Career Crossroads

Instead of working on Emerald City Iron like I was supposed to, I've spent the last month soul-searching. That's a rose-colored way to say "being existentially depressed wondering about the purpose of life and being totally unable to get any work done." I'm sure either sounds glamorous, but I assure you, it's pretty much not. Though now that I'm putting it this way, and looking back, it does seem a bit more dramatic and interesting than it really was. But maybe that's how lived stories are. They aren't really all that fun until you reach the end and know that everything is going to work out. 

For now anyway.

I suppose I imagined I'd coming out the other side all psyched up to finally finish Emerald City Iron a couple of months late. Instead, I've learned that perhaps I will never finish ECI.

TL;DR: I'm taking an extended hiatus from writing novels so I can focus on nonfiction books, short fiction, and nonfiction blog posts.

I'm going to steer my ship away from writing novels for awhile. And in writer-time, awhile means years. 

Instead, I'd like to write another nonfiction book, more nonfiction blog posts (particularly about autism and social justice), and continue to write and publish short stories.

There are lots of pros and cons to this choice. The most painful part has to do with all the novels I had planned. And worse, those poor novels I've already written that are impatiently waiting for edits. And worse, worse, worse, the five or six people who have let me know very plainly that they are sick and tired of waiting for the sequel to Emerald City Dreamer, and if I don't finish it, they're threatening to never read it. Which is fine, because I won't let them. Bwaha. Or something. At any rate, it ensaddens me to let down my loyal readers.

It's also sad that I've got these great moments in ECI and Emerald City Hunter that no one will get to see. (A cow-car chase... How fun is THAT??) This is a major drawback to the decision, but also one of the drawbacks to novelling overall – incredibly delayed gratification – that I'll get to more in a bit. 

Those are the cons. The pros far outweigh them. (Protip: That's how you know it's a good decision.)

I firstly must acknowledge my limitations and work with them, not against them. One of my greatest limitations is extremely high inefficiency when switching tasks. Like, oh, say switching from writing and promoting a 150,000 word nonfiction book about the phycology of Mormonism to editing a 70,000 word novel about trauma recovery and hunting fairies. When it comes to autism and switching gears, that's a the steampunk of all gearshifts. 

In other words, it takes way too much time and angst for me to jump between topics and skillsets like that. Especially on big projects grappling with big topics. It also duplicates my work when it comes to promotion and making contacts in each field. Selling urban fantasy is exactly the same as selling recovery books to ex-religionists... Only I have to do it twice in two different communities with twice the number of emails, tweets, blog posts, and potential travel.

If I didn't have the brain I have, I might be able to navigate that level of executive function. But then I also wouldn't be able to write the things I write. Even Supernerd has her crypto-night. (Inability to resist awkward puns is yet another weakness of mine.)

So it comes down to deciding what is most important. What do I want most to accomplish?

I have lots and lots of things to say. Overall, that's my greatest goal. How can I say them, and how can I say them to the greatest number of interested people?

The answer seems to be nonfiction and short fiction.

The novels market is way too flooded to get noticed. And while I can write a novel draft very quickly (two-time NaNoWriMo champion), and I can edit prose very quickly, editing a complex novel-length narrative seems to take ages. It's the bits of plot and character development and nuance that has to remain just right over 60,000-130,000 words that fouls me up. I can do it; it just takes too long.

Meanwhile, I have all these fiction ideas that want to be released into the wild. I have worlds to build (That's my favorite part.) I have characters and settings and fun to create. And I want to do it over and over again. I can do all that much more quickly through short fiction. The dozen short stories I've published, or come close to publishing, in the last five years have given me a much greater sense of satisfaction than the three novel drafts that no one has read because it takes so damn long to get them out the door. And then once I do, still no one reads them, because there are 3.3 million novels on Amazon.

If I could be more prolific, my novels would rise to the top. But it takes lots of novels. And as I've pointed out, I'm Slowly Slowpants McWriter. I know I can write a good novel, but it takes more than that to be successful as a novelist.. And I don't have what it takes. At least not right now, not at this place in my life.

I'm not going to turn my back on all fiction. I've laid the groundwork to gain fans and friends in the SFF world. I love the SFF community. I'm not going to turn my back on it.

That's what short fiction is for. Most writers have day jobs and write short stories in their spare time. That's more or less what I'm planning to do. I will continue to pursue publication in pro-rate markets. And without the novels to make me constantly feel like I'm working on the wrong thing, I'm hoping to be able to relax and have more fun with it.

For the majority of my time, for the de facto "day job," I'd like to write couple of nonfiction books. I'm pretty excited about the idea of "thought liberating clichès." What is the opposite of mind control? How can people, with intention, open their minds? What does a firm yet flexible foundation look like? It will be based on the cognitive structures I created for myself after leaving Mormonism, so it's the logical follow up to Recovering Agency, but it would appeal to a larger audience: ex-religionists in recovery, freethinkers and atheists, and anyone brought up in this society where people are usually "trained" and not "educated."

If you don't understand the difference between education and training, just put the word "sex" in front of each and see if that helps.
— Eλf Sternberg (@elfsternberg) February 5, 2015

Then, in all the spare time that I'm sure I will have, I plan to continue writing blog posts on topics I'm interested in. Here on lunalindsey.com I will continue to blog about autism and all the random things. And I can submit more guest posts about religion and culture on atheism and freethinker blogs, as well as at RecoveringAgency.com.

So far, nonfiction has been more rewarding than the novel. More people tend to read my nonfiction. I receive regular compliments for Recovering Agency and for my blog posts. Not just "great prose!" kind of compliments either. It's feedback like, "You managed to put words to what I was thinking!" and "You improved my life."

Basically, my nonfiction is helping people. I'm changing hearts and minds, I'm giving people new ways to look at the world. And I'm persuasive.

It's very fulfilling.

I'm still slow at writing and editing longer nonfiction. Recovering Agency took 15 months from start to finish. But in many ways it's easier. Everyday I know what I'm supposed to work on. Nonfiction outlines are straightforward. I'm never in doubt about whether this or that change will ruin any plots or be a trope or be cheesy. I don't have to remember all the actions of a whole cast of characters to know whether a scene change will destroy continuity. It's all laid out for me: this chapter is about shame. What do I know about shame? Just answer that question along with references to the research. Done. Next chapter.

Then there's the money. Recovering Agency isn't doing well enough to pay my bills. But it's doing quite well. It's doing well enough that I've made a business account from which I can now pay my work-related expenses, including travel. It's doing well enough that with a couple more like that, I could be financially independent. I am currently being supported by my wonderful life partners, but I don't want to be a burden forever. They still seem happy to pay my way in the world, but there's an emotional cost, for me, to be in this position.

I've also considered speaking. Again, if I'm focused on novels, there are gear-shifting issues.

Last year, I submitted a couple of papers to conventions and didn't get accepted. But this year, I'd like to spend more effort trying to speak at places like Sunstone Symposium and the Exmormon Conference. If I'm writing a book about the cognitive structures of free thought, I'll be much more capable of hopping to writing a proposal for a liberal Mormon academic conference. That task is almost unfathomable if I'm working on a novel about fairies in Seattle.

Moreover, it's difficult to justify all the time and effort speaking to exmormons when I'm supposed to be trying to be a novelist. But if I'm a nonfiction writer? The efforts all go hand in hand towards related goals.

Efficient.

But of course I still love to do sci-fi cons. I'd never give that up. But that's way more easy to justify. I already go to cons for fun. Now I'm just doing it as a panelist. Even more fun! Sure, I won't have any novels to sell, but who cares? I've still got short story readers to reach. Novels would be nice, but not required.

Lastly, I'm playing to the strengths of my brain. Anyone who knows me personally (or even who follows me on Twitter) knows that once I get started on a topic I'm interested in, I can't shut up. Some writers have word count goals. I don't bother with them, because I know nearly every day I can't help but write 500 or 1,000 words. It's just that.. sometimes those 1,000 words are in an email or on Facebook or in a journal entry.

