Indie E-Con Scavenger Hunt 2018 - Stop #11
Hello, everyone, and welcome to Indie E-Con 2018! That is, welcome to the very small portion of it that will appear on my blog. The main event will be found at the link above, and I’m really looking forward to both attending and participating. Here’s just a sampling of what it will include—author blog posts, book awards, writing critiques, games and prizes, ice cream—oh, wait, that’s right; the ice cream is bring-your-own. ;) If you’re interested, I hope you’ll stop by and check it out.
Any of my regular followers know that I’m not much of a blogger, but I will be posting a couple of things here over the next week that relate to E-Con. And to kick things off, we have a beautiful scavenger hunt spread over a ton of author blogs. The catch—everyone is guest-posting on someone else’s blog!
Each of the blogs will contain a letter to help you fill in the mystery phrase. In this case, I’ll give you the clue at the end, where I’ll also let you know where to find my own post.
And now, let me introduce you to Kyle Robert Shultz!
I’ll say right off the bat that I haven’t read any of his work. (I think I’ve mentioned before that I don’t read magical fantasy.) But I can already tell that he has a great sense of humor…
Take it away, Kyle!
How I Failed at Not Being an Author
I really, really tried not to write and publish a book. I want everyone to know that right from the start. If you’re displeased at seeing all these wacky little stories about retold fairy tales and snarky magical creatures with my name on them, please keep in mind that I did my very best to prevent them from ever existing.
In fact, the very first time that the concept of an alternate reality where fairy tales are history popped into my head, I upheld my duty as a non-author and shoved it into the back of my mind where it belonged. “It’s too ridiculous,” I told myself. “And complicated. And probably boring. Nobody will want to read it. I am most definitely not going to write it.”
However, it proved to be a lot more stubborn than I had imagined. Storylines sprouted and spread like crab grass, refusing to abate despite my very best efforts. Still, I stuck to all the time-honored methods of not writing a book--procrastinating, self-criticism, comparing my ideas unfavorably to those of other writers, reminding myself that I was nothing more than an impostor in author’s clothing. That worked for a while.
Then the characters started cropping up. I blame the fact that I randomly thought of the names “Beaumont and Beasley”--an admittedly catchy twist on the title “Beauty and the Beast.” To my chagrin, personalities began to take shape behind the names: a skeptical detective turned into a storybook monster, and the quirky enchantress who put the spell on him.
“Yes, thank you, not today,” I said, showing the odd couple to the door and slamming it behind them. “I am not an author,” I added through the keyhole. “Please take your bizarre, completely unmarketable stories elsewhere.”
Then I turned around to discover that they’d climbed through the window or something, and were now standing right behind me, demanding that I explain why I wouldn’t write their stories.
Even now, in the face of all this resistance, I struggled to cling to my non-author status. I kept shooing the characters into the dark corners of my brain. I changed their first names every three seconds just to annoy them. I insulted their personalities and highlighted all their weaknesses. I made a very clear and well-argued case for why nobody would ever want to read about these people.
I really thought all that would finally drive them away. But still they lingered on, sometimes waking me out of a sound sleep and forcing me to scribble down random notes about them in the middle of the night.
Finally, I had had enough. I decided it was time for drastic, unthinkable measures.
“FINE!” I shouted at these pesky characters and overgrown storylines. “I’ll show you! I’ll write you! And I’ll even go a step further. I’ll put you on a writing critique website! On display, for everyone to see and tear you to shreds! That’ll teach you to try to make me write a book!”
It was a brilliant plan, or so I thought. Surely this would set the whole matter to rest once and for all. And anyway, the creative part of my brain would surely peter out after a few chapters, leaving me free to sweep the whole thing into the garbage and never think about it again.
But there were a couple of things I didn’t count on. First of all, the characters--who by now had taken the names Nick and Cordelia--were a lot more stubborn than I thought. They would not go gently into that good night. Instead, they raged against the dying of my laptop screen and insisted that I keep plugging away at their stupid story.
