Caution: Learning Curves Ahead

by Christina Lay

So you’re thinking about self-publishing, or possibly other-publishing and you’re getting ready to take the plunge. The whole world knows how easy it is these days: write an amazing novel, proofread the heck out of it, maybe pay a professional editor, get it into a printable format, cajole an artistic-minded friend to create an awesome cover, upload the docs, and voila, your book exists.

Depending on your goals, for some people the process can be almost this simple. If what you care about most is getting the book out there and you aren’t overly concerned about how it looks on every device, availability across various markets, the overall professional quality of the end product, building a reputation as either an author or a publisher or both, selling in bookstores and at conferences, the degree of control you have over your product, etcetera, etcetera, then creating a clean Word document and an eye-catching cover will be your main hurdles.

However, the chances are that once you dip your toes into the world of publishing, you will be swept away in a tide of choices you had no idea existed, and the decision making process is not made any simpler by the fact that the rules and the markets are always changing. Be warned, if you know some authors who are self-publishing and decide to ask for their advice, they will all tell you something different. Any topic you Google will bring up several blogs with conflicting opinions. Know this, and prepare yourself for a wild ride.

The most important thing you can do for your sanity is to set some clear goals for your project. Is this a one-off, something you’re doing purely for your own satisfaction? Then a lot of the decisions won’t torment you too much. You can happily use Create Space and all the easy-peasy options they offer. If you are building a career or a business, then things get trickier.   Are you content with selling ebooks only, with maybe a few print-on-demand sales on the side, or do you want to get into bookstores, organize readings, sell your book at conferences? Answering one of these question will inevitably lead to several more.

Because I am naturally a benevolent sort, I thought I’d organize my recent experiences in launching the Labyrinth of Souls fiction project and write-up a short list of things you will need to understand and make decisions about. The short list quickly became long, and so this post is a very abbreviated overview of the business side of things. A shot across the bow, if you will. I won’t even get into design and formatting issues.

First of all, why not use Create Space for your print book? (KDP is the ebook side of things). Amazon’s self-publishing print book service is very user-friendly, and Amazon rules the world, so many people consider using any other option akin to shooting oneself in the foot. But there are other considerations. For instance, the rest of the bookselling world sees Amazon as a Borg-like entity and everyone else as a loosely knit Federation of booksellers valiantly struggling against being assimilated, so not everyone plays nicely with Amazon and therefore your innocent Create Space book might never escape its Amazon.com orbit. So what, you might ask? 97% of book sales happen on Amazon, right? The answer, which is actually a question is, do you want your book in bookstores? Barnes and Noble won’t order Create Space books, or at least, they wouldn’t when I put out ShadowSpinners Press‘ first book, A Collection of Dark Tales. Amazon promises expanded distribution, so imagine my surprise when I lost the chance at a B&N book signing because they couldn’t (read, didn’t want to) order from Amazon.   The lesson I learned (don’t forget, things are always changing, so I’m giving you my latest experience only) is that if you want to do readings and have your book carried at conferences, you need to go through Ingram.

Ingram? What the hell is that? Well, they are the major source of print books for the print book buying world, and most bookstores order through Ingram’s catalogue.   If you’re an indie publisher (read, poor) then Ingram Spark is the way to go. Lightning Source is Ingram’s program for the big boys (once upon a time indie publishers were allowed to sign up with Lightning Source, but now they will politely direct you to use Ingram Spark). The final word on the Create Space vs. Ingram Spark debate seems to be you need to use both. Yup, both, because you don’t have enough logins and passwords to keep track of yet. This of course doesn’t get into the issue of The Others; Smashwords, book services like Book Baby, and so on. You’ll need to make the service provider decision separately for your ebook. Again, KDP is not the only game in town.

Here are some articles on ebook and print on demand services I found helpful:

http://www.newshelves.com/2016/05/21/why-you-need-lightning-source-and-createspace/

https://kindlepreneur.com/smashwords-vs-draft2digital/

http://selfpublishingadvice.org/watchdog-ingram-spark-vs-createspace-for-self-publishing-print-books/

If you decide you want to go with a plan that includes print books in bookstores, you’ll need an ISBN for each book. Again, Create Space will give you one for free, or sell you one that gives you a little more control, but Create Space will always be listed as the publisher, which again, could lead to issues with bookstores. If you want to be listed as the publisher and be viewed in a more professional light, you’ll have to bite the bullet, go to Bowker and purchase an ISBN. A single ISBN costs $125. Ten cost $300. A hundred costs $500 and so on. So you can see it’s a scam in which the big boys get a great deal and the little guy gets screwed. But it’s important, so don’t blow it off. By the way, Bowker will try to sell you a barcode. You don’t need it. Create Space and Ingram will automatically generate one for you when they produce your book.

