Aleksandr Voinov's Blog: Letters from the Front, page 31
May 23, 2011
I'm just no good
My last update was more than a week ago. Now, received wisdom is to blog every day - and most people expect to see at least 3 or 4 updates a week. I'm seemingly incapable of it. My life's not *that* interesting. Sometimes, big things go on behind the scenes that I can't talk about because they are dirty laundry, or are in the process of getting resolved, or just very emotional, and I rather wait and calm down and think things through before I go on record with anything.
Also, the last week has been spent "promoting" Scorpion. Reviews so far are looking good. I'm still in the stage where I check my reviews every day, but I know that once the nextbrain parasite book takes hold, I'll stop caring. I sometimes make fun of people who run around like excited chicken, squawking "I LAID AN EGG! OMG, IT'S AN EGG! IT'S ROUND AND WHITE/BROWN AND IT'S HARD ON THE OUTSIDE AND SOFT ON THE INSIDE! I'M THE GREATEST CHICKEN EVER! I LAID AN EGG!"
You know, that's what chicken do. We lay eggs. I deeply care about the current book, and I probably am like any other author in that I love to talk about my work, but at the end of the day, the process is natural and perfectly normal. Writers write. Chicken lay eggs. It's nothing special. And I much rather invest the energy and passion into the next one rather than running around telling people "BUY MY BOOK!", because firstly, that doesn't work, and secondly, I much rather write another book.
The proof of the writer is in the writing, not in the marketing, the blog schedule or how excited we're getting about what we're doing. The excitement is a given, but I'm a workman, I write one after the other, loving every one of them (of course, otherwise I wouldn't sacrifice every free minute to a pursuit that pays less per hour than slinging lattes at a coffee shop), but really, the worst part of writing is NOT writing. (The one thing worse that NOT writing is that gut-wrenching feeling of "it's no good, it won't come together, the whole thing is doomed to fail!" - that terrible, terrible angst I'm getting about 40% into a book. EVERY book.)
Compared to the Mid-Book Crisis and the I'll Never Write Again angst, nothing any reviewer can say can hurt me. To get a book out, I have had to overcome both. Reviews don't figure on my list of things I'm scared of. Sure, it's a bummer if a reviewer who is clearly intelligent and insightful ends up hating my book, but, really, by the point reviews roll in, I'm already two books ahead. Getting criticized for a book that has just come out feels a bit like reading your assessments from Middle school. ("Alex is a clever kid, but he loves getting distracted".)
For example, I started "Scorpion" in June 2010. To me, it's a very special book, because it's the only thing I wrote while getting my soul eaten by financial journalism for six months, working long hours every day and most weekends, travelling a lot and freaking out over learning an industry that could just as well have been happening on an alien planet, with my career (and mortgage) depending on providing insightful commentary that the practitioners would want to read.
Scorpion is my "fuck this, I WILL write!" book. Defiance in the face of exploitation - if having a cushy, high-profile white collar job can be called "exploitation" (well, certainly how THAT company did it). "Scorpion" happened despite everything. It's the book that lived, even though I tried to kill it a few times, even though it hit the brick walls so hard I could feel my teeth rattle.
These are the "book" stories few authors share, because every book teaches us something different about writing and about ourselves. And saying "hey, I was nearing burn-out, I realized I'm not a journalist despite more than four years in the field and all my scoops and features and all the hard work I put in, I realized that I'd hit the wall of my own lofty ideals and expectations and I was about to be eaten alive and have the joy of everything - writing, living, breathing - sucked right out of me" is not sexy. It's not even very interesting for anybody out there. I'm not holding a pity party. The book has to stand on its own, and so far, a fair amount of people like it and enjoyed it. So, yeah. for me, it's going to be a special book because of the stuff I was going through and still wrote.
But that doesn't matter, either. Once the book's out there, it's out there. The egg's done. Hopefully, I've learnt in the process how to lay better eggs. I've written another novel in the meantime.
Right now, I'm in the "post-book slump", which is one of the two phases of writing that I hate. While I have ideas, they really struggle to get on the page. Low energy, low drive, my famous discipline is faltering a little. I work, but at the end of the day, I have 650 words, which is almost nothing for a whole weekend.
Doesn't matter, though. All that matters is that there's a new book at the end of it. And all the little crises that happen in a writer's life are just seasoning to keep things interesting.
Also, the last week has been spent "promoting" Scorpion. Reviews so far are looking good. I'm still in the stage where I check my reviews every day, but I know that once the next
You know, that's what chicken do. We lay eggs. I deeply care about the current book, and I probably am like any other author in that I love to talk about my work, but at the end of the day, the process is natural and perfectly normal. Writers write. Chicken lay eggs. It's nothing special. And I much rather invest the energy and passion into the next one rather than running around telling people "BUY MY BOOK!", because firstly, that doesn't work, and secondly, I much rather write another book.
The proof of the writer is in the writing, not in the marketing, the blog schedule or how excited we're getting about what we're doing. The excitement is a given, but I'm a workman, I write one after the other, loving every one of them (of course, otherwise I wouldn't sacrifice every free minute to a pursuit that pays less per hour than slinging lattes at a coffee shop), but really, the worst part of writing is NOT writing. (The one thing worse that NOT writing is that gut-wrenching feeling of "it's no good, it won't come together, the whole thing is doomed to fail!" - that terrible, terrible angst I'm getting about 40% into a book. EVERY book.)
