Jack Binding's Blog, page 7

Kindle’s Look Inside Formatting Issue

My old process for releasing short stories used to be very simple:

Write, edit and export to .mobi (Kindle file) on Scrivener.

But then a funny thing happened … I uploaded Twenty-Seven to Amazon in December and the formatting on the Look Inside preview screen was completely screwed up.

It looked like this:

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Looks like I’m attempting some freeform poetry there.

It explained why the free promo I did in January for the story yielded about a quarter of the downloads compared to my previous promos for other releases.

Would you really even bother cluttering your Kindle with something that might be formatted terribly? Of course you wouldn’t.

The actual .mobi file itself was okay, and when read on an iPhone, iPad, laptop or Kindle, it looked perfectly fine. It was simply Amazon’s Look Inside feature that wasn’t working.

It might seem inconsequential if the final product your readers receive is formatted perfectly, but when you consider that Look Inside is of the first things many people will see when considering whether to download your book, it’s pretty damn important.

I did a little digging around the various KDP forums (there really are a lot of insufferable know-it-alls who seem to have nothing better to do than add condescending crap to message boards).

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Anyway, I got there in the end, and it turns out that some stray html in the file was causing the issue. Scrivener likes to add little invisible things that usually wouldn’t be a problem, but Look Inside is very sensitive when it comes to html.

Happens to a lot of people, apparently.

One solution was to use a program like Sigil to remove any extraneous html that’s causing the glitch. But I’m no website developer. I don’t want to be dicking around with code when I could be writing about a spurting jugular, a drug-fuelled orgy or ghosts or whatever.

So the long, winding path led me to a program called Vellum.

Now, Vellum was created specifically for the design of ebooks. It was built by two guys who used to work for Pixar. They noted that eBooks, in general, were lacking a certain aesthetic beauty. And they were right.

I downloaded Vellum and started to play around with it. Christ, it’s gorgeous.

It makes laying out your eBook fun. The templates are sensible. The fonts and design options are beautiful. And it’s really easy to use.

The one pitfall is this: It ain’t cheap. $30 to publish one book, $100 for ten or $200 for unlimited. I liked it so much, I bought the unlimited package. YOLO, right?

In 30 minutes I had created a template for all my monthly releases and re-jigged the 3 titles I currently have on Amazon. Tthey’re in the process of being re-uploaded and so if you already have them, you should be able to get a new version of the file in the next week or so.

Anyway, the final test: Look Inside.

Well, here’s Twenty-Seven’s Look Inside after I had used Vellum to build the eBook.

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Nice, eh?

I suppose it doesn’t spit out weird code in the way Scrivener does. Whatever the reason, it looks great now.

For me, Vellum’s not a word processing tool – I’ll still use Scrivener to write on as there’s nothing out there that beats it, but from now on, the final products will be put together using Vellum. (And that includes Perfect Anastasia, out 14th Feb 2017. Have you pre-ordered your copy yet, kids?)

So not only have I fixed my Look Inside problem, but I have wonderfully deigned eBooks now.

Here’s a brief overview of Vellum from one of the happiest men alive:

 

And here’s a really interesting interview with one of its designers, Brad Andalman, from the inspiring and wonderful Joanna Penn. (Whenever I’m stuck on an eBook publishing issue, her website is usually my first port of call.)

Note: Vellum aren’t paying me to write this, I’m just sharing the knowledge because I can be nice like that. Occasionally.

Also note – Vellum is Mac only. Sorry PC guys

Perfect Anastasia

The new one went through as bunch of titles … The Passenger … Young Blood … Silver Audi.

I quite liked The Passenger, and I originally wanted to quote some of the Iggy Pop song before the story began, but do you know how much you have to pay for that shit? Fair enough, I suppose. It is stealing somebody else’s words. I wouldn’t like it if Iggy Pop quoted me and didn’t pay me. Still, I can give you a link to the YouTube video.

Here’s the synopsis:

Andy Moretti doesn’t have much luck with girls. But tonight, things are different. Tonight he’s met Anastasia. And she’ll go home with him, too. On one condition: Andy Moretti picks up drugs for her.