Here’s a pretty good break down on the ISBN question. https://selfpublishingadvice.org/isbns-for-self-published-books/   Have fun with that rabbit hole.

Here’s another fun conundrum: Pricing and Discounts. Opinions are all over the place on this one. Low prices draw more buyers, but you want to make money, right? You want to be able to offer a discount to bookstores, right? This is something that only research and a clear-headed look at your own finances and goals can answer. Ingram has a pretty good break down of the discount issue here: http://www.ingramspark.com/blog/heres-why-you-should-discount-your-book

And a publisher compensation (royalty) calculator here https://myaccount.ingramspark.com/Portal/Tools/PubCompCalculator

Create Space has one too, of course. Most of the POD services have pretty good resources available.

As you can see, this article is already pretty long and I haven’t even touched on these questions:

*Keywords and Categories: How to position your book so the mighty search engines will find them.

*Online marketing: Virtual tours, FB and Good read ads, social networks and how to exploit them without losing all your virtual friends, and so on.

*Copyrights. OMG, do I really have to fill that out?

*Fun with Legal Questions and Taxes. Am I a business? Do I need: a lawyer, a Tax Identification Number, to register my business name, to write contracts, to issue 1099s, and so on?

*Webpages and domains. Should I use WordPress or Go Daddy or Bob’s Discount Web Pages, hire a professional to build it, buy my own domain name, buy every .com, .net, .org I can get my hands on? Become an Amazon affiliate? Sell books via my website? Use Paypal or Square?

All right, I can go on and on, and maybe someday I’ll write down everything I’ve researched and learned, but for now, I hope this gives you a helpful glimpse at the many learning curves ahead. If you’re still crazy determined enough to move forward, you can start making decisions before you start the publishing process, and therefore not break your brain in a rush to make all the right decisions,  like I fear I might have.

Good luck and Godspeed in all your publishing endeavors.

What The World Needs Now

by Christina Lay

For many years I had a Take Back The Night flyer pinned to my wall. On it was a simple abstract figure dancing and the words across the top read Take Up Space! As someone who was raised to be demure, polite, invisible and most importantly, quiet, this message meant a lot to me.

I’m not sure where that flyer went, but recently I’ve found myself thinking about it again. Perhaps like me you’ve been somewhat alarmed by recent political events. Okay, I’ll go ahead and say it; perhaps you were thrown into a spiral of despair when our country elected a bigoted sociopath to the highest office of the land. Perhaps you asked yourself what you as an individual could possibly do to counteract an apparent rising tide of hatred and ignorance.

I’m personally blessed to work and play in  environments where I’m surrounded by creative people who are literally working their hearts out to create art in dance, song, images and words. As you can imagine the stunned reaction was fairly universal amongst my friends and coworkers. But then of course everyone went about their business, which is to make art. I’ve always been a supporter of the arts, but in January I was seized by how extremely crucial it is to the health of our culture that individual expression does not wane in the face of disinterest, but grow, and take up space.

Even before the election there was a general reporting of abysmal attendance at the performances of local art groups and the trend continued on afterward. Speculation has it that people are too depressed, wary, unsure or economically strapped. Probably a combination of all those factors and more is keeping the more casual appreciator of the arts away from the theatres. But this is exactly the wrong time to hide in our houses. We need to step out and support each other, in any way we can.

As I listened to many people discuss what we can do in a world where close-mindedness seems to be the in thing, I looked at myself not just as a writer but as a citizen and human being and asked myself—what can I do? My first impulse was to buy more tickets to more things. Supporting creative expression seems more important than ever in a time when simple human empathy is being shouted down from every corner.

And then I looked a little closer at myself and decided it was time, not to isolate and circle the wagons, but to get out into the world. Take up more space. Interact with the humans. Express my humanity. I signed up for a drumming workshop and a European long sword demonstration, just to expand my creative mind and step out of my comfort zone, not to mention supporting the artists who were presenting them.

At the same time I stumbled across a local call to artists for an “Objects Afterlife” show in which artists are assigned a used object at random and asked to make a piece of art out of it. I’m not a visual artist but this sounded like fun and a good way to get out there, so I applied, paid my admission fee, and was assigned a tube of blue vinyl. I had no idea what I was doing but I had fun doing it, and for a brief time, I took up a little space on a gallery wall.

