Automatic Writing

I'm sorry for the lack of round-up yesterday, mes auteurs, and by way of apology I'm offering this PMN Special Saturday Edition™. O joy! O rapture!

The problem of writers' block has been mentioned a handful of times in the comments over the past several months, and I recall at one point being asked (via Twitter, if memory serves) to offer possible remedies/solutions, rather than simply saying that writers can't afford to suffer from it. So: here goes.

First, I'm not sure I believe in writers' block. I certainly believe in writers' laziness, since I've suffered from it a number of times, but I don't think I've ever had any dry spells that I couldn't write my way out of with a little discipline and a few tricks. My favorite trick is automatic writing.

Now, the Wikipedia article on the topic makes the whole thing sound a little mystical and—well, crazy—so let me clarify: when I say "automatic writing," I mean writing without any interruption or editing. No pausing to think, no re-reading what you wrote, no need to pay attention to anything except the next word. (No trances, &c, at least not for me.) Sometimes you end up writing things that don't make any sense. Sometimes you end up writing "I can't think of anything to write" twenty times in a row. The point is, however, that you're writing—and while the product itself generally isn't even close to first-draft quality, I've found that there are usually a few brilliant nuggets that jump-start the more usual, conscious, craft- and plot-oriented writing.

So, if you find yourself stuck in your writing, set aside twenty minutes a day to write without your internal editor looking over your shoulder. Will it be good? Probably not—at least, not most of it. But you'll be writing, you'll be reinforcing good habits and providing structure for your writing life, and you'll almost certainly discover one or two great ideas buried in your subconscious that you might not have had any clue you'd produced.

Okay, So You're In It For The Money

Last week I discovered (via the endlessly witty and delightful Rejectionist) John Scalzi's "utterly useless" (read: super useful) advice on writing professionally.

So, yes: caveats.

It is absolutely possible, as John states, to make money (even a lot of money) writing professionally. Also, note that I have never said you can't make money writing (even though it sort of looks like I did, and I should have been more clear). What I should have said was: you're probably not going to make a lot of money writing fiction.

John makes his money writing a variety of articles on everything from entertainment to personal finance, and building such a repertoire—in addition to the requisite (and now probably figurative) Rolodex of contacts and clients—takes a lot of time and effort. John mentions his starting salary as a journalist was very low, and sadly, things haven't changed much in the business since then.

At one time you could make a lot of money writing for television, and to some extent that's still true, but with the preponderance of unscripted "reality" TV shows out there, it looks like there are far fewer well-paying jobs in Hollywood than there were ten or twenty years ago. You could try screenplays, but it's a tough market made tougher by the recession and California's relentless budget crises.

I think your best bets are article writing (à la John), technical writing (writing manuals and... well, technical things), translation (are you fluent in a foreign language?), or copywriting/copyediting (requires a lot of experience and contacts to get good rates). Fiction, memoir, and poetry command lower rates (in descending order), and most people who stick exclusively to creative writing are lucky to make more than a few thousand dollars a year doing it. Also remember that, as a full-time writer, you are self-employed, meaning you're subject to self-employment tax and will have to pay for your own health insurance, retirement planning, &c.

Questions/praise/vitriol? To the comments!

The Year in Review: Part 4

I'll admit it: I've been hard on self-publishing. And not, I don't think, without good reason: the average self-published book is of significantly lower quality and sells far fewer copies than the average traditionally published book. There's a reason (many reasons, actually) you want an agent and an editor and a marketing/publicity/sales team on your side.

That said, with the rising popularity of e-books (which I think will comprise 50% of the market by 2015), my theories and reasoning regarding self-publishing will change somewhat.

First, my words of caution re: unscrupulous self-publishing companies (read: vanity publishers) don't necessarily apply to the world of e-books, since nothing really stops you from just typing up a novel, converting it to the appropriate format, getting an ISBN, and uploading Ye Olde Lyfe's Worke all by yourself to any of the major e-book stores popping up on this swiftly tilting planet of ours. Easier yet, you could just convert the file to a .pdf and sell it through your personal website.

Second, since everyone in the industry is still getting their e-legs, they tend to scrutinize sales of electronic books a lot less severely than those of physical books. This means that if sales of your self-published e-book don't exactly blow up, it probably won't really hurt you (whereas a poor track record with a self-published physical book could definitely harm your prospects). This will probably change as e-book sales become the norm. (Trust me, while they may be the norm for you, they're not the norm for the industry.)