This will allow me to ask myself, as I'm typing that 800 word Facebook reply on some topic I'm passionate about – I can pause and ask, "Wouldn't this be better on the blog?" In the past the answer was always, "Yes, but I'm not supposed to be blogging right now. I'm supposed to be working on the novel." I'm hoping in the future, the answer will be, "Yes. I will finish writing this comment and then spend another two hours turning this nice draft into a real piece with a beginning and end so I can stick it on my blog or submit it as a guest article someplace." If my focus is nonfiction, then it's all in a good day's work.

Overall, nonfiction books is where it's at. A career pivot. Not terrible major in most ways, but pretty huge in a couple of ways. If you're one of the three people excited to read Emerald City Iron, I am deeply, deeply ensaddened.

Input? Thoughts? Please leave them in the comments below!

2013 Accomplishments - 2014 Goals

What a year. In reviewing my goals from last year, looks like I got way off track, but I'm very pleased with what I accomplished.

This year, I:

• Was a panelist at Radcon.
• Went to Rainforest Writer's Retreat and met lots of amazing people.
• Sold a story to a pro-paying market, Crossed Genres. It will also come out in a print anthology this year.
• Gave one reading (at Radcon).
• Released Emerald City Dreamer in print.
• I got diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. And started becoming an expert on autism.
• And now for something completely different, I wrote a 150,000 word nonfiction book, Releasing Agency: Lifting the Veil of Mormon Mind Control. 

One reason I didn't accomplish all of my 2013 goals is because of that little sidetrack. It's a book I had thought about writing based on my mind control website in 2005, forgotten about, and then on a whim decided to crank it out "real quick". The effort took 7 months (with distractions in between). It is currently out to alpha readers.

Emerald City Iron made it through the writer's group, and is ready for the next round of edits, when I can get to it.

I have a bunch of stories to submit, and one in particular is totally publishable. It's been rejected twice, both with a personal note from the editor, so I know it will sell. I just have to get it, and the others, out there. I set the bar pretty high for myself. I currently only submit stories to pro-paying markets until those venues are exhausted, and then I might send it to semi-pro markets. My time and splines are fairly limited, so I'd rather spend time aiming at high targets, being a perfectionist, and working on totally unplanned projects. ;)

So my goals for this year:

• Publish Recovering Agency in print and ebook.
• Market Recovering Agency, including launching a new website and giving interviews.
• Be a panelist at Radcon again.
• Be invited as a visiting pro at another con for 2015. Norwescon would be nice.
• Speak at Defcon.
• Speak elsewhere, either a seminar, or Exmormon Foundation, or some convention related to cults or religion, on the topic of mind control.
• Write a whole bunch of blog posts on autism and mind control.
• Release Emerald City Iron.
• Complete a major step in a novel: Either write the first draft of the next Dreams by Streetlight book or the second draft of The Sun Never Rises.
• Sell two stories to pro-paying markets. I'd really love to sell to an anthology.

If that seems like alot, it's because it is. So we'll see. :) There's a significant chance I will be caught up in marketing Recovering Agency for many months. It's already generated plenty of interest. I need to be okay with dropping many of the above goals in trade for promoting a book that could really help people. And maybe pay some bills in the process.

So here's to 2014. May it be a very good year for all of us.

Splines Theory: A Spoons Metaphor for Autism

An incident occurred last week where my child unexpectedly needed a ride to school in the middle of my writing session. And it ruined my whole day. Why?

I knew it had to do with Aspergers, but I wanted to know more. Puzzling over this question, I went in search for the perfect metaphor to describe the experience.

I love the spoons metaphor for invisible disabilities. It describes a portion of my world, and it goes something like this: Every morning, most typical people wake up with infinite spoons. They don't even think of spoons as a resource because they almost never run out. They can easily choose to do this or that without risking much other than time consumption. Sure, they get tired by the end of a full day, but generally they have enough spoons to do all the normal things. It's a gift they take for granted.

Those with chronic pain or serious illness or certain types of mental illness, like depression, only get twelve or twenty spoons a day. Each activity, even small things like getting dressed or making breakfast, takes a spoon. Careful choices must be made about how the spoons are spent; otherwise, they will be gone before the day is through. Or worse. A bad spoon-management choice might leave them without spoons for several days.

There is no spoon. It's just a theory.
Which states aren't enough spoons.
The word "spoon" is actually quite weird, when you think about it.
Why is it called a spoon?
Oh, that's why.
It's still weird.
I'm already out of spoons. I wonder why?
Oh look, a butterfly!

For the origin of Spoon Theory, and why spoons and not some other eating utinsil, see Christine Miserandino's account on her blog, But You Don't Look Sick.

I relate to this analogy somewhat, but it fails to describe the intricate resource-management I must do as an aspie. I wake up with a random number of spoons. Why? Why do I mysteriously get a bunch of new spoons at unpredictable times? The process of getting ready for a new task seems to cost me "spoons", but that model doesn't reflect the intricacies of the gathering process itself. What about the frustration I feel when I fail to gather or get interrupted? How do I describe the sense that a dozen little things need doing before I can start a big thing, each costing a fractional "spoon"?

Spoon Theory didn't fit the all data for my experience, so I went in search of a Grand Unified Theory of Resources or Law of Conservation of Aspergers Energy that I could use to think about and describe my universe.

I found a few articles on inertia that help describe some aspects of life with Aspergers, like:

• Autistic Inertia: An Overview
• Are Special Interests a Form Of Autistic Inertia?
• Let's Talk About Focus
• Stare Up At the Sky
• Coping with the Inertia of Task Paralysis

Inertia is a term I'd used years ago, long before my diagnosis. The idea is just like the law of motion. An object at rest tends to remain at rest, and an object in motion with a certain trajectory will tend to remain in motion, headed that direction, at that speed, until stopped or bumped off course by an outside force.

Inertia Theory perfectly describes my hyperfocus, or lack thereof, but it failed to describe outside forces I must apply to get up to speed. Or my frustration at outside-outside forces that stop me.

Last night, after doing a little light reading from Olga Bogdashina's book, "Communication Issues in Autism and Asperger Syndrome," eureka! I found it. The perfect metaphor, "Reticulating splines..."

I'm a huge gamer, and in the 90s I loved old school Maxis games. You know, SimCity, SimEarth, SimAnt. Back then, games took forever to load, especially on my old 386. While games loaded or maps generated, many companies showed useful information, like "Decompressing graphics files...", "Loading sounds..."

Maxis wanted to be funny, so their load screens repeated random nonsensical phrases that sounded Really Important™. Some of them flashed by so quickly you couldn't read them. One remained on the screen the longest, while a voice read it aloud: "Reticulating splines..."

Reticulating Splines...
Seems legit.

Maxis has carried on this fine tradition for decades, and while games now load lickity-split, they ensure you have just enough time to see "Reticulating splines..." flash past. For tradition's sake. Other software drops this phrase in as an Easter egg, and everyone who knows the joke gives a chuckle.

Separately, "Reticulating" and "Spline" are real words, but put together they make no sense. Until now.

What does this have to do with Asperger's?

The single greatest resource hog during my day is what some call "shifting gears", or moving from one task to another. Skilled teachers of autistic kids know to give a child ample warning of an upcoming task and to explain the purpose of moving on. Anyone who's worked with autistic kids knows the reason for taking this extra step. It's to avoid meltdowns.

Even the gear metaphor is problematic, because it takes no energy or time or frustration or boredom to shift a real gear. It's just BAM, you're in first and now you're in second. And you're still driving, not suddenly riding an elephant. It totally fails to describe the struggle of wrapping up one task and beginning a new one. For a neurotypical, it's as simple as shifting a gear. For someone on the spectrum, it's something else.