But what about the writing? In times like these, one might think a writer should turn away from fantasy and attempt to write something contemporary, politically-edged, “real”, or possibly a post-apocalyptic warning of the dire future we seem to be headed for. Alas, whenever I attempt to write fiction that is a direct response to what’s going on in the world, it comes off as pedantic and self-righteous. I think this is one reason we make art. Sometimes we have emotions that are just too overwhelming or powerful to express.  Some people, like my friend Cheryl Owen Wilson, whose artwork is below, can do it, but I’m not one of them.

The Guardian by Cheryl Owen-Wilson

So I turn to my fantasies and my fairy tales and ask, does this have value? I believe it does. Escapism gets a hard knock, but who would argue there is value in beauty, peace, comfort, and happiness, even if only temporary? On a basic level, this is what fantasy, romance, cozy mysteries, etc. provide. A place of refuge. A momentary respite into a world where the good guys win and Love trumps hate. I always remember a story, and I wish I could remember where it came from, about a holocaust survivor who spoke in later years of how important it was for him in his depths of despair to know that somewhere in a world gone dark, someone was penning a beautiful symphony.

On a deeper level than ordinary expression, art allows us to explore depths that are hidden to us in the day-to-day living of our “mundane” lives. Art no matter the form or presentation is full of archetype, symbols that speak to our souls, souls that are often buried beneath a mountain of survival tactics and walls. Art is reality in disguise, attempting to slip past the guards of reason in order to whisper to the heart.

In times when so many people are more afraid than ever, confused, possibly full of anger and hate, the magic of art is crucial to the survival of the spirit. If you open your heart to them, fictional tales are immensely real and I believe this applies to all art and creative expression. Dance, music, theatre, painting, you name it- we need to do it, and we need to consume it. No matter what form the expression takes, it must be done, or our culture will wither and shadow will fill the empty spaces.

 

 

Which Snow Queen Character Are You?

by Christina Lay

We all want to be the Queen, but let’s face it; sometimes we’re the crow, the witch, or the hobgoblin.

I’ve been thinking lately about how a fairy tale penned in 1844 remains relevant in our culture today. Mind you, my thoughts never stray far from the realm of folklore and fairy, and working for the Eugene Ballet Company, listening to the brand new score for the brand new Snow Queen Ballet drift up from the studio below my office, I’ve been finding it harder than ever to concentrate on bookkeeping and easier and easier to drift into the realm of story.

Principal Dancer Danielle Tolmie as The Snow Queen – Photo Courtesy of The Eugene Ballet

The Snow Queen has always been one of those tales that didn’t sit quite comfortably with me. I remember watching a version of it on TV when I was kid. I was both fascinated and disturbed. I wish I could remember which of the many adaptations it was (I’m guessing this was around 1970) but as with other non-Disney, weirdly and honestly portrayed tales, it left me not knowing what to think or feel. That sense of unease stayed with me until I recently re-read the original tale and rediscovered a treasure trove of fascinating characters and stunning images mined from the archival memory of folklore.

Yes, it is weird as only a 173 year-old fairy tale can be, but Gerda, the very good girl, rescues her dear friend Kay and all is well in the end. I think what disturbed me was the lack of resolution regarding the Queen herself. The focal point of anticipation and wonder conveniently leaves on vacation when Gerda shows up at her palace of ice. (Hope this isn’t a spoiler for anyone). Maybe she was bored with Kay and was glad to get him off her hands.

I can only guess the movie version I saw didn’t send the queen away with no resolution, but who knows. The Queen remains a literary enigma, a mystery ensconced in a palace of ice who occasionally abducts little boys in order to have them move pieces of ice around on her frozen “lake of reason”.

Disney’s recent Frozen, very loosely based on The Snow Queen, is a sort of origin tale for the queen, exploring how a person might come to choose to live alone in a palace of ice. Obviously, zillions of movie-goers related to the concept of a person “frozen” due to the denial of their individuality; be it their artistic leanings, their sexuality, their personality, their natural talents. The story examines the damage inflicted when an essential part of oneself is rejected by those closest to you (in Frozen, Elsa’s own parents force her to suppress her astounding magical abilities out of fear). Many of us have experienced this on some level, and understand the urge to withdraw and hide our true selves to avoid further pain. In this case, we are the queen.

But there are many more characters in The Snow Queen and not all are so regal or impressively outfitted.

