David R. Michael's Blog, page 36

Still Planning, But Also Writing

 
I haven't finished my planning for my next novel. That's one of my goals for this week.
 
In the meantime, though, I'm writing short stories. Today I wrote another "Mask Story". The somewhat-long-awaited conclusion to the story arc begun with Callisto and continued in Constellation. At 2500 words, "Selene" is longer than the previous two stories combined. I tried to keep it from getting too long. I didn't want "Selene" to overwhelm the other two stories. Maybe I'll cut it some in editing.
 
Not sure yet what I'll write tomorrow. One advantage of my writing goals this year: So long as they're only about 4000 words, I figure I can start and finish short stories in one day. Might do another mask story, since I don't think I can have too many of those. =)
 
Still, this bit of short story writing will probably reduce my overall word count for the week. Much like finishing Gunwitch rather hammered last week's production. But I'm OK with that. I'm confident I'll make up for both weeks over the course of the year.
 
-David
 

Writing Progress Report

 
Writing progress report for the week starting Monday, January 17, 2011.
 








Writing Project


Words




Monday


Gunwitch


3020




Tuesday


Gunwitch – First Draft Completed!


2135




Wednesday


Tween novel outlining.







Thursday


Tween novel outlining.







Friday


Tween novel outlining.







Saturday








Sunday


















Total








 








Marketing/Submission




Monday





Tuesday


Received Demon Candy proof.




Wednesday


Forwarded Demon Candy proof to Don.




Thursday





Friday





Saturday





Sunday





 
Reading List

Storm Front by Jim Butcher.

 

One Down, Five to Go

 
This afternoon I typed "THE END of Gunwitch", signalling the completion of the first draft of that novel–a mere 3 years and 2 months after first starting work on it during Nanowrimo 2007.
 
I didn't need to finish that book. But, yeah, I did. Gunwitch, an alternate history fantasy of the early colonial period, was too good an idea to throw away. That said, it will be fun to see how well I manage to blur the line between the first half of the book, written November 2007 through January 2008, and the last half the book, written over the past couple months, during the editing I do later this year.
 
The finished first draft weighs in just a few words shy of 100K. Which is a far cry from what I thought the final word count would be back in early 2008 when I decided to drop the project (150K), and also less than I first thought it would be when I picked the project back up again in November (120K). Will the book grow in editing? Or shrink? Another question I look forward to answering later this year.
 
This gives me my first completed novel of 2011. Only five more to go reach my goal for the year.
 
I'm excited! Even if this means I probably won't hit 15K words this week as I try to get my next novel lined up. I'll see about writing a few short stories to "bridge the gap".
 
-David
 

Online Discussions About Indie Publishing I Now Avoid

 
In an effort to retain my sanity and not lose precious writing time to pointless discussions, I do hereby resolve to avoid the following topics of discussion in all online forums:

Indie publishing vs Traditional publishing (My choice: Indie)
Writers born vs Writers made (My choice: Made)
Ebook pricing (My choice: see my book prices)
Last month's sales (AKA "wienie-wagging") (My choice: )
Editing your own work (My choice: Yes you can.)

 
I expect I'll add to this list over time. The latest addition was made last night.
 
I've made my own decisions about these topics based on what I think are valid reasons. If asked, and if I haven't already blogged the topic to death, I will gladly elucidate on any topic.
 
I am open to changing my mind (I always reserve the right to change my mind), but if I do, it will because I've learned something from my own experience or from the experience of someone I know. I won't change my mind based on what I read in an online forum.
 
And I must accept that I won't change anyone else's mind about something contentious either. Even if I'm right, and my rightness is simultaneously self-evident and blindingly obvious.
 
Every writer, every artist, works differently. What works for me might not work for anyone else. And vice versa. I am willing to share what I do and what I learn, though, in case it does prove useful to another writer.
 
I just get tired of having to defend hard won, experience-based knowledge and insight from people who are more interested in dogmatic adherence to a point of view.
 
I am willing to learn (from my mistakes and yours). But after growing up in an evangelical, fundamentalist household and attending Christian schools and more churches than I care to count, I'm no longer willing to be preached at.
 
Down with dogma.
 
-David
 

Writing Progress Report

 
Writing progress report for the week starting Monday, January 10, 2011.
 








Writing Project


Words




Monday


Gunwitch


2601




Tuesday


Gunwitch


3522




Wednesday


Gunwitch


3519




Thursday


Gunwitch
Created the base ebook document for Demon Candy.