Compared to the Mid-Book Crisis and the I'll Never Write Again angst, nothing any reviewer can say can hurt me. To get a book out, I have had to overcome both. Reviews don't figure on my list of things I'm scared of. Sure, it's a bummer if a reviewer who is clearly intelligent and insightful ends up hating my book, but, really, by the point reviews roll in, I'm already two books ahead. Getting criticized for a book that has just come out feels a bit like reading your assessments from Middle school. ("Alex is a clever kid, but he loves getting distracted".)
For example, I started "Scorpion" in June 2010. To me, it's a very special book, because it's the only thing I wrote while getting my soul eaten by financial journalism for six months, working long hours every day and most weekends, travelling a lot and freaking out over learning an industry that could just as well have been happening on an alien planet, with my career (and mortgage) depending on providing insightful commentary that the practitioners would want to read.
Scorpion is my "fuck this, I WILL write!" book. Defiance in the face of exploitation - if having a cushy, high-profile white collar job can be called "exploitation" (well, certainly how THAT company did it). "Scorpion" happened despite everything. It's the book that lived, even though I tried to kill it a few times, even though it hit the brick walls so hard I could feel my teeth rattle.
These are the "book" stories few authors share, because every book teaches us something different about writing and about ourselves. And saying "hey, I was nearing burn-out, I realized I'm not a journalist despite more than four years in the field and all my scoops and features and all the hard work I put in, I realized that I'd hit the wall of my own lofty ideals and expectations and I was about to be eaten alive and have the joy of everything - writing, living, breathing - sucked right out of me" is not sexy. It's not even very interesting for anybody out there. I'm not holding a pity party. The book has to stand on its own, and so far, a fair amount of people like it and enjoyed it. So, yeah. for me, it's going to be a special book because of the stuff I was going through and still wrote.
But that doesn't matter, either. Once the book's out there, it's out there. The egg's done. Hopefully, I've learnt in the process how to lay better eggs. I've written another novel in the meantime.
Right now, I'm in the "post-book slump", which is one of the two phases of writing that I hate. While I have ideas, they really struggle to get on the page. Low energy, low drive, my famous discipline is faltering a little. I work, but at the end of the day, I have 650 words, which is almost nothing for a whole weekend.
Doesn't matter, though. All that matters is that there's a new book at the end of it. And all the little crises that happen in a writer's life are just seasoning to keep things interesting.
May 15, 2011
Spring greetings from my garden
When we bought Casa Voinov, we inherited a neglected garden. The back is largely taken over by an ancient, totally out of control rose tree/bush. I've done some research on roses and what's good for them (even though my mother was a florist, I don't have the first clue what to do), and realized it's basically too big.
In a first step, I cut back everything that was afflicted with that black m old you tend to get on roses (skinning some fingers in the process). Today I went back into the garden to see how the massive white rose bush/tress has responded to the surgical cuts. I discussed how to address the remaining issues - which means some serious pruning once I have the tools to attack all that old wood - the central stems are arm-thick, so I assume the rose is fifty years old or older. But it responded well to the first pruning - if anything, it's more vigorous, and I honestly think cutting about half of the major stems will result in a much happier, much healthier plant. Right now, the right side is collapsing under its own weight, so there's some serious shaping & pruning action required to get stuff under control.
I also did a round of deadheading (cutting off spent flowers). They are palm-sized floribundas (I've learnt), classical white English roses, like my mother loved them. Me growing roses is really a way of honouring her. She'd have been fussing over the roses a lot, so I kinda remember her through that.
Anyway, while I was cutting the spent flowers, I got some flowers for the house - one for my partner, some for the living room table, and one next to the computer. The fragrance is very delicate. And nothing in the world is as beautiful as a rose. There, I said it. I guess I am really a romance author. :)
Far shot of the area left of the keyboard.
Close-up in the Turkish tea glass.
Even closer, with flash.
In a first step, I cut back everything that was afflicted with that black m old you tend to get on roses (skinning some fingers in the process). Today I went back into the garden to see how the massive white rose bush/tress has responded to the surgical cuts. I discussed how to address the remaining issues - which means some serious pruning once I have the tools to attack all that old wood - the central stems are arm-thick, so I assume the rose is fifty years old or older. But it responded well to the first pruning - if anything, it's more vigorous, and I honestly think cutting about half of the major stems will result in a much happier, much healthier plant. Right now, the right side is collapsing under its own weight, so there's some serious shaping & pruning action required to get stuff under control.
I also did a round of deadheading (cutting off spent flowers). They are palm-sized floribundas (I've learnt), classical white English roses, like my mother loved them. Me growing roses is really a way of honouring her. She'd have been fussing over the roses a lot, so I kinda remember her through that.
Anyway, while I was cutting the spent flowers, I got some flowers for the house - one for my partner, some for the living room table, and one next to the computer. The fragrance is very delicate. And nothing in the world is as beautiful as a rose. There, I said it. I guess I am really a romance author. :)
Far shot of the area left of the keyboard.
Close-up in the Turkish tea glass.
Even closer, with flash.
