Monthly Archives: October 2011

Heading to San Diego

Today I’m boarding a flight to San Diego USA to attend my first World Fantasy Convention. Exciting!

It feels rather indulgent to be taking a trip halfway around the world simply to hobnob with other genre writers and industry professionals, but I know it will be a worthwhile experience. There will be plenty of people to meet, experts to listen to and learn from, topics to discuss — and I may even get to see a little of San Diego.

Having attended a couple of World Science Fiction Conventions in my hometown of Melbourne (1999 and 2010), I’ve long wanted to experience World Fantasy. This year it all came together because I have friends who are attending, and they happened to mention it early this year right after I’d quit my job, when it seemed like I could do anything and prioritising my writing career was high on the list. So I went home and booked my convention membership (a good thing too, because it sold out a few days later!).

It all looks fabulous — the guests of honour, the schedule, the venue . . . everything. Can’t wait.

 


More on writers and platform pressure

Oh my, the debate about writers and platform expectations is still raging. Over the past couple of days I’ve spent hours knee-deep in blog posts and reader comments, my little introvert heart pounding with apprehension. (Hours not writing, I might add…)

Rachelle Gardner’s post on Wednesday talked about the need to quantify the size of your platform when dealing with publishers. And even though, as she goes on to explain in the comments section, she’s merely talking about how to describe platform and not how to attract a publisher (although the two are linked), I’ll confess that some of the numbers Ms Gardner has thrown about recently (such as 15,000 unique blog visits per month) have given me heart palpitations.

But it seems I am not alone in this. In addition to the posts by Anne R Allen and Roni Loren I mentioned last week, and numerous comments to the aforementioned post by RG, Jami Gold has written a response to RG’s post that questions how much can all these numbers (Klout ratings, number of unique blog hits, number of Twitter followers) actually mean? Ms Gold (and many of her readers who commented) wonders how much impact social media metrics (which are not necessarily a true indication of how many people one is actually engaging with, and can moreover be quite easily rigged) have in actually selling books.

I think deep down everyone knows that the numbers are meaningless if the book isn’t wonderful. No-one is disputing that. But this increasing emphasis on establishing an impressive platform is certainly getting a lot of writers depressed, as it seems like yet another hurdle to be surmounted in the quest for publication. Not to mention an enormous drain on time and energy. Just how much time should we devote to blogging and tweeting — not to mention reading blogs and following tweets (i.e. actually engaging and connecting)?

In terms of effectiveness, I certainly don’t think a strong platform can hurt — for example, I recently purchased one of Anne R Allen’s recently re-published novels, simply because I follow her blog and thus feel some kind of connection to her as an author. I can only presume many of her blog audience will do likewise, so there are probably several hundred (more?) sales.

But my instinct is that the great majority of readers out there don’t actually read author blogs or follow authors on twitter. Roni Loren posed the question on her ‘author’ blog this week, asking what readers wanted out of an author web site… and all the comments I could see were from other writers (who, yes, are readers too, but…).

Most non-writing readers I know follow blogs on knitting or food or cats or parenting or natural remedies… They might follow the blog of a select favourite author(s), but I suspect even that would describe a minority.

Am I wrong?

The case may be a little different on facebook. It’s very easy to ‘like’ or subscribe to an author and henceforth receive their updates, whether details on appearances and book launches, or everyday observations in the mode of FB updates. Perhaps this is a better means of reaching a spread of readers than a blog (which could of course feed into the author fan page). I would argue that one would need the readers first, however.

And then of course there’s the question of those readers who don’t engage with social media at all. Right now, there are plenty of people out there who eschew facebook and/or twitter and/or never read blogs. Not that this is likely to be a permanent state of affairs. I think it’s fair to say that social media will continue to grow in importance as a means of achieving the all-important word-of-mouth promotion of books, which everyone knows is the key.

I think buzz about a great book will be spread via twitter etc, particularly as the percentage of the population engaged increases. I just don’t know how great a part the author-originated blog or twitter stream will play in all this.

Nevertheless, marketing of a book must start somewhere, and the powers-that-be have decreed that a significant load lies with the author via social (as well as more traditional forms of) media. So platform remains essential whether we like it or not. Assuming for a moment that the numbers do mean something, the question then becomes how to make them impressive — particularly when you’re a not-yet published author?

How do you reach 15,000 unique hits per months on your blog, without having publication credentials to back you up? (Tongue-firmly-in-cheek.)