I knew from the get-go that my search for the perfect metaphor would center around this question: "Why does it take so long for me to get started?" The answer is wrapped up in other autistic tendencies: hyperfocus, special interests, distractibility, and "getting stuck".

Bogdashina describes how the autistic brain processes sensory information differently than neurotypical brains. NTs tend to take in sensory data all at once, summarizing, and comfortably filling in gaps with assumptions. As a result, NTs leave alot of things out, and in return for this compression, they get a speed boost.

According to Bogdashina, autists on the severe end of the spectrum cannot sense objects as part of a whole. A face breaks up into "mouth", "nose", "eye", "eye". A person then is "hand", "arm", "ear", "face", "hair". A room is instead a "wall", "wall", "table leg", "table top", "plate", "chair", "floor". Sounds and other senses take on the same fragmentation, and it's difficult for the autist to lump them all together into "mother" or "dining room".

My experience is not so extreme. I can see a person, a face, a room, a coffee shop, as a "whole thing", though sometimes details jump out at me like the eyes on a cartoon character, causing distraction (but it's also a superpower of observation).

Yet there is an aspect of sensory fragmentation I can relate to, and that's in memory storage and in my understandings of concepts.

Take a concept. For instance, one of my special interests, cults and mind control. I can can perceive the concept as a whole, but not without all its parts. Mind control is a network in my brain of all the thousands of things I've read about over the years, and my own experiences, and my views on how it appears in religion, politics, public schools, and the media. Everything I've ever linked to mind control is in there in this massive file, stored by words, principles, feelings, and synesthetic colors. The topic of "mind control" is not complete without all those bits.

Right now, I'm knee-deep in mind control, because that's the writing project I'm working on. If I were to switch to another project, say editing Emerald City Iron, which is a novel about fairies, I'd be knee-deep in fairies, with mind control long forgotten. I need room in my brain to unpack all the details about fairies and my characters and writing fiction. I'd no longer have room for the topic "mind control" and the task "non-fiction writing". The files would have to be stored away.

In order to really understand fairies and fiction editing again, I'd need to get back into that space, open up the whole file with all the parts. And doing that requires a resource which is nothing like a spoon or inertia. It's more like opening a big game on my old, slow 386. Hence:

Reticulating splines. . .<hourglass>

Screenshot of my brain reticulating splines.
Yes, this artist managed to capture it.
Credit: Jon Storm

It makes sense that a complex topic or project, like mind control or fairies, would take a long time to shift into. That would be difficult for anyone. But what is harder to describe is how the little things, things NTs take for granted, can be just as difficult to shift into.

Reticulate means to "make a net or network of". A spline is a number of things, including: "a. Any of a series of projections on a shaft that fit into slots on a corresponding shaft, enabling both to rotate together. b. The groove or slot for such a projection."

When I switch tasks, I am making a network of all the projections and grooves and slots and shafts and strips of metal and curve-drawing tools and geometrical maths used to draw up the task. I am loading and linking together all the details in my brain that are connected to the project at hand. And that's going to take time, whether that project is making a phone call, disciplining the dog, or writing a novel.

It doesn't just take time. It takes a bunch of energy and processing resources. It isn't fun at all. My brain has to work really, really hard. So when something interrupts me, and demands I dump the loaded program to load up a new program, I get very frustrated. When I've got lots of annoying little errands to do outside the scope of my main project, I lose splines and spoons. The more do this in a day, the more frustration builds.

For instance, if I need to make a phone call about a bill, I need to gather the phone number, collect all the data about the bill, and get into the frame of mind to make the call. For me, that requires gathering lots of little pieces, and on my hardware, it's slow loading. On NT hardware, it might flash by, "Reticulating splines!" so fast you can't even see it. Yet because I have more splines, they take longer to reticulate.

This is why, when I made and took twenty phonecalls a day as part of my tech support job, talking on the phone was relatively easy. It didn't take a lot of spoons, because it wasn't reticulating many splines. The "talk on the phone solving technical problems" program was all loaded up. It stayed in memory for years.

These days, using the phone requires all kinds of splines. And when I need to reticulate that many splines, it ends up costing spoons.

Likewise when I ran Sapioscape, an online retail business, I ran to the post office every day, shipping 3-5 boxes at a time. I was efficient, and it was even a pretty fun. Sometimes I still miss those days.

Now, when I need to ship just one box? I procrastinate forever and the task seems impossible. Because I have to reticulate every single spline related to packaging a shipping and item. It's a rather complex task for me, because my memory has stored each step as a separate thing that I have to recompile.

Same goes for home improvement tasks. I loved remodeling my house. I couldn't wait to get home and build bedrooms in the basement, retrofit foundations for earthquakes. and landscape the yard. Now? Hanging a picture seems impossible. Because I have to remember where I keep the nails and how to use a hammer.

Computers can run multiple programs in background, and so can I, which is fortunate. I can keep one or two complex tasks, and several small items partially loaded into memory. So at the end of the day, I can reticulate splines on some smaller tasks and recreational activities (which also require splines), and switch back to the big project again the next day.

It's not entirely free of cost. I can't just Alt-Tab. A few splines get lost and have to be regenerated again in the morning. If I do too many side-tasks or have too many interruptions or too much time passes, loading up the main project begins to cost more and more.

Part of my spline-management system involves ridding myself of potential interruptions before I can start on my real work for the day. So I invest alot of initial spoons and splines into dealing with small tasks. I try to make sure Prince Ryuk of Pomerania (the dog) is happy. I feed myself and make tea. I deal with email and twitter. I cycle through my ritual of lighting candles and taking meds and turning on music. I let kids and other events interrupt me during this time, and work as fast as I can to get through this routine so I can get to my real work. Sometimes even then my brain isn't into gear, and maybe by that time, I'm hungry again or out of tea. I stare at the blank page a few moments, and I'm back to checking twitter or fiddling with things on my desk.

Somedays, I can reticulate my splines within an hour, and I have an amazingly productive writing day. Other days, it takes many hours. With each passing moment, the frustration builds. I fear I won't be productive, that I'm wasting time, that my book will never be written. It's just like waiting for your favorite game to load on an old, slow 386. You're eager to get started, but those damn splines are still reticulating.

This is why my child needing a ride to school ruined my productivity for the day. It had taken me about three hours to prep for writing. (I was coming off a full week non-productivity due to other life tasks that needed attention, so I required additional spline reticulation.) The door slid open just fifteen minutes after I had finally gotten started putting words to page. I was the only one who could drive said child to school.

I thought I'd be able to get her there and home without issue. But no. I lost all the splines on the drive back. And I got angry. I had an anger-meltdown in the car. I screamed at the top of my lungs and smacked the steering wheel. I knew the day was wasted.

I wasn't angry at anyone in particular. Things happen. I was angry at the situation. And a little bit at myself for being this way.

I also knew that Spoon Theory wasn't going to be enough to describe what just happened.

I still have spoons. I have a limited number of social spoons, overstimulation spoons, working hard for too long spoons. There are some splines-to-spoon exchange rates -- reticulating splines can cost spoons, and if I don't get enough sleep, for example, I don't have enough spoons to reticulate many splines at all.

It's just that running out of spoons doesn't lead me to meltdown. Running out of splines can.

There is an upside to having a brain like mine. Once all those splines get reticulate, I have thousands of connected details available to me. That's not to say I have a photographic memory and can actually remember those details perfectly. But I know the parts that lead to the sum, and can look up things up from there. (Thank Google!) If one of the parts changes, I can make adjustments to the entire topic. If a new fact comes in that contradicts the old parts, I can take a look at the parts of the whole structure to quickly see where adjustments need to be made. I think of new ideas quickly because I kept all the bits stored away, not just the unalterable concept as a mushy whole.

It just means it takes a bit longer to load. Even the "easy" stuff like getting dressed or shopping for groceries or talking to humans. All these splines must be reticulated.

To summarize the three complex forces of Asperger's, I've come up with the Three Laws of Thermodynamic Autistic Motion, also known as "Spins, Spoons, and Splines".