Authors are just like lawyers and doctors
I probably never told the story, but I studied law for two semesters. Well, really only one, because after one semester I realized how soul-destroying law was for me, and in my second semester, with the big decision looming (If not a lawyer, what else do I want to be?), my mother was in the final stages of cancer - not the time to make big decisions like that. I also didn't want to distress her. She thought law would at least make sure I get a job and am "independent".
The decision to study law had the full backing of my family. I thought they were proud of me. But the opposite was true. Once my grandfather said: "Excellent, you can represent us all for free", I knew what the real motivation was. I was about to save my family of four uncles and three aunts, which all have a talent to get into tight spots financially and legally, A LOT OF MONEY. Whoot, Aleks is going to take care of all that. We can have MORE TRIALS, and we can threaten our enemies with the ultimate weapon forever and ever: a lawyer in the family.
(Thankfully, I left before that nightmare could happen - at which several of my kin and blood relations told me "I don't have any respect for you anymore, because you're a quitter!" - but I think they were mostly bothered by not being given all my education and resources to use as they pleased, obviously for nothing, because, hey, "we're family".)
Now, of course that is something lawyers face every day. Doctors, BTW, are the same. At any party, once people come out as doctors (I've even witnessed it with dentists), people will tell them about the consistency of their poo, the rash on their dicks, and ask them for a consultation on hair loss. Obviously for free. Here's a doctor at the same party, he sure likes to work for free. It's probably even worse for family.
Authors face the same issues. I can't count how often random people felt I "should send them a book" - because we've talked in the past, or because we crossed paths somewhere and I came out as a writer. "Oh, you can give me one of your books." Often said in a tone as if they were being generous. I'm allowed to give them a paperbook.
I can. But I won't.
Firstly, my publisher contracts (contract = legal document) very often state how many ebooks I'm allowed to give away. It might be 5 or 20, but not a hundred. And I easily know a hundred people. If my book's out in print, I get usually around FIVE print copies. Of those, I keep one for myself, one is for my partner. The other three are for the beta readers/proofreaders/cover artist.
The ebook copies I'm allowed to give away go into quizzes, giveaways on blogs. I also tend to give at least five copies away to the people who had a serious hand in the writing and editing. It's the betas, the crit partners, the people that helped me solve problems with the book. In short, these people *worked* for it in some way.
I also give away a lot of books to people who really can't afford them but are clearly "fans" (hate the word). Basically, if you're on food stamps and freaking out over where to get the next rent from, the gift of a book is a small thing for me and makes a huge difference to those friends.
Interestingly, these people - who really can't afford my books, because it's the difference between eating and not eating that day - NEVER ask for free books. Ever. They are way too humble, and often so grateful I get all tongue-tied. Here are people that really deserve those freebies. They never come with any sense of entitlement like "I tweeted you, now send me a free book".
(And I know once I save it, several of them will email me, thinking I think they think they are entitled - no, guys, if you think this is about you, IT's NOT...)
Funny. But then, my family could afford a lawyer, too, but still wanted to push me into a career that would have destroyed me just to save some cash. I'm just amazed how many random strangers believe I (or other authors) like working for free. Well, it beats getting pirated, I guess.
The decision to study law had the full backing of my family. I thought they were proud of me. But the opposite was true. Once my grandfather said: "Excellent, you can represent us all for free", I knew what the real motivation was. I was about to save my family of four uncles and three aunts, which all have a talent to get into tight spots financially and legally, A LOT OF MONEY. Whoot, Aleks is going to take care of all that. We can have MORE TRIALS, and we can threaten our enemies with the ultimate weapon forever and ever: a lawyer in the family.
(Thankfully, I left before that nightmare could happen - at which several of my kin and blood relations told me "I don't have any respect for you anymore, because you're a quitter!" - but I think they were mostly bothered by not being given all my education and resources to use as they pleased, obviously for nothing, because, hey, "we're family".)
Now, of course that is something lawyers face every day. Doctors, BTW, are the same. At any party, once people come out as doctors (I've even witnessed it with dentists), people will tell them about the consistency of their poo, the rash on their dicks, and ask them for a consultation on hair loss. Obviously for free. Here's a doctor at the same party, he sure likes to work for free. It's probably even worse for family.
Authors face the same issues. I can't count how often random people felt I "should send them a book" - because we've talked in the past, or because we crossed paths somewhere and I came out as a writer. "Oh, you can give me one of your books." Often said in a tone as if they were being generous. I'm allowed to give them a paperbook.
I can. But I won't.
Firstly, my publisher contracts (contract = legal document) very often state how many ebooks I'm allowed to give away. It might be 5 or 20, but not a hundred. And I easily know a hundred people. If my book's out in print, I get usually around FIVE print copies. Of those, I keep one for myself, one is for my partner. The other three are for the beta readers/proofreaders/cover artist.
The ebook copies I'm allowed to give away go into quizzes, giveaways on blogs. I also tend to give at least five copies away to the people who had a serious hand in the writing and editing. It's the betas, the crit partners, the people that helped me solve problems with the book. In short, these people *worked* for it in some way.
I also give away a lot of books to people who really can't afford them but are clearly "fans" (hate the word). Basically, if you're on food stamps and freaking out over where to get the next rent from, the gift of a book is a small thing for me and makes a huge difference to those friends.
