D.T. Neal's Blog, page 21
March 27, 2023
DAISY JONES & THE SIX (2023)
To amuse myself, I watched DAISY JONES & THE SIX on Prime. As a lifelong rock music fan, I sort of had to, and this show was a semi-guilty pleasure for me (kinda).
I didn't read the apparently successful book it was spawned from, but watching the show, it was clearly a suburb-sanitized fantasy rewrite of Fleetwood Mac (especially Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham and their star-crossed romance).
Not going to recap it, but the actors did fine with their respective roles. As a Gen Xer, I suppose I was particularly bemused to see Millennial actors portraying what would chronologically be Baby Boomer characters. Everybody was just too pretty to be proper 70s rockers.
One of my beefs with the show was the portrayal of the 70s was downright antiseptic. I've said it elsewhere, but the show wasn't nearly scuzzy, creepy, or gross enough to adequately replicate the 70s. My childhood was in the 70s, so I remember the vibe of it, and the DAISY JONES 70s was, despite some obligatory cocaine references, too freshly-scrubbed to be adequately 70s-gross.
The story revolves around Daisy's "You Go, Girl!" plucky loopiness -- a white girl talent that cannot be denied, and Billy Dunne's own masculine counterpoint to it. The two of them are mad-talented, but they're bad for each other. Will they? Won't they? Spoiler warning (sorry, looks like the spoiler tags don't work, so I did a strikethrough so you could avert your eyes, Gentle Reader, if you wanted to):
<spoiler>They don't, despite their chemistry, and the show ludicrously tiptoes around that until the payoff at the end, where it's okay for Daisy and Billy to finally get together after the death of Camila, Billy's long-suffering rock photographer wife. Again, from a 70s POV, it's insane to think they didn't shag before the end, but the writer(s) clearly wanted to avoid the complications of it in a sort of rom-com sensibility. It's crazy to think Camila gets jealous just because she recognizes the bond between Daisy and Billy, versus the two of them actually getting it on. We're supposed to feel her pain, but by 70s standards Daisy and Billy are celibate relative to each other.
</spoiler>
Daisy Jones is so ridiculously self-satisfied, just as Billy Dunne is so temper-tantrumy (but in a very weak-n-whiny sort of way -- he's all about storming off when he's having a pout).
The show aims (and hits) its marks -- again, this is a rock-n-roll show aimed squarely (literally and figuratively) at suburban white women and maybe 70s never-there nostalgia buffs (sorry if that's triggering, but that's its narrative wheelhouse). In that way, it's a romantic-comedy minus the comedy -- the rockumentary format of it is used as a narrative device to transition between scenes and scenarios.
The original music is catchy in a folksy yacht rock sort of way, and I give credit to whoever wrote the songs for giving the actors actual songs they could perform. But the real Fleetwood Mac would have snorted up this imaginary band in a cocaine-hastened heartbeat if they'd ever crossed paths. Stevie Nicks would break Daisy Jones over her knee, if the two of them had ever met.
There's actual rock-n-roll badassery, and there's the saltine cracker version of it. This is definitely in the latter camp. Not that it's not entertaining -- but, at least for my cynical Gen X self, it's more about laughing at than laughing with.
***
I didn't read the apparently successful book it was spawned from, but watching the show, it was clearly a suburb-sanitized fantasy rewrite of Fleetwood Mac (especially Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham and their star-crossed romance).
Not going to recap it, but the actors did fine with their respective roles. As a Gen Xer, I suppose I was particularly bemused to see Millennial actors portraying what would chronologically be Baby Boomer characters. Everybody was just too pretty to be proper 70s rockers.
One of my beefs with the show was the portrayal of the 70s was downright antiseptic. I've said it elsewhere, but the show wasn't nearly scuzzy, creepy, or gross enough to adequately replicate the 70s. My childhood was in the 70s, so I remember the vibe of it, and the DAISY JONES 70s was, despite some obligatory cocaine references, too freshly-scrubbed to be adequately 70s-gross.
The story revolves around Daisy's "You Go, Girl!" plucky loopiness -- a white girl talent that cannot be denied, and Billy Dunne's own masculine counterpoint to it. The two of them are mad-talented, but they're bad for each other. Will they? Won't they? Spoiler warning (sorry, looks like the spoiler tags don't work, so I did a strikethrough so you could avert your eyes, Gentle Reader, if you wanted to):
<spoiler>
Daisy Jones is so ridiculously self-satisfied, just as Billy Dunne is so temper-tantrumy (but in a very weak-n-whiny sort of way -- he's all about storming off when he's having a pout).
The show aims (and hits) its marks -- again, this is a rock-n-roll show aimed squarely (literally and figuratively) at suburban white women and maybe 70s never-there nostalgia buffs (sorry if that's triggering, but that's its narrative wheelhouse). In that way, it's a romantic-comedy minus the comedy -- the rockumentary format of it is used as a narrative device to transition between scenes and scenarios.
The original music is catchy in a folksy yacht rock sort of way, and I give credit to whoever wrote the songs for giving the actors actual songs they could perform. But the real Fleetwood Mac would have snorted up this imaginary band in a cocaine-hastened heartbeat if they'd ever crossed paths. Stevie Nicks would break Daisy Jones over her knee, if the two of them had ever met.
There's actual rock-n-roll badassery, and there's the saltine cracker version of it. This is definitely in the latter camp. Not that it's not entertaining -- but, at least for my cynical Gen X self, it's more about laughing at than laughing with.
***
March 24, 2023
Brandon Flakes
People seem to be getting their backs up over the WIRED magazine article slagging Brandon Sanderson.
After reading it, I don't have a reaction to it, honestly. Hell, I doubt Sanderson likely cares much about it, either. He's managed to become a hugely successful writer in spite of his writing ability. Sanderson's literally laughing all the way to the bank.
Whether the WIRED writer is envious or otherwise seething about Sanderson's success, it hardly matters. Sanderson already won. For whatever reason, he's been able to draw a fan base, which any writer would love to have.
