Francis Berger's Blog, page 190

Marketing An Indie Book? Be Prepared For Plenty Of Sausage Fests!

The online Urban Dictionary defines the slang term "sausage fest" in the following manner: 

"When the number of males in an environment/party/social gathering overwhelmingly exceeds the amount of females present." 

Now this might be a desirable environment for gay men, but most straight men prefer environments/parties/social gatherings where the male-female ratio is at least fifty-fifty and would vastly prefer the number of females to exceed the number of males present.  I don't think I have to go into the obvious reasons why . . .

So . . . what do sausage fests and many book marketing strategies - blog tours, Goodreads, Twitter, guest posts, Library Thing, etc. -  have in common?  Well, take the analogy of the sausage fest and rework the definition in the following way: 

Indie Book Marking - "When the number of independent authors trying to market their books overwhelmingly exceeds the amount of readers present."

Over 10,000 independent books are tossed onto the market every day.  That's over 365,000 books in any given year.  There are literally hundreds of thousands of independent writers out there all simultaneously vying to get their work recognized by the reading public.  Most of these authors, yours truly among them, are following the same advice concerning viable marketing strategies for self-published books:  we start blogs, open Twitter accounts, create Facebook pages, go on blog tours, etc., in the hope that we will build a "social media platform" which will garner a "following" and build "critical mass" which will in turn . . . aw, whatever.   

More often than not, the only people you will encounter while you are trying to promote your work -  on blog tours, websites, book sites, Twitter and all the rest it - are other independent authors who are also desperately trying to promote their work through the same means and venues.  Like a classic sausage fest, the literary/book marketing sausage fest becomes a sad spectacle of a bunch of unknown authors crowded into some small, insignificant space all distractedly awaiting the arrival of a few treasured readers who, for reasons best left alone, never manage to make it to the party.

In other words it becomes a giant game of:

Author 1: "Hey! Are you a reader? Wanna buy my book?"
Author 2: "Uh . . . no.  I'm an author.  Wanna read my book?"

Thankfully, I have enough of a sense of humor and enough pessimism to survive even the most lopsided sausage fests.  But it does make one
wonder . . . how do you get the word out to readers? 

Time will tell.  Until then, I take mine with mustard.

One more time just for kicks.

I've been having quite a bit of fun with these Goodreads giveaways so I thought I'd do one more.  This one only lasts a week - enter quickly.  .goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; background: white; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget img { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0 !important; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0; color: #660; text-decoration: none; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:visted { color: #660; text-decoration: none; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:hover { color: #660; text-decoration: underline !important; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget p { margin: 0 0 .5em !important; padding: 0; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink { display: block; width: 150px; margin: 10px auto 0 !important; padding: 0px 5px !important; text-align: center; line-height: 1.8em; color: #222; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; border: 1px solid #6A6454; border-radius: 5px; font-family:arial,verdana,helvetica,sans-serif; background-image:url(https://www.goodreads.com/images/layo... background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color:#BBB596; outline: 0; white-space: nowrap; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink:hover { background-image:url(https://www.goodreads.com/images/layo... color: black; text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer; } Goodreads Book Giveaway The City of Earthly Desire by Francis Berger

Giveaway ends July 10, 2013.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Great Giveaway Results

The giveaway on Goodreads was a real success. 

Congratulations to C.L. from Windsor, Ontario for winning a free copy of the novel. 

Thank you to the 1,112 readers who took the time to enter the giveaway. 

The Ashes of Publication

When people find out I like to write and that I have a book out on the market, one of the first questions they usually ask is - "How's the book doing?  Is it selling?"  I usually respond to this question by stating that the book is doing well, but it is not selling all that much.  This usually leads to a discussion about the publishing industry, marketing, success-stories, etc.  In the end, I usually state that I would be happy if the book became a "success" one day, but in my mind the book is already successful.  When all is said and done, the notion of "success" in publishing is not and has never been my primary motivation for writing. 

Now that's a pretty bold statement - but it is only bold if it is authentic.  Unfortunately, stating that one writes simply for the love of writing has also become a terrifyingly trite and contagious cliche.  I can't begin to tell you how many times I've seen writers express the same sentiment in their author blogs, blog tours, author interviews, etc.  It's a noble sentiment isn't it?  It's also a good lifeboat to cling to if your writing never goes anywhere in the world. 