Interestingly, these people - who really can't afford my books, because it's the difference between eating and not eating that day - NEVER ask for free books. Ever. They are way too humble, and often so grateful I get all tongue-tied. Here are people that really deserve those freebies. They never come with any sense of entitlement like "I tweeted you, now send me a free book".
(And I know once I save it, several of them will email me, thinking I think they think they are entitled - no, guys, if you think this is about you, IT's NOT...)
Funny. But then, my family could afford a lawyer, too, but still wanted to push me into a career that would have destroyed me just to save some cash. I'm just amazed how many random strangers believe I (or other authors) like working for free. Well, it beats getting pirated, I guess.
May 9, 2011
It's a book!
Today was the official release of "Scorpion". Have a look at that cover:
It's awesome and I'm very pleased. (And at the moment, Dreamspinner sells everything at 20% off, too.
This is the link to the ebook.
And this is the link to the paperback.
The website has the whole first chapter online. You can also read it on my website here.
And over at Amara's Blog, we have "Scorpion Week" with giveaways and interviews and fun stuff.
(If you read this post via Goodreads, the links in this post might not come through, so just click on the link to the blog and get the rest of the entry, too.)
So, if you want to win stuff head over to Amara, and we're talking about the book in my Goodreads group.
Meanwhile, I'll start work on the next one. :)
It's awesome and I'm very pleased. (And at the moment, Dreamspinner sells everything at 20% off, too.
This is the link to the ebook.
And this is the link to the paperback.
The website has the whole first chapter online. You can also read it on my website here.
And over at Amara's Blog, we have "Scorpion Week" with giveaways and interviews and fun stuff.
(If you read this post via Goodreads, the links in this post might not come through, so just click on the link to the blog and get the rest of the entry, too.)
So, if you want to win stuff head over to Amara, and we're talking about the book in my Goodreads group.
Meanwhile, I'll start work on the next one. :)
May 6, 2011
After birthday, recounting
Thanks, guys, for the literally *hundreds* of personal messages, Twitter greetings and Facebook posts for my birthday. I can't hope to catch up, but you've made my birthday pretty damn awesome - thank you for that!
We went into London and had lunch at the very excellent Veeraswamy, which is fast becoming one of my favourite "expensive" restaurants. It's one of those places where I at times like to blow a royalty payment (or three). Yeah, that's about all the "conspicuous consumption" I indulge in.
The buzz from my birthday, invariably, gives way to introspection, as 5 May is my mother's birthday, and the day I prefer to remember her at. November is already depressing as hell - I don't need to remember her death (of course I do, usually during the last two weeks).
Anyway. In the night of 4-5 May, Storm Moon Press sent me the acceptance for "Counterpunch", my boxing novel. I have very high hopes for this small gem of a start-up publisher. People there bent over backwards to accommodate my every whim, including cover, marketing, editing, and one of the touchiest subjects: British versus American English.
Before I submitted the novel to them, I approached a number of other editors informally and asked "Will you make me rewrite my London-based novel full of British characters to American English?" (The concern comes from the fact that British characters rewritten to speak American to my brain sound like they are doing "funny accents" - I can't help it).
I received a mix of answers (and thanks, guys, to listening to my concerns, much appreciated), but one press said "hell no". Then Storm Moon Press also showed me their royalties and contract.
To whit: royalties are a multiple of what I've been making of my writing at other places. And after several long exchanges with the people behind the press, I was convinced of their sense and business acumen. No "First Right of Refusal Clause", no nonsense. The contract is more than fair to both sides. Also - "Counterpunch" is perfect at that place, because basically, it's part of a world, and that world, ideally, will be placed at one publisher - those people, if all's going well.
So, I'm saying all this because I'm basically eating my hat here (NOM, NOM). I always cautioned other writers not to sign up with publishers that have been in the business less than 5 years (Dreamspinner is just celebrating its fourth birthday, with lots of good offers, BTW). HOWEVER, I'm personally making an exception in this case, and am genuinely excited about working with SMP. I know that's one of the phrases that people use in press releases, but based on what I know and my gut instinct, the SMP people have something excellent there and it's great to be part of it.
Depending how things are going, there should be more books, but it's too early to tell. And I'm in great company. Rachel Haimowitz has just signed her second book, Crescendo, sequel to Counterpoint, with Storm Moon Press. Another of my friends has submitted her novel there, too.
I'm also coming back up from the crash after Counterpunch, slowly getting back on my feet. I've been writing short pieces of story that didn't make it into the finished novel, and currently write a little, but it's all playing. Story ideas are springing up like mushrooms after the rain, and I struggle to make up my mind what to write next. (Yeah, normal people rest, I just keep working. It's what I do best. That way, my life makes sense and my reality tallies up.)
There are some related stories that need to be written, two of those are in search of a plot, others have no plot but are very poignant. I have some excellent characters there.
Possibly the sanest thing right now is write 2-3 more short stories to cleanse the palate, package the whole thing, then put out a short story anthology. My brain baulks at the idea of yet another novel. Novels are such a commitment, I'm not immediately ready for another whole novel, not right away.
This year, I'll also start on the "Lion of Kent" sequel, and most likely, I won't have to do it alone, as I'd feared (it's a novel).
So, lots of things lined up. The main aim is to get some releases for 2012 lined up. I hope "Iron Cross" will be one of them.