1. Inertial Mechanics, or "The Law of Spins": An autist in motion will remain in motion until acted upon by an outside force, like a barking dog or the need to pee.
2. The Law of Conservation of Energy, or "Entropy of Spoons": Spoons can neither be created nor destroyed, only washed and placed back in the silverware drawer. It always takes more spoons to wash the spoons than there are total spoons, leading to entropy, and the eventual heat death of the universe and everyone in it.
3. The Law of Reticulation of Splines: The load time of splines is directly proportional to the number of splines in storage times the distance (in time) since the splines were last loaded times the number of interrupts by other spline-reticulating processes. As implied by the Second Law of Autism, spline reticulation requires energy in the form of spoons, splines, spins, and anger management classes. Moore's Law does not apply.

What do you think about this model? If you're autistic, or know someone who is, does it seem to fit?

Build a Bigger Berry

You're in a restaurant supply grocery store, the kind with walk-in freezers and where you can buy 5 lb boxes of strawberries. The produce refrigerator, in which you're standing, smells like old broccoli. As you lift the box of strawberries to place on the cart, the lid pops open, and the biggest strawberry you've ever beheld falls to the gray concrete floor.

What do you do?

* Actual Size. Not part of this complete breakfast.
or, "It's dangerous to go alone. Take this!"

Nothing could be less interesting than a strawberry falling on the floor. Or so it seems. Yet the circumstances  for this event can shape important elements of story: the stakes, character development, plot, worldbuilding, and theme. The first three are essential, but if a writer does her job right, a minor strawberry-fumble scene should convey all five.

Stakes & Tension

This true story (which actually happened to me) only became interesting because of two factors:

1) A strawberry the size of my fist,
2) a floor of the sort my mother taught me never to even walk on without washing my feet afterwards.

The stakes were raised. Not a small berry, a big one. Not a clean floor, a nasty one.

Circumstances had set up a dichotomy for me. A difficult choice. I became fascinated with how I would meet this challenge. In order for your plot to be interesting, your choices must be interesting.

To increase stakes, you can tweak the circumstances. Is the strawberry large or small? Ripe or rotten? Is the character is starving? Was she commanded by the king to find the largest strawberry ever, on penalty of death? (The king will never know it hit the floor... right?)

Character Development

"I'm going to give you the choice I never had."
 Lestat, Interview with a Vampire

Choice defines character. Once you've given them a quirky laugh and a lopsided hat (characteristics), ultimately, your character is made by the choices they make.

If your character picks up the berry with a look of wonder, it tells us she is mesmerized by large berries.

If it's a normal berry and she picks it up, maybe she is a spendthrift and can't let anything go to waste. Or maybe she doesn't care about cleanliness.

If she leaves it on the ground where someone else can step on it and make a mess or even get hurt, maybe she's thoughtless or reckless.

If she puts the strawberry back in the box and places it on the shelf so she can buy a different box, we have all kinds of subtle, and potentially negative, indicators about her personality.

The results of one decision will still leave motives and personality vague, so a series of choices across scenes can compound to paint the broader picture.

Plot

A series of decisions constitutes plot. Events can occur randomly or coincidentally, but preferably, the result of the first choice should have consequences to start your plot-chain, each event a result of a previous decision.

Or better, events can be created by choices made by your other characters. Your characters should all have independent and preferably opposing desires. As they attempt to achieve their goals, they work against one another. That's how the plot thickens.

What if she picks up the strawberry, takes it home, and all is well until her child eats it without washing, and gets e. coli?

Or she leaves it in the fridge for three weeks and the whole box spoils, and that starts an argument with her partner?

What if she puts it back on the shelf and someone she admires spots her irresponsible behavior?

What if she leaves it on the ground and someone is injured by slipping on it?

What if she simply cannot stop thinking about the strawberry, and it turns into a blog post?

This is why readers read. This is what constitutes story.

Worldbuilding

Other details about each experience can show elements of your world without an info dump. In my example, the strawberry fell in a normal grocery store in the ordinary world. Or did it? ...

Show the rules of the magic or tech or culture through the decision and its consequences.

Maybe it's a magic strawberry and the character shrinks and has to live on it under the produce shelf where it's rolled until it gets all moldy and is carried off by a rat.

Maybe the character has a curse that she must eat every strawberry she sees, and a second geas binding her to never eat anything that touches the ground. Talk about raising the stakes.

Maybe it's a genetically engineered strawberry that kills germs. Maybe the floor is kept clean by robots. Maybe her species doesn't even need food and it's just a plastic strawberry.

You can give hints as to the behavior of your world through simple scenes like this. Just remember to keep the stakes and tension high by not eliminating all strawberry-floor problems with advanced technology.)

Theme

Why write a strawberry falling into the floor and not a beer spilling in a bar, or a dagger being pressed into the chest of an enemy, or a horse running away?

The props, events, and choices in the scene can reverberate and reinforce, either consciously or subconsciously, a larger, overarching feeling or meaning. Berries can represent many things: life, growth, food, color, freshness, waste, rot, fertility, goodness, sweetness, health, youth, agriculture, consumerism.

A scene with a strawberry, then a horse, then a memory about grandma's farm may conjure a theme of farming, youth, or health. Or all three.

A scene with a strawberry, then a rose, and then a wild sexy romp with a stranger shifts the theme to passion, hedonism, sensuality.

If you want to go with consumerism and decay, have another scene with an overflowing garbage can and a pile of unwanted Christmas presents.

Theme is how we make a story more than entertaining. It gives the story meaning.

Conclusion

If you've written a scene that's fallen flat, maybe you just need to tweak a few subtle elements to raise the stakes, to make the choice hard, to reveal elements of character, to build your world, and reinforce themes.

Just build a bigger berry.

The Next Big Thing

Andrew Williams graciously invited me to be next in the Next Big Thing blog hop. He got it from Eric J. Guignard, who got it from Erik T. Johnson, who caught it from John F.D. Taff, who doesn't really remember where he got it from.

If all infections diseases were so fun and productive to spread, we'd have no need for modern medicine. I guess that's why they think of memes as a life form. The symptom of this disease is that I will be posting the answers to ten questions about my current work in progress. As a reader, you have no need to fear -- I will not be spreading this infection to you. If you never engage in the unsafe act of writing fiction, you are inoculated.

My writer friends, on the other hand, are completely exposed, and I have infected tagged four of them who will be acting out their symptoms next week on December 19th.

Hey, at least it's not a pyramid scheme...

...or IS it?

Now for the questions...

What is the working title of your next book?

Emerald City Iron. The theme grew nicely out of the working title, so it is now firmly the title.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

This novel is a sequel to my last novel, Emerald City Dreamer. I wanted a simple monster-hunting plot to parallel Sandy's inner growth, and so used the most horrifying monster I'd ever encountered in all of my fairy lore research - the Nuckelavee. Because I never can be too mean to Sandy.

What genre does your book fall under?

Urban Fantasy.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Scarlett Johansson would make a pretty decent Sandy, as long as she's wearing reading glasses.

Only with auburn hair.

Phaesyle should be played by Elle Fanning.

Woops, did I accidentally trick you with enigmatic phrasing again?
I'm such a faerie!

Kirsten Dunst has the perfect face to play Gretel - round and youthful, almost childlike.

Only with round glasses and an accent.

Jamie Hyneman of Mythbusters might make a good Hollis, if he had long white hair and shaved everything below his nose instead. Philip Seymour Hoffman has the right versatility and subtly as an actor, but not quite the right face.

Hollis is likely to glare, like this. Also he is just as likely to make something nerdy and cool...

...but this guy can actually act.

Emily Haines, lead singer in Metric, would make a perfect Jina. I wouldn't want anyone else to play this part.

Everybody just want to fall in love.
Everybody just wanna play the lead.