There’s Gerda, the lovely little girl who even the angels want to help. Gerda represents unconditional love and innocence. Something we can all relate to, right? Although she’s rejected by Kay, and even believes him dead, she won’t give up on him until she’s sure. She’s not terribly bright; her best idea to find out where Kay has gone is to throw her shoes into the river as a payment for knowledge, even after the river insists it doesn’t know anything. She does manage to get stuck on a boat and in the way of fairy tales, is carried toward her ultimate goal. Gerda also represents blind faith, and it works for her. Maybe we are Gerda when we throw common sense to the winds in order to pursue our dreams, loves, impossible wishes. Don’t the gurus always claim that when you follow your heart, the universe will aid you?

In contrast to Gerda is the robber girl, who is a psychopath with a heart of gold. She’s been raised by thieves to be violent, selfish and impulsive and yet she does help Gerda in the end. It’s not clear why, other than it amuses her more to see Gerda continue on her adventure than to murder her. I’m afraid I’ve been the robber girl on occasion. Not that I’ve every threatened to slit anyone’s throat, but the self-absorbed obsession with my own impulses isn’t entirely unfamiliar. I would venture to guess that in most people there exists an equal balance between Gerda’s unselfish goodness on one extreme and the robber girl’s amoral wildness on the other. Neither melds well to my sense of self, but I’ve been in both places.

What about the crow? Good natured, helpful, engaged but willing to risk his betrothed’s position at court in order to help out a stranger? And the crow loves to eat. The crow is about the most normal person in this entire fairy tale. Naturally he must die.

The old witch who lives on the river? She so enjoys Gerda’s company she attempts to erase Gerda’s memories of Kay in order to keep the girl by her side. The witch kills her many rose bushes so that the sight of them won’t trigger Gerda’s memories. In an absolutely lovely image, Gerda’s tears awaken the roses that have been buried beneath the earth and cause them to once again grow above into the sunlight. Then Gerda in her less than stable way runs around for a long while trying to get the roses to tell her where Kay has gone. The flowers have other things on their minds.

Flowers Return to Life – Photo Courtesy of The Eugene Ballet

I find the old witch more disturbing than the Snow Queen or the robber girl. Her manipulation is subtle, possibly even well-intentioned, and she could represent the authority figure who suppresses dreams, talents and nature in order to cleave someone to their side; depending on your perspective, this could be an entirely selfish quest to clip someone else’s wings or a rational desire to keep someone safe. Doesn’t every parent or lover have a little bit of this impulse inside them? Stay near, dear one, don’t venture out where you might get hurt, or lost, or worse, fall in love with someone else and leave me.

And then there are the hobgoblins, or trolls, if you prefer, who start the whole thing. The trolls have a mirror which when gazed upon, distorts whatever beauty there is into ugliness. They have great fun tormenting everyone with it and decide to take it to heaven to mess with the angels. Well, the mirror falls and shatters into a million pieces, but the shards still have their evil effect. Only now, the shards get into people’s eyes and hearts and make them see everything as twisted, bad and ugly. Obviously fragments of the troll mirror are still at work today, with hate and bigotry so prevalent in our politics and media. There’s no shortage of trolls at work eager to warp and twist reality into something monstrous that can conjure hatred. “Fearmongering” is word that is sadly useful here. Have you ever used gossip or lies in order to punish, manipulate or control? Yeah, me neither.

Kay, the little boy whose heart turns into a block of ice, represents the human side of the troll equation. It is certainly not uncommon to be infected with an attitude that turns everything grey, or threatening. Depression is like this, but so is prejudice; fear of the other. I hate to admit I’ve been under the influence of troll thinking more than a few times in my life. If we are exceptionally lucky, we have a Gerda in our lives who will stand by us now matter how big a prick we become, someone whose love might save us from our own worst impulses.

The Snow Queen clearly still touches our hearts and our imaginations. I’ve read the theory that Hans Christen Anderson’s character of the Snow Queen, a heartless figure sitting on her throne of ice in the middle of the lake of reason, was a reaction against criticism he’d received for writing fanciful fairy tales. Writers of fantasy today still have to defend the relevance of their “fairy tales”, despite the fact the genre has become hugely popular. People who don’t “get” fantasy fail to see the truth behind the tall tales. Perhaps they have a bit of glass in their eye. Fantasy is to literature as poetry is to language, it gives us the magical ability to say things in words that can’t be said in words. And now, in the wonderful way of human creativity, the poem is being translated into dance. No matter the medium, fantasy and fairy tales let us see beyond the clouded mirrors to deep within our souls and into the souls of others, connecting us in the dreams we share.