We went into London and had lunch at the very excellent Veeraswamy, which is fast becoming one of my favourite "expensive" restaurants. It's one of those places where I at times like to blow a royalty payment (or three). Yeah, that's about all the "conspicuous consumption" I indulge in.
The buzz from my birthday, invariably, gives way to introspection, as 5 May is my mother's birthday, and the day I prefer to remember her at. November is already depressing as hell - I don't need to remember her death (of course I do, usually during the last two weeks).
Anyway. In the night of 4-5 May, Storm Moon Press sent me the acceptance for "Counterpunch", my boxing novel. I have very high hopes for this small gem of a start-up publisher. People there bent over backwards to accommodate my every whim, including cover, marketing, editing, and one of the touchiest subjects: British versus American English.
Before I submitted the novel to them, I approached a number of other editors informally and asked "Will you make me rewrite my London-based novel full of British characters to American English?" (The concern comes from the fact that British characters rewritten to speak American to my brain sound like they are doing "funny accents" - I can't help it).
I received a mix of answers (and thanks, guys, to listening to my concerns, much appreciated), but one press said "hell no". Then Storm Moon Press also showed me their royalties and contract.
To whit: royalties are a multiple of what I've been making of my writing at other places. And after several long exchanges with the people behind the press, I was convinced of their sense and business acumen. No "First Right of Refusal Clause", no nonsense. The contract is more than fair to both sides. Also - "Counterpunch" is perfect at that place, because basically, it's part of a world, and that world, ideally, will be placed at one publisher - those people, if all's going well.
So, I'm saying all this because I'm basically eating my hat here (NOM, NOM). I always cautioned other writers not to sign up with publishers that have been in the business less than 5 years (Dreamspinner is just celebrating its fourth birthday, with lots of good offers, BTW). HOWEVER, I'm personally making an exception in this case, and am genuinely excited about working with SMP. I know that's one of the phrases that people use in press releases, but based on what I know and my gut instinct, the SMP people have something excellent there and it's great to be part of it.
Depending how things are going, there should be more books, but it's too early to tell. And I'm in great company. Rachel Haimowitz has just signed her second book, Crescendo, sequel to Counterpoint, with Storm Moon Press. Another of my friends has submitted her novel there, too.
I'm also coming back up from the crash after Counterpunch, slowly getting back on my feet. I've been writing short pieces of story that didn't make it into the finished novel, and currently write a little, but it's all playing. Story ideas are springing up like mushrooms after the rain, and I struggle to make up my mind what to write next. (Yeah, normal people rest, I just keep working. It's what I do best. That way, my life makes sense and my reality tallies up.)
There are some related stories that need to be written, two of those are in search of a plot, others have no plot but are very poignant. I have some excellent characters there.
Possibly the sanest thing right now is write 2-3 more short stories to cleanse the palate, package the whole thing, then put out a short story anthology. My brain baulks at the idea of yet another novel. Novels are such a commitment, I'm not immediately ready for another whole novel, not right away.
This year, I'll also start on the "Lion of Kent" sequel, and most likely, I won't have to do it alone, as I'd feared (it's a novel).
So, lots of things lined up. The main aim is to get some releases for 2012 lined up. I hope "Iron Cross" will be one of them.
May 2, 2011
Gearing up for the birthday
Hope everybody had a great May Day. It's a bank holiday in the UK today and I also have tomorrow and Wednesday off - Wednesday's my birthday, so I kinda liked having plenty of time off work. I can definitely feel the tension leave me. While, of course, I'm turning into a speed-editing freak to catch up with stuff, as usual. One day I'll run before the wave of work rather than behind it.
Great way to start a sunny, bright day (with oddly cold winds).
And whatever I'd have to say about Osama bin Laden being executed would be too controversial, so I'm keeping my gob shut on that count. Some people in the Guardian and various reputable newspapers have said some very intelligent things about it. The repercussions of this can really fall both (or at least three) ways. Two of which would make excellent thriller plot material - and one has a somewhat apocalyptic bent.
Oddly, I think the Vatican has an interesting angle on it. Thankfully, as a writer, I don't have to pretend I have the answer, but today marks a departure from the status quo in several ways, and I'm quite curious what's going to happen next, current affairs nut that I am.
My goal for today is to finish a 37k edit, start another one, and read what I have of my historical novel, and slowly find my way back in, too. Possibly even writing a little, or doing some preparatory work that I should have done, oh, nearly two years ago.
Great way to start a sunny, bright day (with oddly cold winds).
And whatever I'd have to say about Osama bin Laden being executed would be too controversial, so I'm keeping my gob shut on that count. Some people in the Guardian and various reputable newspapers have said some very intelligent things about it. The repercussions of this can really fall both (or at least three) ways. Two of which would make excellent thriller plot material - and one has a somewhat apocalyptic bent.
Oddly, I think the Vatican has an interesting angle on it. Thankfully, as a writer, I don't have to pretend I have the answer, but today marks a departure from the status quo in several ways, and I'm quite curious what's going to happen next, current affairs nut that I am.
My goal for today is to finish a 37k edit, start another one, and read what I have of my historical novel, and slowly find my way back in, too. Possibly even writing a little, or doing some preparatory work that I should have done, oh, nearly two years ago.
April 29, 2011
Like being left by a lover
Finishing a book is like being left by a lover. Of course, that's where the metaphor falls flat on its ass. You never enter a relationship with the aim to finish it. Or get paid for handing your lover over afterwards.