I've always felt like magazine writers themselves come from a degree of privilege, so maybe the WIRED writer feels a sense of umbrage that somebody like Sanderson is able to make millions from bad writing. Could be a coastal snobbery thing, who knows?
All the social media indignation on Sanderson's behalf is sort of funny to me. I read the article, once I saw people losing their shit over it, and I just shrugged. People can/will write what they want to sell publications. Likely they knew running a piece like that would trigger people. Maybe Sanderson knew that, too -- that it would galvanize his already-ardent supporters. Who knows? I'm just that cynical.
In the continuum of life's calamities, I can't see a scathing article in WIRED lasting long in the Hall of Fleeting Infamy, frankly. What'll next week's outrage bring?
The cruel reality of writing is you can have great successes who are shit writers, and you can have great writers who are unable to find audience in their lifetimes. The successes just need to write something that a lot of people want to read. If they do that, however that happens, it's gravy for the writer. Sanderson's a multimillionaire, having pulled off the hat trick of all writerly hat tricks. Does that mean he's a great writer? Nah. It only means he's a successful one.
One of the writer's grumblings is that, despite his success, nobody he asked in his group had ever heard of Sanderson. Maybe that's genre snobbery in action -- certainly, people look down at genre work. Or maybe it's reflective of the fractionating of our society that somebody can make millions from their writing and still be a relative unknown, which is reflective of the dire condition of publishing. There could be other reasons, too.
All of these people howling in indignation over the WIRED article won't ever be within a light-year of Sanderson's level of success. It's like when poor people defend the estate tax -- like somehow, they're worried about the estates they don't (and won't) have in their lives getting taxed, and they angrily go after a tax that only affects .2% of Americans.
I'm just not getting all the indignation people are feeling about it.
After reading it, I don't have a reaction to it, honestly. Hell, I doubt Sanderson likely cares much about it, either. He's managed to become a hugely successful writer in spite of his writing ability. Sanderson's literally laughing all the way to the bank.
Whether the WIRED writer is envious or otherwise seething about Sanderson's success, it hardly matters. Sanderson already won. For whatever reason, he's been able to draw a fan base, which any writer would love to have.
I've always felt like magazine writers themselves come from a degree of privilege, so maybe the WIRED writer feels a sense of umbrage that somebody like Sanderson is able to make millions from bad writing. Could be a coastal snobbery thing, who knows?
All the social media indignation on Sanderson's behalf is sort of funny to me. I read the article, once I saw people losing their shit over it, and I just shrugged. People can/will write what they want to sell publications. Likely they knew running a piece like that would trigger people. Maybe Sanderson knew that, too -- that it would galvanize his already-ardent supporters. Who knows? I'm just that cynical.
In the continuum of life's calamities, I can't see a scathing article in WIRED lasting long in the Hall of Fleeting Infamy, frankly. What'll next week's outrage bring?
The cruel reality of writing is you can have great successes who are shit writers, and you can have great writers who are unable to find audience in their lifetimes. The successes just need to write something that a lot of people want to read. If they do that, however that happens, it's gravy for the writer. Sanderson's a multimillionaire, having pulled off the hat trick of all writerly hat tricks. Does that mean he's a great writer? Nah. It only means he's a successful one.
One of the writer's grumblings is that, despite his success, nobody he asked in his group had ever heard of Sanderson. Maybe that's genre snobbery in action -- certainly, people look down at genre work. Or maybe it's reflective of the fractionating of our society that somebody can make millions from their writing and still be a relative unknown, which is reflective of the dire condition of publishing. There could be other reasons, too.
All of these people howling in indignation over the WIRED article won't ever be within a light-year of Sanderson's level of success. It's like when poor people defend the estate tax -- like somehow, they're worried about the estates they don't (and won't) have in their lives getting taxed, and they angrily go after a tax that only affects .2% of Americans.
I'm just not getting all the indignation people are feeling about it.
NOPE (2022)
I finally got around to catching NOPE (it's on Prime). That was one that had promising trailers that almost made me want to catch it in theaters, but, ultimately, I said "Nope" and hung back.
Having seen it, now, I think it's a very good offering by Jordan Peele. It's a solid, very Spielbergian type of monster movie.
Without wanting to lob spoilers out there, I'll just say it was an interesting movie, with a slow, deliberate build toward an almost JAWS-like finale.
I won't recount the movie here, as plenty of reviewers have done that. I will say that Daniel Kaluuya is a master of the world-weary gaze. No actor every looks more Stoically put-upon like Kaluuya. His eyes carry the burden of his characters' lives.
Peele's multiracial cast (Keke Palmer, Steven Yeun, Brandon Perea, with the always-entertaining Michael Wincott) all work together to deliver good performances as a group of characters facing something extraordinary.
One could unpack the symbolism of the story, but the subplot of the Gordy Show disaster underpins the entire narrative. It's a sideshow that proves integral to the mechanics of the story, and is a jarring, scary part of the movie. Very effective.
Okay, one spoiler: the idea that not looking the monster in the eye is the key to not getting killed by it is a curious bit, coming from a Black writer/director. When Kaluuya's OJ realizes this, he and his younger sister and their sidekick, Angel Torres (played by Perea) have a way of surviving the monster, despite its awesome and threatening presence. Wincott's Antlers Holst, in fact, dies because the middle-aged white man dares to look the monster in the eye (and, of course, attempts to film it, the so-called "impossible shot" that's his own white whale). Yeun's "Jupe" Park character is sort of interesting, too, as he's tied in with the Gordy's Show debacle, where he encountered horror and, apparently, has a false sense of his own invulnerability because of that. The white and Asian characters get it wrong, and are killed by the monster. But but the black and brown characters get it right and survive.
Peele's clearly making a sly political point with this -- Wincott's doomed because he refuses to avert his gaze because of his own presumptuousness, whereas the indirect gaze of the black characters, as well as their adroit use of their surroundings and available resources, saves the day, in the end.
