P.J. Fox's Blog, page 10

Mail Bag #12: Nudity

I’ve gotten quite a few questions lately, relating to nudity.  Thanks, guys.  But of course, being me, I set about to answer them.  This time, with help!  As they all involve, not just nudity but male nudity, I set about assembling a panel of people a little more qualified than I am to talk about what it’s like be a male, and to be nude.  I will note, however, that my husband declined to participate.  His cited reason was “this is too stupid.”

So instead I sat down with Shane, an academic and human rights educator and–for the purposes of this interview–Davidson Harley, a biker.  Who were both extremely interested in this project, Shane for ethnographic reasons and Davidson Harley (DH) because he enjoys being a wiseass.  First we tackled the most popular question, and the one I’ve gotten twelve times the past week: is being naked the main point of men?

Me: Shane and DH, would you say that, as men, being naked is the main point of your existence?

Shane: I thought it was drink beer, scratch myself, and keep the womenfolk in line.

DH: The main point of my existence is to ride my Harley as much as I can and to stay out of jail as much as I can.

Me: Speaking for all bikers, 1% and otherwise, would you say that you all very much enjoy being naked?  Or that others enjoy seeing you naked?  Judging by the amount of biker erotica on Amazon, I’d say that many women (and men) the world over fantasize about this….

DH: Fuck yeah.  Why not?  Being naked is pretty damn awesome.  Well, except being naked with other hairy and tattooed bikers.  Then it’s just an awkward sausage fest.

Shane: Biker porn is a thing that I did not realize my life needed, until this very moment.

DH also went on to explain, in glorious detail, all the reasons he enjoyed letting others see him naked.  He may be a candidate for starring in his very own biker porn.  We wish DH all the best in his continuing quest to meet every woman on earth (those in the healthcare professions preferred) and remind him to always put a sock on it.  Safer sex for the win!

Just to make sure I’d rounded out the field, I did also offer my husband, and a couple of his friends, another chance to participate.  Judging from their responses, however, it seems possible that none of them either know or care when they’re naked.  Which, really, must make things awkward in the workplace.  Or maybe not.  As one member of the Fox Family Squad said, “I think testosterone cancels out being self conscious about nudity.”

Good to know.

The next question: is social nudity with neighbors acceptable on Thanksgiving?

DH: I have no idea what social nudity is.  Are they only nude, socially?

Me: As opposed to unsocially?  What does that mean, that they have very bad B.O.?

DH: I would suggest they become friendly with hygiene products. Being a biker, I’m picked on by friends for that. I’m often called “Mr. Clean.”  You walk into my bathroom and there are five different bottles of shampoo, two different types of body wash and a bar of soap.Not to mention the 20 bottles of different cologne and deodorant I own….I can’t stand stinking.

Me: The other guys prefer to be smelled first and then seen?

How can I celebrate Thanksgiving with nudist neighbors?

DH: Be careful of spilling anything hot on sensitive, dangly bits.

Me: Should you tell your neighbors beforehand, if you’re a nudist?  Presuming they haven’t already noticed?  I mean, what if you’re only “socially” nude, like on Thanksgiving?  Maybe the rest of the time you tie a bandana on it.

DH: Nah, let it be the best Thanksgiving surprise, ever.

Me: Should you take your clothes off before visiting your nudist neighbors? Sort of like taking off your shoes at the door of your Buddhist friend’s house?

This then devolved into a discussion of whether certain holiday decorations could be worn with comfort, and if they’d work equally well on men who were circumcised.  I’ll spare you the details.  But you’ll be happy to know that our biker friend recommends Sauvage.  He, apparently, sprays that shit on everything.  And has, according to him, never gotten any complaints.  Whether from nurses, other bikers, or nudist neighbors he didn’t say.

So there you have it.  Men clearly enjoy being naked.  It’s okay to be naked in your own home, with or without guests.  Avoid dunking your penis in gravy.  Now, whether being naked is, in fact, the main point of a man’s existence is probably a more existential question than we’re capable of fully answering here.  You might want to, instead of asking me, as fascinating as I am, and as fascinating–and helpful–as my friends are, ask the man, or men, in your life directly.  Or ask them to show you just what they enjoy, and how.

Are E-Book Sales Really Falling?

The short answer: no.

The slightly longer answer: no, but the Big Five want you to think they are.

