I have been looking at other blogs lately, and I have to admit that my original blog title was really really boring. So I decided to change it. The new name, Literary.Schizophrenia, is indicative of how I write. I end up with all these characters in my head that won’t let me rest until I tell their story.
Not saying I won’t change it again. But for today. I like it.
Great article on how to draw more traffic to your WordPress blog.
Yesterday, was my blog’s one-month blogaversary and the biggest surprise of my day was logging in and seeing that Books are Delicious had reached 600 followers. Winter Bayne and Ameliaormia have asked me how I managed to get so many followers so quickly and wanted to know if I had any tips. I’m no expert, but here are some of the things I have done to increase traffic to my blog.
This Bitstrip my husband made shows just how persistent I can be.
1.Be a Follower: Find blogs similar to your own and follow them. Whenever I see a list of book bloggers or author blogs, I always check them out and add the ones I like. I will also go to the WP Reader and run a search for ‘book reviews’ and ‘author’ to find new blogs that interest me. In addition to finding great new blogs, many of…
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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this desire to be chosen by an agent/publisher. There are nights when I beat myself up, when I wallow in self-pity [I am notorious for that, but at least I’m self-aware] because I couldn’t get an agent to represent me and my novel. To have chosen to go down the indie route because I couldn’t get an agent at times feels like a cop-out, like if I’d just tried a little harder then I would have been good enough.
But during those dark nights, when the wallowing gets extreme, I tell my self the following:
I wrote a good book, a quality book, and no matter what these agents think, it’s worth publishing.
And then I think, why would I want to go down the traditional publishing route anyway? I’ve never been known to embrace the norm, to fit in the box whether at work [ask my managers, if you don’t believe me] or in relationships. Or in writing. I don’t want to be normal. I want to be more, better. I want to live my life, not a life that fits someone else’s standard. I want to live outside the box. To be unique, authentic. Different.
So why this desire to be normal publishing wise? We’re told, time and again, that vanity press, that self publishing is only done because you’re not good enough to be a real author. But I’ve found that isn’t true. I’ve read Indie books that surpass many of the traditionally published books on the market. And yes, the indie world still has a lot of growing to do, but that doesn’t diminish my work. I’m an individual and should be treated as such.
I’ve found that there are three reasons that it’s good to be indie, publishing and lifestyle wise:
(1) I get more.
Somehow, even though I’ve managed to annoy my management, sometimes to the point that they loathe me, I’ve always worked hard and have a reputation of delivering what I say I’m going to deliver. And I make a very good salary in my big Corporate America life-style. But I also have the satisfaction that I won’t sell out, won’t deliver my soul up for better pay or some manager’s fleeting approval.
So why would I sell my soul to a publisher? Why would I want to get 7% of my royalties, which is what the traditional publishing route would net me, when I can get up to 70% of the royalties? Especially when with a traditional publisher, I’d have to do most of the work anyway. Gone are the days of the big promotions for new authors. So my book wouldn’t do any better, sales wise, than it is now.
If I was a purely business oriented person, I’d say that the traditional route ROI is crap. I write a book. I set up my social presence and much of the advertising. I do all the things you, Mr. PublishingHouse, don’t want to do for a new author. And you give me 7% of the sales? That’s not a smart investment.
(2) I control everything.
Yes, I am a control freak, but in this case, it’s a good thing. My manuscript isn’t sitting at the bottom some agent’s or some publisher’s I’ll get around to this one day pile. No delays due to re-formatting or waiting for an interior design person, one with low enough status to rank working on a newbie’s book. I control how fast my book goes to market.
I control the number of words, the editing, the title, the cover, the design. I control what percentage of the royalties I’ll get by deciding how the book will be distributed.
There are no long-term, dead-end contracts. If I want to pull my book from X distributor, I can do that.
I control everything, but mostly I control how successful I am.
(3) I own the rights.
Does this need explaining? In the case of publishing, if I pitch the story to a movie house, it’s mine to do so. And if I do so, I get the proceeds from the sale, not a small portion of them. There are a hundred other examples. Basically, if a publishing house has the rights to my book, I control little or nothing.
In life, I own my success and failure. I own my soul.
Not one of these reasons indicates that an indie writer will have an easy time of it, that they will be an instant success, that they don’t have to edit or produce quality work. Writing is hard work. Why would anyone think that publishing is easy?
