up their ding-dang-darn game already and have pretty much every character set known to man as a "supported" format when you publish with them. Sadly, this is NOT the case.
For those of you not in the know, when I speak of "characters," I am not referring to those beautifully crafted people in the novel you wrote. Not this time. This time, I'm referring to the actual freaking LETTERS you use when you clickety-clack-type that novel.
Now, most of you are probably smarter than me and only used the predominant Latin alphabet we see in the English language. A through Z, yeah? Keep it simple. More power to ya. This part of the blog probably won't apply to you, but skim down to the images part if that's the case.
The rest of you: hunker down over here and listen real close. If you wrote fantasy, sci-fi, etc. and thought you were going to be tricksy by using character sets from other languages sprinkled through your manuscript, you might have screwed yourself. Take a look at this guide to see if the character sets you used are supported; you'll notice both a visual guide and a list there. CHECK THEM. Be sure. If you publish with unsupported characters, you will end up with blank boxes, weird script, or question marks to indicate said characters.
In my case, I've got two areas where this comes into play--the Maltese alphabet and the Elder Futhark. In the Maltese language, the barred H (ħ) character indicates a different phonetic sound than the Latin H, which lent itself well to a divergent culture of gods and their progeny. The Elder Futhark, the runic alphabet used in ancient Scandinavian and Germanic cultures, was my creative attempt at scene breaks. The Futhark was also used in rune-casting, where each letter indicates certain aspects of fortune or misfortune, and I decided to use three runes to include hints as to what was happening in the chapters. Clever me, right?
Now, there's not much I can do about the barred H character except get phonetic on the spelling. The Futhark was a different ballgame, however. This is where the images part of the wisdom comes into play.
In my search for a way to circumvent Amazon's bastard limitations, I came across a blog that detailed how to create and embed images into my manuscript. All well and good, except it said to do screen shots. Now, I don't know what programs this blogger was using, but I spent an ungodly amount of time ripping my hair out because this shit just DID NOT work. I could create screen shots, pull the image into GIMP, crop the desired runes and all...but I could not make these assholes the same size for each scene break. Plus...the image deteriorated and was grainy. EW.
If you're a little on the OCD side--or even just want your book to look slightly more professional--this shit is a no go. In my quest to figure out how to make it look nice using limited freeware, this was my alternative process.
First off, go download GIMP if you don't have it. It's Photoshop for the poor man, freeware that allows you to manipulate images. You can find it from the GNU project, and it's virus free. Once you've done that, this is how it goes.
You want to create a new project, like so:
Next, you're going to want to decide how big this bastard canvas needs to be. As you'll be working within a word processor, use inches as your measurements. For me, I needed something smaller, so I went with a 2 inch width by 1 inch height. Super simple ratios.
Once you have your canvas size selected, you need to "color to alpha." This makes your base canvas transparent, so when you upload the images, it doesn't create funky gray/white washes against the manuscript. You ONLY want the text to show up.
Should look like this:
Next comes the fun part. You need to create a text box layer that lines up with your base. Little time consuming, but it should work out fine if you mess with it a bit. Click the "A" on your toolbox.
You'll get the general text cursor (looks like an I). I try to click as close to the left edge of the base as possible when putting the text box in. Saves a little time in lining it up. After that, you'll see the yellow boxes at the edges and corners of the text layer when you move your mouse around. Use these to stretch it around the base until it lines up.
And voila! All lined up.
Next, you'll need to copy the text from the manuscript that you want to make an image.
(SIDE NOTE: I freely admit I got really lucky here. GIMP supports the Futhark runes, so it was a simple matter of copy and paste. Barring that, you'll have to download a free font and unzip it in GIMP. Keep in mind, when I say "free font," I mean free for COMMERCIAL use. If you intend to publish, you have to make sure the fonts you use have a free commercial license or you can be sued for using them on a project you intend to profit from.)
You'll notice my runes are centered (top to bottom and left to right). I did this the easy way, by copying the blank line above and below the text in the word processor (top to bottom alignment). To get center justification, you merely need to choose it from the dialogue in the toolbox (beneath the tools, the dialogue contains options for font, font size, color, alignment, etc).
You have the hovering dialogue for text you can utilize for the font, size, and color, as well. Play with this until you get it the size you want. Best to avoid colors other than black unless you're printing a colored book. Colors don't show up on ebooks anyway.
From here, you want to export the file.
After you've clicked the "Export" option, this dialogue will appear. Remember to save it as a JPG file. This preserves the transparent base, and also helps to reduce deterioration. Kindle only supports JPG and GIF, but GIF is balls for clarity.
(NOTE: If you have to create more than one of these images, DO NOT close the original box/base/text you have created. Merely paste the new text into the same box, replacing what was previously there, and export under a new name. This will save you a lot of time and keep each image to the exact same specifications.)
From here, you upload the file into your manuscript. This is different for each word processor. I only use MS Word. Just a matter of clicking "Insert," "Pictures," and then selecting the saved file.
You may end up playing with the size ratio a bit to get the image to look right when situated with the text. I deleted the blank line above and below where I inserted it, as well. To get the dialogue options, right click on the photo and go to "Size and Positioning."
Make sure your ratios are locked in that dialogue before you mess with anything else, and that you choose the text wrap (in-line) option. From there, you should only need to adjust one ratio (width or height) to get the image the size you want. For me, these scene breaks looked best at a 0.7 inch height and 1.4 inch width.
And there you have it. The final, viable product will look something like this:
Or, in my case, something like this:
See you on the other side, guys. This publishing junk is a pain in the ass, but there's always something to be learned. Hope this helps you.
And, as always, write on.
Are you publishing soon? Going the self-publishing route? Formatting your book yourself? Here's some junk you should probably know...because I found out the hard way and it sent me into an apoplectic fit trying to figure out how to fix it.
Okay, so, Amazon--the behemoth. You'd think these guys would up their ding-dang-darn game already and have pretty much every character set known to man as a "supported" format when you publish with them. Sadly, this is NOT the case.
For those of you not in the know, when I speak of "characters," I am not referring to those beautifully crafted people in the novel you wrote. Not this time. This time, I'm referring to the actual freaking LETTERS you use when you clickety-clack-type that novel.
Now, most of you are probably smarter than me and only used the predominant Latin alphabet we see in the English language. A through Z, yeah? Keep it simple. More power to ya. This part of the blog probably won't apply to you, but skim down to the images part if that's the case.
The rest of you: hunker down over here and listen real close. If you wrote fantasy, sci-fi, etc. and thought you were going to be tricksy by using character sets from other languages sprinkled through your manuscript, you might have screwed yourself. Take a look at this guide to see if the character sets you used are supported; you'll notice both a visual guide and a list there. CHECK THEM. Be sure. If you publish with unsupported characters, you will end up with blank boxes, weird script, or question marks to indicate said characters.