Jett would be a difficult role to fill, given her other-worldliness. Aside from having elfin features, she is half-Japanese, half-Irish. Matsushima Nanako or Yuko Takeuchi might come close.

She's a thousand years old..

...but you'd never know it. Maybe it's Maybelline.*
(*Actually, it's glamour created by feasting on the will of dreamers.)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

While hunting down a dangerous faerie sea monster, Sandy Windham gets help from a therapist and discovers why her inner demons won't stay dead.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I will self-publish Emerald City Iron to retain creative control of the series.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

This is a very short novel. My target was novella and it went long. I took my time, editing old scenes as I continued to write new ones. I began plotting and outlining in mid-September, and I finished the final scene in mid-November. So about two months. Now I'm doing final cleanup, which is going really quickly.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

To be honest, I don't read enough Urban Fantasy to make a comparison. I do try to be unique, crafting deeply psychological UF, and so far, I haven't run across anyone else doing that. If you have, please let me know in the comments and I'll check it out.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Folklore. And I drew very strongly from my own experiences with hunting faeries personal growth and trauma recovery. Metaphorically, Sandy's struggles in Emerald City Iron mirror my own during the past year. I learned as much from her as she learned from me.

What else about the book might pique the reader's interest?

Seattle. Faeries. Danger. New characters. Thematic metaphors. Harpoon cannons. Squirt guns. Beach battles. Surprises. Tir Nan Og. Angry elves. Abandoned buildings. Drinking. Hallucinations. Cellar Demons. Bodies. Mutilated cattle. Explosions. Boats. Seagull poop. Trespassing.

Tag, You're It

The following four authors are totally cool, and they're all working on the Next Big Thing. Be sure to visit they're blogs on December 19th to catch a glimpse of their projects.

John Nakamura Remy
Andrew Rosenberg
Elf Sternberg
Jennifer Brozek

No Mo Wri Mo: Why I Am Regrettably Not Doing NaNoWriMo This Year

I am a two-time NaNoWriMo winner. It took me years to get up the courage (and a lost job) to finally get around to it in 2010. Right before NaNoWriMo, I had nearly completed my first novel, Emerald City Dreamer. For NaNoWriMo, I paused that project, and started a whole new project, an alternative history vampire fantasy, with my novel The Sun Never Rises.

As much as I loved the world I built, and my character, and the ending, I have not read The Sun Never Rises. Not once in two years. I haven't had time.

My third novel, Emerald City Hunter, I wrote during last year's NaNoWriMo.

For both projects, I came in at higher than 50,000 words. Right around 65,000 each. I proved I have no problem cranking out high word counts. Awesome.

Unfortunately, those words suck. Not all of them, but enough of them to make editing a real problem. I realize this is the point of NaNoWriMo, to write words that suck, just so long as you write them. And yes, those were my first novels, so they were probably going to suck anyway. I had a lot to learn about how to make 50,000+ words not suck. Some of those I learned during the writing process itself, and some during the grueling editing process.

Now that I've learned those lessons, I'm going for the long view.

I understand my pace better now. It is similar to my process for short stories. Plan, outline, write a few chapters, go back, revisit the outline, revise some future scenes in the outline, edit the past scenes a little bit, write the future scenes, revisit the outline, edit some old scenes, and so on.

When I do it that way, I end up with is a draft that is more satisfying and very solid. It is nearly ready, with some slight polish, to be shown to my writer's group, Cloud City Wordslingers. It is less frustrating and time-consuming when it comes to editing.

Word counts are antithetical to this process. And it takes longer than 30 days.

November is coming, and I see everyone talking about NaNoWriMo. I'm sad. I want to be along with you guys, cheering each other on, sharing problems and woes, and hitting 2-4k words per day. I will feel a little left out, and a little nostalgic for those past NaNoWriMos that were probably a lot more miserable than I remember. It will be hard, knowing I could have another novel under my belt. But I know it will be a novel that will likely have to sit in a drawer for years before I get time to edit it.

I will, however, be doing "WriMo". I will be writing all month. I won't be watching word counts. I won't be aiming at 50,000 words on a single project. I am aiming to finish Emerald City Iron (novella, already half done) to draft that can be read by my fellow Wordslingers. And I will be aiming to begin plotting the next novella. I will share progress on Twitter and here.

Good luck to all WriMos, whether you're doing a novel, a couple novellas, or a pile of short stories. I thank the NaNoWriMo people for holding that carrot out to me for years prior to 2010, to make me keep thinking, "I ought to get back to writing someday", and to letting me win two years in a row.

Scarcity Mentality vs. The Abundance of Ideas

Writers get asked all the time, "Where do you get your ideas?"

To most active writers, ideas are easy. They flow faster than we have time to write them. Anyone can get ideas. 

Some people seem to have a zero-sum notion of ideas, that there is a set number, and once those run out, they're all gone. This leads to lots of idea-stifling behaviors. It is a notion that proves itself. Imagine if we had a scarcity notion about muscles, that each of us has a top limit on the number of motions we can make, or pounds we can lift. We'd all sit around because we think it's healthy; meanwhile our muscles atrophy, and sure enough, after walking a few paces, we'd collapse, having "run out" of muscles.

Ridiculous, yet it is something most people believe about a muscle we call the "brain".

Like any other muscle, the Ideaceps Major gets stronger the more you flex it. The brain only likes to do work that it thinks you find useful. All ideas need are a little attention, a little appreciation. Don't judge your ideas, don't stuff them away. Just jot them down, or reflect on them for a moment and thank them for being so brilliant. Your brain will kicks in and give you more. It's that simple.

Let's look at some idea-stifling behaviors that come from zero-sum thinking:

The Unworthy

Some think good ideas only come to those magically blessed to receive them. They believe themselves unworthy for inspiration. When an idea pops into An Unworthy's head, she thinks, What a stupid idea! After such abuse, her brain naturally assumes that thinking of ideas is a useless skill, so it resorts to thinking up ideas rarely, and only on accident.

The Hoarder

Hoarders get ideas that they think are good. In fact, they think they're such good ideas, they grow paranoid, afraid someone will steal them. So they keep them secret.

This comes from the mistaken belief that ideas are unique. Once an idea is given to one person, it is reserved forever, as if the idea gets patented right then and there, restricted from anyone else's use. No one else could possibly think of such a good idea simultaneously.

I used to be a hoarder. I've had dozens of million-dollar ideas I kept to myself. A year or two later I would see my product idea on the store shelf, or my story idea in someone else's book. eCigs? Yeah, I thought of those. I didn't know a thing about atomizers, but I imagined a delivery system of flavored nicotine that looked cool without the smoke, that would come in all colors. I even thought of the LED to simulate the ember.

Ideas are out there for the picking. Just because I think something up doesn't mean it's mine. Someone else will think of it, too.

The Perfectionist

Some hoarders keep their ideas in reserve for "someday". I'm not talking about those who have so many ideas they have to pick and choose which ones to work on – I'm talking about people who have one or two great ideas, but wait for the day when they can get it perfect. The idea gets put away, never to be seen again.

This also stems from the zero-sum notion. This is my one perfect idea. This is my Ringworld or Snowcrash or Foundation, and it will make me rich and famous.

An idea is just a small piece of the craft. There's prose, pacing, setting, characters, plot, editing, grammar, and voice. When the idea is so perfect, the other ingredients may feel unworthy. It is tempting to put a good idea on the shelf until the perfect time, when the stars align.

Sometimes as I write, I am tempted to reject an idea for a character, or setting, or twist that otherwise fits. Why? Because it seems too perfect, to "big" for the story at hand. I may be tempted to save that idea for later. Oh, I think, That twist is far too cool to throw away on a simple scene in this novel. I should save it for a story all of its own!

But I know better. I fight this temptation. If this story inspired that idea, it belongs here. That idea has some magic to it, some energy. If I set it on the backburner for the day when I can supposedly do it justice, it will grow stale, and possibly die completely. My current project will want for lack of that energy.