***

If you happen to be in Eugene this weekend, don’t miss the chance to check out The Snow Queen, an original ballet choreographed by Toni Pimble, original score by Kenji Bunch.

 

 

 

It was a Dark and Stormy Sunday Afternoon

by Christina Lay

writers-block-peanuts

I’ve written about how I tend to be a fast writer, a “panster” who plunges ahead at a furious pace and sorts it all out in an excruciating second draft. On writing retreats, I often irritate the hell out of fellow writers with my ability to completely ignore craft and grammar in order to get the words down (little do they know half those words are adjectives). My first draft motto might be “Damn the plot, full speed ahead!” Fingers flying, I am in the zone and happy as a hack-writing clam, if clams had fingers.

However, in the grey of long Sundays spent with ass glued to chair, I too experience the inevitable quagmire of a story gone wrong. Then every word is like passing a gallstone and every scene is as flat and grey as Iowa in January.

I’m fighting with a story now. Or actually, I’ve just finished fighting with a story, which is why I can glibly write this post and tell you all of my profound writerly epiphany, hard won in the trenches of poorly planned story crafting.

Like any writer, I fight with my craft and doubt my abilities. I slog, I wail, I gnash my teeth. But I keep writing. It’s a compulsion I’ve learned to live with and it works out in the end. Recently, I made the decision to stop working on a novel in progress in order to finish a novella with a rapidly approaching deadline. I would take a break, I told myself, whip out 40K words in two months, and then return to the novel and wrap it up in my usual take no prisoners fashion. No problem, right?

Wrong. Upon returning to the neglected story, I found myself sitting and staring at the page as precious minutes, hours and weekends ticked away with very little activity in the finger area. The characters had stopped speaking to me. The plot was a mysterious shambles. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t remember. My notes gave me no clear direction. It was agonizing. Life piled up, the house fell into disarray, but I had to spend every “free” moment slogging through this mess of a book.

It got so bad at one point I briefly told myself I could just walk away. Finish it later. Maybe it’s too broken. Maybe I should cut my losses and run.

calvin-writers-block

I haven’t had this pernicious thought in years. I have come to recognize it as the voice of doom. I shrugged it off, but it got me to thinking. Like any writer, I have a veritable library of unfinished first drafts. I even have unfinished third and fourth drafts. Some deserved to be abandoned, others not so much. The one thing they all have in common is that when the going got rough, I set them aside to work on something new and shiny.

I have quite a few decent starts, and I’ve gone back to try to finish them, and it just doesn’t work. The juice, the fire, the whatever-made-it-exciting-in-the-first-place, has fled. And that is why getting restarted on this current project was so damn hard. I shut off the flow (for good reason, purely innocent and all) and nearly killed the story. This was at three-fourths of the way through, over 50,000 words. In olden times, I might have quit. But now I’m what you might call a professional writer and I know my editor is waiting for this book. So I pushed on. Toiled. Had nightmares. Sank into a depression. Wondered if the ability to write had finally petered out. All of it. But I didn’t quit and today I am looking at the downhill slide toward the end. One more chapter and I will get to begin the hellacious rewrite. What joy. What rapture.

So my epiphany is “don’t quit”. Hmmph, you might say. Not terribly profound. But think back on all the unfinished projects. Are there good reasons they remain unfinished, or is it because the going got too damn hard? Be honest. Be tough. If you really do have to take a break, because you’re say, giving birth or have been accepted into NASA’s space program, make sure you leave yourself good notes, and try to stop in the midst of some thrilling action, to make it easier to jump start the flow when you get back.

I know so many good writers, really good writers, who never seem to finish anything. There is always the bright and shiny, the exciting, the better, the not-so-damn-hard, calling to us. There is even the dreaded siren call of maybe I’m not cut out to be a writer. But if you truly want to finish a book, or story, or poem, you’ve got to do the slog and wrestle the demons of doubt to the ground.

And then you write. Slow, fast. Doesn’t matter. Just don’t quit.