In my case, I've got two areas where this comes into play--the Maltese alphabet and the Elder Futhark. In the Maltese language, the barred H (ħ) character indicates a different phonetic sound than the Latin H, which lent itself well to a divergent culture of gods and their progeny. The Elder Futhark, the runic alphabet used in ancient Scandinavian and Germanic cultures, was my creative attempt at scene breaks. The Futhark was also used in rune-casting, where each letter indicates certain aspects of fortune or misfortune, and I decided to use three runes to include hints as to what was happening in the chapters. Clever me, right?
Now, there's not much I can do about the barred H character except get phonetic on the spelling. The Futhark was a different ballgame, however. This is where the images part of the wisdom comes into play.
In my search for a way to circumvent Amazon's bastard limitations, I came across a blog that detailed how to create and embed images into my manuscript. All well and good, except it said to do screen shots. Now, I don't know what programs this blogger was using, but I spent an ungodly amount of time ripping my hair out because this shit just DID NOT work. I could create screen shots, pull the image into GIMP, crop the desired runes and all...but I could not make these assholes the same size for each scene break. Plus...the image deteriorated and was grainy. EW.
If you're a little on the OCD side--or even just want your book to look slightly more professional--this shit is a no go. In my quest to figure out how to make it look nice using limited freeware, this was my alternative process.
First off, go download GIMP if you don't have it. It's Photoshop for the poor man, freeware that allows you to manipulate images. You can find it from the GNU project, and it's virus free. Once you've done that, this is how it goes.
You want to create a new project, like so:
Next, you're going to want to decide how big this bastard canvas needs to be. As you'll be working within a word processor, use inches as your measurements. For me, I needed something smaller, so I went with a 2 inch width by 1 inch height. Super simple ratios.
Once you have your canvas size selected, you need to "color to alpha." This makes your base canvas transparent, so when you upload the images, it doesn't create funky gray/white washes against the manuscript. You ONLY want the text to show up.
Should look like this:
Next comes the fun part. You need to create a text box layer that lines up with your base. Little time consuming, but it should work out fine if you mess with it a bit. Click the "A" on your toolbox.
You'll get the general text cursor (looks like an I). I try to click as close to the left edge of the base as possible when putting the text box in. Saves a little time in lining it up. After that, you'll see the yellow boxes at the edges and corners of the text layer when you move your mouse around. Use these to stretch it around the base until it lines up.
And voila! All lined up.
Next, you'll need to copy the text from the manuscript that you want to make an image.
(SIDE NOTE: I freely admit I got really lucky here. GIMP supports the Futhark runes, so it was a simple matter of copy and paste. Barring that, you'll have to download a free font and unzip it in GIMP. Keep in mind, when I say "free font," I mean free for COMMERCIAL use. If you intend to publish, you have to make sure the fonts you use have a free commercial license or you can be sued for using them on a project you intend to profit from.)
You'll notice my runes are centered (top to bottom and left to right). I did this the easy way, by copying the blank line above and below the text in the word processor (top to bottom alignment). To get center justification, you merely need to choose it from the dialogue in the toolbox (beneath the tools, the dialogue contains options for font, font size, color, alignment, etc).
You have the hovering dialogue for text you can utilize for the font, size, and color, as well. Play with this until you get it the size you want. Best to avoid colors other than black unless you're printing a colored book. Colors don't show up on ebooks anyway.
From here, you want to export the file.
After you've clicked the "Export" option, this dialogue will appear. Remember to save it as a JPG file. This preserves the transparent base, and also helps to reduce deterioration. Kindle only supports JPG and GIF, but GIF is balls for clarity.
(NOTE: If you have to create more than one of these images, DO NOT close the original box/base/text you have created. Merely paste the new text into the same box, replacing what was previously there, and export under a new name. This will save you a lot of time and keep each image to the exact same specifications.)
From here, you upload the file into your manuscript. This is different for each word processor. I only use MS Word. Just a matter of clicking "Insert," "Pictures," and then selecting the saved file.
You may end up playing with the size ratio a bit to get the image to look right when situated with the text. I deleted the blank line above and below where I inserted it, as well. To get the dialogue options, right click on the photo and go to "Size and Positioning."
Make sure your ratios are locked in that dialogue before you mess with anything else, and that you choose the text wrap (in-line) option. From there, you should only need to adjust one ratio (width or height) to get the image the size you want. For me, these scene breaks looked best at a 0.7 inch height and 1.4 inch width.
And there you have it. The final, viable product will look something like this:
Or, in my case, something like this:
See you on the other side, guys. This publishing junk is a pain in the ass, but there's always something to be learned. Hope this helps you.
And, as always, write on.
January 21, 2016
Story Time: An Excerpt of Doom
As per usual, my day drug slower than a slug on ice. When lunch rolled around, I almost missed it because I was too absorbed. Losing myself in corporate claims had been a boon; I hadn’t thought about my brother all morning. Until my manager knocked on the cubicle.
Snapping my head up, I glared at her. Karen smiled widely to show off perfect white teeth. In another life, I might have liked her. In another life, she might not have been a blood whore.
Everyone knew she liked to mingle in the lower tiers and share space with Vamps. It wasn’t just the blood, though; plenty of people sold it to make an extra buck. I could have forgiven her that.
Born and raised in Tier 2, she’d never known what it meant to struggle. From her chic bob cut to her designer shoes, she was every inch the rich bitch she appeared to be. But underneath that, she was just another upper tier whore that liked a cheap thrill.
What everyone else didn’t know, however, was her unfortunate status as a carrier. One of her Vamp playmates had a strain of chlamydia that dated back to the 1700s, something modern medicine couldn’t touch. She was and always would be…Chlamydia Karen. And it made my stomach roll to even be in the same vicinity of her.
“Are you coming, Amsel?"
It took a concentrated effort not to curl my lip. Forcing a smile, I shook my head. “I’ll catch up. I need to finish this claim.” My voice was even, honeyed—fake.
She didn’t take the hint. Coming forward, she hit the save function and jerked me out of my seat, sending the rolling chair careening against the wall of the cubicle. “Come on. My treat!”
My skin crawled at her touch. A gag that masqueraded as a laugh poured from my mouth. I pulled away from her, though kept in step. I couldn’t be rude to this woman without fear of putting my job in jeopardy.
“Where are we going?” I prayed it wasn’t a buffet. I didn’t want her hands anywhere near something I intended to put in my mouth.
She waved a dismissive hand, escorting me to the elevator and outside the building. Her driver was at the curb, door open as he waited for us to climb into the back seat. “There’s a new sushi place a few blocks from here everyone has been raving about. It’s time for your review, so I thought we could kill two birds with one stone.”
Well, sushi was made to order, at least. I still wasn’t happy about the informal setting of my review. This spelled “you’re fired” in big, bold letters.
“Don’t you usually do reviews…at the office…?” I was fishing and it was obvious.
Karen just smiled again. “Relax,” she instructed, her voice flat. “We’ll talk over lunch.”
My heart pounded against my rib cage like it would try to escape. When that didn’t work, it fell into my gut and tried to force its way out through my stomach. In all, I felt ill.