The explanation: because the Big Five are losing money (again), and want to court your sympathy–and your dollars–by encouraging you to blame the little guy.  And why, might you ask, are the Big Five losing money (again)?  Because their latest program of one book for the price of two turns out to, to no one’s surprise except theirs, mean that people are spending more to buy less.  As Fortune explains, “[s]ome of the e-book slump amounts to chickens coming home to roost for traditional publishers. They have been fighting to keep e-book prices high—to the point where they engaged in industry-wide collusion with Apple in an attempt to do so—and they eventually managed to convince Amazon to let them set prices. Is it really such a surprise that higher prices lead to people buying fewer e-books?”

But, most excitingly for indie authors like me, “[a]ccording to the figures from Author Earnings—which are based in part on regular samples of Amazon sales data — what’s really been happening is that the market share of established publishers has been declining, while sales of independently published e-books have been growing. In particular, sales of books that don’t even have industry standard ISBN numbers have increased.”

So why does The Demon of Darkling Reach cost 4.99, while Stephen King’s latest, The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, cost 14.99?  It’s not because, as some readers might convince themselves, anything different is going into the production of either book.  E-books all come to print by the same route, just like all authors–with the possible exception of J.K. Rowling–pull their pants on one leg at a time.  It’s because Scribner is gauging you.

The same Fortune article also makes the excellent point “that digital platforms from companies like Amazon are ultimately dis-intermediating existing industries like book publishing, by allowing content creators to do an end-run around incumbents and sell directly to consumers. And that is almost certainly a good thing for readers—although perhaps not so good if you are a mainstream publisher.”  A number of writers (like myself) have rejected traditional publishing, not because traditional publishing doesn’t want us but because we don’t want them.  And we don’t need them.  I came up with my own startup capital through, you know, long hours at my (then) day job.  I paid for formatting, and cover art, and all the things the Big Five wanted to cover on my behalf.  In exchange for, you know, a cut of the take.  But I had to ask myself: why would I give someone a sizable chunk of my royalties in exchange for doing something for me that I could just as easily do for myself?

My books are online.  My books are in bookstores.  And the really sad thing is, I’m earning more per book than I would have if I’d stuck to the traditional route.  For every 4.99 you spend on one of my books, I earn roughly 3.50.  As much as double or triple my traditionally published counterparts.  Mr. King isn’t, sadly, taking home more because Scribner now charges the earth for e-books.  But Scribner is.  And is, I think, engaging in a certain amount of making hay while the sun shines.  Because if books go the way of all other print media, then we’re looking at the once-universal rapidly transforming into a niche market.

A number of authors and, indeed, readers blindly endorse traditional publishing as being some sort of arbiter of right.  The last defender of the book.  As though the rest of us aren’t writing books, aren’t reading books, and don’t care about books.  They’re treating the Big Five, essentially, like a nonprofit.  Like some sort of author’s union.  Forgetting, evidently, that this is a for profit business.  Advocacy groups exist, but they don’t charge 14.99 per book.  Want to meet some people who really love books, for books’ sake?  Visit a library.  It’s a huge mistake to assume that, because traditional publishing profits off of authors, that traditional publishing is somehow advocating for their best interests.  This is not, ahem, how capitalism works.

Scribner isn’t charging more because Mr. King’s book is worth more.  Outlander, which is published by Dell, is currently available for the low (electronic) price of 3.99.  Which is reasonable: there is virtually no overhead with an e-book.  The issues that plague print books–overproduction, underproduction, various quality control issues–are absent in the electronic world.  There’s no storage-related overhead, no computing prices to reflect the economic risks associated with remainder stock.  In short, nothing about an e-book’s price need be speculative at all.  Because the costs are very much set.  Making e-books, in terms of controlling one’s bottom line, a much better bet.  Dell isn’t losing money by charging 3.99 for Outlander; nor is it wrong for authors to want to eat.

And nor is it wrong for authors to take full responsibility for their art into their own hands.  There’s nothing inherently noble, or “more artistic” about sacrificing ultimate control over your work, as well as your intellectual property rights to it, to some faceless conglomerate.  But authors, as a group, are often so busy fighting over who’s a “real” writer that they lose sight of this fact–as well as the opportunity to help each other, in what can be a truly thankless industry.

And no one should be as surprised as they apparently are that–gosh!–a bunch of for profit corporations turn out to share a profit-related agenda.

And remember: the Big Five don’t deserve our loyalty.

Authors do.

Leave your thoughts in the comments.