Abundance

Trust. Trust that ideas will always be available. Those ideas are here for me today, and new ideas will be there for me tomorrow. As I reward my brain by giving its ideas life, so it will reward me.

There is no upper limit on the number of ideas I will have in my lifetime. Time is the real limitation, an actual zero-sum. I flex my Ideaceps Major all the time and my brain has given me notebooks full of seeds. There is no end to material I can work on, as long as I keep working. That's the hard part. That's the limited resource. Time and work.

Ideas don't make success. Success comes from the implementation and marketing of those ideas. That is much more difficult. There's a reason why eCig-makers in China are raking in the dough for my idea. Let them. I don't care. Lots of people think up the same ideas at the same time, and he who acts on it wins. That guy in China put in all the work, and I can buy an eCig and puff away. I get to use their inventions or read their stories and not have to invent or write it myself.

I've got plenty of other ideas I can act on.

Fighting Social Media Addiction Using e.ggtimer.com

You probably have ADHD and if you don't, it's been induced by the constant flow of small bits of information.  It's like candy.  It's sitting there on your desk, so you can reach out for just one more bite.  Even if it's bad for you and rots your teeth and keeps you from getting anything done.  (It's not a perfect metaphor.)

I never seem to get started writing.  I'm always in a state of "get caught up on Twitter".  Just need to check that Tumblr post, read that article on HuffPo, reply to some comments on a blog.  Check email one more time.  And don't get me started on Facebook!  (Which is why I never get started on Facebook.)

Social media may be lowering our attention spans from minutes to seconds.  There has been some criticism about the data used on that inforgraphic, but anecdotally, I know this to be true.  On a busy social media day, I give every piece of information about 7 seconds, and if it fails to interest me, I'm on to the next thing.

When I finally do get caught up, I open a blank Word document to get started on the next story.  I give that white page a whole 7 seconds.  When nothing happens, I check Twitter.

Fact: It takes more than 7 seconds to write a story.

Usually it takes way more than 7 seconds to even put down the first line.  This goes for most other writing tasks, like editing, revisions, reading, critiquing, outlining, brainstorming, and even blog-post-writing.

About the only activity that doesn't suffer is research.  Online research.  And only on Wikipedia pages that are shorter than 500 words.

To solve this problem, I first moved my writing area away from my "fun computer".  I made a rule to check Twitter only on the fun computer or on my phone.  So I started checking it on my phone.

I thought about getting a productivity tool, like LeechBlock, to filter my internet usage or even shutting off the internet during work hours, but I really do need to bop off for quick research checks mid-writing.  I also don't like the idea, the very appalling idea, that I'm not strong enough to resist on my own.

So what helped the most?

e.ggtimer.com is a simple timer website.  Enter a time, either in hours or minutes or even a time of day or a date.  The time becomes part of the link, so you can bookmark it.  At the end of the configured time, there's a loud beep.

Once I'm ready to start my writing day, I set the timer to 60 minutes.  During that hour, I'm not allowed, at all, to check Twitter, email, or anything unrelated to the writing.  My only goal is to not do anything unrelated to the writing for a whole hour.

Even if that means staring out the window the entire time.

(I do allow myself to quickly tweet ideas, snippets of prose, reports on how the writing is going, or links to interesting things I find while researching.  But even then I need to keep myself reigned in or I let too much of the energy out of my project.)

What happens is my attention span gets the message real quick.  During that hour, writing becomes the only interesting thing worth doing.  The ideas flow, and so do the words.

My daily goal is four hours.  They don't need to be grouped together.  After one hour, I'm allowed to do some social networking, but what I find is I'm in the middle of a typing frenzy when the browser beeps. The timer is really easy to restart -- just click in the address bar and hit enter.

It is much easier to tell how long I've been writing this way.  How many times have I reset the timer?  Four? Six?  I can't remember I reset it so many times?  That makes me feel productive.

Sometimes I get interrupted by life and have to stop the timer mid-hour.  For that reason, I almost wish e.ggtimer had a pause feature.  I've thought of sending that as a request (I am related to the author of the site), but I hesitate.  I'm afraid that if I can pause, I'll do it every five minutes so I can back to checking Twitter...

Science Realism in Fiction

I came across a great article last week about the science in science fiction.  It was written by Jenny Cabotage, who is both a fantasy writer and a biologist.  As a scientist who "knows better", how does she handle slightly unrealistic science in the spec fic she consumes?

She sits back and enjoys the ride.

That conclusion took me a while to come to.  Even as a kid, I reveled in finding technicalities in the science fiction I consumed.  Remember, this was the late 80's and 90's, when our TV scifi diet consisted of Star Trek and Quantum Leap.  Scientific errors were low-hanging fruit.  Explosions would never be very large in oxygen-free space, we could never upload a virus into an alien ship and expect it to be compatible, and if you go back in time and even breathe, you will change the future.

Or my biggest pet peeve: Why is the evil guy always ugly??

Maybe that's why I loved reading classic SF so much.  Isaac Asimov, a biochemist himself, always wrote stories that seemed at least plausible.  Even those I considered far-fetched, like the famous "stars" who recorded their dreams to sell as mass media, become more possible as time wears on.

As I learned to write, I promised myself I would never make the cardinal mistake of Star Trek aliens, where each race was basically a human with advanced makeup and appliances.  Aliens won't be humanoid.  They'll be weird!

As I got even older, I noticed that even fictional aliens who weren't humanoid tended to be modeled after earth animals.  You've got the stereotypical reptile race, the ape race, the insect race, the lion or cat race, the cute mammalian race, and the fish people.  Also lame.  Can't these people think of anything more interesting?

Then I learned about certain concepts of character development.  The reader must sympathize with the characters.  They need to feel connected.  They need to relate.  And it's really hard, if not impossible, to make a reader relate to a gelatinous blob with purple dots that thinks in binary and can merge with another of its species and come away as a different creature.

(Perhaps this is why Star Wars seemed so refreshing.  The cast of aliens is brilliantly diverse, and Lucas manages to make us relate to them.  The bad guys are still ugly, though.  And they speak with British accents.)

I think back to some of the scifi that went way too far away from my human values, my human desires.  For some readers, that scifi might have been thought-provoking, but for me, it was as unrealistic as too-human SF.  Or worse, I found the ideas distasteful.

To use Asimov again, and I'll try to do this spoiler-free, I hated how he "ended" the Foundation series in Foundation and Earth.  (More books have been written since, by other authors, and I've not read them yet, so I don't know if they fixed what I hated.)  Instead of leaving me feeling like they'd saved the universe, I felt like they made a huge mistake.  And more importantly, the novel failed to complete the promised plot arc that the previous books established.  The ending seemed to come out of nowhere.  The goal shifted and all the things I'd been made to care about were deemed unimportant.

Note that I read this when I was like, 17.  And haven't read it since.  Who knows what I'd think now.  The point is, that many humans have a certain set of values, and for some, Asimov violated those values in Foundation and Earth.  He failed to convince me that I should agree with the aliens, yet his humans went right along with it.

Are there aliens out there with weird and crazy values?  Yes.  Maybe those aliens are even right, even if their values are deplorable.  And we should explore them in SF, just as we should explore aliens with weird bodies, or science that is barely understandable, or not comprehensible at all.  The problem is, how do we tell those stories in ways that people can relate?

I ran into this problem in the early drafts of Emerald City Dreamer.  I wanted to be as "realistic" as possible. I wanted to be true to my characters as possible.  The result?  My characters came off completely unsympathetic.  They weren't even aliens.  Everyone in ECD has a humanoid body.  It's just their actions and values, even the actions and values of the humans, did not make enough sense to a large enough percentage of my critiquers.  So I had to make some major changes.