If I lost this job, I wouldn’t have the income to pay back the interest on my loan and keep up rent on the apartment. My second job covered the principle, but it wasn’t enough for everything. I didn’t want to resort to…other means.
Swallowing down my misgivings and the grapefruit sized lump in my throat, I tried to maintain the cool veneer as we arrived at the restaurant. It was upscale, neons tasteful in cursive. Karen led the way inside and we took a booth against a wall…well away from anyone that might hear what she wanted to discuss.
After we ordered, she set aside her menu and gave me a level look. “I know about your brother.”
That…wasn’t what I expected. It must have shown in the wide-eyed stare, the furrowing of my brow, or maybe the gross, open-mouth gape.
Karen just laughed.
“What…?” I stopped myself, leaning back as I glanced away and got myself under control. There was no telling what she knew about my brother. I wasn’t going to supply her with more gossip fodder. “My brother is dead.”
Tsking, she put her elbows on the table, hands clenching into a double fist beneath her chin. “Do you really believe that?”
I glanced back at her just in time to catch the censoring eyebrow she raised. That was it; I couldn’t take any more of this. Job or not, nothing was worth letting Chlamydia Karen condescend to me. “I know what it means to be a Vamp, you bitch. He’s dead. And even if that’s only a technicality, he’s dead to me.”
It was true. Part of joining the Exsanguiners meant giving up his life in tier 3, any rights he had to ever come out of the darkness again. It meant he had to give up family, too. He had chosen those fucking leeches over me.Bitter didn’t begin to cover how I felt.
Unable to hold back the vitriol, I glared at her and continued my tirade. “You don’t know anything, Karen. So whatever this little ‘friendly’ lunch is about, I’m over it.”
When I scooted to the edge of the booth, she muttered, “And here I thought you’d want insider info about how he’s doing.”
My ass hit the seat hard enough to bruise my tailbone. Slowly, I craned my neck, my eyes wide as I pinned her with a bewildered stare. I felt like my chest might cave in. “You—”
“I told you,” she interrupted, “that I know about Ben.” Inclining her head, she dropped her hands and raised that perfectly sculpted eyebrow again. “Should I call my driver, or would you like to discuss this?”
Edging back into the booth, I cleared my throat. I felt like the biggest ass on record. Even if Karen was disgusting, Benni’s choice wasn’t her fault. I tried to work up an apology, but she didn’t give me the chance.
“I find it ironic that you hate Vampires so much.” Her tone was inquisitive without being derogatory, something I had yet to master. Flicking her eyes up to meet mine, she smiled. “Everything considered, I thought you’d be grateful.”
My stomach rocketed toward my throat as my mouth went dry. All of my energy drained out of suddenly numb fingertips. I was grateful for that; if I’d had even an ounce of nerve control, I would have launched over the table and strangled her.
“How…” I had to clear my throat and start again when the word emerged as a breathy croak. “How can you say that? They took him from me.”
The conversation paused when the waitress brought us a porcelain flask of sake. Karen took the liberty of pouring us a drink. Using a knuckle, she slid one of the tiny cups over to me. I downed it without hesitation, barely tasting the rice wine as it slid down my throat. All I felt was the heat. It burned in counterpoint to my anger.
“I say ironic because the Exsanguiners were only a doorway. In opening it, Ben has found a labyrinth. And once he navigates his way through, he will have the power to strike back at the one who took”—she shifted and a metallic clang rang out—“this.”
Had she just…? I looked down and fairly shook with rage when I saw her peep-toe pump hovering near my leg. She had. That bitch had kicked my prosthetic!
My head snapped up so fast my neck threatened to snap. “If you ever touch me again, I will end you,” I whispered. “Now tell me what you know so I can get the fuck out of here.”
Chuckling, she poured another round of sake. Despite the threat, she didn’t appear fazed in the least. Rather, it seemed to invigorate her.
“Have another drink, Amsel.” She flicked a lock of black hair from her face, raising the porcelain cup for a sip. “You and I should really have a better relationship at this point.” Tipping the glass back, she drained the rest of the rice wine and smirked. “I am the only link you have to your brother.”
Though I wanted to hurt her, I forced the desire into submission. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I exhaled, I felt ready to face her again, but I refused to open my mouth. I knew it would be nothing but a spray of acidic words. That was getting us nowhere.
When I remained silent, she shrugged and adjusted herself more comfortably on the cushioned bench. “Very well. As I was saying, Ben did this for you. Your attacker is released… When was it?” Her brow furrowed.
“Next week.”
“Ah.” She tilted her head up as if the information was enlightening somehow, as if she didn’t already know the answer. “That’s right. Next week. And, as we all know, once a Were goes feral, there is no therapy in the world to scratch that itch. She’ll be free to attack someone else. Perhaps…” Sighing, she put on a mask of emotional distress. “Well, you were the one that put her behind bars. That would be horrible, of course, but one never can tell what those pesky furballs will do.”
I couldn’t wrap my mind around this. Benni had never hinted his time with the Vamps had anything to do with me. It always seemed like a rebellious teenager thing. I mean, everybody had that phase, right?
It got even harder to mesh the ideas together when I thought about my brother as he’d been. This was the kid that ran around the house screaming, “Kunta Kinte,” when his father tried to make him answer to Benito. He wasn’t the type that infiltrated a Vampire gang just to get revenge.
Snapping my head up, I glared at her. Karen smiled widely to show off perfect white teeth. In another life, I might have liked her. In another life, she might not have been a blood whore.
Everyone knew she liked to mingle in the lower tiers and share space with Vamps. It wasn’t just the blood, though; plenty of people sold it to make an extra buck. I could have forgiven her that.
Born and raised in Tier 2, she’d never known what it meant to struggle. From her chic bob cut to her designer shoes, she was every inch the rich bitch she appeared to be. But underneath that, she was just another upper tier whore that liked a cheap thrill.
What everyone else didn’t know, however, was her unfortunate status as a carrier. One of her Vamp playmates had a strain of chlamydia that dated back to the 1700s, something modern medicine couldn’t touch. She was and always would be…Chlamydia Karen. And it made my stomach roll to even be in the same vicinity of her.
“Are you coming, Amsel?"
It took a concentrated effort not to curl my lip. Forcing a smile, I shook my head. “I’ll catch up. I need to finish this claim.” My voice was even, honeyed—fake.
She didn’t take the hint. Coming forward, she hit the save function and jerked me out of my seat, sending the rolling chair careening against the wall of the cubicle. “Come on. My treat!”
My skin crawled at her touch. A gag that masqueraded as a laugh poured from my mouth. I pulled away from her, though kept in step. I couldn’t be rude to this woman without fear of putting my job in jeopardy.
“Where are we going?” I prayed it wasn’t a buffet. I didn’t want her hands anywhere near something I intended to put in my mouth.
She waved a dismissive hand, escorting me to the elevator and outside the building. Her driver was at the curb, door open as he waited for us to climb into the back seat. “There’s a new sushi place a few blocks from here everyone has been raving about. It’s time for your review, so I thought we could kill two birds with one stone.”