Also, posting this stuff online spurred me to--horror of horrors--finish it. I admit it, I caved to the peer pressure of the other people on the critique website and completely betrayed the deep convictions of my non-authorship. Soon, I actually had a complete draft sitting on my hard drive. And online as well, which meant that I couldn’t just make it vanish. There were witnesses, after all.
That’s not to say I didn’t try to make it all go away. I couldn’t bring myself to delete it, so instead I opted to destroy it in a more figurative way. “By the time I’m done with you,” I warned the Frankensteinian thing that dared to call itself a book, “you’ll wish I’d deleted you! You’ll beg me to delete you! And I will refuse, and laugh in your face! HA HA HAAA!!!”
My occasional bursts of maniacal laughter caused my family to worry about my health, but I ignored them. I had non-work to do, after all. I’d failed to not-write a book, and I sure as anything wasn’t going to fail to not-publish it.
I savaged the so-called “book.” I took note of every single one of its flaws, even those so miniscule that they were invisible to the naked eye without a microscope. I piled a few dozen more insults onto its characters. I wrote about seventy bazillion alternate versions of it in fruitless, demoralizing attempts to fix its shortcomings. I felt sure that would finally bludgeon it into submission.
But no, of course it didn’t. The original draft of the book refused to die.
“All right, that does it,” I told the book, which was now calling itself The Beast of Talesend. “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. It might destroy my reputation, but at least it’ll destroy you as well.”
And so I did the unthinkable. I published the book.
It was a great and noble act of self sacrifice, of course. And it was bound to work, I reasoned. After all, those few people on the critique website probably didn’t know what they were talking about. Once my book was available for the whole world to read, everyone would see how inferior it was. I would probably become a laughingstock, but at least I would have finally destroyed The Beast of Talesend. It would all be worth it.
Except that’s not what happened. I’m not saying everyone loved it--though many people did. To my consternation, though, even the people who didn’t love it were kind enough to look past the fact that I was a new author with a lot to learn. Instead, they wrote reviews saying how much they enjoyed the book, and offered kind, helpful feedback for how I could improve in future stories.
It was over. I had gambled and lost, and permanently sabotaged my non-lucrative, unfulfilling career as a non-author. There was no going back for me now.
I was left with no other choice but to accept my fate. And so I stand before you now, a failed non-author, whose unruly characters forced me to write several more books of their misadventures. Whatever you do, don’t read them. You’ll only make things worse for me.
Perhaps you can learn from my cautionary tale and avoid my mistakes. Procrastinate at every opportunity, relentlessly criticize yourself, and cultivate a chronic case of impostor syndrome. Also, whatever you do, don’t let other people read your work and offer their feedback, under any circumstances. Make this fatal mistake, and your non-authorhood will be gone in the blink of an eye. Although if you agonize over every detail of the critiques you receive and take them fully to heart, you just might be able to nip your potential writing career in the bud.
Or, you can fall back on this time-honored strategy: don’t write. Write absolutely nothing. Even a shopping list can turn into a novel if you’re not careful. Keep well away from all pens and keyboards, and you can remain in blissful serenity, with no characters or plot threads cluttering up your mind and demanding your attention.
If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like me, wrangling dragons and cataloguing alternate realities for a living.
Who would want that?
Giveaway: Everyone who signs up for my email newsletter this month will be entered into a paperback giveaway for Horseman, my new western/fantasy novel. Use this link to subscribe: http://eepurl.com/cHwAHT.
Links:
Website: http://www.kylerobertshultz.com
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/kylerobe...
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/KyleRobe...
Podcast: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/f...
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/kylerobertsh...
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kylerbrtshultz
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kylerobertshultz
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/kylerobertsh...
-----
Okay, I’m back with your clue! In case you’re just joining us, here is the phrase to be filled in—
And here is your clue—
If you’re just getting started, you can go back to the beginning at Kandi J. Wyatt’s blog here or find the full list of blogs here. (Did I mention there are prizes involved?) If you’d like to check out my own post, you can find it here—hosted by Jesseca Wheaton! The official party starts on Monday—I hope you’ll stop by and see us!