The presentation of the monster is very well done, and I appreciated that there were plenty of broad daylight encounters with it, which is nice when contrasted with the murkiness of CGI in other venues. Peele shows the monster in all of its glory, and it's definitely impressive, the way it swoops in and attacks. Rarely have I seen an aerial monster more effectively rendered onscreen.
I enjoyed this one, and I like seeing where Peele's going with his movies.
****
Having seen it, now, I think it's a very good offering by Jordan Peele. It's a solid, very Spielbergian type of monster movie.
Without wanting to lob spoilers out there, I'll just say it was an interesting movie, with a slow, deliberate build toward an almost JAWS-like finale.
I won't recount the movie here, as plenty of reviewers have done that. I will say that Daniel Kaluuya is a master of the world-weary gaze. No actor every looks more Stoically put-upon like Kaluuya. His eyes carry the burden of his characters' lives.
Peele's multiracial cast (Keke Palmer, Steven Yeun, Brandon Perea, with the always-entertaining Michael Wincott) all work together to deliver good performances as a group of characters facing something extraordinary.
One could unpack the symbolism of the story, but the subplot of the Gordy Show disaster underpins the entire narrative. It's a sideshow that proves integral to the mechanics of the story, and is a jarring, scary part of the movie. Very effective.
Okay, one spoiler: the idea that not looking the monster in the eye is the key to not getting killed by it is a curious bit, coming from a Black writer/director. When Kaluuya's OJ realizes this, he and his younger sister and their sidekick, Angel Torres (played by Perea) have a way of surviving the monster, despite its awesome and threatening presence. Wincott's Antlers Holst, in fact, dies because the middle-aged white man dares to look the monster in the eye (and, of course, attempts to film it, the so-called "impossible shot" that's his own white whale). Yeun's "Jupe" Park character is sort of interesting, too, as he's tied in with the Gordy's Show debacle, where he encountered horror and, apparently, has a false sense of his own invulnerability because of that. The white and Asian characters get it wrong, and are killed by the monster. But but the black and brown characters get it right and survive.
Peele's clearly making a sly political point with this -- Wincott's doomed because he refuses to avert his gaze because of his own presumptuousness, whereas the indirect gaze of the black characters, as well as their adroit use of their surroundings and available resources, saves the day, in the end.
The presentation of the monster is very well done, and I appreciated that there were plenty of broad daylight encounters with it, which is nice when contrasted with the murkiness of CGI in other venues. Peele shows the monster in all of its glory, and it's definitely impressive, the way it swoops in and attacks. Rarely have I seen an aerial monster more effectively rendered onscreen.
I enjoyed this one, and I like seeing where Peele's going with his movies.
****
March 23, 2023
Tumbleweeding
Radical candor content warning -- if you're triggered by frankness, turn away! I think the indie (and, for that matter, trad) publishing landscape as we know it will be radically different in the next three years.
I've already talked about the flood, drought, and famine taking place simultaneously, but here's a brief summary if you missed those earlier posts:
Flood: Too many writers putting work out there
Drought: Too few decent* venues
Famine: Too few sales among non-celebrities
*"Decent" defined as good-paying venues.
Many (most?) indie writers are tempted to fling their stories to Kindle Unlimited, gambling that giving their books away for free (oh, sorry, $.99) will somehow give them the exposure to raise their profile enough to do what? Start selling books for a fair price? I think the Kindle Unlimited crowd are folks who just like getting something on the cheap, and aren't particularly caring how they get it.
Once you're aboard that train, it's pretty hard to get off, I'd imagine. I would never know, because I won't put my stuff on Kindle Unlimited. Does that make me foolish? I don't believe that. I believe that readers who are interested in my work will pay for it.
Maybe indie writers are able to gin up enough support from their allies and acolytes to lift their work through Kindle Unlimited, but it all feels very off, like they're selling themselves cheaply and don't actually believe in their work, so they're effectively giving it away, hoping to make it up with pennies flung their way here and there if they get enough people scooping up their $.99 story that those pennies turn to nickels, maybe dimes if they're really lucky (like actual nickels and dimes, not euphemistic nickels and dimes).
However, despite (or, hmm, because) there's over 1.5 million books on Kindle Unlimited, it's important to note that among Big Four publishers, only HarperCollins has put a bit of its backlist on Kindle Unlimited. Of that 1.5 million titles, around 1.3 million are Amazon Exclusives -- aka, almost entirely self-published, exclusive to Amazon.
It's a colossal Amazon slush pile, where anyone hoping to be discovered is likely to be disappointed. Readers will be finding the popular books via the Big Four, and it's highly unlikely that there are any actual jewels in the Kindle Unlimited midden heap -- certainly not enough to warrant slogging through all the junk.
Writers can do what they want, but Kindle Unlimited is where books go to die. It's like a massive boneyard. Maybe enough hype and gamesmanship can elevate someone through it, but I highly doubt it.
And there's the brute reality that the majority of indie writers out there are unable (most) to and/or unwilling (few) to write novels. They don't have enough stories to tell, or the stories they have to tell are short ones, which are venue-dependent (and, as I've mentioned, those good venues are drying up).
What I think we'll be seeing is indie presses closing/collapsing, and a host of indie writers (save for the most determined/fanatical) just giving up or (likelier) running out of worthwhile stories to tell. It's probably why fairytale retellings have been one of those popular crutches among indie writers -- it's easier to lean in on a fairytale retelling for your narrative structure than building something actually new.
Writing fiction is a dream for anyone who does it. Whether it's an illusion or a delusion depends on their expectations, and how professional they are or aren't. Being professional means cranking out the work and finding homes for it. It doesn't mean giving your work away.
The tourists will move on, and I think there are a ton of lit tourists in indie -- they will move on to other hobbies and diversions, once the brutal reality sets in.
Flood, drought, and famine.
RHCP | Give It Away Now
I've already talked about the flood, drought, and famine taking place simultaneously, but here's a brief summary if you missed those earlier posts:
Flood: Too many writers putting work out there
Drought: Too few decent* venues
Famine: Too few sales among non-celebrities
*"Decent" defined as good-paying venues.