Well, sushi was made to order, at least. I still wasn’t happy about the informal setting of my review. This spelled “you’re fired” in big, bold letters.
“Don’t you usually do reviews…at the office…?” I was fishing and it was obvious.
Karen just smiled again. “Relax,” she instructed, her voice flat. “We’ll talk over lunch.”
My heart pounded against my rib cage like it would try to escape. When that didn’t work, it fell into my gut and tried to force its way out through my stomach. In all, I felt ill.
If I lost this job, I wouldn’t have the income to pay back the interest on my loan and keep up rent on the apartment. My second job covered the principle, but it wasn’t enough for everything. I didn’t want to resort to…other means.
Swallowing down my misgivings and the grapefruit sized lump in my throat, I tried to maintain the cool veneer as we arrived at the restaurant. It was upscale, neons tasteful in cursive. Karen led the way inside and we took a booth against a wall…well away from anyone that might hear what she wanted to discuss.
After we ordered, she set aside her menu and gave me a level look. “I know about your brother.”
That…wasn’t what I expected. It must have shown in the wide-eyed stare, the furrowing of my brow, or maybe the gross, open-mouth gape.
Karen just laughed.
“What…?” I stopped myself, leaning back as I glanced away and got myself under control. There was no telling what she knew about my brother. I wasn’t going to supply her with more gossip fodder. “My brother is dead.”
Tsking, she put her elbows on the table, hands clenching into a double fist beneath her chin. “Do you really believe that?”
I glanced back at her just in time to catch the censoring eyebrow she raised. That was it; I couldn’t take any more of this. Job or not, nothing was worth letting Chlamydia Karen condescend to me. “I know what it means to be a Vamp, you bitch. He’s dead. And even if that’s only a technicality, he’s dead to me.”
It was true. Part of joining the Exsanguiners meant giving up his life in tier 3, any rights he had to ever come out of the darkness again. It meant he had to give up family, too. He had chosen those fucking leeches over me.Bitter didn’t begin to cover how I felt.
Unable to hold back the vitriol, I glared at her and continued my tirade. “You don’t know anything, Karen. So whatever this little ‘friendly’ lunch is about, I’m over it.”
When I scooted to the edge of the booth, she muttered, “And here I thought you’d want insider info about how he’s doing.”
My ass hit the seat hard enough to bruise my tailbone. Slowly, I craned my neck, my eyes wide as I pinned her with a bewildered stare. I felt like my chest might cave in. “You—”
“I told you,” she interrupted, “that I know about Ben.” Inclining her head, she dropped her hands and raised that perfectly sculpted eyebrow again. “Should I call my driver, or would you like to discuss this?”
Edging back into the booth, I cleared my throat. I felt like the biggest ass on record. Even if Karen was disgusting, Benni’s choice wasn’t her fault. I tried to work up an apology, but she didn’t give me the chance.
“I find it ironic that you hate Vampires so much.” Her tone was inquisitive without being derogatory, something I had yet to master. Flicking her eyes up to meet mine, she smiled. “Everything considered, I thought you’d be grateful.”
My stomach rocketed toward my throat as my mouth went dry. All of my energy drained out of suddenly numb fingertips. I was grateful for that; if I’d had even an ounce of nerve control, I would have launched over the table and strangled her.
“How…” I had to clear my throat and start again when the word emerged as a breathy croak. “How can you say that? They took him from me.”
The conversation paused when the waitress brought us a porcelain flask of sake. Karen took the liberty of pouring us a drink. Using a knuckle, she slid one of the tiny cups over to me. I downed it without hesitation, barely tasting the rice wine as it slid down my throat. All I felt was the heat. It burned in counterpoint to my anger.
“I say ironic because the Exsanguiners were only a doorway. In opening it, Ben has found a labyrinth. And once he navigates his way through, he will have the power to strike back at the one who took”—she shifted and a metallic clang rang out—“this.”
Had she just…? I looked down and fairly shook with rage when I saw her peep-toe pump hovering near my leg. She had. That bitch had kicked my prosthetic!
My head snapped up so fast my neck threatened to snap. “If you ever touch me again, I will end you,” I whispered. “Now tell me what you know so I can get the fuck out of here.”
Chuckling, she poured another round of sake. Despite the threat, she didn’t appear fazed in the least. Rather, it seemed to invigorate her.
“Have another drink, Amsel.” She flicked a lock of black hair from her face, raising the porcelain cup for a sip. “You and I should really have a better relationship at this point.” Tipping the glass back, she drained the rest of the rice wine and smirked. “I am the only link you have to your brother.”
Though I wanted to hurt her, I forced the desire into submission. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I exhaled, I felt ready to face her again, but I refused to open my mouth. I knew it would be nothing but a spray of acidic words. That was getting us nowhere.
When I remained silent, she shrugged and adjusted herself more comfortably on the cushioned bench. “Very well. As I was saying, Ben did this for you. Your attacker is released… When was it?” Her brow furrowed.
“Next week.”
“Ah.” She tilted her head up as if the information was enlightening somehow, as if she didn’t already know the answer. “That’s right. Next week. And, as we all know, once a Were goes feral, there is no therapy in the world to scratch that itch. She’ll be free to attack someone else. Perhaps…” Sighing, she put on a mask of emotional distress. “Well, you were the one that put her behind bars. That would be horrible, of course, but one never can tell what those pesky furballs will do.”
I couldn’t wrap my mind around this. Benni had never hinted his time with the Vamps had anything to do with me. It always seemed like a rebellious teenager thing. I mean, everybody had that phase, right?
It got even harder to mesh the ideas together when I thought about my brother as he’d been. This was the kid that ran around the house screaming, “Kunta Kinte,” when his father tried to make him answer to Benito. He wasn’t the type that infiltrated a Vampire gang just to get revenge.
January 13, 2016
Bubble Popping: Editors and You
This blog is a little different from my others. I still have nuggets of wisdom to impart, but first...let me just bare my soul a little bit.
I've mentioned in previous posts that I edit for fun, that I'm a voracious reader. Beyond that, I think it's obvious I write. I've shared my struggles for all of you to laugh at, commiserate with, and otherwise learn from.
So what has my panties in a wad?
In short, ignorance.
Bear with me a moment before you write me off as a complete bitch. This needs to be said, even if the reality check isn't pretty.
Between working on my own projects, I try to help fellow writers by doing beta and various levels of editing on their work. It's nothing to write home about; I enjoy it. That being said, every once in a while, I come across someone that doesn't know the first thing about what they're doing.
Let me break this down in quick and easy steps:
Write book.Clean up book to the best of your ability.Hand off to alpha readers.Fix mistakes.Hand off to developmental editor.Fix more mistakes.Hand off to betas.Fix more mistakes.Hand off to editor.Fix more mistakes.Do you see where I'm going with this? There's a process inherent to writing a book and editing it. I mentioned in "The Aftermath" that your book wouldn't be ready for publishing straight from the gate, but neither is it ready for a hard edit when you've barely knocked out a first draft.