Be The Reader

by Christina Lay

There’s no shortage of people who want to give writers marketing advice.  The problem is that given the ever shifting reality of the publishing world AND the world of marketing, what is true today might not be true tomorrow.  What works for one person might prove worthless for the next.  And then there are simply a lot of ideas out there based on guesses, conjecture, what worked for that guy, and advertising hokum.  We have to remember that from the e-mag mavins who sell ad space to the speaker/gurus who sell workshops, advertising is a business, and we are the target audience. They worked out an angle or pitch and then try hard to convince us theirs is a sure fire path to the bestseller list. The bottom line is the bottom line; buy my book so you can convince other people to buy your book.

lotsofbooks

The particular pitch that caught my eye and then made me slightly queasy was about turning readers into “fans”.  Fans are the super-readers who will buy every release, write glowing reviews, tweet about your appearances, and possibly stalk you at conferences. Every writer dreams of having a few.  In this particular workshop, they promise you will “learn how to serve them (fans) better” and also learn how to love “providing content and service”.  This is where my introvert writer self reaches for the antacid. I love how writing a novel is now “providing content”,  lumped in right along with all those endless bog posts, interviews, how-to articles, timely newsletters, fascinating tweets, friendly Facebook posts, eye-catching Pinterest pins, on-trend tumbler shares, and so on, and so on.

Without a marketing budget in the thousands, it’s true that all of these outlets are the best avenues open to writers to get the word out and let readers know you exist.  But how effective are they? This is the question that no one really has an answer to.  I do most of these things, and I do know without a doubt that it is better than doing nothing.  Writers can no longer rely on their publisher (if they have one) to do much of anything.  So yes, providing content beyond the books is pretty much a have-to if you want readers to know you exist.

About this business of “serving” your readers, I have to ask; do readers really want more than a good book? I’m no more of a guru than any of the people claiming the title, so I decided to look at my own habits as a reader, because I’ve been a reader longer than I’ve been a writer.  And I polled some friends.  Do we really want to be served by the writers we read? If so, how?

The most overwhelmingly common way a reader finds a new book is through recommendations by friends.  And, as far as I can tell through my very unscientific study this is still mostly done via face-to-face chats (in the three-dimensional world known as “reality”) and occasionally, through book clubs.  So one way an author can serve readers is to be willing to make appearances at book clubs.  This is something many gurus will poo-poo because instead of creating “thunder claps” with thousands of shares you might create a friendly murmur among dozens.  I’d argue, however, that the murmur ends up having a much more significant impact than the tweet that is lost among a sea of pointless twittering.

So what about friends’ recommendations via Facebook?  I honestly can’t remember ever following up on a post about a book, but I have had friends comment that they were interested in a book that I shared.

I’ve also never taken note of a book recommendation on Twitter. I do follow a lot of writers on Twitter, but it is only as a fellow writer, not a reader.  I get the impression that some fans do track their favorite authors this way, but I also sense that they are looking for giveaways more than book recommendations. The nice thing about Twitter is that it is free and relatively painless. If you’re blogging anyway, automatically posting on Twitter is a no brainer.

And what about blogging?  This is the most time-consuming, content-providing marketing activity a writer can engage in, but is anyone reading your posts? This one is harder to untangle, because I am constantly reading blogs as part of my activities online as a writer.  Would I be reading them if I wasn’t a writer looking for info and connections? I don’t know.  I can say this is the main way I’ve found new-to-me writers.  Specifically, an engaging excerpt is by far the most effective “content” as far as getting me to click that Amazon buy link.  I participate in a lot of blog hops and so end up reading a lot of short excerpts.  So what makes a writer stand out?  Simple— excellent writing.  It helps to have a professional looking website and easy to follow links to book blurbs and buy links.  It is also essential to always come across as a nice person.  If you go this route, you’ll find that most of your visitors in the beginning are other writers looking for connections, so be responsive, be helpful and whatever you do, don’t hide any weird viruses in your website that automatically sign people up for your newsletter, or any other creepy reverse stalking cyber-tricks (yes, this is based on actual experiences).

According to my survey, one of the most popular ways to find a new book is via the dreaded Amazon recommendation widget.  Dreaded because it is based on an indecipherable-to-the-common-human algorithm of great mystery and awe.  Skipping over that whole morass of conjecture and hoodoo, let’s just say your book actually makes it onto the line up of recommended books; what then? The cover is very important—make sure it’s professional and eye-catching.  Nothing turns me off quicker than an amateurish cover.  And then, once again the most important thing you can do is make a sample easily available, make sure it is perfectly edited and once again, excellent.  The definition of excellent is of course up to you and the reader, but you know what I mean.

What this all boils down to is that while you can bury fans in all sorts of giveaways, FB parties, chatty tweets, photos of your hunky heroes and on and on, what it really comes down to, in this reader’s opinion anyway, is–prove to me you can write.  All the social networking might catch a reader’s eye, but once the eye is caught, have an intriguing excerpt or sample chapter available for them to enjoy.