In fiction, the story is far more important than "realism".  The world has realism.  In SF, we use stories to explore ideas, and those can be accurate down to the letter.  Internally consistent, and even completely scientific.  But in the end, stories are, ultimately, about the characters.  What choices do they make in this world of new ideas?  The answer to that is what makes readers feel satisfied, or not, at the end of a story.  That is what makes readers interested enough to keep reading.  That is what separates this medium of fiction from academic papers and essays.  Because of the characters and their choices.

To pull that off, readers must relate to the characters.  Especially if they're aliens.  Especially if you must sacrifice some scientific realism or logic to make it happen.  You have to risk a couple of readers saying, "That would never happen", to make the rest of your audience love your story.

It helps me to think of SF as mythology.  Because, in a way, it is.  In the old days, the hero trudged into the underworld to save his lover from the torments of a god.  Today, he's got a high-tech costume and he's fighting aliens with quantum tunneling stabilizers.  So what if that costume could never contain all those gizmos and gears or make him actually fly or any of that?  Who cares if Black Widow, being thrown against a stone wall from somewhere in the sky would actually crush her dead?  (Ok, I cared for a couple of seconds.)  And who cares if the technobabble is technobullshit?

When you hear a myth, you're not rolling your eyes, saying, "Yeah, like the gods would ever talk to Orpheus.  He's just some dude.  And like Hades would give a crap about music.  Hell, there aren't any gods in the first place."  We accept it as myth.  As fiction.

Likewise for our science fiction.  Yes, it's great to try to include as much science in science fiction as we can.  But after a while, we have to accept that it's just myth.  At the very least, taking this attitude helps me enjoy movies more.

At best, it helps my writing.  I try to pack in as much realism as I can, without making the stories too inaccessible to readers.  In fact, realism is a great tool to generate ideas during world building.

I'm building a world right now, about a species that co-evolved with a fungus that produces a complex biochemical mix the aliens need to thrive and survive.  The themes are about classism and privilege and poverty.

Because there are no humans in my story, I walk a difficult line.  I cannot describe my aliens through a human perspective.  My aliens have to be sympathetic and relatable on their own.

My world building process goes something like this: "Assume X is true.  What would that do to their culture?  To how their bodies evolved?"  I take those answers, and say, "Now that Y is true, what does that do to their religion?  To their attitudes on war?  To how their reproductive systems evolved?"  Those kinds of questions help me brainstorm and hopefully come up with awesome details to set in my world, and perhaps even plot points.

At some point, I realized my creatures seemed a bit like otters, and they had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.  They walk on two (sometimes four) legs, and have two genders.  And their personalities, for the most part, are strikingly human.  Why?  Why would aliens "just happen" to have all these elements, when they evolved so far away in a completely different ecosystem?  And why does their climate seem a bit like a swamp?

I could tweak those facets.  Give them alien faces and even more alien bodies and come up with strange surroundings.  But that would go too far.

They have faces because readers need at least a few anchors to the reality they understand.  I want them to love the characters and understand my message, so I give the aliens faces.  Enough of this planet is like Earth that readers have a context to understand the changes I've made.  So I can spotlight that which I want the readers to see.

You get to a point where it is mythology.  The point of my story is, "What happens when classism is biologically enforced in an obvious way?"  I want the unfairness of my alien society to be clear and emotional.  I want them rooting for my poor character, and hoping my upper-caste character does the right thing in spite of his cultural programming.

I don't want readers hung up on trying to picture a creature shaped like a five-legged walrus with no torso, or sort out their feelings for a protagonist with tentacles for a face.  I might explore those options in another story, where they don't distract from what I'm trying to do here.  Maybe in a different story I'll have human characters to be the lens through which we view the uber-strange aliens, or where the uber-strangeness is part of the mood I hope to establish.  Maybe I want you to feel confused or disturbed or unsympathetic or whatever.  (Hi, Kafka.)  But not here.

So as we consume fiction, it helps to let go a little.

As creators, learning to letting go a little, in just the right places, is part of the craft.

Fuzzy-Wuzzy Was A Bear: Killing 'Was' Brings Prose To Life

Every time our writer's group gets a new writer, I give a certain speech: Was is a dead-word.  Kill it.  It is the low-hanging-fruit of better writing, an alarm that jumps off the page and demands, "Make me more interesting!"

Was is clearly a verb, but doesn't move.  It offers no description or action.  It notifies us that a thing exists, but tells nothing about how it exists or what it is doing.  The nouns and adverbs that follow it will surely describe more, but that is no excuse.  Replacing a was is an easy opportunity to make prose more colorful and active - and possibly a chance to trim extra words. 

Was (and his sister were) is also a warning that something may be amiss.  Many was's indicate that the passive voice was used.  (See what I did there?)  It can also indicate that the writer was using an extra verb that can simply be cut.  (See what I did there again?)

So what do we do with those was's?  Some of them are extremely easy to cut if you know the tricks.  Some are troublesome -- you know it needs to go, but how?  And some are impossible to remove.  Moreover, not all was's are bad.  Fuzzy Wuzzy really was a bear, and I can't think of any better way to say it.  And there are other factors to consider -- like voice, rhythm, and pacing -- and it we don't want to sacrifice those, do we?  Sometimes not.

So let's start with the easy was fixes, and move up to the more complex.

Replace with a more active verb.

The soldier was on the hill.

Snore.  There he was.  On a hill.  Boring.  I want to know more about that soldier; I want to see him.  Here, the was indicates the author is telling, not showing.

The simplest fix: Find another verb.   

The soldier stood on the hill.

It's still kind of boring, but maybe the soldier is boring, and he'll be doing something exciting in a moment.  Maybe we don't want to distract the reader with what that soldier is doing, because all we need say is that he's there, and the real action is coming up from a different direction.  But maybe the soldier is doing something else while he's standing there, and it is I, the author, who is being boring.  Here are a few better examples:

The soldier waited on the hill.
The soldier paused on the hill.
The soldier hid on the hill.
The soldier gripped the side of the hill.
The soldier watched from the hill.
The soldier shivered on the hill.

All of these examples give more depth, more information about the emotional state or intentions of the character.

The last one is my favorite.  He's still just standing on the hill, but with just one word-change, he is now feeling something and we know
it's cold or scary up there.  Even if he's just a side character, a cardboard cutout, our story feels more real.

The first two examples required very little work.  But the others?  I had to make an extra effort to think and visualize, until I came up with some idea of what that guy was actually doing up there.  In many cases it is worth the extra effort, because if we can't see it, our readers surely can't.

Replace with the verb that is already there.

Frank was asking about the party.

Was is superfluous here.  It adds nothing.  Simply cross it out and change the tense of ask:  Frank asked about the party.

Very rarely, the was adds a subtle connotation of additional information.  For example: I was hoping we could go out tonight.  This indicates that maybe it's too late, that some doubt has crept in about the verb, or that the status has changed.  Was is then sometimes a substitute for the dreaded had which we also want to reduce, i.e. as an alternative to, I had hoped...  In this case, keep the was, or go with the had.  They are equals.

Sometimes with this method, we need to change the verb for it to make sense.  And that's good, too.  See how this sentence transforms:

Pie filling was stuck all over her face.

vs:

Pie filling covered her face.

Passive voice.

Passive voice rarely belongs in fiction prose.  It takes a lot of practice to get good at finding passive voice in your prose.  Was is an easy warning sign.  (Bearing in mind that these are not mutually exclusive: you can write active voice with a was, and can write passive voice without it.)

Much has been written on passive voice, what it is, and why it is bad, so I won't go deeply into it here.  In summary, it is a sentence structure where something is acted upon, rather than an actor acting on that thing.  The reader never knows who the actor is, only that an action was done.

Here is an example with a was:

The old man was killed in cold blood.

So what?  The old man may be murdered, but so is any sense of shock over the crime.  We almost have an exciting sentence there, but it sounds a little stilted and stifled.  Let's change it to active voice, and watch that was disappear:

Someone had killed the old man in cold blood.