I've learned more about the editing process since "The Aftermath." Beta is apparently reserved for manuscripts closer to being publish ready. I've bowed to the whims of my trade group in regards to where beta is used; I can roll with the flow. So in this handy dandy outline of services (what they are, what they entail, fees, providers, etc), I thought it was obvious what I was getting into. Not the case.
I am now working on what I was led to believe would be a beta. It is not a beta. This book is not ready for consumption in any way shape or form. It's barely ready for a developmental edit.
And where does that leave me?
If you follow my blog, I'm sure you noticed the post about giving and receiving criticism. But faced with something like this, I feel trapped by my own frustration. Do I break my own rules, pull all the stops, go Ahau-Kin on this writer's heart?
NO! Abso-fucking-lutely NOT. Still, there's only so many ways you can nicely frame a statement about plot holes; cliches; poor character development; bad spelling, grammar, and punctuation; and any other number of rookie mistakes.
My frustration lies in the truth. I feel like--even though I am struggling to put this in the nicest terms possible--this writer is either going to give up or hate me just because of the sheer amount of mistakes I'm pointing out.
SO...that little nugget of wisdom I mentioned?
Learn your craft. Everyone starts somewhere; I know that. And I don't want to impede that process. But if this is your first attempt, rather than seeking out someone like me, DO YOURSELVES A FAVOR: reflect.
Have you written your book to the best of your ability? If not, don't seek out an editor. Keep honing. Keep writing. Keep learning.
I feel like the bad guy when you come to me full of hopes and dreams, and I'm sitting over here picking everything apart, dreading the day I hand this back to you. It makes ME feel like shit because I'm the one that has to pop that bubble. I don't want to be that person. I despise being that person.
I'm not heartless. I want to help. I want you to succeed. But for every five writers I do this for, maybe one takes the critique as a learning experience. The rest trash me or give up on writing altogether. Don't make me be that guy. PLEASE.
I've mentioned in previous posts that I edit for fun, that I'm a voracious reader. Beyond that, I think it's obvious I write. I've shared my struggles for all of you to laugh at, commiserate with, and otherwise learn from.
So what has my panties in a wad?
In short, ignorance.
Bear with me a moment before you write me off as a complete bitch. This needs to be said, even if the reality check isn't pretty.
Between working on my own projects, I try to help fellow writers by doing beta and various levels of editing on their work. It's nothing to write home about; I enjoy it. That being said, every once in a while, I come across someone that doesn't know the first thing about what they're doing.
Let me break this down in quick and easy steps:
Write book.Clean up book to the best of your ability.Hand off to alpha readers.Fix mistakes.Hand off to developmental editor.Fix more mistakes.Hand off to betas.Fix more mistakes.Hand off to editor.Fix more mistakes.Do you see where I'm going with this? There's a process inherent to writing a book and editing it. I mentioned in "The Aftermath" that your book wouldn't be ready for publishing straight from the gate, but neither is it ready for a hard edit when you've barely knocked out a first draft.
I've learned more about the editing process since "The Aftermath." Beta is apparently reserved for manuscripts closer to being publish ready. I've bowed to the whims of my trade group in regards to where beta is used; I can roll with the flow. So in this handy dandy outline of services (what they are, what they entail, fees, providers, etc), I thought it was obvious what I was getting into. Not the case.
I am now working on what I was led to believe would be a beta. It is not a beta. This book is not ready for consumption in any way shape or form. It's barely ready for a developmental edit.
And where does that leave me?
If you follow my blog, I'm sure you noticed the post about giving and receiving criticism. But faced with something like this, I feel trapped by my own frustration. Do I break my own rules, pull all the stops, go Ahau-Kin on this writer's heart?
NO! Abso-fucking-lutely NOT. Still, there's only so many ways you can nicely frame a statement about plot holes; cliches; poor character development; bad spelling, grammar, and punctuation; and any other number of rookie mistakes.
My frustration lies in the truth. I feel like--even though I am struggling to put this in the nicest terms possible--this writer is either going to give up or hate me just because of the sheer amount of mistakes I'm pointing out.
SO...that little nugget of wisdom I mentioned?
Learn your craft. Everyone starts somewhere; I know that. And I don't want to impede that process. But if this is your first attempt, rather than seeking out someone like me, DO YOURSELVES A FAVOR: reflect.
Have you written your book to the best of your ability? If not, don't seek out an editor. Keep honing. Keep writing. Keep learning.
I feel like the bad guy when you come to me full of hopes and dreams, and I'm sitting over here picking everything apart, dreading the day I hand this back to you. It makes ME feel like shit because I'm the one that has to pop that bubble. I don't want to be that person. I despise being that person.
I'm not heartless. I want to help. I want you to succeed. But for every five writers I do this for, maybe one takes the critique as a learning experience. The rest trash me or give up on writing altogether. Don't make me be that guy. PLEASE.
January 5, 2016
Blurb Writing: A Hell Unlike Any Other
Before we begin, let me just say...I'm ashamed. Seriously. Just want to bury the evidence of my many failed attempts at blurb writing and crawl into a dark hole of shame.
Does that set the tone for this blog? If not, let me rephrase. Blurb writing is HARD. I have attempted and failed no less than 30 times to rewrite this sumbitch into a semblance of coherence, and I fail so hard this might as well be me:
I tried to dip my toes and was submerged. Floundering. Flailing. Fucked.
I've read no less than a dozen how-to blogs on blurbing, but all to no avail. Trying to sum up the plot of your story in less than 300 words is no easy feat. But then you still have to hook a reader, keep it vague without being too vague. And so on, and so forth, and yeah... Did I mention this is what it feels like to write a blurb?
So what'd I do? I set up some one-on-one time with a blurb coach. This woman is awesome. She ran me through the dos and don'ts, attempted to teach me the fine art that is boiling your book down into a catchy few sentences.
But good gods, man! Did you know there are a ton of rules inherent in writing these little bastards? No? Don't feel bad. I didn't either. I have been corrected time and again on such fine points as these:
Don't use "you" unless the novel is in first person.Negatives aren't as strong as positives.Keep your sentences short and snappy.Introduce as little information as possible to avoid confusion.Say more in saying less (What? No, really.).Use strong structures and action verbs.And what have I learned in all of this coaching? If I could just post a meme of Tom Hiddleston with the tag, "Loki wants you to read this book," I would do it in a heartbeat. It doesn't really get easier with practice; there's just fewer things to correct. As proof, I present to you the document that contains my many blurb attempts.
Ignore the blur. I'm saving you an eye sore. Instead, TAKE NOTE: Seven pages. SEVEN FARKING PAGES. Over 3000 words racked up in an attempt to write a blurb. And I'm not done yet.
Is this normal? Oh wow, I sincerely hope not. Considering what my friends have said over the course of the last two months, I'm forced to believe it IS, however. I have come to them time and again, hoping surely THIS attempt is THE one. It's better than the others, and I can finally say I'm FINISHED, that I have a real blurb. Nope. Nopenopenope. Damn it all, NOPE! And my friends just commiserate and tell me they don't look forward to doing this for themselves.