But what the reasons do indicate is that we newbie authors should get more for the work we’re doing, we should look for the best ROI.
So you see, it’s good to be different, to be indie.
I’ve been following the Amazon/Hachette melee, and maybe because I’m a new author, I am leaning toward Amazon’s view of the world. No, I’m not in favor of monopolies, and Amazon is heading that way, but I’m also not the least bit happy about the way new authors are treated by the traditional publishing industry.
My view of the world is that there’s a double standard when it comes to established, well-known authors versus new authors.
Some of it I can understand. I can see that a publisher may not want to take a risk on a thousand page novel by a new author, one which may tank after they’ve made a major investment in physically creating a tome that size. Most new authors start out with a novel significantly less than 125K words [approximately 400 pages], and so I had a hard time selling An Untold Want to an agent. In fact, I never was able to get an agent to represent me. Several specifically said they wouldn’t even consider a manuscript with more than 90K words from a new author. One agent told me to cut it down to 85K words and then come talk to her. She wasn’t offering me a contract up front. No, she was just saying she would possibly consider it if I cut my novel in half. I passed on that offer.
Some of the issues I don’t understand, like quality of writing. Awhile back I did a review of The GoldFinch. If a newbie author had submitted The Goldfinch to a major publishing house, let’s just say Hachette, that author would have been laughed out of their office. The book is long and convoluted and badly edited. And yet, the publisher is pushing it. And it won a Pulitzer. Yes, it has some beautiful prose and is an interesting story, but it would never have seen the light of day, a book that won a Pulitzer would never have been published if it had been written by a new author.
Agents and publishers expect newbies to come to them with a complete, fully edited manuscript. With a social presence already in place. From what I’ve read, in multiple articles from well respected news outlets, publishers now only focus on supporting their big draw authors, the J.K. Rowlings and James Pattersons of the book world. If I were to get a contract with Hachette today, I’ve no doubt that I would have to do a large majority of the advertising myself. So for a whopping 7% of the sale price [yes, that’s what new authors tend to get from publishing houses], I would get to do 70% of the work, not including writing the novel.
When I couldn’t get an agent, [Your book is too long. Your book doesn’t fit our genre. Your books just wasn’t for us.] I went down the indie route. By self publishing with Amazon, I get 70% of the royalties and I own the rights to my book. Yes, I did all the work, but the ROI is significantly better than if I’d gotten an agent and gone down the traditional route, say with Hachette. There are tons of agent/publisher horror stories out there. My favorite, the one I tell myself at night when I’m trying to boost my ego about why an agent wouldn’t want my book, is that many authors finally get an agent only to have their books placed at the bottom of a huge pile of I’ll get around to this later.
The Huffington Post posted a great article that sums up the indie versus traditional situation: Are There 5 Reasons to Stick With Major Publishers? No, There Are Zero Reasons
Just to be fair, there is a down side to self publishing. Indie books are still considered substandard. All self published authors are lumped into a huge ball of what appears as mediocrity. Those who do the work to polish their novels are pulled down by those who don’t. Even I shy away from indie authors because I’ve paid for too many books that were badly written. I wrote about this phenomenon in my post Do Yourself a Favor: Edit Your Book. Too many new authors write what is in essence a first draft and then rush to publish it. As one web article said, we are drowning in indie books, and my take is that many of them are sub-par.
With that said, the best reason to be an indie author is that I’m in control of how successful I am. I can edit or not. I can create a great cover. Or not. I can do what I want, but what I do is in direct relation to how successful I am. I am not waiting on someone else to promote my book.
Yes, it’s another Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction contest entry. It’s unusual for me to do two so close together, but when I looked at the picture, I couldn’t resist. I’m planning a vacation to an island in the San Juan’s and the picture made me think of what might be while I’m on vacation.
I read through the other entries, and I think I have put a unique spin on the story.
This week’s prompt is:
Photo Copyright K. S. Brooks
That kid in the picture is my little brother, Andy. In 1987, he got carried away by an undertow at this very beach. The authorities never recovered his body.
I took this picture of him yesterday, when he walked up out of the water as if nothing had happened.
