David R. Michael's Blog, page 46
October 24, 2010
October 22, 2010
Found a Useful Editing Tool Today
Editor from Serenity Software (http://www.serenity-software.com/)
(As the guy who came up with the oh-so-original name "The Journal", I can't really complain about someone naming their software "Editor".)
Editor is copyediting and proofreading software.
It's ugly. It's way past ugly.
But it works.
I gave Editor a test run today, letting it have a go at my story, "Baptism".
I had Editor save its output to a couple text files so I could open them in a much friendlier UI than what the software itself provides. I used TextPad (a text editor). That way I could have the "draft" version of the story text with its numbered sentences open beside Editor's "usage" report. Then I pulled up the work-in-progress entry for the story in The Journal. It was a lot of open windows, but it was workable. I reviewed the points of contention brought up by Editor (like, oh, look, a sentence fragment; didn't see that coming), and if I thought Editor had a good point, I edited the story (not so much on the sentence fragments, though).
Editor knows more about the English language and English usage than I do. It didn't take me long to realize that.
And I decided after just this one go-round that Editor is now part of my finishing process. For just $55, it's a bargain.
-David
October 21, 2010
My Marketing Efforts Thus Far
On 28 September I announced the release of my horror/urban fantasy novel, The Summoning Fire. And I haven't stopped talking about it since then.
My marketing efforts so far have been:
Announcing the novel on forums and online communities like KindleBoards and MobileReads.
Becoming active in those same forums and communities (in a good way, not just shilling).
Submitting requests for reviews to book bloggers and reviewers.
Creating a Facebook fan page for my writing.
Managing my Amazon Author page.
Doing more blog posts here at Guns & Magic.
Linking from other ebooks as I release them.
And so on.
It's been more work than I expected. For example, I counted up earlier this week and found that I had sent out 75 book review requests. I've sent out a couple since then, and I'm sure I'll be sending out more.
It's all good practice, though, because when I release my second novel in the next month or so I'll get to do it all over again.
An aspect of the marketing effort that I hadn't fully considered before I launched was my own branding. The Summoning Fire is, I've been assured by multiple readers, horror. My next book due out will be Young Adult/magical realism (of a sort). The two books are diametrically opposed almost. People who read and enjoy The Summoning Fire might like the next book, but the reverse is unlikely. I could be mistaken, but while I will let my 8 year old daughter read the next novel (I wrote the book for my 13 year old niece [who is no longer 13, BTW] and I expect that is the target audience in general), she won't get to read The Summoning Fire for a long, long time.
I posted about how I'm not worrying about confusing the market a couple weeks ago, but, really, I do kinda worry about it. On the other hand, I'm curious how it will all turn out.
So, yes, worried, but no, not really doing anything about it.I'm reaching the end of the "standard indie author playbook", which could be a good thing. By the time something is in the playbook, it's usually far less effective than it used to be. I need to sit down and come up with new ways to market The Summoning Fire (and my other work), ways that haven't already been done over and over.
It's still too early in the marketing effort to talk about results (AKA "sales"), but there has been some movement. I've had 2 good reviews so far, and there are more reviews in the works. I have a short story appearing soon over at the Zombiepalooza, and that should help some, as well (both the book and the blog). And I'll be posting more stories here and releasing new ebooks as I go.
Marketing is seldom One Big Thing that makes all the difference. It's a Whole Bunch of Little Things that (hopefully) reinforce each other and become more than the sum of the parts.
-David
October 20, 2010
Writing Short Stories Considered Useful
I used to subscribe to the view, "If you want to learn to write novels, write novels." The implication being that "Writing short stories only teaches you how to write short stories–and not novels."
Now, though, I'm much more in the camp of " Writing short stories teaches you how to write ."
When I finished my first novel back in 2005 and began editing it, I could clearly see that the last 1/3 of the book was written better than the first 1/3. It was obvious.
I hadn't made any special effort to be better. I think simple, raw production of words, sentences and paragraphs, combined with a few "breaks" from writing to cogitate on the story as a whole, worked a bit of magic. I had matured as a writer (some) just by writing.
Seeing that, and realizing that I had never made any real effort to deliberately improve my writing, was the genesis of my "short story a day" project that soaked up the calendar year of 2006.
Here's how I think writing short stories teaches you how to write:
Short stories allow for a rapid feedback cycle. Feedback shows you where you need to improve, and you can try again. The short format means you're never far away from your next bit feedback.
Short stories allow you to experiment. With the rapid turnaround of short stories you can explore different genres, viewpoints, tenses, and anything else, making them the ultimate tool for "writing practice".
