Increasing the signal to whatever pitiful degree I can, because I am absolutely gobsmacked (or perhaps more accurately, godsmacked) that this project isn’t fully funded by now. It’s Sean Demory’s voudon noir novel, and it’s about ten times as awesome as that sounds, which is a pretty unmeasurably high level of awesome.

Kickstarter page has excerpts. A measly $5 gets a PDF copy for you crazy kids with your e-readers, and a published dead-tree version is only $20. I spent more than that for Halloween candy.

Desamours felt a hand around his ankle, heard a low, wet giggle.

“Like I say, focus on the future,” Kalfu said. “You’re back, you’re in the game. You need anything at all, let me know.”

Desamours woke up suddenly, a hand over his eyes. He smelled rum and rancid fat, heard Kalfu’s gunpowder hiss as the hand receded.

“Because, the way it’s looking now, baby,” Kalfu said, fading into the shadows of the room, “you could use some friends.”

Sep 092011
 

I highly recommend Chuck Wendig’s “Penmonkey” books on writing. If you want to know why, here’s an excerpt.

 

I kept my face hidden as I rushed through the hospital. Wouldn’t do to be spotted now, the father who lobbied for his daughter’s just-paroled murderer to be allowed a heart transplant, citing Christ’s teachings on forgiveness.

I found the room where they kept the brain-dead donor on machines. Cassie had been about her age when he slaughtered her. My hands shook as I injected her with blood from Cassie’s dog. He died of rabies yesterday.

Soon the transplant doctors would arrive. He would get her heart. And it would come with a parting gift from Cassie.

Jun 122011
 

My preorder of Nick Mamatas’s new book on writing, Starve Better: Surviving the Endless Horror of the Writing Life, showed up this week, bearing the dedication “To a future former bestseller”, which in my opinion was pretty much worth the price of the book. But that aside, this is not your average how-to-be-a-rich-and-famous-writer book and is exceptionally informative.

First, because if you are at all familiar with Mamatas and his writing style, you know that he’s blunt, opinionated and not given to telling people what they want to hear. This can be annoying if he in fact tells you something you’d rather not hear, but is very refreshing if you’ve ever gotten the feeling that vague, happyish advice about writing was perhaps not entirely truthful.

For example, here’s Mamatas on the belief that only a select few can actually make a full-time living as a writer:

It is true that only a very few writers do nothing but write; it is not true that they must have another job. Writers choose to have other jobs rather than live humbly. This brings us to the first hidden assumption involved in the question: writing isn’t a job, it is a middle-class profession that should earn the practitioner both petit-bourgeois status and a comfortable income.

A significant fraction of writers who have a day job or a side gig as a teacher could live on their writing; they just don’t want to, as it would mean a smaller house, a less pleasant neighborhood, fewer vacations, or less (perhaps even no) health insurance. That’s an entirely valid choice, of course. Nobody gets any artiste point for eating beans and living in a garret. But wanting to live comfortably is not the same as being unable to live on one’s writing.

Second, because the book is not (as most writing advice tends to be) focused on Writing That Novel, but instead focused on writing short stories and non-fiction articles. Shorter pieces can be finished faster, are easier to market and most importantly, bring in money faster; in the time it takes to write a single novel the writer can most likely produce and sell many shorter works, and possibly even sell them. A hundred dollars today to keep the lights on is better than a theoretical six-figure advance years from now.

Mamatas also talks about work that is profitable, but which most people who want to be writers likely wouldn’t think about or want any part of, unless they were driven by money, like writing term papers (very lucrative, apparently, and the chapter on this work has some exceptional insights into the market; no, the customers are not all bored overprivileged Ivy League kids who’d rather not waste precious kegger time on a term paper). He also warns away from markets that seem like a good idea but aren’t, like content mills.

The only disappointment was the chapter on POD and vanity publishers, which is admittedly many years out of date. It would have been interesting to see an updated take on new incarnations like Smashwords and Lulu.com, even though the underlying structure probably hasn’t changed enormously.

Highly recommended for anyone who would actually like to write and sell their writing. Not recommended for anyone who just wants to sigh about the novel they’re going to write “someday” or whose entire writing output consists of a couple of stories that got shelved after Asimov’s rejected them.