It seems simple enough. Just jump into the dealer’s car and exchange the money for the merchandise. But the moment Andy steps into the passenger seat, the night takes a sinister turn …

I love this one. It’s the most surreal story I’ve released so far, but there’s also a fair amount of heart to it. And a lot of blood.

Anyway, it comes out 14th February. Valentine’s Day.

Whatever romantic plans you have for the evening, cancel them, stay home and read Perfect Anastasia, she won’t let you down.

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Ever Fallen In Love …?

So yeah, the next one is a love story and it’ll be out 14th February 2017.

Title and synopsis etc. will be available in the near future.

I say ‘love story’ … well, perhaps that’s not strictly true. There is a boy and girl in it. Smiley face box ticked. There is some sort of romantic undertone to it. Mandatory love hearts and fluffy bunnies, of course.

But also there’s a lot of drugs.

Still, they say love is a drug, right?

Ah, I’ve always wanted to do an ironic Valentine’s Day release.

 

 

Next Month

New one out next month.

Shit gets trippy.

Details to follow.

They cruised the innards of a darkened council block. Smashed windows with soiled net curtains. Twisting, rusted fire escapes, clinging precariously to the tower blocks’ cracked concrete skin.

The buildings appeared abandoned. No lights shone through the windows. No cars rumbled through the side streets. No hint of life, except the overwhelming feeling of being watched, of a hundred cold, peering eyes following them as they slithered along the backstreets and between the vacant high-rises.

It was London, but it was not London.

On other news, things are wonderful here in Sydney.

As you were.

J

 

Working Space

I write better when I’m not at home. Of course, “home” for me is a strange thing right now. I’ve spent seven weeks in Bondi Junction and tomorrow I move to Darlinghurst for a short time. Nothing feels terribly homely here.

But it’s not like I have a study in any of these places, so surrounded by the distraction of the TV (I’m currently rewatching seminal ’90s cartoon, Daria) and the kitchen (I love to cook, especially when I should be writing) and the rest of my abode (being unemployed still, it’s acceptable to have a long bath at 2pm for no good reason).

So I thought Fuck this and I went to one of those creative workspace things. Christ, I write hard there. Arrive at 9.30am and write until at least 4pm. Twenty minutes break for lunch. The odd five minutes here and there for a coffee (or, in my case a green tea).

Wonderful.

There’s nothing to distract me apart from other people.

‘Hi,’ says strange young man. ‘My name’s Dave. I’m a small business consult. What do you do?’

‘I’m a writer.’

Dave’s instantly annoyed I’m not running a small business. ‘A writer?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I help small businesses grow and give them advice on how they can improve.’

‘Oh.’

‘Do you have a business card?’

‘No.’

Dave moves to another desk and doesn’t speak to me again. I’m cool with that. After all, I’m in the middle of writing this scene in which a guy’s Samsung S7 explodes and kills his girlfriend’s chihuahua. This is serious businsss. None of your wishy-washy business advice crap.

So yeah. I’ve found a nice place to work. My productivity has massively increased. This is good news for me. Bad news for my enemies. Mind you, I don’t think I have many enemies in the world of literature (yet). Everyone seems a little more passive than they did when I was going music. Shit, in those days everyone hated each other. Brutal times.

What environments do you write best in?

Any tips you want to share?

Let me know.

Works In Progress

Funny, isn’t it? Life imitating art. Only the other day I was writing a scene in which a guy gets literally pissed on and then BAM!

There he is, Man Of The People, DT. With his gold-plated belt buckles in his private jet. His NYC skyscraper and his TV show. There he is, giving jobs to the hardworking man and clamping down on those lazy Mexicans. For the benefit of his country, you understand. There’s nothing in it for Donny. It’s a selfless act.

But what the fuck do I know? I’m sitting here listening to Kula Shaker.

Back to business.

So what are you working on now, Jack? I loved the stories you’ve put out so far?

Well, thank you for the compliment and thank you very much for asking.

Next month I’m going to put out another short story. It might be might scariest one so far. It’s pretty bleak, too. And if that hasn’t sold it for you, it straddles the line between sexual farce and pure horror. Details to follow …

I think I’ll keep to my schedule of releasing one a month.

I’m also working on full-length thing. A novel, I suppose you could call it. (Although dare I use a word so grand?)