Now, I personally know a few writers who are being honest when they claim they write simply for the passion of writing.  Like me, they haven't reached any notable level of name recognition or financial gain; nevertheless, they plug away at their stuff all the same happy to have the chance to produce work and get out there.  And I'll give the benefit of doubt to a few more writers I don't know who surely do it "for the love it" - writers who write stories about people and places that will never capture the attention of the masses spring to mind. 

But I find it impossible to believe that success and fame in publishing are not the primary motivations behind most writing being produced today.  This especially holds true for all the mimickers and gimmickers that chase the latest fads and trends hoping their version of the latest sado-masochistic, love-sick zombie-vampire saga will be the next Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey.  When those guys tell me they do it for the love of writing, I can't help but snicker just a little.  But hey, who am I to judge? 

Regardless, I believe there are writers, honest writers who do write because they are driven to write.  Though I am certain most would welcome a little extra cash and some of the other perks that come with "success", I have a feeling most will continue to write even if they never attain those things. The question is - why?  Why would a person write if they didn't harbor dreams of hitting it big? 

The answer to that is both simple and profound.  Writers who write for the love of writing experience an entirely different realm of existence when they sit down to put their thoughts to paper.  To writers of that caliber, the act of creation is a far more important matter than the dissemination and eventual success or failure of their creation.  They write primarily for themselves, these writers.  For them, writing is more than mere careerism and the acquisition of a few petty laurels.  For them, writing is survival - the essence of life itself.

Charles Bukowski is a good example of a writer of this kind.  My favorite Bukowski poems are the ones that deal with his creative process - the sitting down at the desk late at night, the turning on of the classical music on the radio, the opening of a bottle of wine, the lighting of a cigarette, the kissing of the typewriter, and finally, the act of creation itself.  The sheer joy, the absolute ecstasy Bukowski expresses when he describes how he crafted his poems is almost religious in nature. 

Of course, Bukowski eventually went on to attain a high level of "success" in his lifetime and his poems are still in print all over the world.  Oddly enough, his descriptions of his success in publishing never rival his descriptions of the act of writing itself.  In fact, he has an almost dismissive view of his published work.  It is of secondary importance to him, as displayed in the quote below:

'But, bottom line, when I write, it's for me. (He draws a deep drag off his cigarette.) It's like this. The "drag" is for me, the ash is for the tray... that's publication.'

I wonder how many writers who claim to write for the love of writing truly feel the same way?

Review of Autumn Falls by Bradford C. Philen

Now more than ever fiction has become little more than a form escape - one need only glance at the bestseller lists or current offerings on any book website to see that the only reason the majority of the reading public reads at all is to be entertained.  

This in itself is not a bad thing, but a closer inspection of bestseller lists and book sites will tell you that the reading public's general taste in fiction rarely rises above the teenage/young-adult/romance/horror/fantasy/erotica genres.  Once again, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does pose a problem for readers whose taste in literature rises above the superabundant fluff that populates bestseller lists.  

Where does one find good, serious fiction that entertains, but also explores and examines the human condition while simultaneously crafting the written word in a way that is both clear and aesthetically pleasing?

Bradford Philen's Autumn Falls is a good place to start.  

Through his protagonist Keith Baker, Philen invites the reader to ponder many intriguing themes:  the choices one makes in life, the lingering influence of the past, the mystery and banality of love, and the power of endurance in a world that often offers little more than suffering and indifference in return.  

Though it is set in the southern United States, the story transcends its setting and taps into a level of emotional universality that makes it accessible to all.  In many ways, the book fulfills Aristotle's theory of art serving as a mirror through which we are able to recognize our own characters and natures.  As I read the story, I stopped on several occasions and thought, "Ah, this is what it means to be human.  These are the obstacles we all must face in some form or other."

Written in a clear, crisp style, the narrative flows effortlessly from scene to scene and part to part.  Philen has a gift for dialogue; the conversations between characters are both memorable and authentic.  

In a world drowning in comic book prose, Autumn Falls exists as one of those increasingly rare kinds of novels - a novel about real people and real problems. I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a story that allows them to touch the earth.  

Link to the novel:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/159715072X/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img

Giveaway Ends in Three Days.

.goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; background: white; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget img { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0 !important; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0; color: #660; text-decoration: none; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:visted { color: #660; text-decoration: none; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:hover { color: #660; text-decoration: underline !important; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget p { margin: 0 0 .5em !important; padding: 0; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink { display: block; width: 150px; margin: 10px auto 0 !important; padding: 0px 5px !important; text-align: center; line-height: 1.8em; color: #222; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; border: 1px solid #6A6454; border-radius: 5px; font-family:arial,verdana,helvetica,sans-serif; background-image:url(https://www.goodreads.com/images/layo... background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color:#BBB596; outline: 0; white-space: nowrap; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink:hover { background-image:url(https://www.goodreads.com/images/layo... color: black; text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer; } Goodreads Book Giveaway The City of Earthly Desire by Francis Berger

Giveaway ends June 30, 2013.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Impressions of Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby from a guy who doesn't watch many movies.

I have to confess, I don't watch many movies anymore, either at the cinema or at home. If I were to guess, I would say I watch maybe four or five films a year, and even that might be pushing it. I don't know exactly when I stopped watching movies on a regular basis, but I think it started during the two years I spent living in Budapest, Hungary from 2001 to 2003. While I was in Budapest, I much preferred to spend my free time absorbing the aesthetic and cultural treasures of the city rather than in a darkened theater munching popcorn or parked before a television screen watching a DVD.

After I returned to North America, I discovered not watching movies on a regular basis had become a habit. Though I don't harbor a Caulfieldian loathing for motion pictures in general, I don't watch films regularly for pretty much the same reason I don't eat candy regularly – though delightful on rare occasions, the idea of consuming either on a regular basis no longer appeals to me.

So when do I watch movies and what sort of films peak my interest enough to sit down and watch them? I have no specific answer for this, but one weak point for me are films based on novels, especially novels I love; however, seeing films based on books are, and have always been, a real hit-or-miss experience for me. When I leave the theater, I am either satisfied by a film's attempt to capture the narrative, (Fight Club, No Country For Old Men) or I am utterly bewildered whether the director/producer/actors/etc., had even bothered to read the novel before they began working on their film adaptation of it (Alice in Wonderland, the 1998 version of Great Expectations). The day I learned Baz Luhrmann had released his adaptation of The Great Gatsby, I was overcome with both joy and trepidation.

I found the 1974 version of Gatsby, the Jack Clayton version starring Robert Redford that has been forced upon every person who has ever taken a high school English class in North America in the past thirty years, mediocre at best, so I was thrilled to learn another adaptation of the novel had been filmed, but I was wary of Baz Luhrmann's direction. Luhrmann's adaptation of Romeo and Juliet is another regular feature of most high school English classes – I have shown it in my English classes as a supplement to the play on many occasions – and though the loud, whimsical, and colorful rendition of the classic does engage students, it also takes tremendous liberties with the play, some of which begin to transform Shakespeare's original vision into nothing more than a glorified pop music video. The evening I went to the theater to see the latest screen version of Gatsby, I hoped for the best, but feared the worst.

My impressions? During the first thirty minutes, I sat in my seat in a state of agitation. Like his Romeo and Juliet, Luhrmann has taken some artistic liberties with his version of Fitzgerald's novel. For example, we encounter Nick in the sanatorium where he is recovering from alcoholism and depression. The doctor prescribes writing therapy and Nick essentially writes the novel in the sanatorium as part of his convalescence. For reasons I'll never understand, Luhrmann chooses to paraphrase the opening of the novel rather than simply allow the original text. Was he afraid today's audiences would not understand the line, Whenever you feel like criticizing any one just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had? He also skips the immortal line Her voice is full of money which Gatsby uses to describe Daisy toward the end of the narrative. Why that line, which for me is the entire thematic thrust of the narrative captured in six simple words, is omitted, I'll never know.

In any event, I found the first few scenes of the film dizzying and perplexing and I could not help but think the movie was going to be nothing more than another one of Luhrmann's extended music videos based loosely based on literature. Nevertheless, after a half-an-hour, a strange transition occurs. I'm not sure if it is because you become acclimatized to the overall style of the movie or whether it is based more on the acting and the visuals, but about a third of the way into the film, Luhrmann brings Fitzgerald's vision of the novel more or less to life. I ended up leaving the theater satisfied. The film was not without its flaws, and I'm certain some purists will absolutely hate it, but in my mind, Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby is a good adaptation of the novel, one I'm sure I'll end up showing to students in my future English classes.

Giveaway on Goodreads! Win a copy of The City of Earthly Desire.

I am pleased to announce a giveaway for The City of Earthly Desire on Goodreads.  Click on the link below to enter to win a free copy.

Please help me promote this giveaway and the novel by sharing this information with your friends and anyone who loves to read. 