Short stories give you practice completing a story. You have to write a few stories all the way to their end before you really learn how a story arc functions. And you can reach completion a lot faster with a 5000-word short story than with a 90,000-word novel.
Novels just take too much time and effort to be useful "writing practice". You'll get better, I'm sure, by the simple act of writing a novel from beginning to end (I have no doubt I did), but the feedback cycle is much slower, and there's a lot less room for experimenting. And even if you write at a snappy pace like 2000 words per day (more than I write), you'll complete far fewer novels in a year than short stories.
I'm not saying, "Don't write novels." I'm saying, "Learn to write by writing short stories. Lots of short stories. Then get on with the novel writing."
No sane person starts training for a marathon by tackling the whole 26 miles. You start small, and you build up. And you eat lots of carbs. But that's beside the point.
-David
Trikes and Aliens
by David Michael
The little girl walked up to Rala and stood there, watching him as he repaired his zip-about. Or as he tried to repair his zip-about.
Rala had seen the little girl playing in the sandbox before he landed. No help for it. He had to land. The little girl hadn't noticed him at first. She had been digging in the sandbox, burying a small, yellow dump truck. Now, here she was.
Rala smiled at her. "Go away," he said. He looked back down at the exposed engine of the zip-about, wondering if he would be able to fix it this time. These newer models had fewer moving parts, fewer options for getting back in motion if you came to an unexpected stop. Maybe he should just call the base, have a tow sent out for him. Except that might be hazardous to his dignity–and his career.
After a few minutes he looked up again, saw that the little girl remained standing there, about three meters away, watching. Rala drew himself up to his full height, which was, unfortunately, only a few centimeters taller than the little girl. "What do you want?" he asked.
The little girl giggled.
Suddenly self conscious, Rala checked his jumpsuit, his headset, his hands. "What? What are you laughing at?"
"You're funny," the little girl said. Then she laughed again at Rala's indignant snort.
Worry flashed in Rala's mind and he cast a quick glance at the human dwelling. Children didn't get left completely unsupervised, even here on this backward planet. He wondered how long he had before a full-sized human came looking for the half-sized one.
The little girl's gaze followed Rala's. "Momma's watching her show," she said. "If you want her, though, I can call her."
"No no no," Rala said. "That's alright." He looked back down at the unwilling engine. "I just need to get this going again, and I'll be on my way." He picked up a short probe, poked it against a connection, got the same reading he had been getting the last ten times. "Crap," he said under his breath.
"Are you an ay-lee-uhn?" the little girl asked. "Like E.T.?"
"Sorta," Rala said. "Except I can call home any time I want–if I want to be laughed at. And maybe fired. And I can't do that trick with my neck."
The little girl giggled again.
"Why do you do that?" Rala asked. "What's so funny?"
"You make funny sounds," the girl said. "And your lips don't match your words."
Rala considered trying to explain the translator in his headset, decided that would be a waste of time. So he turned his attention back to the ship, one hand rubbing his chin.
"Is that a space ship?"
"Nope," Rala said, not looking up. "Just a regular zip-about. Though without a lot of zip at the moment."
"It's broken?" she asked.
Rala nodded. "Yeah."
"My trike is broken," she said.
Rala looked up. "Is it?" he asked, scanning the yard. He spotted the three wheeler parked on the small patio, by the sliding glass door.
"Can you fix it?" she asked. "Daddy says it has broken speaks."
"Broken spokes," Rala corrected.
"That's what I said. Daddy says he can't fix it."
"How did the spokes break?"
"My brother is too heavy," she said. "He's twelve."
"I have a spot welder," Rala said. "I might be able to fix it. Bring it over."
The little girl's face lit up and she ran back to the patio. While she pushed the squeaking, galumping trike across the yard, Rala poked at the engine a few more times. Maybe if there were two of him, he could make it work.
"Sally," came a woman's voice from inside the house.
"What Momma?"
Rala punched the button on his wrist remote to activate the zip-about's cloak, then cursed all engineers and zip-about mechanics for the useless scum they were. With his engine on the blink, the cloak couldn't work. Not knowing what else to do, he stood very still and hoped he would be mistaken for a lawn gnome. In a jumpsuit. With a two-way radio clipped to one ear. And a finned zip-about with both its canopy and engine cover open.
"Daddy told you not to play with the trike."
"I'm going to fix it," the little girl said.
Momma stepped into view, behind the sliding screen of the patio door. Rala held his breath, resisting the urge to run like hell. Maybe laughed at and fired weren't such bad options, he thought. Either one beat incarceration and dissection. Calling now wouldn't help, though.
"How are you going to fix it, honey?" Momma asked.