Many (most?) indie writers are tempted to fling their stories to Kindle Unlimited, gambling that giving their books away for free (oh, sorry, $.99) will somehow give them the exposure to raise their profile enough to do what? Start selling books for a fair price? I think the Kindle Unlimited crowd are folks who just like getting something on the cheap, and aren't particularly caring how they get it.
Once you're aboard that train, it's pretty hard to get off, I'd imagine. I would never know, because I won't put my stuff on Kindle Unlimited. Does that make me foolish? I don't believe that. I believe that readers who are interested in my work will pay for it.
Maybe indie writers are able to gin up enough support from their allies and acolytes to lift their work through Kindle Unlimited, but it all feels very off, like they're selling themselves cheaply and don't actually believe in their work, so they're effectively giving it away, hoping to make it up with pennies flung their way here and there if they get enough people scooping up their $.99 story that those pennies turn to nickels, maybe dimes if they're really lucky (like actual nickels and dimes, not euphemistic nickels and dimes).
However, despite (or, hmm, because) there's over 1.5 million books on Kindle Unlimited, it's important to note that among Big Four publishers, only HarperCollins has put a bit of its backlist on Kindle Unlimited. Of that 1.5 million titles, around 1.3 million are Amazon Exclusives -- aka, almost entirely self-published, exclusive to Amazon.
It's a colossal Amazon slush pile, where anyone hoping to be discovered is likely to be disappointed. Readers will be finding the popular books via the Big Four, and it's highly unlikely that there are any actual jewels in the Kindle Unlimited midden heap -- certainly not enough to warrant slogging through all the junk.
Writers can do what they want, but Kindle Unlimited is where books go to die. It's like a massive boneyard. Maybe enough hype and gamesmanship can elevate someone through it, but I highly doubt it.
And there's the brute reality that the majority of indie writers out there are unable (most) to and/or unwilling (few) to write novels. They don't have enough stories to tell, or the stories they have to tell are short ones, which are venue-dependent (and, as I've mentioned, those good venues are drying up).
What I think we'll be seeing is indie presses closing/collapsing, and a host of indie writers (save for the most determined/fanatical) just giving up or (likelier) running out of worthwhile stories to tell. It's probably why fairytale retellings have been one of those popular crutches among indie writers -- it's easier to lean in on a fairytale retelling for your narrative structure than building something actually new.
Writing fiction is a dream for anyone who does it. Whether it's an illusion or a delusion depends on their expectations, and how professional they are or aren't. Being professional means cranking out the work and finding homes for it. It doesn't mean giving your work away.
The tourists will move on, and I think there are a ton of lit tourists in indie -- they will move on to other hobbies and diversions, once the brutal reality sets in.
Flood, drought, and famine.
RHCP | Give It Away Now
March 20, 2023
The Kindness of Strangers
This'll seem like a weird thing to post on a Goodreads blog, but maybe it's the right place, too -- I can't stress enough how important it is for readers to leave ratings and reviews of works they like.
I know it's asking a lot, but here's the thing (this would get me pilloried in some quarters): the hacks (that is, the shit writers out there, who know who they are, more often than not) depend on their friends, allies, and acolytes to boost their junk stories by giving them inflated reviews.
It's why you'll see a work get a massive pile of five-star reviews and ratings, enough to boost its visibility to the algorithms (say, Amazon for example, which rewards books with 100 ratings/reviews or more), and then, when more readers (who aren't part of the network of friends and allies) get the book and invariably downgrade it because the five-star rating hype is unwarranted when you get objective outsiders reviewing the book and slagging it.
The ersatz boosterism creates a "false positive" around a book -- a cluster of five-star balloons to float it skyward like the old man's house in UP.
This tendency does a disservice to readers, because it takes something that should an authentic expression of approval and sullies it.
Often, I get a sense that some of those bogus ratings are from people who haven't even actually read the book. You can usually spot them by the blandly positive nature of the review (if they even both with a review -- "Amazing! Superb! Stunning!")
There's a lot to unpack with this. It's pretty easy to leave a rating -- that's where most of the acolytes go; it's slightly harder to leave a review (more effort), which is why the bogus reviews tend to be superficial or very general in nature.
However, if the hack has networked enough to have a lot of allies out there, it can give that unearned boost and can drive up hype. We're all competing for the money, time, and attention of readers, so those who have these networks in place have an advantage relative to others.
There's no real cure for this tendency -- the hypesters (as I'll call them) will always depend on that and they'll typically throw themselves at a friend's book with the expectation that they'll get their own book touted by their allies when the time comes. One greased palm greasing the other in an endless circle jerk.
The only antidote for writers who aren't part of these cozy arrangements is for legitimate readers who genuinely read and review their work to leave an honest rating and review. I know that's a lot to ask, but the din of the chorus of kazoos of the hypesters will always be there for the hacks, and if writers outside of that cabal can hope to be discovered, it's only if honest reviews get out there.
It's why I respect NetGalley -- at least then, you can get actual strangers reviewing your books, versus hypesters. Sure, some hypesters may slip in for hack books, but you'll also get strangers accessing the book, which matters more from my POV.
I know it's paradoxical, but I trust strangers when they review a book of mine, because they have no association with me, can evaluate a work on its own merits, versus any associations with me.
Rate and review the writers you read and enjoy. I know it's a chore, but other honest readers need you, and writers who aren't passengers aboard the hype train need you to do it, too.
I could write more on it, but I'll leave you with this song, ironically enough...
The Kindness of Strangers
I know it's asking a lot, but here's the thing (this would get me pilloried in some quarters): the hacks (that is, the shit writers out there, who know who they are, more often than not) depend on their friends, allies, and acolytes to boost their junk stories by giving them inflated reviews.