And this is my story based on the prompt:
For just a moment I’m sure I’ve lost my mind. The boy, it’s Andy, my twin, but it can’t be Andy. Andy died. When we were kids, Andy died. The undertow took him from us, never to be found again.
I draw near, wary that a grownup approaching a young boy might look suspicious. But I can’t stay away. I have to see this boy. This ghost I’ve just captured on film.
As I suspected, a woman rushes up, grabs the boy’s hand, and asks me what I’m doing. The boy pulls away and runs further up the beach.
“It’s just… He looks like my brother, Andy. When we were kids.”
Never taking her eyes off the boy, the woman must sense my sadness.
“That’s funny.” She smiles, nodding toward the boy. “His name’s Andrew. But we call him Andy. For some reason, his father was adamant he be called Andy, wouldn’t consider anything else.”
“Daddy, Daddy,” the boy shouts holding up a starfish. “Look what I found.”
The father looks up from where he sits on the beach and waves at the boy.
There’s something about the father. I move closer.
The man stands, picks up the boy, and my heart skips a beat. Can it be? My brother, Andy, fully grown, my twin, stands before me. I walk up to him.
Hugging the boy safe, he extends his hand. “Name’s George. Can I help you?”
My mouth drops open. “Were you adopted?”
He frowns. “How’d you know?”
Goodreads 
recently added a feature called “Ask the Author”. To get the author started, the Goodreads Team listed some typical questions. Prompts like “How do you deal with writer’s block?” and “How do you get inspired to write?”
I thought I’d start with an easy one. “Where did you get the idea for your most recent book?”
Everyday I see something or read something, and I think, that would be a great story. For awhile I kept a list of story ideas, but it got to the point it was frustrating to note down another idea and not do anything with it. I’ve sat in movies and halfway through thought, if this doesn’t end the way I think it’s going to end, then I’m going to write that story.
With Couillon, I was under pressure to write a short story for a literary fiction class I was taking. On the web I had recently seen an image of Jesus and Mary painted in DayGlo colors, and in my head, I immediately saw that painting hanging in a voodoo shop in New Orleans. I love all things mystical and spooky. That image of the voodoo shop gave me the theme and led me to write the first section [20 pages or less for the class], the scene where Janice purchases the voodoo doll. I later turned that short story into a novella.
An Untold Want had no such immediate inspiration, no ah ha moment. I had finished my literary fiction class and helped form a short-lived writing group with some of the members of said class. They were all working on A Novel, and I thought I should be working on a novel too. Again, I love anything arcane. But for me, a novel can’t just be about witches or spooky stuff. Yes, there are a lot of novels out there about witches and ghosts, but I don’t write urban fantasy. I’ve tried to write genre, because it sells better, but I just don’t think that way when I’m writing. Then I thought about Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic, and I decided to try my hand at a story like that. It ended up being nothing like Practical Magic, except it has witches, but that was the key factor in how An Untold Want started. I pulled the last name from one of my favorite songs, Ode to Billie Joe, but spelled MacAllister differently. I took the setting from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. You don’t get spookier than Savannah. And from those key factors, I built a small town and an unhappy woman who is a bit too much like me.
For my latest project [working title: Twin Story], I decided that I did not want to invent another small town. It’s a lot of work to create a world, from the street grid to the geography [Is it a swampy area? What are the trees/flowers like? What does it smell like? What are the buildings like?] to the town’s personality/attitude. I’ve lived in Seattle long enough that I thought I’d try my hand at writing a novel based in Seattle. But my novels have to have that bit of the esoteric, or they wouldn’t be mine. So I decided to incorporate Native American mythology into it.
But the key factor, what really started the project was an article I read in the Weird News on some newspaper website. I can’t tell you what the news story was because that would give away a large part of the story I’m working on. But those three things — Seattle, Native American mythology, and weird news — gave me the premise for my new novel. I’ve since read a lot about Native Americans, about the residential schools [which disturbs me greatly], about the different tribes, and about the myths especially those of Raven. I didn’t realize how different the Pacific Northwest tribes are, but I’ve grown to love the Native American mythology. I’m still not sure how I will pull it all together, but I’m working on it.
With that said, I should be writing the book instead of writing about it. I wish it were as easy as writing a blog post.