Your Vegan PSA

It amazes me that so many people are upset about Tristan eating other human beings, in my books, but they’re not upset about people hunting and killing animals or, indeed, engaging in large scale acts of war. Voltaire was right, I think, that killing is wrong except when done to trumpets. And, really, the idea that some killing is “wrong” while some is “acceptable” is an arbitrary value judgment. Is a creature killing to eat, whatever other creature, really that much more upsetting than thousands of people dying in the name of some abstract political agenda? And if one animal killing another animal, to eat it, if the depiction of that necessary act of survival is really so upsetting…then why aren’t you a vegetarian?  Or a vegan?  I’m all for–for those who are into the opposite–taking your natural place in the food chain. But don’t be a hypocrite about it. Don’t go for the sanitized little packages at the super market, because you don’t want to be reminded of what you’re eating. That’s profoundly selfish, as well as profoundly stupid.  An animal is still dead, regardless of how you choose to soothe your vanity.  And the ultimate truth, here, is that your supporting factory farming is a thousand times worse, in terms of the total cost of life–and suffering–than Tristan (who is fictional) occasionally (fictionally) eating a fellow human being.  Killing someone who doesn’t want to be killed is never a neutral act.

The Real Challenge of Writing Erotica

In the safe and happy world of fiction, things might go up your butt but they don’t get stuck there.

Sex-related injuries are not a thing.  If you want some really hot, steamy action punctuated by someone pulling a hammy or peeing all over themselves–or you–because they drank too much beer with their Chinese food and then got a little too excited, then presumably you’ll just go have sex with your partner.  No, erotica occupies that strange and sacred plane between completely believable and completely impossible.  It has to, on the one hand, be believable.  Otherwise, what’s the point?  Bad sex on the page is like, well, bad sex.  Neither gets your mind off your troubles.  Neither, quite frankly, gets anything off.  And yes, bad sex-related writing includes phrases like “turgid member.”  Too much about his perpetually thrusting engine of love and suddenly you’re writing satire.

So, believable–but not realistic.  That’s the other hand.  Realistic, even when it isn’t “we’re going to the ER now because I read that porn thing by Anne Rice and now there’s a golf ball missing somewhere inside my rectum,” is effort.  Whereas, within the pages of an erotic novel, the woman always orgasms.  Without ever having to help herself out.  Her partner always knows what to do, to make her squeal.  Or sigh, or moan.  Depending on the nature of the scene.  No one ever has to switch positions because their muscles are giving out, and no one ever rolls off the bed.

Surviving these real sex adventures is part of what–in real life–deepens intimacy.  Sex is an act of trust.  Even with a stranger.  That being said, everyone has different fantasies.  I sometimes get asked the question of whether happily partnered people “need” porn.  In any form.  My answer is, it depends.  On the couple, and their tastes and preferences.  Both as a couple and as individuals.  Fantasies aren’t a substitute for real life but they can be a healthy addition to it.  As well as, yes, another means of fostering intimacy.

There’s nothing shameful about trying new things.  Your sex life should, ideally, be an adventure that you share with your partner; one that excites you both and that you’re enjoying more because you are together.  I think it’s important to remember too, though, especially for women that you can’t know what pleases you until you figure it out.  Which means experimentation.  Whether yourself, or with a partner.  Too many women expect their lovers, partners, husbands, etc to drive them wild in bed when the truth is that they have absolutely no idea, themselves.  How can you expect someone to know more about your own body, and mind, than you do?

Fantasies can serve as a safe environment in which to discover what turns you–just you, the individual–on.  Knowledge that, in turn, is only going to enrich your sex life with, and thus your emotional connection with, your partner.  And yes, you have to talk about it with them.

Expecting the other person to magically understand you, simply by virtue of having been born with the right equipment to (theoretically) get you off, is alienating.  So is treating fantasies as replacements for intimacy.  They’re not.  Like the old saying goes, if you can put his cock in your mouth then you can talk to him about your problems.  Healthy sex–whether that includes porn, toys, or whatever–inspires and encourages that depth of trust, and affection, which allows true communication.

Having a healthy sex life doesn’t mean having a sex life free of props, or fantasies; nor does it mean having sex a certain number of times a week.  It means creating, and then consistently nurturing, one more aspect of both your relationship with your partner and, equally or more importantly, your relationship with yourself.  There might be a thousand ways to have healthy, happy-making sex but on some level the emotions behind the acts–whether they involve whips and chains or Barry Manilow–are the same.

Which I think is really the challenge in writing erotica: accessing that universal core of emotion.  Of course, some things just aren’t hot to some people.  My sex scenes, like my romances, tend to be a little alt.  There’s bondage and polyamory and other things that can be polarizing.  But, like the old saw goes, write what you know.