Some of the blogs I’ve started reading (with or without publication credentials) are approaching this figure by offering advice and information about writing and related topics on which their authors have specific knowledge or interest. It usually comes down to content, although sometimes it’s just sheer force of personality. (And I reckon the audience is still mostly other writers.) But not everyone is endowed with masses of virtual charisma or pools of wisdom.

According to social media writer guru Kristen Lamb (in another post discussing platform metrics), the key is connecting with readers beyond writers. I still don’t know how this is supposed to be possible when one doesn’t yet have anything published for would-be readers to, you know, read (and as I’ve discussed I’m not convinced non-writing readers actually read author blogs anyway), but — what the hey — I’ve signed up for her online workshop to find out.

I figure I might as well discover how to better leverage this blog, one way or another. I know this is a turn-around from last week’s post, but something Ms Lamb wrote resonated with me: Why spend all this time blogging for a small bunch of readers? If I’m going to spend the time then I might as well try to make it count! My instinct is still to fly under the radar, to not put myself forward, but if I have to engage in the social media space, then I might as well do so efficiently and effectively.

 


An evocative word: darkle

Today I highlight a wonderful word that seems custom-made for the fantasy genre.

Darkle

verb tr., intr.: To make or become dark, indistinct, or gloomy; to be seen darkly.

According to A.Word.A.Day, it’s a back-formation from darkling (adv., a.: in the dark), from Middle English derkeling. Earliest documented use: 1819.

As far as I can make out, ‘darkle’ is distinct from ‘darken’ because the latter refers generally to the ambient light. ‘Darkle’, on the other hand, can refer to an actual object becoming or appearing dark as the result of the absence of light.

It’s not very easy to find examples of its usage. In fact the wordpress spell-checker doesn’t even recognise it.

Here’s the usage example given by A.Word.A.Day:
“The silhouettes of builders and road-construction equipment darkled against the sky.”
Dovletmurad Orazkuliev; New Roads in Country; Neitralnii Turkmenistan; Jul 6, 2010.

I like. I like a lot.

 


What I get out of blogging

Today I’m going to muse on a topic that has been floating around the writing industry blogosphere the past week or so — which is what writers get out of blogging and how big a ‘platform’ novelists need in order to sell books (or to even be considered for publication by the larger publishers). Anne R Allen and Roni Loren both have written great posts on the subject with lots of links.

I’m going to duck the ‘selling books’ aspect of this discussion, since that’s not exactly in my purview at the moment. But the question of platform is one that I’ve been thinking about all year, ever since I started this blog and joined twitter etc.

I first started blogging anonymously elsewhere in 2006. I had Things To Say: thoughts on books and movies, cafes and holidays, rants about the latest terrible customer service, favourite recipes… you probably get the picture. My personal writing journey featured heavily as well. What that blog doesn’t have is a distinct theme. It’s essentially a snapshot of my life.

But that blog was — and still is — as much for me as anyone else. An online diary of stuff I find interesting and inspiring and memorable. Its regular readers are my friends and family; although, as is the nature of blogs, some posts get regular external hits from googlers on the interwebs. The point is: I don’t care how many hits it gets. I keep that blog because I want to and I enjoy it.

And then last year it was borne upon me that, if I wanted to be taken seriously as a writer, I needed a public persona online. A web site that industry professionals could find and use to engage with me — should they choose to do so. It was time to be brave and eschew anonymity.

And so this blog was launched in January of this year. A blog about writing and my writing journey. A statement that I am serious and committed and passionate about being a writer.

I’ve always enjoyed blogging about writing, and a dedicated writing blog allows me to explore writing topics in more depth. The most likely audience is other writers, who can likely empathise with many of the issues I discuss, but I don’t delude myself that the majority of readers aren’t people I already know.

Should I care about the number of blog readers I have? I’ve always felt that it would be foolish to expect a high number of hits — after all, I still fall under the banner of ‘aspiring’. Sure, people I don’t know might find the odd post of interest, but why would they keep checking in to see where I’m at? (If/when I’m ever published, it would become a completely different scenario.)

I would of course like to have lots of readers. (Every writer wants an audience.) I gather the way to make blog-friends is to read everyone else’s blogs and leave comments so they come and visit yours. But, while I would love to do this in principle, I don’t know how people find the time. I regularly get overwhelmed by the number of writers — published and unpublished — who blog!

Having said that, for a successful blog you definitely need to have compelling content (and this is where the blog elite cite the Art Of Blogging). I do know of several very successful bloggers who have first novels pending — meaning they must have established their platform as unpublished writers. These writers are obviously just fantastic at the art of blogging and social networking.