To wrap up, I’d say when faced with the overwhelming landslide of “Must Do” marketing activities, channel your inner reader and ask yourself what you want from a writer, and how you find them.  Then put your most excellent face out there, and keep on writing.

 

Pain and Productivity

by Christina Lay

I’ve been trying to write about this subject for a long time, but it’s one of those topics that has always been little too personal, a little too close to the bone, to get any objectivity on. I start writing and I get defensive. But tonight as I sit down to write a post due tomorrow, and another due the day after tomorrow, grim reality hits home once again.

Damn, I say. And then I wonder, is there anything helpful to be gained by shining a bit of light on this back-riding monkey of mine? Well, let’s take a look at where I was when I first tried to write about it, nearly two years ago:

I’m here because the voices in my head have driven me write this blog. These are not the ordinary writerly voices of characters whispering dialogue and plot suggestions to my fevered imagination. These are the voices of The Committee. You know, the raging discussions about shoulds, wants, have-to’s and why-the-hell-nots. Some of the voices come from bottles: pill bottles to be exact.

No, I’m not an addict, but I could be. Sometimes painkillers (legally obtained, mind you, NSA internet scanning friends of democracy) are my best friends. At other times, they lurk in the kitchen cabinet like an evil troll under the bridge, luring me to my doom.

The conversation goes somewhat like this:

Me: Damn, my back/neck/hip hurts, but I need to write.

Cyclobenzaprine: If you want to get any sleep tonight, you’d better take me now.

Fairy of Good Intentions: But if you do that you won’t be able to concentrate long enough to finish that novella/blog post/chapter/submission.

Tramadol: Or you can take me and not give a shit.

Troll of Unworthiness: Suck it up, loser! Only the weak and worthless let a little back pain interfere with the relentless pursuit of their dreams! Not only should you not medicate, but you should stay up really late!

Coffee: I’m up for that.

Fairy of Good Intentions: If you’d listened to me, you would’ve finished yesterday instead of watching Veronica Mars on Netflix.

Me: Okay, Cyclob you win, but I’m going to stay up late and write gibberish thanks to you.

Troll: Well, as long as you suffer for your art.

I’ve often wondered how much more productive I’d be without this chronic back pain of mine, but let’s face it, I might not even be a writer if I didn’t have the physical limitations that I do. I might be a ballerina or one of those annoying Globe Trekker people. I might be a different person, in other words, so it’s useless to speculate or write stupid blogs about.

Frieda Kahlo is one of my inspirations. Not because I’m a huge fan of her work but because she overcame great physical challenges to create it. I know my problems pale in comparison, but I’ve set her up as a challenge to myself when the pain and the painkillers conspire to distract me from my goals. And the goal is always to get something done. There is always the next something. The next story. To stand still, to medicate, is to let the story die.

funny-pictures-cat-sitting-dogs-cone

Whoa. Melodramatic and bit sad. I’m happy to say that overall the intensity of my chronic pain has lessened and I don’t face these kind of nights nearly as often. And with a little perspective, I can now see that what is sad is not that I am tragically afflicted with a bent spine, but that I am so damn hard on myself.  The only thing that dies when I fail to write is my sense of humor.

I’m not sure where I got this fear of stopping. Maybe I was a shark in a previous life. But there, now I’ve done it, I’ve pushed through the pain to write about pain and ask, how important is productivity? How important is making deadlines? We can only face one hurdle at a time and answer the question anew every time, but the important thing to remember is to be easy on ourselves, no matter what we decide to do or not do.

I know I’m not the only one who feels driven to ignore the body’s warnings in order to keep moving, to achieve, push, strive and continue on when really I should just lie down with an ice pack on my neck. The world will not end if my ShadowSpinners post is a day late. The story will not die. The words might be different tomorrow, as I might be different. Less grumpy, more refreshed and ready to write, ready to play in the garden of my imagination.

Time Management*: Bullet Points, Mole Skins and the Rabbit Hole of Doom

by Christina Lay

*Warning to those with no time to waste- this post will not help you manage your time.

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A while back I wrote a terribly entertaining (never published) post about how intimidated I was by the Stop Time button on my stove. How I wish I had that button now. I’m sure the proper combination of hoodoo, ritual and wishful thinking would summon the dark powers of GE and put the brakes on summer. Maybe then I could finish the next novel, promote the old ones, make ends meet at the EDJs (evil day jobs) and have Time left over to get a tan and a semblance of a life. Actually what I’d really like is one of those dimmer switches, with which to merely slow the relentless march of time on days when I have four posts to write, and speed it up on Mondays during financial audits at work.