I couldn’t write convincing erotica (or even a sex scene) involving white wine and soft rock.  There’s nothing wrong with those things, they just don’t speak to how I’m wired.  Likewise, I can tell when I’m reading a book, or a story, written by someone with no personal experience–or, sometimes even worse, no interest in–the topic.  An astonishing number of people write about sex, who seem to really hate sex.  Or, at the very least, not understand it.

What do you think?  Are fantasies healthy?  Are fantasy aids like erotica, and other forms of porn, hopelessly evil?

Let me know in the comments.

Mail Bag #11: Where Do You Get Your Inspiration?

For my writing, my jewelry, and everything else, the answer is the same: from everywhere and nowhere all at once.  From the world around me.  From my experiences in it.  In the “about” section on my jewelry line’s website, I write that,

Browsing through our line should ideally feel like rifling through your great aunt’s jewelry box, if your great aunt were an occult practitioner and zombie hunter.  We collect the exotic, the sexy, and the simply strange and transform it into truly one of a kind jewelry.  Indeed, our personal focus is on one off’s and limited runs, things you won’t find anywhere else and that you’ll know no one else will ever have.  Blending themes of memento mori, occult, Wicca, steampunk and fantasy into a single line, we strive to make each piece a perfect outward adornment to reflect the strange within.

Which means rifling through a lot of other people’s–not jewelry boxes, at least not in the strictest sense, but old shoe boxes at yard sales.  Living in historic New England provides many opportunities for visiting antique shops, flea markets, and all kinds of out of the way places.  We love taking road trips with our family, to explore–each time going somewhere we haven’t gone before.  We’re also committed to, whenever possible, using recycled metal and other findings.  Giving new life to old things, whether through repurposing or melting down and recasting, not only brings more joy to the world but also is better for the environment.

All of which in turn means that our designs are going to be, by nature, limited in production to the pieces we can source to create them.  After sketching out a design, we start to search.  Sometimes for weeks or even months, for the components we need: a certain kind of vintage glass, a certain color of bead.  A certain piece of artwork, or vintage ephemera, to transform into a cabochon.

The found nature of our components are, to us, what give each piece that authentic and feel.  Real Victorian prescription labels, and medical illustrations, real 1920’s glass.  There just isn’t too much lying around.  Which is why, for our limited edition runs, we list everything we have at once.  If we’ve created six of something, then that item’s listing is going to show that six pieces are available.  Six, and only six.  After one sells, six drops to five.  And so on.  The last one is really the last one.  Forever.

And I think that’s all true, in a slightly different sense, with my writing as well: it’s me, looking around and feeling inspired.  The honest truth is that, when it comes to art, my problem is never too little inspiration but too much.  There are so many designs I want to bring to life, so many characters in so many stories I want to bring to life, that there honestly aren’t enough hours in the day.  It’s very frustrating!

Everything I create is just something I had to get out there.  Sometimes I know exactly where my idea came from, as was (and is) the case with The Black Prince Trilogy.  I was passed out in bed, dosed up on a mix of powerful medications, and it just came to me.  All of it.  At once.  The Price of Desire I wrote earlier during that same illness, while bedridden but slightly more functional.  In it, I dealt with a lot of feelings I had about my own life and how I’d gotten to where I was.  As well as, of course, telling a story that had nothing to do with me.  But aren’t all novels, in some sense, however attenuated, autobiographies?

We right what we know, we design what we know.  My jewelry, like my novels, is, at heart, what interests me.  I’ve often said that putting your book out there to be read is like letting any number of total strangers climb inside your head and poke around and I think jewelry evokes something of the same: only instead of climbing inside my head, it’s wearing a piece of how I see the world around your neck.

Mail Bag #10: Fact Versus Fiction?

Today’s question comes to us from longtime reader Wendy, via comment, and it’s such an interesting question that I thought I’d answer it here.

I have a question for you: knowing, from the books of yours I’ve read (so far) how much accurate, real-world historical detail you weave into your fictional worlds–how do you know where to put the line between the two? My w-i-p is set in the near-future of a real US city, and there are times when I have to take a step back from Google Streetview and say “It’s okay Wend., this is set some thirty years in the future, you really don’t have to find THE EXACT HOUSE on THE EXACT STREET with THE RIGHT COLOUR RAILINGS for this location in your story!” So I’d imagine the lines are even more blurred when you’re borrowing from history rather than the modern world. How do you spot when you’re possibly drilling too deep for the oil (if you see what I mean) and know when and how to pull back and say “Y’know, this would probably work better if I just invented this part myself, using my own imagination?”