That being the case, I just want to assure those of you that are ready to impale your own eyes with a rusty fork...
It will be okay, guys. It's taken me two months to get anywhere near a polished, workable attempt. It has been trying, but I know it will be worth it in the end. Just...right now I feel like epic fail run through a meat grinder.
So what can I recommend for you?
Buff up your patience. You need to level to at least 1000 before attempting this.Find someone who knows how blurbs work to give you some coaching.Be prepared to get discouraged. It's bound to happen, but you have to get back up and truck the fuck on. That blurb won't write itself.Look at your shite attempts as lessons learned. You'll laugh at them someday...after you stop with the gross sobbing.Remember what all of this is for. One day, that blurb is going to be on the back of YOUR book.
You're amazing for even getting this far. Don't forget it. NOW WRITE THAT DAMN BLURB AND SHOW IT WHO'S BOSS!
Does that set the tone for this blog? If not, let me rephrase. Blurb writing is HARD. I have attempted and failed no less than 30 times to rewrite this sumbitch into a semblance of coherence, and I fail so hard this might as well be me:
I tried to dip my toes and was submerged. Floundering. Flailing. Fucked.
I've read no less than a dozen how-to blogs on blurbing, but all to no avail. Trying to sum up the plot of your story in less than 300 words is no easy feat. But then you still have to hook a reader, keep it vague without being too vague. And so on, and so forth, and yeah... Did I mention this is what it feels like to write a blurb?
So what'd I do? I set up some one-on-one time with a blurb coach. This woman is awesome. She ran me through the dos and don'ts, attempted to teach me the fine art that is boiling your book down into a catchy few sentences.
But good gods, man! Did you know there are a ton of rules inherent in writing these little bastards? No? Don't feel bad. I didn't either. I have been corrected time and again on such fine points as these:
Don't use "you" unless the novel is in first person.Negatives aren't as strong as positives.Keep your sentences short and snappy.Introduce as little information as possible to avoid confusion.Say more in saying less (What? No, really.).Use strong structures and action verbs.And what have I learned in all of this coaching? If I could just post a meme of Tom Hiddleston with the tag, "Loki wants you to read this book," I would do it in a heartbeat. It doesn't really get easier with practice; there's just fewer things to correct. As proof, I present to you the document that contains my many blurb attempts.
Ignore the blur. I'm saving you an eye sore. Instead, TAKE NOTE: Seven pages. SEVEN FARKING PAGES. Over 3000 words racked up in an attempt to write a blurb. And I'm not done yet.
Is this normal? Oh wow, I sincerely hope not. Considering what my friends have said over the course of the last two months, I'm forced to believe it IS, however. I have come to them time and again, hoping surely THIS attempt is THE one. It's better than the others, and I can finally say I'm FINISHED, that I have a real blurb. Nope. Nopenopenope. Damn it all, NOPE! And my friends just commiserate and tell me they don't look forward to doing this for themselves.
That being the case, I just want to assure those of you that are ready to impale your own eyes with a rusty fork...
It will be okay, guys. It's taken me two months to get anywhere near a polished, workable attempt. It has been trying, but I know it will be worth it in the end. Just...right now I feel like epic fail run through a meat grinder.
So what can I recommend for you?
Buff up your patience. You need to level to at least 1000 before attempting this.Find someone who knows how blurbs work to give you some coaching.Be prepared to get discouraged. It's bound to happen, but you have to get back up and truck the fuck on. That blurb won't write itself.Look at your shite attempts as lessons learned. You'll laugh at them someday...after you stop with the gross sobbing.Remember what all of this is for. One day, that blurb is going to be on the back of YOUR book.
You're amazing for even getting this far. Don't forget it. NOW WRITE THAT DAMN BLURB AND SHOW IT WHO'S BOSS!
October 25, 2015
Criticism: Taking It Like a Champ
So I feel like this is really relevant to those writers who take their craft seriously. Not all of us have tons of money to pump into vanity editors, much less the backing of big publishers. For the humble artist on a budget, the alternative is reaching out to friends, family, and other writers to find the support you need when it comes to the editing process.
That being said, it's not always a PRETTY process. Let's be honest; it sucks the majority of the time. That whole saying, "Everybody's a critic," doesn't necessarily mean everyone is a GOOD critic. Friends and family aren't always going to be completely honest for fear of hurting your feelings, and other writers might not have the background in editing to be helpful, much less the tact to convey their point without ripping your beating heart out and running it through a paper shredder.
So, in this hit and miss arena, what are your choices in responding to BAD criticism? Basically, you have two:
1. Take it like a champ.
2. Lash out.
Arguably, you could include the third option--break down--but I believe pieces of that rest on either end of the dual spectrum above.
Bad criticism can be detrimental to your process, but let me be clear: if you EVER want to garner a following, it is your job as a professional to respond professionally. If someone took the time to read your manuscript and give you ANY feedback, you are obligated to at least acknowledge that effort with a 'thank you' at the bare minimum. Lashing out does nothing but alienate your potential audience.
Moving on from this, let me also make the point that there is a difference between bad criticism, fair criticism, and someone being a complete asshole.
Examples :
Bad Criticism: I didn't like this character.
The hallmark of bad criticism is making a (possibly) valid point, but not explaining why. I actually had this response from two betas recently. It did make me rethink a lot of things concerning the character in question, but how much easier would things have been if they'd said WHY that character was so unlikable?
Fair Criticism: I didn't care for this character because in scene x they made decision a, when it would seem to be more in character for them to make decision b.
THIS is fair and well thought out criticism. The critique mentions which character, which scene, and what decision specifically seemed to throw them out of the reading. It addresses an issue they had with the reading in a very direct and clear manner, allowing you to take that comment and think about your writing. Is it really an IN character decision but maybe you didn't make that clear enough? Or is this reviewer correct and you've missed something in your plot/character development that can be fixed by applying decision b? A good critique should make you examine your own writing with a critical eye without tearing you down as a person.
Being an Asshole: All of the characters are shit. You're a hack writer and you'll only ever write shit.
Assholes attack the writer rather than explaining what they didn't like about the work. Critiques mean taking the time to actually demonstrate that one has read the manuscript and thoroughly considered all aspects of the writing by explaining the perceived downfalls in a well thought out and concise manner. The above is an example of nothing more than a juvenile that isn't worth your time.
Bear this in mind, taking criticism like a champ does not mean you have to be unctuous, much less that you have to agree with everything said. Even if the criticism isn't necessarily CORRECT, if the reviewer pointed out something that was an issue for them, take a minute to examine it. Sometimes, your intent may not be clear, or maybe the reader missed something entirely. A bit of polite conversation can go a long way, however. Reaching out to ask for clarification isn't rude, and being polite goes a long way in ensuring further relations with a possible beta reader.
In the case that you come across someone that is rude in their delivery and/or a complete asshole, be careful of what you say. If you say anything, still thank them. You might even ask them to expand their thoughts so you have an idea of where to apply edits. Do NOT attack them back. Keyboard warriors are a dime a dozen, and you should not sink to that level. I guarantee you, anything that makes you look bad will circulate quickly.