If anything, writing a book is like traveling. Discovery. Unexpected chaos. And then leaving, feeling like a part of you has been left behind (and not just the toe nails and hair and skin flakes).
Sometimes, finishing a book feels like that old superstition. That you "lose" part of your soul when you get photographed. Writing is forming emotional energy. You have to get the stuff from somewhere. You have to be passionate enough about it to keep it going for anything between six weeks to two years. Then release it. The relief that comes with the release - is also a loss. Your hands are empty. You lose purpose. You don't come home thinking "I Need To Get This Scene Written!" - you come home to laundry and dirty dishes and a carpet that needs hovering. You begin to notice dust specks. Begin to actually see that the garden is overgrown.
You update your blog twice in one day.
I know I'm a workaholic. That trait serves me really well, actually. I do get a lot of shit done, especially in writing. I just wrote a - pretty good - novel in less than three months. Whoot! I must be doing something right.
Finishing the novel - the act of racing towards the ending, knowing it's maybe just 5-10 pages now, is glorious. By that point you know whether it's any good. The quick edit after that is already anti-climactic. You have no idea if it's any good, but you begin to see all the stuff that has piled up in the meantime.
Not writing is misery. At least I know this time there are more novels (it's far worse if there are no others lined up - I've gone through the "oh noes, I'll never write anything like this every again! WOES IS MEHHH!" phase so often that it's become something of a running joke).
I know I should be unpacking my bags and sleep and sort through the photos and memories, but I really cannot wait to be travelling again.
If anything, writing a book is like traveling. Discovery. Unexpected chaos. And then leaving, feeling like a part of you has been left behind (and not just the toe nails and hair and skin flakes).
Sometimes, finishing a book feels like that old superstition. That you "lose" part of your soul when you get photographed. Writing is forming emotional energy. You have to get the stuff from somewhere. You have to be passionate enough about it to keep it going for anything between six weeks to two years. Then release it. The relief that comes with the release - is also a loss. Your hands are empty. You lose purpose. You don't come home thinking "I Need To Get This Scene Written!" - you come home to laundry and dirty dishes and a carpet that needs hovering. You begin to notice dust specks. Begin to actually see that the garden is overgrown.
You update your blog twice in one day.
I know I'm a workaholic. That trait serves me really well, actually. I do get a lot of shit done, especially in writing. I just wrote a - pretty good - novel in less than three months. Whoot! I must be doing something right.
Finishing the novel - the act of racing towards the ending, knowing it's maybe just 5-10 pages now, is glorious. By that point you know whether it's any good. The quick edit after that is already anti-climactic. You have no idea if it's any good, but you begin to see all the stuff that has piled up in the meantime.
Not writing is misery. At least I know this time there are more novels (it's far worse if there are no others lined up - I've gone through the "oh noes, I'll never write anything like this every again! WOES IS MEHHH!" phase so often that it's become something of a running joke).
I know I should be unpacking my bags and sleep and sort through the photos and memories, but I really cannot wait to be travelling again.
Spit'n polish (or: Counterpunch is done)
I need to keep better track of when I start books. But I'm reasonably sure that I started "Counterpunch" in about February. That's a 55k novel in three months. Writing four novels per year can be done, but I'm personally aiming more for 2-3 plus some small fry, because I don't want to burn out in a year or two.
In the last three days, I've applied a spit'n polish edit to the manuscript, which is the quick read-through and typo-fix and continuity check that I do on my own before things go out to betas. In this case, as it's a story set (mostly) in London, this went out to two Brits. Once I have their opinions/edits, the manuscript goes to a friend who'll rip it all to shreds. Once that's done and fixed, the manuscript gets submitted to the small press that has offered me the best deal for it in terms of royalties, cover, and a paper edition. Also, the place is owned by very switched-on, enthusiastic people. So, if Storm Moon Press wants it, they can have it.
I'm now in the post-book slump. It's a weirdly calm place (no voices in my head), but also very low energy. I struggle to do more than make coffee or get dressed. Getting catapulted from one "reality" into the other is jarring, and part of me desperately wants to escape back into a different book world. But at the same time, I know that's not good. I need to regather, regroup, and recover. Sleep, rest, read, research. While I'm in the throes of writing, all that feels like wasted time to me, but I really need some rest.
So, I figure I'll finish the three books on boxing that I acquired, to be ready for the rewriting. And after that, I'm off to WWII.
Ironically, "Thor", as weak as it was (especially all the stuff in Asgard), has triggered an idea for a book. Since that idea isn't really mine, I need to get in touch with a friend of mine who has an unsold manuscript. I'm figuring I might be able to convince him to hand the idea over to me. It's suitably "high concept" and generally awesome, but he won't be able to sell it in Germany.
And once I'm done with that time period, I'm returning to the crusades and William Raven. (And that other templar I haven't talked about yet.)
Meanwhile, the taxpayer-sponsored spectacle of two nice young people getting married unfolds. And here I thought the Windsors had enough spare cash to pay for all that themselves. Silly me. I'm assured the influx of a few million tourists makes it all worthwhile, and they may just have saved the London-based camping industry.