3521




Friday


Gunwitch
Formatted Demon Candy ebooks for DTP, PubIt and Smashwords.
Built EBookCollator (software).


1860




Saturday


Improved EBookCollator.







Sunday


















Total



15023




 








Marketing/Submission




Monday


Updated TSF promo thread on NB, MR and KB.




Tuesday





Wednesday





Thursday





Friday





Saturday





Sunday





 
Reading List

Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey.

 

Learn to Edit Your Own Work

 
I think every writer needs to learn to edit their own work. To me, this is as obvious as the sun in the sky and the grass underfoot (or, currently, the moon in the sky and the executive chair I'm sitting in). But it seems, based on a recent forum thread, that this isn't obvious to everyone. (OK, I can understand why the professional editor refuses to agree that writers should or even could edit their own work.)
 
Note that I did not say "don't edit your book". I said, "Learn to edit your own work." Which is emphatically *not* the same thing.
 
Also, and I think this part of the debate is often lost or overlooked (perhaps deliberately): "editing" is not "story fixing".
 
Editing is not magic, and won't turn a pile of crap text into a great story. If a writer doesn't learn to recognize when he's writing crap, no amount of editing (his own or someone else's) will make any difference. Once a writer *does* learn to recognize when he's writing crap, he can take steps to solve the problem. After that, all he needs an editor for is fixing his typos and moving his commas around. Which he can probably learn to do on his own.
 
The whole idea that writers cannot possibly see what's wrong with their work is ludicrous on the face of it. No other collection of artists or craftsmen would put up with the level of interference in their work that writers are assumed to need and expected to willingly subject themselves to. (Except maybe Hollywood filmmakers. But, really, do you want to follow *their* soulless example?)
 
Every artist has to learn how to do this, regardless of their medium. The artist must learn how to step back and view what they're doing or have just done, and judge it. Maybe add something. Maybe take something away. Maybe move B before A. Repeat until finished. Then move to the next work and do it all again, hopefully better this time.
 
Why writers think they're somehow different (and somehow helpless in this regard) is beyond me.
 
I'd also like to point out that I'm not saying, "Don't get outside input." First readers or beta readers are a great asset. I have several, and I listen to what they have to say. First readers can sometimes spot flaws you completely missed, though most often they'll just tell you what you already knew but were hoping they wouldn't notice.
 
Learn basic grammar. Learn how to click on the spell check button in your word processor of choice. Learn how to use tool's like Serenity's Editor.
 
Learn to edit your own work. It's not just possible, it's not even hard to do.
 
-David
 

THE GIRL WHO RAN WITH HORSES Gets 4.5 Stars from MotherLode

 

GraceKrispy at MotherLode gives The Girl Who Ran With Horses 4.5 Stars!
 
I delighted in this journey of a girl coming to terms with uncertainty and loss by ignoring all that makes her uncomfortable, and focusing on her dreams for the future. Along the way, she discovers that she must face her past before she can look forward to her future. She can't fully be herself without acknowledging that she is who she is because of where she's been. With her horses to help her cope in unexpected ways, Stevie matures into a young woman who is more whole, and no longer just a sum of her parts.


I was thoroughly engaged in the story- enough that I even cried a few tears of my own along the way. Life doesn't always work out the way we plan, and this story included just the right amount of emotional conflict and growth to keep me entertained and engaged the whole way through.
 
Click here to read the whole review…
 
-David
 

Another Week, Another 15K Words

 
I just finished 15023 words for the week. And it's only about 3 pm Friday afternoon.
 
I've very excited. I'm jittering.
 
I'm literally just a few words away from finishing chapter 18 of Gunwitch. I will definitely have this novel finished before the end of next week. Maybe even by Wednesday. And my new estimate for the final word length is just below 100K. My estimate keeps shrinking. I'm not as wordy as I expected to be, somehow.
 
The only somewhat sobering thought in my head is: Come February, my weekly quota moves to 20K words. Even after 2 weeks of 15K words each, 20K words in a week still seems like a challenge. But it's a challenge that also still excites me.
 
In other news, I spent the week battering my head against opaque, unspecified spine text issues with CreateSpace. They give us a cover template to use, and we follow that template (the artist and I). Then they reject the cover with vague, imprecise complaints. We shrink the spine text well past their stated requirements, and they reject it again. Once more into the font reducer, and they still reject it. After the 3rd time, I sent messages to their support team and they eventually approved the 3rd version. But they still won't tell me the specifics of why they rejected it in the first place.
 