It's why you'll see a work get a massive pile of five-star reviews and ratings, enough to boost its visibility to the algorithms (say, Amazon for example, which rewards books with 100 ratings/reviews or more), and then, when more readers (who aren't part of the network of friends and allies) get the book and invariably downgrade it because the five-star rating hype is unwarranted when you get objective outsiders reviewing the book and slagging it.
The ersatz boosterism creates a "false positive" around a book -- a cluster of five-star balloons to float it skyward like the old man's house in UP.
This tendency does a disservice to readers, because it takes something that should an authentic expression of approval and sullies it.
Often, I get a sense that some of those bogus ratings are from people who haven't even actually read the book. You can usually spot them by the blandly positive nature of the review (if they even both with a review -- "Amazing! Superb! Stunning!")
There's a lot to unpack with this. It's pretty easy to leave a rating -- that's where most of the acolytes go; it's slightly harder to leave a review (more effort), which is why the bogus reviews tend to be superficial or very general in nature.
However, if the hack has networked enough to have a lot of allies out there, it can give that unearned boost and can drive up hype. We're all competing for the money, time, and attention of readers, so those who have these networks in place have an advantage relative to others.
There's no real cure for this tendency -- the hypesters (as I'll call them) will always depend on that and they'll typically throw themselves at a friend's book with the expectation that they'll get their own book touted by their allies when the time comes. One greased palm greasing the other in an endless circle jerk.
The only antidote for writers who aren't part of these cozy arrangements is for legitimate readers who genuinely read and review their work to leave an honest rating and review. I know that's a lot to ask, but the din of the chorus of kazoos of the hypesters will always be there for the hacks, and if writers outside of that cabal can hope to be discovered, it's only if honest reviews get out there.
It's why I respect NetGalley -- at least then, you can get actual strangers reviewing your books, versus hypesters. Sure, some hypesters may slip in for hack books, but you'll also get strangers accessing the book, which matters more from my POV.
I know it's paradoxical, but I trust strangers when they review a book of mine, because they have no association with me, can evaluate a work on its own merits, versus any associations with me.
Rate and review the writers you read and enjoy. I know it's a chore, but other honest readers need you, and writers who aren't passengers aboard the hype train need you to do it, too.
I could write more on it, but I'll leave you with this song, ironically enough...
The Kindness of Strangers
March 18, 2023
Game Over, Man...
I know I've been something of a doomsayer on some of my other posts, but what can I say? I think publishing's in a lot of trouble, both on a trad level and (of course) on an indie level. A confluence of circumstances has produced a very writer-unfavorable environment, including:
1) Way, way too many indie writers out there flooding the market with works, to the detriment of everyone else (including, weirdly enough, themselves).
2) Trad writers unable to make ends meet because of various circumstances, including publishing houses lowering their already-low advances and the fact that only 30% of trad-published writers earn royalties.
3) Decline of written fiction as a primary cultural medium -- basically, a host of other forms of more readily-accessible entertainment is impacting readership.
4) Disappearance of paying publishing venues, whether magazines, journals, or publishing houses.
5) The end of the Baby Boomers. I know a lot has been made of Millennials and Zoomers reading more than the oldsters, but those groups also have way more entertainment options than the Boomers did at their age. All of the giants of the writing world are Boomers (King, Roberts, Grisham, Patterson, Steele, etc.) -- they rose at a time when Boomers actively supported novels. When the Boomers are finally gone, no writers will have the stature and cultural cachet to sustain the way those others did. They will be niche writers, versus blockbuster writers.
6) Less disposable income among the 99%. Basically, more and more people are forced by things like wage stagnation to live hand-to-mouth, which makes a book purchase feel like a needless extravagance. And, especially in the US, attacks on the public sector put libraries on more precarious footing, so there's that, too.
I think we're going to see in the next five or more years a serious realignment of the publishing world -- the glut of indie writers of the past decade is going to wither away as more and more of them find fewer and fewer places to get stories published, and even if they're self-publishing, they're just going to find it harder to garner readers who already have tons of choices.
Will some still carry on? Sure, but most are going to wash out. And those who survive the flood-n-famine are going to find that more people are simply reading (and, most importantly from the professional writer perspective, buying) fewer books.
There was a time when short stories, novellas, and novels could inspire movies and television shows. Nowadays, it's video games and comic books. Why is that, do you think? It's because games and comics have large and dedicated audiences, far more than there ever were for literary magazines or even genre magazines. Production companies go where the audience is, and that dedicated audience is with gaming and comic books.
I think we'll increasingly see a time when books are simply accessories to other marketing efforts. For example, a celebrity will churn out a book, and it'll sell simply because it was released by a celebrity. Or a book might come out that'll complement some show or movie, instead of being the initial inspiration for it. And so on. Think of those Warhammer books, for one example among many.
There was a time when books were primary cultural vehicles for society, but that time is fading rapidly, even in areas like Young Adult, which, at least for a while, enjoyed a steady stream of interest and support for those formulaic sorts of stories. But when's the last time we saw a major YA franchise like that impact society at large the way they used to.
Writers are going to go the way of jazz afficionados, basically -- living fossils of a niche form of entertainment that has seen better days.
And the publishing industry will continue to contract, which means fewer opportunities will arise for writers at all, and even the stubbornly self-published will find fewer willing readers for their work.
At least for fiction, what we'll see among writers are celebrities and other 1% elites putting out accessory books, a sliver of professional writers actually able to make it, somehow, a few literary fanatics like myself who'll keep at it regardless, and a horde of wannabes who'll churn out junk that vanishes almost as quickly as it was made before they give up. That horde, incidentally, will likely thin out as fewer and fewer people put writing as central to their being.
Then, publishing will go back to being what it was -- a boutique industry where the privileged are free to express themselves in a quaint format that hearkens back to another era.
It's a grim time to be a writer these days, sadly.
1) Way, way too many indie writers out there flooding the market with works, to the detriment of everyone else (including, weirdly enough, themselves).
2) Trad writers unable to make ends meet because of various circumstances, including publishing houses lowering their already-low advances and the fact that only 30% of trad-published writers earn royalties.