Maintain your professionalism even as an amateur. Take all criticism in stride. Don't feed the trolls.
Write on, my friends.
That being said, it's not always a PRETTY process. Let's be honest; it sucks the majority of the time. That whole saying, "Everybody's a critic," doesn't necessarily mean everyone is a GOOD critic. Friends and family aren't always going to be completely honest for fear of hurting your feelings, and other writers might not have the background in editing to be helpful, much less the tact to convey their point without ripping your beating heart out and running it through a paper shredder.
So, in this hit and miss arena, what are your choices in responding to BAD criticism? Basically, you have two:
1. Take it like a champ.
2. Lash out.
Arguably, you could include the third option--break down--but I believe pieces of that rest on either end of the dual spectrum above.
Bad criticism can be detrimental to your process, but let me be clear: if you EVER want to garner a following, it is your job as a professional to respond professionally. If someone took the time to read your manuscript and give you ANY feedback, you are obligated to at least acknowledge that effort with a 'thank you' at the bare minimum. Lashing out does nothing but alienate your potential audience.
Moving on from this, let me also make the point that there is a difference between bad criticism, fair criticism, and someone being a complete asshole.
Examples :
Bad Criticism: I didn't like this character.
The hallmark of bad criticism is making a (possibly) valid point, but not explaining why. I actually had this response from two betas recently. It did make me rethink a lot of things concerning the character in question, but how much easier would things have been if they'd said WHY that character was so unlikable?
Fair Criticism: I didn't care for this character because in scene x they made decision a, when it would seem to be more in character for them to make decision b.
THIS is fair and well thought out criticism. The critique mentions which character, which scene, and what decision specifically seemed to throw them out of the reading. It addresses an issue they had with the reading in a very direct and clear manner, allowing you to take that comment and think about your writing. Is it really an IN character decision but maybe you didn't make that clear enough? Or is this reviewer correct and you've missed something in your plot/character development that can be fixed by applying decision b? A good critique should make you examine your own writing with a critical eye without tearing you down as a person.
Being an Asshole: All of the characters are shit. You're a hack writer and you'll only ever write shit.
Assholes attack the writer rather than explaining what they didn't like about the work. Critiques mean taking the time to actually demonstrate that one has read the manuscript and thoroughly considered all aspects of the writing by explaining the perceived downfalls in a well thought out and concise manner. The above is an example of nothing more than a juvenile that isn't worth your time.
Bear this in mind, taking criticism like a champ does not mean you have to be unctuous, much less that you have to agree with everything said. Even if the criticism isn't necessarily CORRECT, if the reviewer pointed out something that was an issue for them, take a minute to examine it. Sometimes, your intent may not be clear, or maybe the reader missed something entirely. A bit of polite conversation can go a long way, however. Reaching out to ask for clarification isn't rude, and being polite goes a long way in ensuring further relations with a possible beta reader.
In the case that you come across someone that is rude in their delivery and/or a complete asshole, be careful of what you say. If you say anything, still thank them. You might even ask them to expand their thoughts so you have an idea of where to apply edits. Do NOT attack them back. Keyboard warriors are a dime a dozen, and you should not sink to that level. I guarantee you, anything that makes you look bad will circulate quickly.
Maintain your professionalism even as an amateur. Take all criticism in stride. Don't feed the trolls.
Write on, my friends.
August 25, 2015
Prologues: Maybe
Prologues. Indeed. Those crazy little monsters have found themselves the topic of much debate in recent years. I fail to see the merit of the debate, to be honest.
Prologues are, by definition, "a separate introductory section of a literary or musical work" or "an event or action that leads to another event or situation." It seems simple enough on the surface. So why all the fuss?
I'll tell you why:
People are lazy.Authors don't use them correctly.Over-generalizations are products of ignorance.
So, people are lazy. If they are not entertained from the opening page of your story, they will often not read further. Prologues have a bad reputation for being dry info dumps--true enough--but gods forbid you actually force your readers to think.
Tying into this idea, when authors do not properly use a prologue, readers become bored and either skip them or discard the work altogether. When I say "do not properly use," I am referring to the dry info dumps that would have better served in an appendix...or being worked into the body of the book itself. Sometimes, I understand that books can just become too much of a behemoth for everything to properly find its place in the exposition. That still doesn't warrant a prologue.
FURTHER tying into this laziness, because several authors have either misused prologues or failed to hook their reader, many readers now over-generalize to state that prologues are unnecessary. This is a product of pure ignorance. This is like saying all blonds are stupid, all black men are criminals, or all white girls like Starbucks.
POPPYCOCK, I SAY! Absolute and utter poppycock. Oh, if only you could see my soul-withering stare through the pixelated land of cyberspace. You would shrink in upon yourself and beg for mercy. ...but I'll spare you that painful death. THIS TIME.
At any rate, there you have it. I'm settling myself firmly in the PRO prologue camp, and I have a very good reason for doing so. Prologues are, from a literary standpoint, sometimes necessary.
Now I'm going to outline a handy dandy guide for the proper use of prologues.
We begin.
Q: Does your opening chapter begin with an event not directly tied to the rest of the book, but it is IMPORTANT to the book as a whole?A: If yes, you might need a prologue.
Q: Does your opening chapter begin a significant amount of time before the rest of the book?A: If yes, you might need a prologue.
Q: Does your opening chapter feature characters or POVs that will not be featured within the rest of the book (or they might only be featured indirectly thereafter)?A: If yes, you might need a prologue.
Q: Does your opening chapter merely take an event from later in the book to use as a hook?A: If yes, you do NOT need a prologue. Write a real hook, you lazy turd!
Q: Does your opening chapter introduce political parties, exorbitant amounts of backstory, lineages, or other bits of info that become dry and hard to understand out of context?A: If yes, you do NOT need a prologue. For the love of cheese, you're giving all authors a bad name! Work that ish into the body of your story or add an appendix.
Now, I expect you to use your heads and decide what works best for your story. Be judicious with your choice, you masterful wordsmith! Now seriously...get writing.
Prologues are, by definition, "a separate introductory section of a literary or musical work" or "an event or action that leads to another event or situation." It seems simple enough on the surface. So why all the fuss?
I'll tell you why:
People are lazy.Authors don't use them correctly.Over-generalizations are products of ignorance.
So, people are lazy. If they are not entertained from the opening page of your story, they will often not read further. Prologues have a bad reputation for being dry info dumps--true enough--but gods forbid you actually force your readers to think.
Tying into this idea, when authors do not properly use a prologue, readers become bored and either skip them or discard the work altogether. When I say "do not properly use," I am referring to the dry info dumps that would have better served in an appendix...or being worked into the body of the book itself. Sometimes, I understand that books can just become too much of a behemoth for everything to properly find its place in the exposition. That still doesn't warrant a prologue.
FURTHER tying into this laziness, because several authors have either misused prologues or failed to hook their reader, many readers now over-generalize to state that prologues are unnecessary. This is a product of pure ignorance. This is like saying all blonds are stupid, all black men are criminals, or all white girls like Starbucks.