Any of my regular followers know that I’m not much of a blogger, but I will be posting a couple of things here over the next week that relate to E-Con. And to kick things off, we have a beautiful scavenger hunt spread over a ton of author blogs. The catch—everyone is guest-posting on someone else’s blog!
Each of the blogs will contain a letter to help you fill in the mystery phrase. In this case, I’ll give you the clue at the end, where I’ll also let you know where to find my own post.
And now, let me introduce you to Kyle Robert Shultz!
I’ll say right off the bat that I haven’t read any of his work. (I think I’ve mentioned before that I don’t read magical fantasy.) But I can already tell that he has a great sense of humor…
Take it away, Kyle!
How I Failed at Not Being an Author
I really, really tried not to write and publish a book. I want everyone to know that right from the start. If you’re displeased at seeing all these wacky little stories about retold fairy tales and snarky magical creatures with my name on them, please keep in mind that I did my very best to prevent them from ever existing.
In fact, the very first time that the concept of an alternate reality where fairy tales are history popped into my head, I upheld my duty as a non-author and shoved it into the back of my mind where it belonged. “It’s too ridiculous,” I told myself. “And complicated. And probably boring. Nobody will want to read it. I am most definitely not going to write it.”
However, it proved to be a lot more stubborn than I had imagined. Storylines sprouted and spread like crab grass, refusing to abate despite my very best efforts. Still, I stuck to all the time-honored methods of not writing a book--procrastinating, self-criticism, comparing my ideas unfavorably to those of other writers, reminding myself that I was nothing more than an impostor in author’s clothing. That worked for a while.
Then the characters started cropping up. I blame the fact that I randomly thought of the names “Beaumont and Beasley”--an admittedly catchy twist on the title “Beauty and the Beast.” To my chagrin, personalities began to take shape behind the names: a skeptical detective turned into a storybook monster, and the quirky enchantress who put the spell on him.
“Yes, thank you, not today,” I said, showing the odd couple to the door and slamming it behind them. “I am not an author,” I added through the keyhole. “Please take your bizarre, completely unmarketable stories elsewhere.”
Then I turned around to discover that they’d climbed through the window or something, and were now standing right behind me, demanding that I explain why I wouldn’t write their stories.
Even now, in the face of all this resistance, I struggled to cling to my non-author status. I kept shooing the characters into the dark corners of my brain. I changed their first names every three seconds just to annoy them. I insulted their personalities and highlighted all their weaknesses. I made a very clear and well-argued case for why nobody would ever want to read about these people.
I really thought all that would finally drive them away. But still they lingered on, sometimes waking me out of a sound sleep and forcing me to scribble down random notes about them in the middle of the night.
Finally, I had had enough. I decided it was time for drastic, unthinkable measures.
“FINE!” I shouted at these pesky characters and overgrown storylines. “I’ll show you! I’ll write you! And I’ll even go a step further. I’ll put you on a writing critique website! On display, for everyone to see and tear you to shreds! That’ll teach you to try to make me write a book!”
It was a brilliant plan, or so I thought. Surely this would set the whole matter to rest once and for all. And anyway, the creative part of my brain would surely peter out after a few chapters, leaving me free to sweep the whole thing into the garbage and never think about it again.
But there were a couple of things I didn’t count on. First of all, the characters--who by now had taken the names Nick and Cordelia--were a lot more stubborn than I thought. They would not go gently into that good night. Instead, they raged against the dying of my laptop screen and insisted that I keep plugging away at their stupid story.
Also, posting this stuff online spurred me to--horror of horrors--finish it. I admit it, I caved to the peer pressure of the other people on the critique website and completely betrayed the deep convictions of my non-authorship. Soon, I actually had a complete draft sitting on my hard drive. And online as well, which meant that I couldn’t just make it vanish. There were witnesses, after all.