3) Decline of written fiction as a primary cultural medium -- basically, a host of other forms of more readily-accessible entertainment is impacting readership.
4) Disappearance of paying publishing venues, whether magazines, journals, or publishing houses.
5) The end of the Baby Boomers. I know a lot has been made of Millennials and Zoomers reading more than the oldsters, but those groups also have way more entertainment options than the Boomers did at their age. All of the giants of the writing world are Boomers (King, Roberts, Grisham, Patterson, Steele, etc.) -- they rose at a time when Boomers actively supported novels. When the Boomers are finally gone, no writers will have the stature and cultural cachet to sustain the way those others did. They will be niche writers, versus blockbuster writers.
6) Less disposable income among the 99%. Basically, more and more people are forced by things like wage stagnation to live hand-to-mouth, which makes a book purchase feel like a needless extravagance. And, especially in the US, attacks on the public sector put libraries on more precarious footing, so there's that, too.
I think we're going to see in the next five or more years a serious realignment of the publishing world -- the glut of indie writers of the past decade is going to wither away as more and more of them find fewer and fewer places to get stories published, and even if they're self-publishing, they're just going to find it harder to garner readers who already have tons of choices.
Will some still carry on? Sure, but most are going to wash out. And those who survive the flood-n-famine are going to find that more people are simply reading (and, most importantly from the professional writer perspective, buying) fewer books.
There was a time when short stories, novellas, and novels could inspire movies and television shows. Nowadays, it's video games and comic books. Why is that, do you think? It's because games and comics have large and dedicated audiences, far more than there ever were for literary magazines or even genre magazines. Production companies go where the audience is, and that dedicated audience is with gaming and comic books.
I think we'll increasingly see a time when books are simply accessories to other marketing efforts. For example, a celebrity will churn out a book, and it'll sell simply because it was released by a celebrity. Or a book might come out that'll complement some show or movie, instead of being the initial inspiration for it. And so on. Think of those Warhammer books, for one example among many.
There was a time when books were primary cultural vehicles for society, but that time is fading rapidly, even in areas like Young Adult, which, at least for a while, enjoyed a steady stream of interest and support for those formulaic sorts of stories. But when's the last time we saw a major YA franchise like that impact society at large the way they used to.
Writers are going to go the way of jazz afficionados, basically -- living fossils of a niche form of entertainment that has seen better days.
And the publishing industry will continue to contract, which means fewer opportunities will arise for writers at all, and even the stubbornly self-published will find fewer willing readers for their work.
At least for fiction, what we'll see among writers are celebrities and other 1% elites putting out accessory books, a sliver of professional writers actually able to make it, somehow, a few literary fanatics like myself who'll keep at it regardless, and a horde of wannabes who'll churn out junk that vanishes almost as quickly as it was made before they give up. That horde, incidentally, will likely thin out as fewer and fewer people put writing as central to their being.
Then, publishing will go back to being what it was -- a boutique industry where the privileged are free to express themselves in a quaint format that hearkens back to another era.
It's a grim time to be a writer these days, sadly.
March 17, 2023
"Writes" of Passage
Confession: it drives me bananas when I see erstwhile writers routinely misspell stuff. Words are our lives and livelihoods with writing, and that means actually knowing the words that you're using.
All too often, I see people who are clearly processing language phonetically when they write something down. That is, they're trying to reproduce a word they've heard, and they get it wrong. Because they've never read the word they're misusing; they only heard it and are repeating it.
Nobody likes a wordsmith, I know.
But, come on. Finding (and using) the right word is the meat and drink of writing. You have to love words, and that means actually knowing them.
I see it on Twitter a lot. And, yes, I understand, the Twit is a social media cesspool, but it's still no excuse for boning up words. I see writers doing that and it bugs me.
It would be like a singer thoughtlessly crooning sour notes or a cook without a developed palate -- words are what writers have, and they should have a care in their use and abuse.
Recent examples, so, top of mind:
I saw "troupe" used when "trope" was intended. I saw "ball" used when "bawl" was intended. I'm always seeing "your" used when "you're" is intended. I saw "currated" when "curated" was intended. I always see "hone in" when "home in" is intended.
People might accuse me of snobbery, but words matter, and if you screw up the simple stuff, how can you be trusted with anything else? How can a reader trust you to take them somewhere they want to go if you're driving over grammatical potholes at every turn because you're sloppy with language?
More to the point, if you're the type of writer who can't be bothered to know and/or understand the words you're using (and abusing), you're a hack. The sad fact of it is the ones who abuse the language in this way most often simply fail to even realize they're doing it.
I'd be pilloried for even voicing this, but that's part of the problem, too. Having standards is somehow seen as being elitist. Take the time to learn your craft and hone your language. You owe it to the profession and to your readers. There are just too many avid hacks out there, mindlessly mangling language, polluting the pond.
Learning how to write is a rite of passage (and a constant quest for improvement), and words are the building blocks of all that we do; they're like the musical notes -- stay in-tune when you're trying to compose something.
XTC | No Language In Our Lungs
All too often, I see people who are clearly processing language phonetically when they write something down. That is, they're trying to reproduce a word they've heard, and they get it wrong. Because they've never read the word they're misusing; they only heard it and are repeating it.
Nobody likes a wordsmith, I know.
But, come on. Finding (and using) the right word is the meat and drink of writing. You have to love words, and that means actually knowing them.
I see it on Twitter a lot. And, yes, I understand, the Twit is a social media cesspool, but it's still no excuse for boning up words. I see writers doing that and it bugs me.
It would be like a singer thoughtlessly crooning sour notes or a cook without a developed palate -- words are what writers have, and they should have a care in their use and abuse.
Recent examples, so, top of mind:
I saw "troupe" used when "trope" was intended. I saw "ball" used when "bawl" was intended. I'm always seeing "your" used when "you're" is intended. I saw "currated" when "curated" was intended. I always see "hone in" when "home in" is intended.