Thanks! .goodreadsGiveawayWidget { color: #555; font-family: georgia, serif; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; background: white; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget img { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0 !important; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a { padding: 0 !important; margin: 0; color: #660; text-decoration: none; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:visted { color: #660; text-decoration: none; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget a:hover { color: #660; text-decoration: underline !important; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidget p { margin: 0 0 .5em !important; padding: 0; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink { display: block; width: 150px; margin: 10px auto 0 !important; padding: 0px 5px !important; text-align: center; line-height: 1.8em; color: #222; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; border: 1px solid #6A6454; border-radius: 5px; font-family:arial,verdana,helvetica,sans-serif; background-image:url(http://www.goodreads.com/images/layou... background-repeat: repeat-x; background-color:#BBB596; outline: 0; white-space: nowrap; } .goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink:hover { background-image:url(http://www.goodreads.com/images/layou... color: black; text-decoration: none; cursor: pointer; } Goodreads Book Giveaway The City of Earthly Desire by Francis Berger

Giveaway ends June 30, 2013.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Music or Silence? Which is better during writing?

When I was a high school student, the writing habits, rituals, and preferences of various authors fascinated me.  I am still intrigued me to know whether a writer prefers to work in the comfort of their own home or in bustle of some public place.  Do they prefer writing in the day or are they night owls?  Do they write sitting down or standing up?  Pen, typewriter, or computer?  Do they drink or smoke while scribbling words?  Do they wage war with an empty page or do they compose it all in their heads beforehand and sit down only when they knew exactly what they want to record on paper? But of all of these questions perhaps the most important one for me is this – do they listen to any music while they write or do they prefer silence?

Over the years I have come to the conclusion that the hows of writing are as vast and varied as writing itself, especially when it comes to presence of sound during the creative act.  Many writers need absolute silence.  Some go as far as to unplug everything in the house that might emit any noise at all; others prefer to shut out the world by plugging their ears.  Then there are writers whose creativity thrives only when with the presence of some sort of sound. For example, I once read that Stephen King writes to the throbbing throes of hard rock music.  He claims he does not really listen to the music, but uses it instead as means to drown the world and his own distracting thoughts out of his head.  

I can write fairly effectively in silence and unexpected sounds like a ringing phone or the furnace clicking on do not usually bother me.  Nonetheless, after an hour or two of silence, a strange sense of isolation and loneliness begins to gnaw away at me.  I first discovered this while I was still in high school and I made attempts to fill the void hours of silence inevitably conjured  by turning on the radio I kept on my desk.  Because I was in high school at the time, I gravitated to rock and pop stations first; unlike Stephen King, I found the rhythm and beat of rock music distracting.  The frequent news reports and pockets of witty deejay banter were also not conducive to my creativity.  After reading Jack Kerouc's On the Road, I turned to jazz.  Jazz was slightly better than pop and rock-and-roll, but not much.  

One night, quite by accident, the dial on my radio landed on a classical music station.  When I heard the long moan of a cello, my fist instinct was to crank the dial as fast as I could and find another station.  I was fairly ignorant of classical music at that age and though I had no real dislike of classical music, I had an innate notion that it would do nothing for my writing.  Nevertheless, for reasons I still don't understand, I remember lifting my fingers from the dial of my radio and picking up my pen.  I wrote for three hours that night and, to my utter surprise, not only did I not experience any gnawing sense of loneliness during those three hours, I also succeeded in writing several pages of excellent prose.  A few weeks later, I discovered Charles Bukowski and found out, rather unexpectedly, that he also listened to classical music when he wrote his poetry.  Whatever stigma I attached at the time to classical music melted away and the rest, as the old cliché goes, is history.

Ever since then, I have made listening to classical music part of my writing routine whenever I can.  I highly recommend it to anyone who struggles to write in silence, but finds it difficult to create while other forms of music play in the background.  With the advent of the internet, I searched the world for classical music stations that played the maximum amount of music with the minimum amount of interrupion.  To my mind the best remains Radio Swiss Classic, which only interrupts its music programme to inform listeners of the composer and title of the next piece, but because it's based in Switzerland, you are free to choose to listen to the announcements in either German, French, or Italian.  If you don't speak one or any of those languages, the announcements will simply blend in with the music.  I usually listen to the German announcements, which are brief enough to keep me from being distracted, but long enough for me to subliminally brush up my rather rusty knowledge of Deutsche.  It's also a great station to have on while reading or simply relaxing.  Next time you are on the net, give it a shot.  You can find the station by clicking on the link below.  You won't be disappointed.  And if you are, you can always grab the earplugs or crank up Metallica like Stephen King does.    