That’s not to say I didn’t try to make it all go away. I couldn’t bring myself to delete it, so instead I opted to destroy it in a more figurative way. “By the time I’m done with you,” I warned the Frankensteinian thing that dared to call itself a book, “you’ll wish I’d deleted you! You’ll beg me to delete you! And I will refuse, and laugh in your face! HA HA HAAA!!!”
My occasional bursts of maniacal laughter caused my family to worry about my health, but I ignored them. I had non-work to do, after all. I’d failed to not-write a book, and I sure as anything wasn’t going to fail to not-publish it.
I savaged the so-called “book.” I took note of every single one of its flaws, even those so miniscule that they were invisible to the naked eye without a microscope. I piled a few dozen more insults onto its characters. I wrote about seventy bazillion alternate versions of it in fruitless, demoralizing attempts to fix its shortcomings. I felt sure that would finally bludgeon it into submission.
But no, of course it didn’t. The original draft of the book refused to die.
“All right, that does it,” I told the book, which was now calling itself The Beast of Talesend. “I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. It might destroy my reputation, but at least it’ll destroy you as well.”
And so I did the unthinkable. I published the book.
It was a great and noble act of self sacrifice, of course. And it was bound to work, I reasoned. After all, those few people on the critique website probably didn’t know what they were talking about. Once my book was available for the whole world to read, everyone would see how inferior it was. I would probably become a laughingstock, but at least I would have finally destroyed The Beast of Talesend. It would all be worth it.
Except that’s not what happened. I’m not saying everyone loved it--though many people did. To my consternation, though, even the people who didn’t love it were kind enough to look past the fact that I was a new author with a lot to learn. Instead, they wrote reviews saying how much they enjoyed the book, and offered kind, helpful feedback for how I could improve in future stories.
It was over. I had gambled and lost, and permanently sabotaged my non-lucrative, unfulfilling career as a non-author. There was no going back for me now.
I was left with no other choice but to accept my fate. And so I stand before you now, a failed non-author, whose unruly characters forced me to write several more books of their misadventures. Whatever you do, don’t read them. You’ll only make things worse for me.
Perhaps you can learn from my cautionary tale and avoid my mistakes. Procrastinate at every opportunity, relentlessly criticize yourself, and cultivate a chronic case of impostor syndrome. Also, whatever you do, don’t let other people read your work and offer their feedback, under any circumstances. Make this fatal mistake, and your non-authorhood will be gone in the blink of an eye. Although if you agonize over every detail of the critiques you receive and take them fully to heart, you just might be able to nip your potential writing career in the bud.
Or, you can fall back on this time-honored strategy: don’t write. Write absolutely nothing. Even a shopping list can turn into a novel if you’re not careful. Keep well away from all pens and keyboards, and you can remain in blissful serenity, with no characters or plot threads cluttering up your mind and demanding your attention.
If you’re not careful, you’ll end up like me, wrangling dragons and cataloguing alternate realities for a living.
Who would want that?
Giveaway: Everyone who signs up for my email newsletter this month will be entered into a paperback giveaway for Horseman, my new western/fantasy novel. Use this link to subscribe: http://eepurl.com/cHwAHT.
Links:
Website: http://www.kylerobertshultz.com
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/kylerobe...
Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/KyleRobe...
Podcast: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/f...
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/kylerobertsh...
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/kylerbrtshultz
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kylerobertshultz
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/kylerobertsh...
-----
Okay, I’m back with your clue! In case you’re just joining us, here is the phrase to be filled in—
And here is your clue—
If you’re just getting started, you can go back to the beginning at Kandi J. Wyatt’s blog here or find the full list of blogs here. (Did I mention there are prizes involved?) If you’d like to check out my own post, you can find it here—hosted by Jesseca Wheaton! The official party starts on Monday—I hope you’ll stop by and see us!
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Tammy
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May 21, 2018 05:01AM
Haha! Brillant Kyle-style! Love it... thanks for sharing your non-author journey. ❤️
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Oh, this was delightful. XD Thanks for sharing your story, Kyle, and for sacrificing your life as a non-author to bring us Beaumont and Beasley. (I now own all your books, and I'm SO EXCITED to read them. :D :D :D)