I’ve been knocking this idea around in my head for about three years. I couldn’t work out how to execute it. And then, one day last week, it hit me. The thing just bled onto the page like a severed artery I couldn’t cauterise. I’ve written 15k so far and it’s good. Like … really good.

I’ve even managed to write a believable protagonist (which is often my downfall, and possibly the reason I tend to stick to short stories).

But writing those short stories has been great. I’ve trained myself to write whenever I’m sitting at my computer. There’s no dead time spent staring at a blank screen anymore. I just tap away at my keyboard and get the fucker down.

Practice makes perfect.

And I suppose it helps not having a job.

I have been looking, but … well … I suppose I’ll need to work eventually. I had an interview the other day. Psyched myself up as usual by walking to the office listening to John Williams’ Imperial March (I have come to terms with the fact I work for the real world equivalent of The Empire). I slouched in my chair and when the guy asked me how the job hunt was going, I shrugged and said, ‘I’m not terribly bothered.’ I was going to mention how I’m enjoying having the free time to write so much, but he was wearing a Hugo Boss suit and he was very serious; he didn’t care about shit like that.

He said he’d get back to me by the end of the week, but it’s 4pm on a Friday afternoon now, so I guess I didn’t get to the next round. Oh well …

 

I’m still writing about London. Not living there anymore, I have to rely on my memories. For some weird reason (perhaps I am a rare advert for the health benefits of Scotch overindulgence), my memory is pretty good. However, I do find reliance on memory  tends gives everything this sort of surreal glow. Perhaps distancing yourself from the place you’re writing about helps the imagination run along and do its thing. Either that, or I could be writing complete and utter shit.

Who knows?

Anyway, for want of a better word, I have a groove now.

I hope you like the short stories I’ve put out so far. If you ever feel like leaving a review (good or bad), that’d be lovely. Although quite honestly, I’m just happy you’re even the slightest bit interested in anything I’m doing.

And if you fancy joining my mailing list (I have one of those now), you’ll get copy of a free short story (details in the sidebar).

That’s about all for now.

It’s my last weekend in Bondi Junction before I move to Darlinghurst. The bars are better in Darlinghurst. That’ll probably mean a dramatic decline in my productivity.

See ya.

J

 

Free Short Story

I’m not going to put something on Amazon this month, but I will give you a free little tale called Dog In A Suitcase.

If you sign up to my mailing list.

Yes, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. Hell, you can sign up, then unsubscribe once you’ve downloaded the fucker if you like. I don’t care. It’s just that in the never-ending marketing that I seem to be doing, it’s about time I started gathering myself a respectable mailing list.

So if you sign up HERE (or in the box on your right ===>>>), you’ll get:

A link to download a PDF and a mobi (Kindle) file of Dog In A Suitcase.
Instructions on how to add the fucker to your Kindle.
The pleasure of being on my mailing list.

In return, I promise:

Not to spam the shit out of you.
To keep it brief.
To try to be as interesting as possible.
Not to sell your email addresses to the government. (I’m sure they have it anyway.)

If that’s not convinced you, here’s a brief synopsis of Dog In A Suitcase:

When Jeanette returns home one night to find her dog has died, she has to find a way of disposing of his body.

Anything else would give it away.

Sound like a deal?

Wonderful.

As you were …

 

Pseudonym Issues

Well thank Christ the promo is over and I can get back to being an actual human being for the next few weeks. I understand it needs to be done – this Twitter stuff, these Kindle deals – but fucking hell they make me feel like some sort of soulless spam robot.

DOWNLOAD MY SHORT STORY FOR FREE etc.

Anyway.

Done.

I want to talk about pseudonyms today. Robert Galbraith. Cliff Richard. Er … Gary Glitter.

Personally, if I ever want to be employed in the corporate world again, using a pseudonym was a no-brainer.

Say I used my actual name, then my potential employers will come across a short story about a person killing his rival colleagues under the instructions of a possessed printer.

And also profanity and drugs and sex.

So yeah, I was always going to do this shit under a pseudonym.

Of course, my Instagram failed me. I kept my Facebook with my regular name, but my Instagram was under JB. I didn’t link the two, but for some reason, Instagram seemed to ‘suggest’ JB as an interesting person to follow to my IRL FB friends.