Does their template need updating in some way? Are their posted specifications out of date? How did The Summoning Fire get through the process on one try with an edge-to-edge spine logo when both The Girl Who Ran With Horses and Demon Candy get arbitrarily rejected time and again? Who knows? I sure as hell don't.
 
Does Amazon have another, different, more responsive print-on-demand service I can use instead of CreateSpace???
 
So, because of all that, I don't have much news about Demon Candy. I'm waiting for the proof copy to arrive. Then we can make sure the interior illustrations look as good as they can and get on with this new book release thing we've been wanting to do all week.
 
Have a great weekend!
 
-David
 

I Blog Less When I'm Writing…

 
…unless its Nanowrimo.
 
And I have been writing. A lot. (But not as much as I plan to write in February.) 15K words last week, 9.5K words so far this week. It's been cool to see how much I can get done when I focus on the writing. 2011 is off to a very good start, I think.
 
Progress on Gunwitch has been faster than I expected. By which I mean, I've been finishing chapters faster than I expected. Which means the chapters have been a bit shorter than I expected. Which means…? I'm not sure.
 
I think a part of the reason for the (slightly) shorter chapters is that the story has moved into the final stages. Storylines are ramping up to the Big Finale. Another reason is that I miscounted (by one too many) the number of chapters I had remaining…
 
Whatever the reason, my new estimate for the finished work is that it will be between 100K and 105K words.
 
What makes me feel Really Productive, though, is that in addition to all the new writing, I've also worked on The Journal. Bug-hunting and a bit of streamlining, mostly, but significant work nonetheless.
 
The impending completion of Gunwitch means I need to get my first tween novel plotted and outlined. I have my three main characters sketched out in broad terms. And I have a high level overview of the setting. I need to zoom in on all of that, though, pick a story, and get ready to go as soon as I can after I type "The End" for Gunwitch.
 
-David
 

A Story of Reese & Sam

Note: This is another story I wrote about Reese & Sam while I was still exploring them as characters and Hell on Earth as a setting. This story is non-canonical with The Summoning Fire. That is, if it did happen, it might not have gone down exactly this way. But it might've happened…
 

Reese Goes Back to Work for the Old Man
by David Michael
 
The Old Man caught up with Reese and Sam at their new favorite eating, drinking, and ill-reputing establishment, the Horny Toad.
 
The night had been a normal one for the Toad, noisy, boozy, and raunchy. Sam and Reese had been in the middle of it, two hot hired-killer women, playing pool earlier, now sitting at the bar, weapons visible in scabbards on their backs, making life miserable for the men who approached them.
 
Then the noise, the drinking, the debauchery all stopped at once, and, somehow, a path cleared from where they sat at the bar all the way to the front doors.
 
"I told you," Sam said, "we should've left town."
 
Reese memorized the spot on Sam's neck where she would bite the other woman later, leave a mark, for sure, and maybe even draw blood, then followed Sam's eyes to the bad news. "Yep," Reese agreed, feeling sick and numb at the same time. "You did."
 
The Old Man, flanked by two of his Hell-spawned minions, stood just inside the door, looking meaner, uglier, and, if it was possible, even more half-Devil than ever. One eye black as the pit, one eye a glowing red ember, the Old Man looked back at them.
 
He stood under the horned skull of some once-magical, toad-like beast that adorned the door. The skull gave the bar its name. Normally the skull "breathed" fire on anyone who entered the bar for the first time. Sort of an initiation ritual. If you didn't die screaming, you were in. No fire from the skull for the Old Man or his flunkies, Reese noted. So maybe the Old Man had been there before. Or maybe the skull had more sense than some of its patrons, and knew better than to cross the Old Man.
 
"Reese," he said. "Sam. You are overdue."
 
"If one of us wasn't pigheaded," Sam said, "we'd be much more than overdue."
 
Reese's hands twitched to grab her shotgun from its scabbard. She could see herself pausing just long enough to smack Sam in the back of the head with the stock before she opened fire on the Old Man. But her survival instincts kept her hands where they were. The Winchester Model 12 shotgun the Old Man had given her had proved potent against a wide range of creatures, from both Hell and Earth. So had Sam's antique katana. But somehow she doubted that the Old Man would've given them weapons that could threaten him.
 