My books are all, to some extent, based on real life.  I firmly believe in “write what you know,” especially in the sense of creating characters and relationships.  My characters are all real to me, not because they’re based on real people in terms of any one to one comparisons, but because they’re part of me.  They’re part of my life.  I understand them.  I’ve mentioned before that some of my books contain more autobiographical elements than others, but that was never intentional on my part.  I never sat down, as a for example, and thought, “I know, I’ll rewrite the story of how I met my husband only I’ll make him a hunky space alien.”  Rather, the story just came to me and I realized, later–quite a bit later, after I’d finished and submitted the final manuscript of The Price of Desire–that, well, there seems to be a kernel of real world truth here.

The Price of Desire is the British Raj, set in space, and told from the Indian perspective.  It was informed, in its conception, by a lifetime of living Elsewhere and being Other.  Moving to a new place and joining a completely different culture are two things I know something about, along with not fitting in anywhere until you finally arrive at the place where you’re not supposed to fit in at all.

India and alienation are both recurring themes in my novels; if I had no relationship to either of them, I don’t suppose I’d find them compelling to write about.  And while certain grievances my characters face, like overcoming the perils of a fine public school education (and here I mean in the British, rather than the American sense) aren’t mine, they are my husband’s.  Although certain problems–like crazy family members–are transcendent.  Which is one of the reasons we get along so well: we have more in common than people think.

The Demon of Darkling Reach starts from that same place of truth.  I had the story in my mind, complete from beginning to end, long before I ever sat down to write it.  And, really, that’s what’s taught me how to write: the desperation to get the words onto the page.  Having to write, and subsequently doing it, is a greater teacher than any lecture on what writing, as a subject, is meant to be about.  Theory helps, but experience trumps all.  So while it’s set in the middle ages or, rather, a reimagining of it, at heart it’s about the same thing all my books are about: people.  It’s people, and their struggles, and their relationships with each other, that drive everything.  From plot to backdrop.  So the shortest, and first answer is that, when it comes to borrowing from history, I pick and choose what most serves the story–the people.

The Kingdom of Morven is entirely the product of my own imagination.  I created a world that had what I needed–conflict, demons–and then, ex post facto, decided to inform the particulars of that world with my own knowledge about the middle ages.  Because I’m the world’s biggest nerd and I just love the middle ages and finally I have an answer to that ages old question: what are you going to do with that degree?  I don’t think I would have chosen to set a series in any medieval-type world if I didn’t have that degree under my belt, though, as the subject is simply too massive.  Leaving, subsequently, too much room for error.

I can’t watch shows like “The Bastard Executioner,” because I’m overcome with Historical Accuracy Rage.  Sitting around, reading about the evolution of the longbow is actually what I do for fun.  I’m a terrible bore.  I’m always vexing my family with dishes created from 14th century cookbooks and other terrible things.  But everyone’s interests, even when directed toward the same subject, take a slightly different path and for me it’s not so much an issue of geography as feel.  Not where did this woman live, but what was a woman’s life–regardless of where she lived–during this time.  What struggles did she face?  There’s a universality that I think, if one can access it, transcends much.

Of the barriers we imagine constitute our lives; between past and present.  We aren’t, as people, so unalike as we sometimes believe.  But here, again, in this belief I’m informed entirely by my own life experience.

There are a great many things that aren’t historically accurate about my books.  To begin with, The Demon of Darkling Reach contains a demon.  And there’s certainly no one to one comparison in terms of a specific time period; culturally, Morven is Third Crusade-era.  But the political situation is inspired, to some extent, by the Great Anarchy.  And Hart, meanwhile, might to some readers bear some passing resemblance to (the historical, rather than the Shakespearean) Henry V.  All of which because the characters, and thus their story, came first.  I think that if I’d tried to go about it from the other direction, I’d still be on the first chapter.  Because there’s simply too much there.

None of the specific locations are taken from real places.  Or, many of them are an amalgam of something like 25% real places–me pulling out bits I found inspiring–and 75% my imagination.  But, again, whatever serves the characters comes first.  Caer Addanc, Tristan’s stronghold, was entirely the product of a design scheme that existed only in my head (and once in awhile on paper, as I sketched things out to make sure that my characters’ routes made sense).  Because he was so clear in my head as a character, I knew exactly the sort of castle that suited him.  And that would, too, evoke the proper feeling in the reader.

The Price of Desire is set in the far future but there, too, it was an issue of integrating elements from the past–and, indeed, present–with my vision of the world I was creating.  And although The Prince’s Slave is set in present day, the process was still the same.  Belle’s two alma maters are obviously real places, as are the cities and towns she visits.  Cities and towns I picked, because I liked them and knew something about them.  And yes, Harvard Square really does smell of pee.  But the club where Belle meets Ash is entirely a figment of my own imagination and while Ash’s newest residence is loosely based on Castle Peles that place still being a private residence is clearly also a lark.