"Gonna use a spot-weller," Sally said. She added, "And maybe a wrench."
Momma laughed. "OK, honey. Just don't ride on it."
"I won't. Not until its fixed."
Momma's eyes did a quick scan of the fenced-in backyard. Rala's heart almost stopped, but the woman didn't seem to see him. She disappeared back into the house.
Rala leaned against his zip-about, forcing himself to relax. That had been too close.
"Here it is," Sally said.
Rala jumped. "Don't sneak up on people, kid."
Sally giggled. "Do you have your spot-weller?" she asked.
"Hang on," Rala said. "Let me check out the trike first."
He examined the trike, found that three spokes in one of the back wheels had been popped loose. "Dang, kid," he said. "How much does your brother weigh?"
The little girl just shrugged.
Rala took a pair of pliers and his spot welder from his small toolbox. He bent the spokes back into place, then hit them with the spot welder. Sally watched all of this in wide-eyed wonder, blinking and rubbing her eyes after the bright strobes of the welder had subsided.
"I see green spots," she said, blinking her eyes slowly.
"You're not supposed to look at the strobe," Rala said.
"Will the green spots go away?"
"In a few minutes," he said. He gave the wheel a test spin. Then put all three wheels back on the ground. "There you go, kid. Have fun with it."
Sally smiled and started to get on the trike.
"Hold it," Rala said. "One more thing …" He went to his toolbox and came back with a small can of lubricant. He applied the lubricant to the trike's axles. "There. Now it won't squeak."
"Thank you," said Sally. She climbed on the trike. She put her feet on the pedals and pushed forward, then came backwards again. "It works!" Then her face got serious and she said, "Can you fix your zip-a-ship now?"
Rala looked at the engine again, then back at the little girl. "Maybe," he said. "If you'll help me."
"I like to help," Sally said. She got off the trike again and stood there. "What do I do?"
"Here," Rala said, holding out a probe. "Take this. No, hold it like I was holding it." Finally, he took her smooth hands in his rough ones and put them in the correct positions. "Right. Hold it just like that. OK, now, come stand by the ship and poke it right … there. Great. Now … don't move."
The little girl held the probe with both hands, holding it at arms length, its tip just making contact with the distributer contact.
"Don't move," Rala said again. He hopped into the open cab, pressed the starter button.
Nothing happened.
"You moved," Rala said.
"No I didn't," Sally replied.
"Touch it again," Rala said, holding the starter button down.
The engine kicked once, then purred into life.
"Yay!" Sally shouted. "We fixed it."
Rala smiled. "Yes, we did." He jumped out, took the probe back from Sally, tossed it into the toolbox, packed that back into the cab.
"Bye bye, Sally," Rala said, climbing into the cab.
"Bye bye."
He closed the canopy and engaged the cloak. He watched her pedal away on her trike, then continued on his way.
October 18, 2010
THE SUMMONING FIRE Given 4 Stars at Blogcritics
Leslie Wright at Blogcritics gives The Summoning Fire 4 stars!
Prepare to be spooked in the most unusual way. The Summoning Fire by David Michael has such an effect. When you are in Hell on Earth almost anything can happen and usually does. Devils and demons roam at will, and death is as common as coffee…
This is a fast paced and extremely creative story, full of violence and horror. I would recommend reading this book in the full daylight unless you are sharing it with friends. Cover the windows and turn on the lights, be prepared to be scared.
Read the whole review here…
-David
The Dragon Hunts
by David Michael
Clomp! Clomp! Clomp!
The dragon stomped through the house, looking for its prey.
The dragon paused at a door, and peered in with one reptilian eye. It could see a man, his back to the door, typing on his laptop, oblivious.
The dragon held its breath, and pulled its wings in. Slowly, the dragon placed one clawed foot into the room, then another, creeping up on the man.
Type-type-type.
The man paused then, and leaned back in his chair.
"What am I doing wrong?" he muttered.
The dragon froze, not daring to move. Had the man seen it? The tips of its wings quivered. It prepared to flee or pounce, waiting for the man to make his move.
"Ah," said the man, still muttering. "That's what I'm doing wrong. I'm being an idiot." He sat up again, punched a key with one finger, hard, several times, then started typing as he had before.
The dragon waited, resisting the urge to let out a breath in relief. The man would surely hear that.
It edged closer.
Closer.
The dragon's snout came within inches of the man's ear.
The typing ceased again. The dragon, startled, nearly gave itself away. But it kept its nerve.
"Damn it," the man muttered. "Now what?"