Even with a had in there, this act of murder is now a surprise -- as it should be.  We still don't know who the killer is -- that is still a mystery -- but now I feel more interested in finding out who dun it.

The sentence would be better rearranged.

Sometimes the was indicates an awkward or weak sentence.  A rearrangement of the ideas, the order in which they are presented, will remove the was and also make it a better-written sentence.

Simple example:

Billy wanted to say something nice, but all that came out was, "You're not very fat."

This is clumsy, and the was lets us know.  Not a lot of rearranging here:

Billy wanted to say something nice, but he could only manage, "You're not very fat."

Let's try another one:

Of all the things the witch loved, the wand was her favorite.

This sentence is okay.  It loads the concepts of action in the prepositional phrase, and all that's left is to note the wands existence (and then modify that with favorite).  There is a certain voice to that, but it's a little awkward. 

We could logically rearrange the sentence, putting the concept of the wand first:

The witch loved her wand most, out of all her favorite things.

That method works better the more complex the sentence is.  I've seen a lot of unweildy paragraphs smooth right out after rearranging the order of the concepts and dropping the was's.

Or we can keep the logical order, but break it up:

The witch favored a lot of things.  But mostly, she loved the wand.

New example:

Walking all the way to Mordor was out of the question.

Try:

No, they couldn't walk all the way to Mordor.

Show, don't tell.

That squirrelly was: it shows you that you may be telling.

I know I said this already.  But in my soldier example, I took the easy way out.  I simply replaced the verb.  But the was may indicate a drastic lack of detail you should fill in.  So allow me to elaborate.

She was old.

Holy crap, so much telling!  I heard we're not supposed to do that!  But if it is true that she really is old, how do we say it?  Describe the things that make her old:

She walked with bent back, her hair coarse and gray.  Her voice rasped like the last breath of a dying animal.  And she smelled like orange juice.

That's better.  And not a single was anywhere.  The change hurt my word count, but at least it's not boring.

That being said...

Don't kill every was.  Sometimes they are stubborn things that are not worth the trouble.  Sometimes simplicity is best.  Sometimes you are just describing a scene, and don't need your objects doing anything, just lying there being red or dirty or strong or soggy.  As with all writing rules, this one is meant to be broken.

But generally, this tip will clarify your prose, give your characters and settings depth, and add pep to your action scenes.

The Role of Agents in the Post-Publishing World

This subject has come up a couple of times this week in various blogs.  Scott Nicholson calls agents Unnecessary Evils in Self-Publishing Agents: Unnecessary Evils, and Debbi Mack says she can do everything any e-stributor might do in The 15 Percent Solution.

In some ways, I agree with both.  Services provided by traditional agents are now something of a rip-off, especially if you're a well-rounded person with an eye for design and the ability to make contacts and do business.  Agents have an upper-hand, and this gives the profession a reputation of haughtiness.  They're not any kind of solution because they're part of the problem that we're fleeing, right?  So who needs 'em?

But I do see a role for something.  Let's face it -- not all writers are comfortable with certain aspects of the business-side of writing.  Moreover, even those of us who are comfortable with it, may eventually find some of those detailed tasks distracting... in other words, it may end up being more profitable to shell out 15% so we can focus on doing what we do better -- writing.

We may not call them agents -- though I think there's nothing wrong with using this term.  (As Debbi points out, an agent is “one who is authorized to act for or in place of another; a representative.”)  In this sense, agent is the perfect word.  He may not be trying to sell your book to an editor any longer, and instead may himself be editing your book, hiring a proof-reader, lining up a cover artist, and writing marketing blurbs for Amazon and Smashwords, but these are still representational activities.  To help eliminate confusion, let's call this new breed "indie agents".

Whatever it's called, there is a niche -- something writers will be willing to pay for, and people willing to do the work -- so it will be filled by someone. 

As a self-publishing indie author, I've made a list of activities I might personally find valuable enough to pay 10-20% of my earnings for.  This list is not all-inclusive.  There are many activities I haven't thought of, that other authors need help with, and those would be added to such a list of services.

• Career guidance - Keep a general eye on the markets and offer advice on things like trends in genres, which books to push and which to let go for a while, movements in pricing, trends in marketing, etc.
• Help with marketing, or at least marketing advice - For example, she could submit things to review blogs, or even just tell me which review blogs are worth the time. An agent may even have connections that could accelerate marketing efforts or lend me credibility.
• Editing and proofing. That's right. I've read that many agents are doing editing now instead of editors anyway. If they don't do it themselves, they could farm it out.
• Lining up cover artists, designers, formatters, copywriters for the blurbs, etc.  Negotiating the contracts.
• Handling the business and legal side. Someone to fill the role of "Talk to my agent".  Looking over any miscellaneous contracts to make sure they're legit.
• Eventually some of us indies are going to reach the level of Neil Gaiman, and have speaking engagements all over the world. You're going to need an agent for that. Likewise for film deals, etc.
• Support - Some agents fill the role of emotional support and encouragement. Given the drastic ups and downs of this job, this is helpful for some of us. Where are you going to find an on-demand therapist or life coach (besides in a spouse)? But some agents fill this role for authors.

In a way, you're getting two services for cheaper than the price of one: Editor and Agent.  Instead of costing you 80%+15%, it costs you 30% (Amazon's cut)+15%+misc direct fees for outside services.  Let's do a little thought experiment with some rough math, and see where it leads.

It's common knowledge that the more novels you have available, the more you sell.  (That's the topic of another blog post.)  If you spend all your time marketing your one book, and never write books two, three, and four, you're not spending your time efficiently.  The same would go for the other distracting activities I've listed above.

Let's say I currently have three books for sale on Amazon for $2.99 each.  I sell 100 copies a month, and spend 40% of my time on the "business" side: marketing, studying the markets, lining up services, formatting my own work, and so on.  Let's say I also spend more time editing my own work than I should, when after a while I just can't see past my own mistakes.  And I have a bad eye for art, so I pick a poor cover designer, and can't explain to them what I want.  I'm making about $200/month, and am making slow progress on my next novel.

Now let's say I get an indie agent and agree to pay 15% for them to do the distracting things.  For now, I pay them $30/month, but the more money I make the higher that number will go.  But that's a good thing, right?  Because if the indie agent is helping me make more, then it's a fair deal, right?

Now I still have to spend some time doing the business side.  I need to approve cover art, integrate the suggested edits and proofs, make decisions about any movie deals (ha!), and so on.  But now I have an adviser, who is keeping up on the industry, who is doing the most boring aspects, and giving good advice about what I should do.  Now I only spend 10% of my hours on the tedium, and have twelve extra hours per week to write.  Not only that, but the quality of that time is improved -- I don't know about you, but for me, the little distractions get my mind off my story and depleate my energy beyond just the house consumed.

That means my next novel comes out sooner.  Not only that, but my agent, who can focus on this kind of thing, is doing a great job writing blurbs, which is helping my existing three novels to sell faster.  And she got me a couple of interviews on blogs, and a few extra reviews, and now momentum is starting to pick up.  Not only that, but she knows a really great editor who fits my style of writing, who has suggested lots of great changes on my new novel, which makes me a better writer.

Now it's a year later, novel four is released, and I'm selling 500 copies a month.  That's $1000 -- $800 more than I made before.  The agent gets $150, but so what?  Even then, it's $650 more than I made, plus I'm that much father ahead for when book five comes out.

I'm not completely sure I'd make this wager.  But it is compelling.  And I happen to have a good eye for art and can make business deals when I need to.  I know how to do the marketing, and know where to look for trends in the industry, etc.  I can do it, I just don't want to.

But I do know for sure there are a lot of great writers who want nothing to do with the business side.  Ever.  They're not good at it, and they never will be.  They couldn't tell a good cover from a stain on the floor, and can't read the first line of a Terms of Service contract without bursting into tears. 

For that reason alone, I am confident that this role is going to exist, and plenty of writers will be willing to pay for it.