I have a difficult time dealing with motivation, especially with my writing. This is a long article, but well worth the read. The author does a nice job of making what could be a bunch of boring facts into a fun read. I love the “unfuck a very small portion of your habitat”. I plan on keeping that in mind and employing the sentiment as much as possible.
“’Motivation comes after action,’ the course leaders said a few times, so that we really got it. The idea is to get yourself into a nice cycle of self-esteem and self-reinforcement, starting with small things.”
Hello friends! It’s Elodie Under Glass here with a guest post on Low Moods.
I particularly want to thank Quisty, Kellis Amberlee and TheOtherAlice for their kindly help in reading and editing this piece. It would not have existed without their care, support, compassion, and wonderful editorial abilities. They are truly remarkable humans! (edited: And thanks to the radiant and patient NessieMonster, who let me come to her city and follow her around, burbling insensibly about this post, for far longer than most people would have.)
So recently, I went on a Stress and Mood Management course, and I thought that you all might enjoy sharing what I’ve learned.
This post is something of a correction/update to Adulthood is a Scary Horse, a post for the Captain which I was never quite satisfied with. It really crystallized for me on this course, in our…
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I’ve heard Bob Mayer speak at both the PNWA conference and a PNWA monthly meeting. He knows what he’s talking about.
I haven’t gotten to the point that I can live off my writing, but it’s my goal.
Every week, Indies Unlimited has a flash fiction contest, and every now and then, the image and prompt calls to me. I love all things grizzly and creepy. If you’ve read my novella Couillon, you’ll understand. I think I scared some of the people in my writing classes because in my short stories, someone always gets killed in a disturbing way.
This week’s flash fiction prompt was the picture included here and a prompt:
Photo Copyright K. S. Brooks
Northgate Sanitarium was an extension of the state prison system. The facility specialized in experimental treatment of the criminally insane. Some horrible stuff went on there.
Abandoned in the 1950s, the old building has been linked by rumor to a few recent disappearances.
I had just gotten my first job as a journalist, working for the Northgate Observer. I thought it would make a good story to spend the night in the old sanitarium. Back then, I guess you could have called me a skeptic…
This is my response, my story:
Snow had fallen the night before, covering the campus and dampening any sounds from the surrounding areas, making the outing feel isolated and forbidding. And just downright cold. I followed along behind the shivering research students as they investigated the Northgate lockdown area, you know, the ward where the real crazies were kept. Now that the facility was closed for good, these students had keys to even the most appalling parts of the building.
I kept asking them questions, trying to steer them in the right direction without literally pointing out that they didn’t have a clue, but the arrogant little prats just ignored me. I could show them things. Scary things. Real things. After all as a reporter I had investigated Northgate, way, way back before some of them were born. They should at least pay attention. Should at least give me some of the respect I deserve.
This group wouldn’t even be here if only I’d been allowed to write the article I wanted to write, an article exposing the experimentation done on the unwilling. Unwilling, insane criminals, yes, but still unwilling. In my original research, I had uncovered atrocities that needed to be exposed. Doctors allowed to do whatever in the name of science. Doctors allowed to maim and mutilate. And kill, all in the name of science. If only…
If only I could just get these students to listen, I’d show them where the bodies were hidden, where my body was buried with all my notes.
Today’s WordPress Daily Prompt is Flavor #32: A local ice cream parlor invites you to create a new wacky flavor. It needs to channel the very essence of your personality. What’s in it?
I immediately thought about a favor based on the way books [physical books] smell. I know from experience there is a slight vanilla smell when you crack open a book and shove your nose into the crease, but I couldn’t pin down all the other subtle factors and wanted to know more before I submitted this brilliant [even if I do say so myself] idea of a book scented ice cream.
So, of course, I went to the web. According to Smithsonian.com, that old book smell is a combination of grassy bits and vanilla. Yes, I’m paraphrasing.
Based on that, in my mind, the ice cream base would be a rich French vanilla with tons of those lovely black vanilla specs in it. Swirled through would be a puree of wheat grass and finely chopped sugared dandelion leaves. I think it would be beautiful, and as long as the sugar out weighed the acidity of the wheat grass and dandelion leaves, it would be pretty damn tasty.
But what to call this new flavor? I’m not very good at being witty. Sarcastic, yes. Witty, no.
I finally came up with bookend robbins.
ping back>>> http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/flavor-32/
Sara Stark, Author 