Oftentimes, the “backbone research,” as I sometimes think of it, the research that makes the story “real,” isn’t visible in the story at all.  And isn’t, equally, what people think.  For The Prince’s Slave, a tremendous amount–reading, interviews–went into understanding the economics behind Ash’s chosen business.  Being tortured and locked in a basement wasn’t something I had to imagine; my childhood was not pleasant.  And that–torture–isn’t a subject I’d write about if I didn’t have that personal experience.  There are a lot of things we think we can imagine, that we haven’t experienced, that we can’t.  When you don’t write what you know, I think it can seem–at best–voyeuristic.  The downside being that people whose only experience with the kind of events portrayed in my book is, well, reading my book feel very free to criticize out of their own ignorance.

Which is a problem writing about the middle ages, too: a lot of what people think they “know” is wrong.

Which is another reason why serving the story and, with it, your own “real” is so important.  Two people will, invariably, look at the same thing and see something different.  They might disagree with your characterization of something, even if, to your mind, you’re describing it exactly as it is–whether you’re talking about your memories of being locked in a basement or the certain “this makes me think of sobbing lemurs” gray of a Soviet-era building.  I actually got hate mail from someone who felt like I was doing the architects of the USSR a disservice.

So yes, some people are more upset about stone than human suffering and some see others’ stories merely as platforms for their own political agendas.  My books, according to Goodreads, are all either too feminist or not feminist enough.  Polyamory is “not feminist” and neither is monogamy.  One reader objected, first to the fact that she felt like Ash told Belle what to do and then later on, to the fact that he didn’t tell her what to do enough.  Numerous reviews of The Demon of Darkling Reach have complained that references to “modern” things like sunburns (old news to the Ancient Egyptians), surface tension (described by Pliny in 23 CE), and the phrase “fuck you” (common during the heyday of the Roman Republic) were completely out of place.  In short: no matter how hard you try, what you want them to see isn’t always what they see.

Trust the tale, not the teller, and all that.

People will take your story, and make it their own.  Which is, ultimately, what you want them to do.  As a writer, you can only hope that they enjoy the experience.  It’s an idea both frightening and liberating, really, and it means one very important thing: you can do what you want.  You’re the storyteller; you’re not beholden to anybody.  Before it’s their story, before you worry about what anyone else is going to think, it has to be yours.

I realize that, as far as answers go, this one is quite long and rambling.  Still, I hope it helps!  I do love answering questions (even if I’m sometimes quite bad at it) so, if anyone has any more, please let me know.

World, share your thoughts in the comments.

The Creation of an Audiobook: an Interview with Shiromi Arserio

I “sat down,” as it were, recently, with Shiromi Arserio, the extraordinarily talented actress who brought The Demon of Darkling Reach to life for audiobook.  In anticipation of TDODR’s second debut next week (for Audible, iTunes, and more), I thought it would be interesting to learn more about the process.  And about Shiromi, herself.

You can view Shiromi’s film credits , and her audiobook credits here.

And please, if there are any questions I forgot to ask, or anything you’d like to know more about, let me know in the comments.

Tell me about your background.

My background is in acting. I have a degree in Theatre Studies. For a long while I mostly did stage acting, with the exception of a few stints here and there for TV. A few years back I fell into voice acting when a friend needed a new voice for a documentary he was working on.

How did you come to narrate audiobooks?

I worked in voice over for several years, and once I realised that audiobook narration was a thing you could do and actually get paid for, I decided this is what I wanted to specialise in. I’m notorious for acting out scenes in books, and reading aloud to my dog, so this was a no-brainer for me. I went out and got more audiobook-specific training. Narrating audiobooks is the equivalent of a marathon versus the typical short-form voice over work, so that did require some prep.

How do you choose your audiobook projects?

I usually stick to the genres I enjoy reading, which is why the majority of the books I narrate are in the sci-fi/fantasy genre. When you’re working on a book for 50+ hours, you want it to be something you enjoy. I read as much as I can of the book. Both the audition piece and the Kindle excerpt to get a feel for the writing, and whether or not I connect with the text. My audition scene for The Demon of Darkling Reach was one of those scenes I really connected with, as Isla puts herself up as a bride for Tristan. I really felt Isla’s turmoil in that scene, which made my job easy.

Do you find that your own enjoyment of the story and characters affects your ability to perform well as a narrator?