People might accuse me of snobbery, but words matter, and if you screw up the simple stuff, how can you be trusted with anything else? How can a reader trust you to take them somewhere they want to go if you're driving over grammatical potholes at every turn because you're sloppy with language?
More to the point, if you're the type of writer who can't be bothered to know and/or understand the words you're using (and abusing), you're a hack. The sad fact of it is the ones who abuse the language in this way most often simply fail to even realize they're doing it.
I'd be pilloried for even voicing this, but that's part of the problem, too. Having standards is somehow seen as being elitist. Take the time to learn your craft and hone your language. You owe it to the profession and to your readers. There are just too many avid hacks out there, mindlessly mangling language, polluting the pond.
Learning how to write is a rite of passage (and a constant quest for improvement), and words are the building blocks of all that we do; they're like the musical notes -- stay in-tune when you're trying to compose something.
XTC | No Language In Our Lungs
March 16, 2023
Noodlin' & Chooglin'
My partner Christine & I joke about how we always need to keep on chooglin' (invoking the CCR tune that spawned the term in the pop culture). We say it to crack each other up.
I'm all about the chooglin' for sure, which, if John Fogerty is to be believed, basically means to keep on truckin' -- to keep going through thick and thin, whatever comes your way.
I'm cool with that. I've been chooglin' most of my professional life. And I've been noodlin' as well -- which, in musical terms, means to sort of improvise or play casually.
So, there's somehow a balance to be attained between noodlin' and chooglin' (I'm amusing myself by writing about this). There's something to be said for staying chill and casual while one is pushing forward through inevitable adversity toward the goals you hope to attain.
For a writer or other unconnected creator, even more so. I say "unconnected" because I don't think connected and/or privileged creators need to do any chooglin' whatsoever -- they operate in a choogle-free zone, because they're handed the wins by virtue of their privilege, or have readier access to the wins -- although they tend to retrofit some faux-adversity into their narratives to camouflage that. For the rest of us, however, there's always plenty of chooglin' we have to do.
It's a triumph of spirit, I think, in not allowing challenges to hobble you, whether personally or professionally. Stay open, stay limber, stay active. I mean, what's the alternative? Despair, surrender, and death. Right? Screw that.
Keep on chooglin' and noodlin' and you'll find your way eventually, whatever way that precisely is. That's where the noodlin' comes in -- you don't know what might work out for you while you're busy chooglin' -- and it's important to keep an eye on the proverbial prize while you're doing that.
Oh, and by the way -- it's always chooglin' -- NOT choogling. Nobody's ever choogling; you can only ever be chooglin' -- however, you can be noodling or noodlin' -- that's permissible; it's only in the realm of chooglin' where you can't slap that terminal "g" on the word.
Keep on chooglin', Gentle Reader...
I'm all about the chooglin' for sure, which, if John Fogerty is to be believed, basically means to keep on truckin' -- to keep going through thick and thin, whatever comes your way.
I'm cool with that. I've been chooglin' most of my professional life. And I've been noodlin' as well -- which, in musical terms, means to sort of improvise or play casually.
So, there's somehow a balance to be attained between noodlin' and chooglin' (I'm amusing myself by writing about this). There's something to be said for staying chill and casual while one is pushing forward through inevitable adversity toward the goals you hope to attain.
For a writer or other unconnected creator, even more so. I say "unconnected" because I don't think connected and/or privileged creators need to do any chooglin' whatsoever -- they operate in a choogle-free zone, because they're handed the wins by virtue of their privilege, or have readier access to the wins -- although they tend to retrofit some faux-adversity into their narratives to camouflage that. For the rest of us, however, there's always plenty of chooglin' we have to do.
It's a triumph of spirit, I think, in not allowing challenges to hobble you, whether personally or professionally. Stay open, stay limber, stay active. I mean, what's the alternative? Despair, surrender, and death. Right? Screw that.
Keep on chooglin' and noodlin' and you'll find your way eventually, whatever way that precisely is. That's where the noodlin' comes in -- you don't know what might work out for you while you're busy chooglin' -- and it's important to keep an eye on the proverbial prize while you're doing that.
Oh, and by the way -- it's always chooglin' -- NOT choogling. Nobody's ever choogling; you can only ever be chooglin' -- however, you can be noodling or noodlin' -- that's permissible; it's only in the realm of chooglin' where you can't slap that terminal "g" on the word.
Keep on chooglin', Gentle Reader...
March 15, 2023
Bookcasing the Place
The Penguin Random House case shed some much-needed light on the trad publishing industry (and the industry as a whole), things I think they didn't want people to learn. Things like:
Only ~35% of books turn a profit, and the top 4% of profitable titles earn 60% of profits.
Which means that 65% of books fail to turn a profit. And that's trad we're talking about, here. What is means in practical terms is that trad publishers are going all-in on what few stars they actually have, and everybody else is left twisting.
While the number of nonreaders (17%) has always been pretty stable over the past decade or so, the number of books readers read has declined -- which means that the people who're actually reading books are reading fewer than they used to.
In practical terms, it means there's a wealth of choices for readers, and only a bit more than a third of the trad writers out there have profitable titles. Writers are screwed, basically.
Pre-Internet, pre-cable TV, pre-streaming services, books held a place as a viable form of entertainment. Nowadays, they're an afterthought.
Not sure what the trad industry is going to do once all the profitable workhorses die off. There will be nobody of sufficient stature to replace them.
Only ~35% of books turn a profit, and the top 4% of profitable titles earn 60% of profits.
Which means that 65% of books fail to turn a profit. And that's trad we're talking about, here. What is means in practical terms is that trad publishers are going all-in on what few stars they actually have, and everybody else is left twisting.
While the number of nonreaders (17%) has always been pretty stable over the past decade or so, the number of books readers read has declined -- which means that the people who're actually reading books are reading fewer than they used to.
In practical terms, it means there's a wealth of choices for readers, and only a bit more than a third of the trad writers out there have profitable titles. Writers are screwed, basically.