I’m not the only one with this problem. Recently on one of my author list serves, this question was broached: What’s your favorite planner?  Over 100 back and forth responses over the course of two days ended with a heated Moleskine vs. Leuchtturm debate, complete with youtube videos on bulleting and color-coding. Nothing ironic about that at all.

I’m not an organizer. I’m not a planner. But I should be. My desk is a tsunami of notes, half-filled legal pads, random important looking envelopes, novel-specific journals, journals with no purpose other than to mock me, and calendars stuck open on March, 2014. Trust me, whatever was supposed to happen in March 2014 probably didn’t. Usually I’m okay with this. Panic is a natural phenomena like headaches on Mondays and margarita-cravings on Fridays. Right now it’s panic time, and normally I’m good with that. The problem arises when I dare to think that, just maybe, things could be better, which usually follows an incautious glance at the calendar (the one on the wall that’s opened to the current year and month).

Holy Cow, summer is over tomorrow. In spring I resigned myself to the fact that no money plus no time equaled no vacation. Life and panic attacks would continue as normal. But after a couple weeks of 90+ weather and blue skies, I could no longer deny Summer was happening, and happening without me. I had to do something. Outside. Not involving a keyboard.

Naturally at the last minute before a blistering hot weekend every hotel room in driving distance to cooler climes was booked up by people who plan. People who highlighted August in yellow and drew smiley faces over their blocked out vacation days way back in February. Or possibly just a week ago. Whatever.

A search for dog-friendly cabins led me to yurts in state campgrounds. They weren’t any of those available either. But there were campsites. Very few, which fueled my anxiety. And so I impulsively reserved a spot over on the coast, a mere hour away. It’ll be fun, I said. The dog will like it, I thought. I’ll go swimming and have a day-long summer. Never mind that I hadn’t been camping in over 20 years. Never mind that the campground in question was a Known Refuge for ATV Riding Clan Hoards of Fifth Wheel Ravagers. Nah. Being a single fretful female with an old toothless dog drove me to embrace the idea of a crowded campground.

And now we get to the part where I reveal the secret of Stopping Time. What you do is:

  1. Believe the weather forecast that says it will be nice on the Oregon coast in August; an occurrence more rare than unicorns in your backyard.
  2. Set up a tent in a filled to capacity nightmare inducing outdoor nuthouse otherwise known as a state campground.
  3. Stay.

I’d given myself the option of bailing if it was too awful. It wasn’t too awful. After all, I’d wasted so much of my precious reservoir of time digging out the camping equipment and shopping for survival essentials like flashlights and jumbo bags of chips. I decided a campfire might help get me in the mood. Who doesn’t have fond memories of acidic clouds of smoke blowing into your eyeballs every three minutes? When the rain started I rationalized that it might help quiet things down. Surely the roar of the sand dune destroying ATVs nearby would diminish at sunset, along with whatever paltry warmth remained?

It did and this is when I realized I’d wandered into a fresh-air style Bedlam, as the stalwart sports people and their requisite 15 kids returned and began…whatever the hell it is they do. Mostly yell and scream and ride bikes past my not quite in the road but almost campsite.

The dog and I crawled into our tent and I read by the glow of blessed technology into the wee hours, assuming that at some point the tumult might calm to the point where sleep was possible. And calm it did. Slowly, layer by layer, the hoard settled, thereby allowing the most singularly loud and persistent campers to pierce the night with their befuddled drunken cursing, their hysterical laughter, and their buzzsaw snores. I did eventually doze to the lulling crescendo of the flush toilets about 50 feet from my campsite. And then the magic happened. Time stopped.

Surely this night will end, I thought? Surely the sun will rise like it always does? It didn’t. If only I’d had my laptop, I could have finished the next novel, marketed the old ones, written posts for the next year of ShadowSpinners and possibly knitted my dog a blanket, because he was freezing.

Be warned; The benefits of Stopping Time are very situationally based and it pays to be prepared. However, if you’re like me, this will never happen. No matter how poorly you plan and how long you ignore your basic happy-life needs, time will randomly stop when you least it expect it. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a post idea out of it.

So, Moleskine or Leuchtturm? Bulleting or strikethrough?

Let the trip down the rabbit hole begin.

Lazlo at the beach

Lazlo – once again proving the journey is more important than where your half-deflated air mattress ends up.