Third, self-publishing electronically is not (unlike physical self-publishing) a colossal waste of your time and money, since it can be done relatively quickly and cheaply (or even for free). The margin can also be very high, so you won't need to sell a huge number of copies to break even or turn a profit. In fact, if you don't count your writing time as time (and therefore money) spent, you can turn a profit after selling only one copy.

Now, the new caveats:

First, concerning uploading your book to Amazon/the iBookstore/&c or selling it yourself on your website: don't be shocked if nobody buys it. One of the major reasons authors develop into brand names is because a traditional publisher with good editorial, marketing, publicity, sales, and art teams has vetted the novel, gotten it into the public consciousness, possibly put it right at the front of the (e-)store, and slapped an eye-catching cover on it. You, as a début author whom know one knows and whose work hasn't been—in a word—legitimized by a traditional press, can't expect to see fantastic (or even decent) sales until and unless viral word-of-mouth sets in. (Hint: this is rare.)

Second, self-publishing electronically is easy—in fact, almost too easy. Don't be tempted to send your dear novel out into the e-ther early. Proofread, proofread, proofread. Have beta readers. Maybe even hire an editor. The good news: you're the boss! (The bad news: you're the boss.)

Finally, don't get your hopes up that electronically self-publishing will lead to your next book being picked up by a traditional house (complete with five- or six-figure advance), a movie deal, fame, glory, riches, or anything of the sort. Not that I expect you to—I just want to be sure we're all firmly grounded in reality.

Tomorrow: the (publishing) World of... Tomorrow!

Prithee, Inform Me: What Makes a Good Story?

Confession time.

I was a holdout on Lost for a long time. I watched the pilot and the first few episodes and wasn't hooked. Over the past few years I've seen a handful of episodes from different seasons and, though I enjoyed speculating about what that crazy smokey dragon is or whether Richard Alpert is wearing guyliner, I still didn't get the appeal and was not drawn into the byzantine and myriad plots or the strange mythos of THE ISLAND ZOMG. I kept thinking to myself, "What, Gilligan's Island meets Myst? Surely you jest, J.J.!"

However.

I did watch the "summary" hour before this season's premier, and now I feel I've got enough information to really enjoy the show. Some people have derided me for doing this, since I apparently lack the patience and focus to watch a show that generates ten questions for every answer it provides for five. Whole. Years.

This got me thinking, then, author-acquaintances (thanks, Le R!): would you read Lost if it were a book? (Sidebar: I really enjoyed Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves, which is the closest thing to Lost-as-a-book that I can think of.) In the case of Lost, however, you'd have (in my opinion) a book with an infinitely long introduction, a well-paced (though brief) climax, and a rushed and unsatisfying denouement (my prediction, based on Alias), not to mention a cast of characters that is way too large and unwieldy. Yeah, The Simpsons can pull it off, but they've been on the air for twenty years. Baby steps.

Therefore, prithee, inform me: what, in general, makes a good story (apart from—or perhaps in spite of—the oft-heard elements of "rich characters, engaging plot," &c)? What about a book makes you read it, re-read it, love it, recommend it?

NaNoWriMOh, Fine

Not quite a month ago, I wrote a post about NaNoWriMo. Or, rather, I lamented its very existence, noting that it is often used as an excuse for people who really have no business writing to produce not-quite-novel length pieces of... fiction and then proceed to harass other people with them. Based on my hard-won experience in publishing, I fear I must stand by my remarks, which were something to the effect that NaNoWriMo incites a lot of terrible querying and overall madness for the industry and most writers shouldn't need the "kick in the pants" that the event supposedly offers in order to get their writing lives in order.

HOWEVER.

I am not above admitting when I (may, if only once) have been wrong, and I do admit that the majority of the crazies (none of whom are here, Thank Google) would probably find a way to deluge agents and editors with their nonsense even without the vehicle of NaNoWriMo. I further admit that it's nice to have someone or something besides your own guilt/personal demons/spouse to help you make your writing a priority, which is far easier said than done. Therefore, I hereby join The Rejectionist in giving those of you who completed NaNoWriMo—or even attempted it—a round of applause.

Congratulations!