Me, I'm haunted by the memories of Diana. The nicest, sanest people have to get damaged under all that public pressure. And Kate, while apparently incredibly nice and sweet, is far removed from a "modern queen-in-waiting", as she's been called. We're looking at a woman who has no other ambitions in her life but her prince and to look good on camera. I've seen that model of womanhood fail so often in both my family and those of my friends that I cringe inwardly when I see women submit like that.
And let's not forget that only her male kids can become kings, whereas even a first-born daughter has no rights to the throne. The whole spectacle is so anachronistic. At least we're having a day off... but I rather suspect that the London infrastructure wouldn't be able to cope with people trying to get to work while the inner city is full of watchers.
In the last three days, I've applied a spit'n polish edit to the manuscript, which is the quick read-through and typo-fix and continuity check that I do on my own before things go out to betas. In this case, as it's a story set (mostly) in London, this went out to two Brits. Once I have their opinions/edits, the manuscript goes to a friend who'll rip it all to shreds. Once that's done and fixed, the manuscript gets submitted to the small press that has offered me the best deal for it in terms of royalties, cover, and a paper edition. Also, the place is owned by very switched-on, enthusiastic people. So, if Storm Moon Press wants it, they can have it.
I'm now in the post-book slump. It's a weirdly calm place (no voices in my head), but also very low energy. I struggle to do more than make coffee or get dressed. Getting catapulted from one "reality" into the other is jarring, and part of me desperately wants to escape back into a different book world. But at the same time, I know that's not good. I need to regather, regroup, and recover. Sleep, rest, read, research. While I'm in the throes of writing, all that feels like wasted time to me, but I really need some rest.
So, I figure I'll finish the three books on boxing that I acquired, to be ready for the rewriting. And after that, I'm off to WWII.
Ironically, "Thor", as weak as it was (especially all the stuff in Asgard), has triggered an idea for a book. Since that idea isn't really mine, I need to get in touch with a friend of mine who has an unsold manuscript. I'm figuring I might be able to convince him to hand the idea over to me. It's suitably "high concept" and generally awesome, but he won't be able to sell it in Germany.
And once I'm done with that time period, I'm returning to the crusades and William Raven. (And that other templar I haven't talked about yet.)
Meanwhile, the taxpayer-sponsored spectacle of two nice young people getting married unfolds. And here I thought the Windsors had enough spare cash to pay for all that themselves. Silly me. I'm assured the influx of a few million tourists makes it all worthwhile, and they may just have saved the London-based camping industry.
Me, I'm haunted by the memories of Diana. The nicest, sanest people have to get damaged under all that public pressure. And Kate, while apparently incredibly nice and sweet, is far removed from a "modern queen-in-waiting", as she's been called. We're looking at a woman who has no other ambitions in her life but her prince and to look good on camera. I've seen that model of womanhood fail so often in both my family and those of my friends that I cringe inwardly when I see women submit like that.
And let's not forget that only her male kids can become kings, whereas even a first-born daughter has no rights to the throne. The whole spectacle is so anachronistic. At least we're having a day off... but I rather suspect that the London infrastructure wouldn't be able to cope with people trying to get to work while the inner city is full of watchers.
April 27, 2011
In defense of pseudonyms and a layer of protection
There are possibly a handful of people out there (in the area of 3-5) that both know my so-called "real" name, where I work, and where I live. Everybody else knows these things to varying degrees. My publishers know all this, of course, since it's legally pertinent.
I've recently encountered an attitude where people say they "respect" somebody more if the name they write under is their "real name". Using a pseudonym, is, according to these people, equivalent to cowardice.
There are several writers out there that put their faces on their websites. All power to them, if they are comfortable with it (I imagine some might not be but feel it's the "done thing"). All power also to writers who don't look anything like weavers of dark and majestic sexy novels, and still put their faces out there.
Within the last two weeks, I've acquired a second stalker (a first stalker reared her ugly head about three years ago and I'm pretty sure she's still out there somewhere, and quite possibly reading this), and another stalker/obsessive "fan" (and you guys know how much I hate the term "fan"). And I've also encountered some people that faced negative consequences because they allowed the wall between their "public" and "private" lives to be breached. Or breached it themselves, feeling they don't "need" the protection, or frankly trusting the wrong people.
There's even been a case of a publisher breaching that wall, as some person at a publisher outed the writer's "real persona" in public.
This here is another case of a romance author facing - potential very very serious - damage due to the stuff that she writes/has written.
We are *not* operating in a safe space.
Hence I am *not* going to conventions, don't give out my photo, don't do anything that attaches my face to my books (sorry, big hot shot agent/publisher, that means NO booktours and no signing), don't even give live interviews via radio/phone or anything else. If I meet readers, I meet them on my terms and after several years of personal correspondence, or if I know I can trust them. And even then I got burned.
I hope my colleague Judy Mays makes it out intact. I'm definitely keeping my fingers crossed for her.
I've recently encountered an attitude where people say they "respect" somebody more if the name they write under is their "real name". Using a pseudonym, is, according to these people, equivalent to cowardice.
There are several writers out there that put their faces on their websites. All power to them, if they are comfortable with it (I imagine some might not be but feel it's the "done thing"). All power also to writers who don't look anything like weavers of dark and majestic sexy novels, and still put their faces out there.