Yes. Absolutely. It shouldn’t be the case, and I honestly try to always do my best, but the truth is when you’re recording a book that’s well written, engrossing, with strong characters, it makes my job so much easier, and it makes me want to give that little bit extra.

Tell me about your process.  Do you read organically and worry about fixing errors later?  Or are you always stopping and starting?

When I first get the book, I read it all the way through while making notes on pronunciations, character lists and attributes, as well as highlighting the dialogue in different colors which makes it easier later when it comes to recording. That way I can see right away who is speaking next and change my voice appropriately. When I’m done with my copious note taking and have completed any additional research, I work on voices for the main characters. By the end of the book, I’ll typically have a few ideas. Usually I will mentally cast someone in my head for each role. This gives me an easy mental image when I’m switching between a half-dozen different characters in one scene. With Rowena, I couldn’t get Lucy Punch out of my head. She was in Ella Enchanted and even looks a little like how I imagine Rowena. So I pulled a little from her, and added some of my own sense of whiny, self-entitlement to the voice.

Once I’m done with the character voices I’m ready to record. I record using a punch and roll method. Which basically just means I stop and start a lot. You can record the whole way through and edit afterwards, but I find it rather slow-going for recording long form. With the punch and roll, I just stop the recording and basically re-record as I go. Some people find it breaks their flow, but I’m pretty used to this method by now. Once all the audio is recorded, I will send it to my proofer to listen and catch any errors, mispronunciations or continuity issues. Once any errors are corrected, it’s off to my editor to tighten up the pacing and make it sound pretty.

Morven: the Map

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to be adding some new features to the site, including a portal to more information about the world of The Black Prince Trilogy.  I’m working on some concept art right now but, in the meantime, here’s a map of Morven:

Social Media “Gurus” and You

One of the, in my opinion, funnier bad reviews I’ve received on Amazon is from someone who informs the public that Self Publishing Is For Losers “has a dark side.  Fox states that she is an experienced editor and writer yet this book [sic] contains unintended examples of awkward wording, poor sentence structure and typos. Fox admits that she never edits her own work (a wise choice) but the ‘editor’ hired to edit this book left much to be desired. Normally, I’d overlook that sort of thing if it’s minor, but the purpose of this book is to offer advice to self-publishers by self-professed professionals in the industry and the quality of the writing here is ‘good amateur’ at best.”  Let’s unpack that, shall we?

First, I love that my work “has a dark side.”  Especially nonfiction, the purpose of which is to help others succeed.  Second, my writing style might not be everyone’s first choice but my “awkward wording” and “poor sentence structure” are never “unintended.”  Nor do I believe those characterizations are correct; language is a nuanced thing and if we’re to create with it, at some point we must depart from the “fill in the blanks”-style grammar sheets of our middle school years.  Are there typos?  I don’t know.  I don’t believe so, but I caught a typo in Stephen King’s last book.  People who look for the presence of typos (and here I’m talking, castigating someone because they found one in one hundred thousand words, not one on every page) as the final indicator of quality in a book reveal only their own ignorance of the publishing process.

Which brings me to my real point.  The quality of my writing might be “‘good amateur’ at best,” but I’ve published over a dozen books including a couple of bestsellers.  Royalties are a craps shoot but from month to month but, on the whole, I make a fairly decent living from my writing.  Whereas the person writing the review identified themselves as someone who was both a) unpublished and who b) hadn’t completed a book.  In the roughest of rough draft forms, let alone in manuscript form.  And while I, to varying degrees, appreciate everyone’s feedback I am left thinking of my favorite aphorism: never take advice from anyone you don’t want to be more like.

People who make a living writing probably know more about how to craft a good book than people who don’t write at all.  Likewise, people who are successful with social media probably know more about what to do, to be successful at social media, than those whose advice is only theoretical.  Because their basis of “knowledge,” rather dubiously, comes only from a collection of ultimately arbitrary opinions about what “should” work.  Based on what they believe they know about their own expertise, or the human condition.

Yes, I call myself a professional.  But you don’t have to take my word for it: google me.  Whereas the average social media guru truly is self-styled.  It’s a lot easier to tell other people what works, and what doesn’t, than to actually create a Facebook page with 5,000, 10,000, or 100,000 fans.  And yet, inexplicably, these types get more airtime than they deserve.  I’m occasionally part of conversations where other authors are debating what this person said or that, and how to follow their advice, and the “guru” in question doesn’t even have a Facebook page.  This is like taking writing advice, not from other writers but from the Amazon/Goodreads troll cave because, well, they seem really opinionated.