 

Expect Nothing: The Secret to Being a Happy Writer.

One of the most gratifying moments in a novelist's life is the completion of a manuscript. After months or years of intense focus and work, we are finally able to put down our pens or step away from our keyboards knowing that we have completed what we have set out to do – write a book. Finishing a book is a significant accomplishment for any writer. If you'll pardon the cliches, it's as special as scaling Everest is for a mountaineer or winning the Stanley Cup to a hockey player. Within the confines of the written word we have captured the ideas and visions and scenes and characters and conversations that had taken possession of our minds and imaginations. It is not quite as we pictured it – it never is, nor can it ever be – but it is close enough for us to confidently say – There! It's done. The book is finished.

After I finished my novel, I was in a state of rapt joy for weeks and as I basked in the glow of attaining one of my lifelong goals, I became determined to let nothing diminish the happiness I was experiencing. This immediately made me consider the dangerous realm of expectations. When I began writing my book, I had only one expectation – to finish it. It was a large expectation, but one I knew I could fulfill if I remained focused and disciplined. I accepted that I could never perfectly transcribe the story the way I saw it in my head, but I knew I could come close enough to do it justice. I would not have bothered beginning the book if I did not believe I could fulfill my expectation of completing it, because if there is one thing life has taught me it's this – nothing, and I mean nothing , causes more sadness, anger, and anguish than a failed expectation.
Most would-be writers fail at this first stage of expectation; they harbor a preconceived notion that they will be able to write a book, but lack the discipline, skill, or endurance to fulfill the goal they have set for themselves. After a few weeks or months, they realize they are making no progress and secretly slide the first pages of their manuscripts into a desk drawer and try to come to terms with their unmet expectations. Sadness is usually the first emotion felt. It is often followed by anger. Then the self-pity comes. The problem is, most people hate feeling sorry for themselves, so they invent ways to forget about the unmet expectations and engage in a little self-indulgence. In the end, most console themselves by swearing they will return to their writing when the time is right. Others abandon the craft altogether and move on to other pursuits. I'm only mentioning this because it is a road I have wandered down many times in some of my earlier attempts at completing a manuscript, which beings me back to my earlier point about not starting the book if I was not convinced I could finish it.

Though completing a manuscript is a huge accomplishment, it often exposes writers to a far more vast and dangerous minefield of expectations – publishing. Once a book is done, every writer longs to see their masterpiece in print, gracing the shelves of bookstores around the world from which it is plucked and devoured by hoards of eager and appreciative readers. Some authors expect to be represented by a large publisher. Some prefer to represent themselves. All strive for success. Big success. Bestseller success. Of course, only a handful, regardless of whether they were picked up by mainstream publishers or chose to self-publish, ever reach that level of success. I can only speculate how other writers deal with unmet expectations when it comes to the publication or marketing of their work, but I imagine there is a tidal wave of bitter, disappointed, and resentful authors out there. In addition to this, I'm certain even the bestsellers have there share of unmet expectations they carry about with them like crosses.

After I made my decision to self-publish, I approached the situation without expectations. I was grateful for having the opportunity to get my work into print and I vowed to explore as many avenues as I could to try to bring my novel to the attention of the world, but I refused, and still refuse, to form any expectations when it comes to success of the book. This has kept me from falling into the anger trap, into the I'm mad that my expectations were not fulfilled quagmire that creates bitter memories and resentments and often leads to complaints and criticisms and excuses. On the contrary, expecting nothing has allowed me to approach the experience of publishing the same way I approach the experience of writing – with gladness, joy, and laughter.

Of course, on the surface much of this talk of expecting nothing might sound insincere, but it isn't. It isn't a cheap cop-out either. Nor is it a statement of lowered expectations from a defeated man. Rather, it is a testament against disillusionment. I can't speak for other writers, but for me writing is not a choice. It is not something I choose to do. It is something I am compelled to do. There is a force inside me that demands I write. It is bigger than me, this force, and I dare not disobey it. I don't know why it demands me to write. I don't know why it doesn't demand me to do other things like play the trombone or become the next internet billionaire. All I know is that the need to write has always been there inside me and I cannot put myself in a situation where I view writing with bitterness, anger, or resentment. I don't know if my writing will ever reach lofty levels of success, but that is not my primary motivation for writing. That I am able to get the stories in my head into a book and out into the world is all that matters. That is all the only expectation I harbor. This has not only kept me happy, but has also kept me from being a carpenter of my own cross.