Pre-Internet, pre-cable TV, pre-streaming services, books held a place as a viable form of entertainment. Nowadays, they're an afterthought.
Not sure what the trad industry is going to do once all the profitable workhorses die off. There will be nobody of sufficient stature to replace them.
March 14, 2023
Misfitting Room
One thing I wrestle with in terms of finding an audience is my perennial misfit status. I'm a white, middle-aged straight man who's *not* an asshole (and, OMG, I'm progressive). I mean, who'd want to read a book from a guy like me?
As I've said before, my best literary years were about 1961-1971 (spoiler warning: I was born in 1970). So, yeah, I missed the best years for my demographic as a writer. If, as they say, demographics is destiny, I'm destined for obscurity (currently best-case scenario -- hell, I'd *love* to be obscure at this point) and oblivion (a fate we all can look forward to).
What I'm saying is that I'm effectively shot by both sides -- the social justice/identity politics gatekeepers see me as Just Another White Man(tm) out to oppress and enslave the world. And the people who are fascist asshats (generally speaking, the strongest pro-white man lobby out there) wouldn't read me because I'm way, way too radical for them.
Who's my audience? I'd like to think my writing is good enough to draw readers, but if people are busy knee-jerking based on a writer's persona and/or their "story" -- what can I say? In a world of, what, eight billion people, I'd be happy if I could find around 10,000 people out there who'd love my work. That's like .000001% of the world's population. C'mon...
I'm too middle-class Rust Belt to have any kind of privileged cachet -- no world backpacking adventures for me. I don't have any baked-in networks that give me an in anywhere. I'm not a celebrity. While I'm adjacently allied with (and supportive of) the LGBTQ+ set, I'm not one of them, so that's a point against me. I'm not a woman, so that's a point against me. I don't write gunk-n-junk type pump-and-dump crap books, so that's a point against me. I'm not trad, and that's another point against me (and even if I was, I'd likely have to deal with all the other stuff I've already mentioned).
What happens is I release books into the void, in the midst of a crowded room where everybody's talking about everything else.
I'm objective enough about it all that if I were an agent or a trad publisher, I'd have to brainstorm a bit how to market myself. Because, again, outside of 1961-71, it's damned difficult to see how to do so.
Polls from years past show that women are the most avid book readers -- I try to compensate for that by have a lot of strong women characters in my books. But I'm still a man writing those characters. Does that damn me in the eyes of would-be women readers?
Millennials are the most likely to read books these days. As a Gen Xer (aka, "Hello, Boomer" to the Millennial set, despite me not being a Boomer), I'm screwed along those lines, too (far fewer Xers out there). Ergo, I admittedly write very Gen X-type books, so maybe my stories just don't reach Millennials. Still another point against me.
I'm not whining, here; I'm just assessing the barren landscape of my audience. The onesies and twosies I get in terms of people picking up my books, they overwhelmingly tend to like what I've written. And I'm happy about that. However, I despair over ever having enough of an audience to be able to make it as a writer. I'll always been the quirky outsider, who tells good stories nobody particularly wants to read.
I'm going to experiment with it over the next 20 years, see if I can try to wrangle audience and fans, but it's very much an experiment, an exercise in adroit marketing, because I'm not sure there are enough people out there quite like me to quite like me.
As I've said before, my best literary years were about 1961-1971 (spoiler warning: I was born in 1970). So, yeah, I missed the best years for my demographic as a writer. If, as they say, demographics is destiny, I'm destined for obscurity (currently best-case scenario -- hell, I'd *love* to be obscure at this point) and oblivion (a fate we all can look forward to).
What I'm saying is that I'm effectively shot by both sides -- the social justice/identity politics gatekeepers see me as Just Another White Man(tm) out to oppress and enslave the world. And the people who are fascist asshats (generally speaking, the strongest pro-white man lobby out there) wouldn't read me because I'm way, way too radical for them.
Who's my audience? I'd like to think my writing is good enough to draw readers, but if people are busy knee-jerking based on a writer's persona and/or their "story" -- what can I say? In a world of, what, eight billion people, I'd be happy if I could find around 10,000 people out there who'd love my work. That's like .000001% of the world's population. C'mon...
I'm too middle-class Rust Belt to have any kind of privileged cachet -- no world backpacking adventures for me. I don't have any baked-in networks that give me an in anywhere. I'm not a celebrity. While I'm adjacently allied with (and supportive of) the LGBTQ+ set, I'm not one of them, so that's a point against me. I'm not a woman, so that's a point against me. I don't write gunk-n-junk type pump-and-dump crap books, so that's a point against me. I'm not trad, and that's another point against me (and even if I was, I'd likely have to deal with all the other stuff I've already mentioned).
What happens is I release books into the void, in the midst of a crowded room where everybody's talking about everything else.
I'm objective enough about it all that if I were an agent or a trad publisher, I'd have to brainstorm a bit how to market myself. Because, again, outside of 1961-71, it's damned difficult to see how to do so.
Polls from years past show that women are the most avid book readers -- I try to compensate for that by have a lot of strong women characters in my books. But I'm still a man writing those characters. Does that damn me in the eyes of would-be women readers?
Millennials are the most likely to read books these days. As a Gen Xer (aka, "Hello, Boomer" to the Millennial set, despite me not being a Boomer), I'm screwed along those lines, too (far fewer Xers out there). Ergo, I admittedly write very Gen X-type books, so maybe my stories just don't reach Millennials. Still another point against me.
I'm not whining, here; I'm just assessing the barren landscape of my audience. The onesies and twosies I get in terms of people picking up my books, they overwhelmingly tend to like what I've written. And I'm happy about that. However, I despair over ever having enough of an audience to be able to make it as a writer. I'll always been the quirky outsider, who tells good stories nobody particularly wants to read.
I'm going to experiment with it over the next 20 years, see if I can try to wrangle audience and fans, but it's very much an experiment, an exercise in adroit marketing, because I'm not sure there are enough people out there quite like me to quite like me.