 

Twitter is afire with the #YAsaves hashtag and various young-adult fiction authors (and readers) angry about the latest old-fogey rant to fill a few lonely column inches before a deadline; this time, a Wall Street Journal book reviewer is determined to prove that the boys on the editorial page don’t hold that newspaper’s monopoly on stupid.

Meghan Cox Gurdon, a former conservative columnist for the National Review and the Washington Examiner, somehow managed to slither her way into a berth reviewing children’s books for the WSJ.  Predictably, her complaint is that YA fiction these days is just awful and ugly and brutal, not like the gentle, sun-touched fiction for teenagers of our own youth.

Which, setting aside the pearl-clutching, is really where I stopped. Our youth? Yes, you heard that right; as with everything else worthy in life, children’s literature was destroyed by those awful 1960s, and children’s literature turned to the Dark Side forty years ago. Apparently Gurdon’s outrage has affected her math skills; the “46-year-old mother of three” she fusses over in her opening paragraph would have barely been in kindergarten in 1967, and would have been exposed to that “dark” YA literature in her own teenage years. As would all, if not most, of Generation X. You know, the people who are now getting middle-aged and raising kids and thus supposedly having to worry about the terrible YA literature that awaits our young’uns, and the same people who grew up with that “dark” fiction of the terrible post-1960s lurking in the bookstores.

If Gurdon’s column were factual, it would be trivial to point out that there is plenty of YA fiction that isn’t “dark”, and is a hell of a lot better than some of the stuff we had available as kids; I’d have loved to have Leviathan or Zoe’s Tale or White Cat to read when I was a teenager, and none of those are exactly on the level of Go Ask Alice as far as “dark” fiction went.

But it’s not. She’s simply regurgitating a pearl-clutching rant about Kids These Days and how much better things were in the innocent days of our own youth, and throwing on a steaming sprinkle of conservative ranting about how the culture imploded once those goddamn hippies showed up. Which is a pity, because it seems like even the Twilight books would be a refreshing breath of air for kids otherwise stuck listening to their mom rant about the culture wars.

NaNoWriMo Wordle

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Jan 012011
 

It choked, but Wordle sailed bravely on and managed to map out 51k+ words.

Wordle: NaNoWriMo

 

Usually I just donate a few bucks to the cause and don’t bother writing, but this year I decided to go through with the whole thing. The last time I tried was perhaps seven or eight years ago, when it was sadly cut off by my getting a job that paid hourly with unlimited overtime. It’s a bit hard to sneak in half an hour or an hour a day writing when you can, quite literally, instead turn that time into money.

Given that the whole point of NaNo is quantity, not quality, I made some deliberate choices that made the process go more smoothly.

Continue reading »

 

I was sort of wobbling on doing it this year, as normally I just go donate $10 to encourage them and hang out in the forums. But Offspring Prime is going through with it, and god knows I don’t want to listen to that if I don’t do it this year.

I may post it up here eventually if I can figure out how to do friends-only posts and make everybody register or something, but in the meantime it’s over at LJ.

It’s very weird to write something and not revise it.  You can’t do that and survive NaNo; quantity over quality isn’t a joke, it’s a necessity. As another NaNo’er advises, you have to be like  a shark: swim forward at speed at all times.

Elmore Leonard

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Sep 142009
 

He writes some pretty good mysteries, sure, but the man is the Ernest Hemingway of Westerns.

 

Scalzi’s thread about what you need to give up to write (spoiler: screwing around watching TV and stuff all the time) got invaded by someone who is either a total emokid or a troll indistinguishable from one, blathering about how one must Suffer in order to create Art.

Naturally we all made like he was a piñata, but in retrospect, perhaps I was too hasty.  I woke up at about 2 a.m. today to discover that I have totally jacked my neck and my left arm from the shoulder to the elbow*, so with the help of a lot of ibuprofen I can manage to do things that don’t require me to raise my arms or carry anything over a couple of pounds in my left hand. In other words, I’m in fine shape to sit propped up in bed with a laptop and type. This means I am actually getting a little writing done, when the painkillers are working.

So, suffering = Art. When do I get my six-figure advance?

*No, I have no idea how I did this. No, it didn’t keep the kitten from purring directly into my ear like a buzzsaw and demanding to be petted. At two in the morning.

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