Bollocks.

So I took down Instagram (who needs the fucking thing anyway?) and my personal FB (ah, what a relief).

Still, the damage was done. The cat was slightly out of the bag.

So if I know you in real life and you’re lurking behind your backlit Mac keyboard reading this – Hi there. Nice to have you onboard. I live in Sydney now. Drop me an email and say ‘Hi.’ 

Anyway, I was chatting to a family member the other day and they asked about my writing. I told them I used a pseudonym. They asked what it was and I said I wouldn’t tell them.

This caused offence, and it’s not the first (or, I suspect, the last) time it’s happened.

I’ve several reasons for not telling people my pseudonym:

Mainly, if I have a blanket rule that I don’t tell anyone, it keeps things simple.
I’m not writing for my friends or my family, I’m writing for people who want to read it – YOU. And also, I’m writing for ME.
I write horror, and that throws up a lot of preconceptions. Perhaps I’m mental. Perhaps I’m a serial killer that has yet to be caught. ‘Well,’ they’ll whisper, ‘he was always kind of quiet and a little … strange.’ I don’t need that kind of judgement in my life.
Is that character based on me? Possibly, but probably not.
Let me offer my critical opinion … Everybody’s a fucking critic. Strangers are fine, but it’s hard to be objective about someone you know. I foresee fallouts on the horizon.
It’s easier to brand a pseudonym than it is my real name. Feels less wanky. Does that make sense?
Of course I don’t really give a fuck if people find out, otherwise I wouldn’t have plastered my face across all the branding and this website. It’s just that I’m not volunteering the info.

And there you go.

Am I being cruel to my family and friends?

Are you using a pseudonym? And if so, do you have these issues?

Let me know, friends.

 

 

Twenty-Seven FREE this Weekend

Are you sick of these promos yet?

Well, I have decided that 2017 is the year of shameless self-promotion. DGAF. Here’s my shit. Read it. Or not. Whatever.

Anyway, this weekend Twenty-Seven is FREE for y’all on 7th and 8th January.

‘Based on real life events.’ Kinda.

Also, for those who have read it, Pizzaface was what the asshole kids called me at school due to my bad acne for a few years. They even kept calling me that when my skin had cleared up. Kids are dicks like that.

However, that is where the similarities between Rawlins and I stop.

And besides, I’m fucking stunning now.

I like Twenty-Seven. It’s a mean little story. There are supernatural elements but the main monsters are human. If you haven’t gathered it yet, I’m a bit of a misanthropist.

Twenty-Seven’s important in the grand scheme of things as it introduces characters that pop up elsewhere. Did you know I link stuff in? Well, yeah. Everything’s interlinked. I see all the short stories as part of a big, winding novel.

So go and download yourself a copy. And if you like it, write a review on Amazon or Goodreads or whatever. If you hate it, just keep it between you and me. Send me an email with your thoughts and it’ll be our little secret, right? Just our little secret …

Ta-ta, ’til next time.

 

Property Soundtrack

A short while ago I wrote about making playlists to help with context-dependent moods. It was pretty much pop psychology, but then I do have a degree in the subject, so I guess I’m not completely talking out of my ass here.

And when I shared the Dot Matrix soundtrack, it was pretty heavy. Dot Matrix was like an angry shout. A pretty good way to debut, I thought.

Property, on the other hand, is a nasty whisper in your ear. As a result, the soundtrack is far quieter and way more sinister.

I love jazz. Particularly Chet Baker. His life story is one of the most harrowing things in music. There’s a great documentary called Let’s Get Lost that’s worth watching if you’re into that sort of thing.

I also like French shit because it makes me seem cultured. Hence the inclusion of Francoise Hardy.

And Hope Sandoval is the voice that haunts a million dreams. I could’ve put any of the Warm Inventions or the Mazzy Star tracks on there, but Trouble fitted best with my mood at the time.

Property is, at it’s heart, a very sad tale. The soundtrack, I think, reflects that. There’s a lot of dark, beautiful operatic stuff on there. Give it a whirl.

So there you are. That’s what gets my fucked-up brain off now and then.