The Old Man snorted, maybe a laugh, blowing a cloud of smoke out of his nose. The half of his mouth that had lips pulled up in a smile. "You never know," he said. Reese couldn't decide if he was responding to Sam's dig or to her own thoughts.
 
The Old Man stepped-clomped, stepped-clomped up to the bar, towering over Reese and Sam, who found that they were now the only patrons at the long bar. The Old Man peered down at the bartender. "You have a private room," he said. The bartender nodded. "Good. We'll have dinner in there, me and my … friends." The Old Man turned around to look at the other people in the bar. The crowd had thinned considerably in the past few minutes.
 
"Reese," the Old Man said, pointing at one of the men in the crowd, "does he work here?"
 
Reese looked at the man, a big man, dressed like a carpenter, shook her head. "Nope."
 
"Good. We would not want to offend our good host. Is he a friend of yours?"
 
The man's face drained of all color. The men near him backed away, leaving him alone.
 
"Seen him in here a few times," Reese said. She swallowed, not liking what she knew was coming. "He bought me a drink once."
 
"He will do," the Old Man rumbled.
 
The two demonspawn flunkies leaped forward, streaks of black and red, and each grabbed one arm of the man. They dragged him, kicking, pulling, screaming, pissing himself into the Toad's private dining room.
 
Reese wouldn't let herself look away. That could've been her. She found that she had gripped Sam's hand. They squeezed each other's fingers, hard enough to hurt, to remind each other that they were still alive. That could have been both of them.
 
"Come along, Reese, Sam," the Old Man said, gesturing that they were to precede him into the private room. "We have some business to discuss."
 
"A job?" Reese asked, forcing the words through her tight throat and dry mouth. She and Sam stood at the long table, still holding hands, not looking into the corner of the room where the big fireplace had been transformed into a roasting pit. It could have been them, but they could no longer watch.
 
The Old Man's flunkies had brought their own rotisserie spear and mounts. The man from the bar still struggled some, and cried, naked and trussed now, arms and legs tied, on the floor where the flunkies had dropped him.
 
"Yes." The Old Man closed the doors of the dining room, turned back to face them again. "A job. I need your unique set of skills. And disposition."
 
"You didn't get our letters of resignation?" Reese asked.
 
Now the Old Man laughed, the sounds like little thunderclaps echoing off the wooden walls, puffs of smoke blasting out. He pulled out a chair, broke it, threw the pieces over to the fireplace, and sat down on the floor, folding his human leg under him, extending the cloven hoof straight in front of him, under the table. Sitting like that, he was still as tall as both Reese or Sam. His laugher subsided and the smoke cleared.
 
"Let us just say I refused to accept them."
 
Reese started to say something else, probably something stupid, since she could feel her mouth was way outracing her brain and whatever good sense she might have left. But Sam tugged on her hand, and she stopped.
 
"What do you want us to do?" Sam asked.
 
The man screamed as the flunkies inserted the rotisserie spear, and continued screaming for the next ten minutes.
 
Reese and Sam focused their attention on the Old Man, blocking out the screams, listening to what he told them to do. Later, they sat quiet, politely declining when he offered to share some of his meal. When he had finished, he used the man's shredded clothes as a napkin.
 
"I am so glad we could work this out," the Old Man said. "I did not know what I would do without my two favorite operatives."
 
They nodded, and he dismissed them. "Let me know if you need anything," he called after them, as they left the dining room. They nodded again, not turning around.
 
Sam made it almost a block from the Horny Toad before she disengaged her hand from Reese's, fell to her knees and vomited into the gutter. Reese held her hair back for her. Sam returned the favor a few minutes later.
 
"You owe me," Sam said.
 
Reese nodded. "So what's new?"
 
The Summoning Fire
 
All Reese Howard has left is pain–and a pump-action shotgun. Sam is dead. The Old Man killed her right in front of Reese, a blood sacrifice to fuel his latest powerplay in Hell on Earth. Reese hopes the Old Man made a mistake, leaving her alive and armed. But she doubts it. He knows she's coming. The bastard has to know. Whatever. Reese plans to make him pay. And she plans to die trying.
 




The Summoning Fire Edition


Price




Trade paperback (Amazon)


$9.99




Kindle edition (Amazon)


$3.99




Nook edition (Barnes & Noble)


$3.99




Ebook (Smashwords)


$3.99