POPPYCOCK, I SAY! Absolute and utter poppycock. Oh, if only you could see my soul-withering stare through the pixelated land of cyberspace. You would shrink in upon yourself and beg for mercy. ...but I'll spare you that painful death. THIS TIME.
At any rate, there you have it. I'm settling myself firmly in the PRO prologue camp, and I have a very good reason for doing so. Prologues are, from a literary standpoint, sometimes necessary.
Now I'm going to outline a handy dandy guide for the proper use of prologues.
We begin.
Q: Does your opening chapter begin with an event not directly tied to the rest of the book, but it is IMPORTANT to the book as a whole?A: If yes, you might need a prologue.
Q: Does your opening chapter begin a significant amount of time before the rest of the book?A: If yes, you might need a prologue.
Q: Does your opening chapter feature characters or POVs that will not be featured within the rest of the book (or they might only be featured indirectly thereafter)?A: If yes, you might need a prologue.
Q: Does your opening chapter merely take an event from later in the book to use as a hook?A: If yes, you do NOT need a prologue. Write a real hook, you lazy turd!
Q: Does your opening chapter introduce political parties, exorbitant amounts of backstory, lineages, or other bits of info that become dry and hard to understand out of context?A: If yes, you do NOT need a prologue. For the love of cheese, you're giving all authors a bad name! Work that ish into the body of your story or add an appendix.
Now, I expect you to use your heads and decide what works best for your story. Be judicious with your choice, you masterful wordsmith! Now seriously...get writing.
July 14, 2015
Mind over Mayo Jar: Living in the Digital Age
So let me just preface this by saying I've already bought my ticket for the Shame Train. With that out of the way, we begin...
Some of you know me on a more personal level. More of you don't. For those that don't, let me tell you a bit about myself as a PERSON. That's right: you now get an unadulterated peek inside of the inner workings of my mind--not as a writer, but as a real-life, (sometimes) thinking human.
I'm gross. There, I said it. I. Am. Gross. I enjoy toilet humor. Farts make me laugh like an obnoxious, braying ass. I'm not afraid to admit I poop. It's a little known fact, but everybody poops, even women. More little known facts about women: we don't glow; we sweat. We also get indigestion, bad breath, and are slightly superhuman in that we bleed like stuck pigs for days on end without dying. These are all common things...and I laugh at them.
That being said, there is an appropriate time and place for my atypical sense of humor. I sometimes forget that. Today, I most certainly did.
So you know that invisible line that separates a writer from an author? Yeah, it's not big. It's a simple matter of leaping from "I write stuff" to "I publish the stuff I write." I haven't crossed that line yet, but I am working on it. I still hold in reverence every writer that has moved to the other side and can proudly point to a link or a hard-copy of their work. But, in all honesty, that reverence has pretty much become a self-imposed illusion now.
In the digital age, the advent of social media has pretty much bulldozed all aspects of privacy and even a lot of common sense. Ten years ago, Facebook hadn't blown up yet, and people weren't Tweeting their every thought or Instagram-ing pics of their every meal. On social media, people willingly spill their darkest secrets and interact with anyone that will reply. That being the case, there isn't much separating the lowly dabblers from the masters of the craft.
I ran into this issue today on Twitter. I follow Lauren DeStefano, author of The Chemical Garden series. I find a lot of her tweets hilarious; today's was no exception. Below is a screenshot of the conversation:
Do you feel my shame? FEEL IT! Burn inside like I do.
This woman does not know me. At all. And I shared my gross humor on a completely inappropriate platform. The sad thing is...I could have stopped at the first one and just laughed at her response before going about my business. But no, not me. I couldn't quit until I needed to cram BOTH feet into my mouth, sit on my hands, and disappear into a crack. Apparently, my common sense went on vacation for the day and didn't notify the rest of the brain.
That being said, I am dubbing this incident #MindOverMayoJar. I am making it even MORE public so the rest of you can learn from my mistake. I'm sure I'll laugh about this in the future, but for now it's just a solid pit in my stomach that keeps jabbing up into my Regret Factory to make me cringe every five minutes or so.
From now on, when I catch myself or others in some stupid shenanigan of epic proportions, I will make it known. Even in the digital age, we can still have some common decency and respect.
...Above all, I'm still kind of surprised she replied to me. Social media, man. There is no spoon.
Some of you know me on a more personal level. More of you don't. For those that don't, let me tell you a bit about myself as a PERSON. That's right: you now get an unadulterated peek inside of the inner workings of my mind--not as a writer, but as a real-life, (sometimes) thinking human.
I'm gross. There, I said it. I. Am. Gross. I enjoy toilet humor. Farts make me laugh like an obnoxious, braying ass. I'm not afraid to admit I poop. It's a little known fact, but everybody poops, even women. More little known facts about women: we don't glow; we sweat. We also get indigestion, bad breath, and are slightly superhuman in that we bleed like stuck pigs for days on end without dying. These are all common things...and I laugh at them.
That being said, there is an appropriate time and place for my atypical sense of humor. I sometimes forget that. Today, I most certainly did.
So you know that invisible line that separates a writer from an author? Yeah, it's not big. It's a simple matter of leaping from "I write stuff" to "I publish the stuff I write." I haven't crossed that line yet, but I am working on it. I still hold in reverence every writer that has moved to the other side and can proudly point to a link or a hard-copy of their work. But, in all honesty, that reverence has pretty much become a self-imposed illusion now.
In the digital age, the advent of social media has pretty much bulldozed all aspects of privacy and even a lot of common sense. Ten years ago, Facebook hadn't blown up yet, and people weren't Tweeting their every thought or Instagram-ing pics of their every meal. On social media, people willingly spill their darkest secrets and interact with anyone that will reply. That being the case, there isn't much separating the lowly dabblers from the masters of the craft.
I ran into this issue today on Twitter. I follow Lauren DeStefano, author of The Chemical Garden series. I find a lot of her tweets hilarious; today's was no exception. Below is a screenshot of the conversation:
Do you feel my shame? FEEL IT! Burn inside like I do.
This woman does not know me. At all. And I shared my gross humor on a completely inappropriate platform. The sad thing is...I could have stopped at the first one and just laughed at her response before going about my business. But no, not me. I couldn't quit until I needed to cram BOTH feet into my mouth, sit on my hands, and disappear into a crack. Apparently, my common sense went on vacation for the day and didn't notify the rest of the brain.
That being said, I am dubbing this incident #MindOverMayoJar. I am making it even MORE public so the rest of you can learn from my mistake. I'm sure I'll laugh about this in the future, but for now it's just a solid pit in my stomach that keeps jabbing up into my Regret Factory to make me cringe every five minutes or so.
From now on, when I catch myself or others in some stupid shenanigan of epic proportions, I will make it known. Even in the digital age, we can still have some common decency and respect.
...Above all, I'm still kind of surprised she replied to me. Social media, man. There is no spoon.