(It’s worth mentioning here that some of the wider industry debate surrounds whether authors should avoid blogging about writing itself, so as not to bore readers. This obviously presupposes you have published works and a bunch of non-writerly fans. I would imagine that readers might find insight into the authorial process interesting . . . but then again that might be because I’m a writer. It would be interesting to know what proportion of non-writerly readers subscribe to the blogs of favourite authors. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the vast majority of blog readers are writers too.)

As an unpublished (fiction) writer, I’ve always been content to fly underneath the radar. My approach with blogging and social networking is no different — for better or worse. I cannot see the point of worrying about platform before I even know whether I’m a good enough writer to need one.

So I have this blog, my tiny presence on the interwebs, from which to occasionally engage with the wider community (every so often I stick my head up and leave a comment somewhere). All readers are welcome, and I’ll endeavour to be interesting and foster conversation; but my focus is (must be) on writing fiction – learning the craft, producing the words.

 


The 10 commandments according to McKee

This just arrived with me on email and I feel compelled to share:

Robert McKee’s 10 Commandments of STORY

I. Thou shalt respect thine audience.

II. Thou shalt research.

III. Thou shalt dramatize thine exposition.

IV. Thou shalt layer a subtext under every text.

V. Thou shalt create complex characters rather than merely complicated story.

VI. Thou shalt use neither false mystery nor cheap surprise.

VII. Thou shalt not use deus ex machina to get thine ending.

VIII. Thou shalt not make life easy for thine protagonist.

IX. Thou shalt take thine story into the depth and breadth of human experience.

X. Thou shalt not sleep with anyone who has more problems than thou.


Me and The Doomsday Book

Every now and then you read a novel that grips you by the throat and will not let you go until you finish it, leaving you sleep-deprived and breathless. Such an experience is often a case of instant gratification, but sometimes . . . sometimes if you’re really lucky, that novel will be so brilliant that it leaves a lasting impression and keeps you thinking about it for days afterwards (and probably forever).

This is the experience I had during the past week, when I read The Doomsday Book by Connie Willis. That is to say, I inhaled all 600-odd pages of it and am now blown away by its awesomeness. (Obviously I’m not alone, because it won just about every SF award possible when it was published back in 1992.)

I am not going to say too much about the story, because I believe this is a novel that relies on not knowing what’s going to happen for maximum impact. (Some might argue that all novels rely on this, but I actually enjoy some novels more without the suspense.) But broadly, for those who like a starting point (and you know you have to read it now), it’s set in a near-future Oxford, where historians are using time travel to do ‘field trips’ back to their chosen area of history. This is a scenario that Willis has used a few times now, including in her 2010 two-part novel Blackout/All Clear, which is also scooping all the awards this year.

In The Doomsday Book, a young undergraduate student drops back to the middle ages against advice and must deal with the terrible consequences, while in the modern world, her mentor strives to pull her out. . .

I downloaded this novel onto my kindle a few months ago upon recommendation, and was probably a little hesitant to commence reading because of the length. But I suddenly realised that Connie Willis is going to be at World Fantasy in a few weeks. . . and then I had an hour to kill between meetings last Thursday, so on a whim decided to give it a whirl (the paperback novel I was then reading being at home).

I knew fairly soon that I was hooked. After that second meeting, I read on the train on the way home. And then, at around dinner time that day, declared to the world that I was retiring to the couch with ‘a book’ for the rest of the evening. A couple of days passed and then on Sunday, I flicked on the kindle before getting out of bed. After about an hour, arrrgh! flat battery! I could only allow the time for the kindle to half-charge, but that was enough. . . Sunday afternoon and evening were consumed, leaving little more than a couple of hours’ worth to read on the Monday.

I am a really slow reader, so for me to read a 600p book in little more than two sittings is almost unheard of. In terms of time elapsed it was 5 days.

But, as I said it is not just the speed with which I read it, or the degree to which it engaged me, it’s the way it has just stayed with me. As a writer, I appreciate (am in awe of) Willis’s ability to control pacing and tension through the detailed description of the minutest of actions and interruptions — this is apparently a trademark of her writing. Moreover, although her general style is an accessible read with lashings of humour (some of it lol), she doesn’t shy away from the most horrific things happening. In fact, there is little to celebrate at the conclusion of this novel, which left me sorrowful and chilled — yet also moved almost beyond bearing.

The Doomsday Book must now go down on my list of favourite novels of all time. It’s a book I will no doubt be recommending to anyone who will listen, whether or not said individual likes science fiction (and I strongly believe that non-SF fans will like this). It’s no wonder at all that it’s already regarded as a modern classic.


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