He didn't lean back this time, though. He immediately started punching the same key as before, harder this time, and for longer. Then he reached for the cup of water he kept on his desk, and took a long drink as he stared at the screen.
The dragon waited until the man had replaced the cup in its coaster, then it attacked.
Squeaker-squeaker-squeaker!
"Augh!" cried the man, spinning around in his chair.
The little girl holding the dragon squealed, then giggled. She laughed and dodged her Daddy's hands as he grabbed for her, also laughing, then ran out of the room, taking her inflatable, plastic dragon with her, wings flapping.
Writing Progress Report
Writing progress report for the week starting Monday, October 11, 2010.
Writing Project
Words
Monday
"Encounter" (first draft completed)
"Evanescent" brainstorming.
Began editing "Afterimage".
1466
Tuesday
"Evanescent" brainstorming.
Finished editing "Afterimage".
Started on draft 2 of The Door to the Sky.
Wednesday
"Evanescent"
Copy edited Horse Girl.
2001
Thursday
"Evanescent" (abandoned this version of the story)
674
Friday
"Evanescent" re-brainstorming.
Saturday
Sunday
Total
4141
YTD Total: 73773 words
Marketing/Submission
Monday
Posted "Like a Ghost" to the blog.
Ordered proof copy of Serene Morning.
Submitted to Spalding's Racket, twistedmindemporium, fatally-yours, novellopublishers, gaspetc, fearzone, theundeadrat/horrorbooksco, dreadcentral, bloody-disgusting, horrorworld, houseofhorror (accepted for review, need to send paperback).
Tuesday
Started the ball rolling for a cover for Horse Girl.
Wednesday
Posted "A Bedtime Story" to the blog.
Thursday
Sent review requests for The Summoning Fire to readersfavorite, podpeep, chrischat, thebestreviews, theshortreview, monsterlibrarian, thebookpedler, thenovelblog, bookilluminations, marthasbookshelf, thebookconnectionccm, thebooksmugglers (oops…double-send).
Friday
Sent review requests to annasbookblog, kbgbabbles, bibliophilemusings.
Saturday
Sunday
Sent review requests to graemesfantasybookreview, nethspace, gavreads, janicu, opinionatedme, presentinglenore, robotsandvamps, thebookzombie, thedistinguishingfangirl, thevaultofhorror, sheneverslept, bardsandsages.
Reading List
Haiku by Andrew Vachss.
Extraordinary Engines, edited by Nick Gevers.
October 15, 2010
Book Review Policy
I read a lot of books, both fiction and nonfiction. I don't know that I tend to read any particular type of book, though, since I read almost at random. I let my friends and family suggest books to read (some times at my own risk) and I request books from the library that I see mentioned in articles (or even other books) that catch my fancy. Sometimes I even grab books at random off library shelves. Sometimes I do go looking for a new book by an author I like, but usually when I have nothing else lined up. Lately, since I bought my Kindle, I've started reading indie/self-pubbed books (The Translated Man by Chris Braak was my first indie book).
With all that reading, and a blog that needs content, I've decided to start posting reviews of the books I read and enjoy. That second part of that equation, "and enjoy", is the most important for me. That means I won't be posting reviews of books I read but didn't/couldn't finish or that I simply didn't like.
Here is a summary of my ratings:
– I enjoyed the book enough to finish it and I have positive things to say about it.
– I really liked the book and I have no hesitation about recommending it.
– I liked the book enough that I decided to buy my own copy (in the case of library books) or I liked it so much that I think I'm likely to re-read the book in the future.I will be using these ratings in all the reviews I do from today forward. 3-star and 4-star will be the most common ratings. I'm very stingy with 5-star ratings of anything.
Why won't I post negative reviews review? Simple: I'm a writer. I don't think writers should write negative reviews about the work of other writers. I might gripe about a book that disappointed me to my close friends and family, I might even send the author feedback (if I know them personally), but I won't post a public bad review of the work.
Just because I hated a book (or even mildly disliked it) doesn't mean it's a bad book (even if I do actually think it is a bad book). It might not be the book's fault. I could just think vampires are overdone (I do) or know more about the subject matter than the author did and find it hard to get past glaring errors and misrepresentations or maybe I'm having a slow sales week and feeling really bitchy. Why be all negative, I figure? And why immortalize that negativity on the Web? I'll just let it go and move on with my life.
So I won't post the negative review of the book I gave up on yesterday (oh, yeah, I wrote it, with the final statement "2-stars–on a good day"). My review was funny, I thought, as well as accurate–but it was mean. And unnecessary. Seriously, you won't even miss it.
-David
October 13, 2010
How to Write Slowly
Check your email every 100 words or so.
-David