The troll, as seen in his natural environment.

Much of the “wisdom” they peddle makes no sense at all and, if you take a moment to evaluate it, describes essentially the opposite of what the most successful–as a for example, Facebook pages–have done.  Don’t share your own opinions on anything, don’t be too personal, don’t have a sense of humor…what are you trying to sell, here?  Toothbrushes?  When was the last time you followed a page because you really dug how you got no sense of it really being about anything?  Or having any particular point of view?  When was the last time you thought, wow, this person doesn’t seem funny at all.  In fact, they seem like a cardboard cutout of a person rather than the real thing.  How awesome.

Really?

It’s not rocket science.  People are going to like your page–or not–for the same reason they like George Takei’s.  Or whoever else’s.  Because, well, they like it.  And for someone to like it–or you–you have to give them something to like.  Attempting to impress upon the world how boring you are, and how inoffensive you are, might save you from anyone forming an opinion about you…but it’ll also prevent anyone from buying your books.

Your words–on your website, on Facebook, and elsewhere–are each of them tiny samples of your writing.  Of the perspective that colors your writing.  If people like that, then they’re going to buy your books.  If, conversely, you scrupulously hide the fact that you have a sense of humor, or a political angle, or whatever, and someone buys your books looking for something similarly bland, then you haven’t won a fan.  You’ve made a sale.  A sale that might lead to disappointed expectations and a bad review.

You gain nothing, in the end, by pretending to be something you’re not–especially when, as a writer, your end goal is essentially to convince complete and total strangers to climb inside your head.

I have almost 50,000 Facebook fans.  But people who have one or two fans, or who don’t yet have a Facebook page, are often giving me (unsolicited) advice on how to fix things.  Is their advice good?  My question to them is: how would they know?  They’ve never acted on it.  If you shouldn’t take advice from anyone you don’t want to be more like, then you definitely shouldn’t take advice from anyone who doesn’t feel the need to test its credibility before passing it on to others.  If you want to know how to grow your Facebook page, then ask someone who’s done it.  Themselves.  And who can speak, meaningfully, on what worked and didn’t work for them–and why.

Would you enjoy my Facebook page?  Who knows.  I post a lot of pictures of things that inspire me, from sunsets on the beach in front of my house to various half-crumbling castles around the world that have served as inspiration for those in my books.  I like morbid humor.  Some people unlike my page because of that but, guess what: they aren’t the target audience for my books.  Because…morbid humor.  Morbidity in general.

People have read my books after finding my page.  I know this, because they’ve told me.  As far as gross numbers, who can say–and who cares?  If you don’t treat each individual fan as important, then (in my opinion) you don’t deserve to have any.  This is someone who spent a portion of their hard earned money on something they didn’t have to.  And the ones who did, because they “met” me on Facebook, did so because what I posted spoke to them.  They realized that they shared my sense of humor, or appreciation for medieval history, or whatever, and because of that took a gamble on one of my books.  Something they would not have done, had I been masking myself in a hail of politely worded posts on how to proofread and reminders to “buy my book.”

And remember, while I’m no social media guru, I am a millennial so please feel free to [insert joke here].

And please share your thoughts in the comments.

The Black Prince: RELEASE DATE and COVER REVEAL

The time is (almost) upon us!  The first part of The Black Prince is done and the deadline for the second is, as of yesterday, November 20.  Which means 1) that I won’t be doing a whole lot of sleeping between now and then and 2) the working release date is currently TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1.  Yes, that’s right.  The book–both books, as it’s two full length parts–should be on Amazon, in stores, and in your hot little hands for Christmas.

So without further ado, I present to you two covers and a blurb:

The momentous, tour-de-force finale of the beloved series.

Weaving together war, intrigue, and romance, The Black Prince pulls the intertwined stories of Isla, Tristan, and their families forward toward a single, epic conclusion.  The shadow of the robber queen, Maeve, reaches long over Morven.  Even into Caer Addanc itself, a formerly unbreachable citadel now corrupt with treason.  No one is safe; not Isla, not her husband, and especially not Asher.  A young boy whose true identity might lie at the heart of everything.  While Isla, in turn, questions her own heart: can she truly be with Tristan?  Is the cold touch of her corpse lover enough to compensate her for the loss of everything she holds dear?  And while Hart, her beloved brother and confidante, discovers that the path on which he’s set himself is darker than he’d imagined.  And the price of his ambitions might be higher than he can bear.

The darkness is coming, a raging tempest within Caer Addanc and without, which none might survive.

So there you have it: the grand reveal.

Please, share your thoughts in the comments!