Within the last two weeks, I've acquired a second stalker (a first stalker reared her ugly head about three years ago and I'm pretty sure she's still out there somewhere, and quite possibly reading this), and another stalker/obsessive "fan" (and you guys know how much I hate the term "fan"). And I've also encountered some people that faced negative consequences because they allowed the wall between their "public" and "private" lives to be breached. Or breached it themselves, feeling they don't "need" the protection, or frankly trusting the wrong people.
There's even been a case of a publisher breaching that wall, as some person at a publisher outed the writer's "real persona" in public.
This here is another case of a romance author facing - potential very very serious - damage due to the stuff that she writes/has written.
We are *not* operating in a safe space.
Hence I am *not* going to conventions, don't give out my photo, don't do anything that attaches my face to my books (sorry, big hot shot agent/publisher, that means NO booktours and no signing), don't even give live interviews via radio/phone or anything else. If I meet readers, I meet them on my terms and after several years of personal correspondence, or if I know I can trust them. And even then I got burned.
I hope my colleague Judy Mays makes it out intact. I'm definitely keeping my fingers crossed for her.
April 26, 2011
The greatest thing ever
Yesterday, late, at night (okay, it was really morning, technically speaking), I finished a book. It's my boxer book, tentatively called "Counterpunch" and it stands as a - very - rough draft at 54k.
And it's a thing of beauty. Of course authors are supposed to say that. Partly because we'd never admit to ourselves (or anybody, for that matter) that some books are better than others or that we have doubts if something works. In a way, admiting to doubts makes stuff real. Denying them is a bit like "if I don't see it, nobody will!" and then reviewers don't pick up on it and we go "whew, s/he missed it", and relax, until a better reviewer or a less polite one points out exactly that and why the king is naked.
But regardless of "what's done" and "not done" as a writer, I think "Counterpunch" is the best thing I've ever done, hands down. In part it's because I'm now a better writer than I was even last year. In part also because "Counterpunch" came out in one piece and it's almost perfect. The structure works, the pacing works, the individual scenes work, and the characters work. It's not what I expected it to be - it's what I hoped it would be.
I pushed Brook and his story away a few times and had a rather unpleasant two weeks where I didn't do anything on the text. I hemmed and hawed and freaked out over things like British stories at American publishers (I struggle hard to rewrite something into "American" that's set in Britain and hence written in British English), then I freaked out over royalty rates and release schedules, which led me to partner up with a new publisher who basically makes a lot of effort to please me. Royalties, cover, editing, and "red carpet treatment" inclusive. Contract terms look very favourable to this writer, and I've signed a fair few contracts by now.
The idea is to try several models, several publishers and then narrow things down to the places I really love (and pay me good royalties). More once I've actually submitted the story and have signed the contract.
Back to the book. Currently I'm mentally and emotionally completely drained (and should have taken the three days between the long weekends off, really, to recover from my 16k-in-four-days writing binge), but I'll look into making the usual changes and begin editing.
That means typos and "line editing" stuff, then a Brit check (because some of my phrasing is pretty American, and that's just wrong for this book) - I already have two volunteers lined up for that), and then a final line edit and style check from a seriously hardcore beta.
Then submission, wait, contract check, signing on the dotted line. I'm looking at a November release, hopefully. But in the meantime I'll bask in what I think is a job well done - and I'll hope you agree with me once you've read it.
And it's a thing of beauty. Of course authors are supposed to say that. Partly because we'd never admit to ourselves (or anybody, for that matter) that some books are better than others or that we have doubts if something works. In a way, admiting to doubts makes stuff real. Denying them is a bit like "if I don't see it, nobody will!" and then reviewers don't pick up on it and we go "whew, s/he missed it", and relax, until a better reviewer or a less polite one points out exactly that and why the king is naked.
But regardless of "what's done" and "not done" as a writer, I think "Counterpunch" is the best thing I've ever done, hands down. In part it's because I'm now a better writer than I was even last year. In part also because "Counterpunch" came out in one piece and it's almost perfect. The structure works, the pacing works, the individual scenes work, and the characters work. It's not what I expected it to be - it's what I hoped it would be.
I pushed Brook and his story away a few times and had a rather unpleasant two weeks where I didn't do anything on the text. I hemmed and hawed and freaked out over things like British stories at American publishers (I struggle hard to rewrite something into "American" that's set in Britain and hence written in British English), then I freaked out over royalty rates and release schedules, which led me to partner up with a new publisher who basically makes a lot of effort to please me. Royalties, cover, editing, and "red carpet treatment" inclusive. Contract terms look very favourable to this writer, and I've signed a fair few contracts by now.
The idea is to try several models, several publishers and then narrow things down to the places I really love (and pay me good royalties). More once I've actually submitted the story and have signed the contract.
Back to the book. Currently I'm mentally and emotionally completely drained (and should have taken the three days between the long weekends off, really, to recover from my 16k-in-four-days writing binge), but I'll look into making the usual changes and begin editing.
That means typos and "line editing" stuff, then a Brit check (because some of my phrasing is pretty American, and that's just wrong for this book) - I already have two volunteers lined up for that), and then a final line edit and style check from a seriously hardcore beta.
Then submission, wait, contract check, signing on the dotted line. I'm looking at a November release, hopefully. But in the meantime I'll bask in what I think is a job well done - and I'll hope you agree with me once you've read it.
Letters from the Front
Aleksandr Voinov's blog on reading and writing.
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