General

Resist Your Rut

Author: November 15, 2017 0 Comments

The other day I went to the grocery store with a short list of items on a list, one of which was a certain kind of popcorn my wife, The Duchess, likes. In the popcorn aisle, however, there was confusion and despair, because I couldn’t tell which one of the several dozen varieties of popcorn my wife intended, so I took a photo of the choices and sent it to The Duchess, then called her as I moved on to gather the other items on my list. We chatted about all things popcorn while I shopped, she clarified her request, we hung up, and then I checked out without actually going back to buy the popcorn. I simply forgot all about it.

Routine is my friend largely because my memory has always been epically poor; I forget things within moments. If this were a new development in my dotage I’d be worried, but the fact is I’ve always been this way. I can forget things at a worrying pace. There’s a weird moment I’m aware of when thinking about something somehow clicks over to having done it in my brain. Like the popcorn: I thought about buying it, and therefore my brain reported it as having been bought.

As a result, I like a good rut. Putting things in exactly the same place and doing things in exactly the same way day in and day out helps me to remember things like my wallet, keys, and phone, and a routine helps me to always go to the places I need to be. Yes, I’m like a brain-damaged puppy, what of it?

This extends to my writing; I like a good rut because it means I will always find time to write. If I wing my schedule, writing often disappears because I simply run out of time. And I like to approach writing ritualistically because doing it the same way every day helps ensure I actually, you know, write. Without a routine and a rut, I’d be lost.

But sometimes, you have to break out of your rut.

Seeing the Rut

Ruts and routines are useful for getting work done, but not always useful for inspiration and creativity. Finding the balance between a routine that allows you have time to write and get words on the page and a sense of adventure that allows you to, you know, be creative and produce good work is always going to be a challenge.

One thing I try to do is to simply swap some time. For example, normally I work on freelance pay-the-bills writing in the morning and get to fiction in the afternoon, because I like to feel like I’ve paid some bills before I have fun. But sometimes it’s useful to push the freelance work and put some time into a novel in the morning. It feels like a fresh field of snow to write at a different time of day, and it tricks your brain into seeing things fresh.

Of course, even a new routine will slowly lose its freshness and become a new rut. You have to surprise yourself on a constant basis. And when in doubt, just start day-drinking. Any writing you do while drunk will be crap, but believe me, nothing blows up your routines like having a killer hangover at 3PM.

General, time management, Writing

Writing What Matters to You

Author: November 13, 2017 0 Comments

A lot of young writers get lost in the weeds, wondering what they should be focusing on. Questions like “how much should I focus on X” or “how much time should I spend on X” often show the weakness of feedback more than a weakness in your own writing; showing your work to Beta Readers opens up the floodgates for negative feedback that cause you to doubt yourself. One reader says “there’s too much focus on the back-story” leads you to scale back that aspect in a revision, but then another readers says “I need more info on their back story” and you’re in a tailspin of revisions, seeking some perfect balance that, frankly, doesn’t exist.

This leads a lot of writers to ask about specific, replicable formulas—as if there are precise values we can assign to things. You’ll never get answers to those questions, at least not meaningful ones. You can’t say “5% of your novel should be back story” or “5% of your novel should be spent on how your character lives a normal day.” It’s even more fraught in speculative fiction, where writers spend a lot of energy wondering what aspects of a fictional universe to concentrate on—like, do you have to discuss how your fictional culture views everything, from animal cruelty to humor? If so, how many words do you have to devote to the standup comedy of your fictional people?

These kinds of formulas simply do not exist. And it’s not that hard, actually. All you have to do when writing is write the stuff that matters to you, and you’ll be fine.

You Do You

The key to writing is always very simple: Write about what you’re interested in. What aspects of your character do you want to know about? What pieces of the fictional universe do you want to explore? It really is that simple. Write about the things you want to know more about, and you’ll be fine.

Because it’s impossible to cover every single detail, and not all details are created equal. It’s always useful to ask yourself who might actually care about the standup comedy routines of your alien culture, and whether it makes any difference to your plot. Not every detail you explore needs to do plot work, of course, but if there’s no plot-relevant reason for it, and you’re not particularly interested in it yourself, then … why bother writing it in?

Writing and reading are inextricably linked. If you write about the stuff you’d want to read about and forget the stuff you’re not interested in, you’re more than halfway there.

Of course, you can always overwrite and cut stuff out in revision. Which is what I do when I write about what I’m interested in and wind up with hundreds of pages of cocktail recipes.

General, worldbuilding, Writing

Mama Mia: Inspiration from Unlikely Sources

Author: November 8, 2017 0 Comments

The brain is a curious thing. As writers, we all know that lightning-bolt moment when an idea hits us. Sometimes it’s while consuming some other bit of art—a movie, or book, or TV show. We see a plot thread, or a scene that doesn’t go where we want it to go, or just a story we wish we could have come up with. In order to steal it, you have to rub off the serial number and round off the edges, and in doing so it becomes something wholly unique, wholly yours.

I don’t know about other writers, but I am less in control of this process than I’d like, because my brain serves up ideas at the oddest moments. For example, during a performance of the Broadway musical Mama Mia!

Not My Idea

I didn’t want to see Mama Mia!, my wife, The Duchess, did. This was a long time ago. I’d been struggling with a novel at the time; I’d started it a bunch of times, wallowed in tens of thousands of words that didn’t really work or gel into anything solid. The Duchess decided we had to go see the show, and so we went, and I’ll admit to being a little bored; ABBA songs are not my jam, and the story seemed a bit thin. I mean, people were having a great time, it just wasn’t for me.

So, my mind wandered. And the basic plot of Mama Mia! (a young woman invites three men who could possibly be her father to her wedding in hopes of figuring out which one is her Dad) seeped in there, and suddenly, in the middle of the performance I realized the story I was writing wasn’t about the characters I’d been focused on, but the family behind them.

The first line of the book came to me right there while the actors cavorted on the stage in their glorious 1970s disco threads: This is a story about my father. And then, I thought, after that first line there would never be a direct mention of the father at all! CLEVER.

I wrote that book. And it didn’t work. That happens sometimes; sometimes the flash of exciting inspiration doesn’t lead to a great novel.

I revised the book a few times, and finally, about ten years later, I figured it out, and it might get published someday, we’ll see. The first line is no long this is a story about my father, so it’ll be interesting to see if anyone recognizes it.

So there you go: Sometimes all you need is some disco music. Although the fact that you could bring your alcoholic beverages back to your seat might have had something to do with it, also.

General, ideas, Writing

Don’t Write Every Day

Author: November 6, 2017 0 Comments

“Writers write, every day” is one of those things you’ll hear a lot when you’re coming up as a writer. It’s one of those easy bits of advice that every single writer seems to throw around, implying that if you ever let a 24-hour period go by without putting some words down, your writing ability shrinks like some sort of role-playing character attribute afflicted by a mysterious roll of the die.

This is bullshit.

You know what? If you don’t feel like writing today, don’t. I guarantee you it won’t have any ill effects.

Making Writing a Chore

Look, as with most common advice in the writing world, there’s a kernel of goodness in the “write every day” scold. You do need to commit to writing if you’re going to finish everything, and getting words down on paper or pixel requires discipline. Boiling that down to the one size fits all admonishment that “writers write every day” takes the complex issue of how you can get work done and turns it into a flashy bit of pithy advice. In my experience, the pithier the advice, the less useful it is.

Only you know your schedule. Only you know the state of your mental exhaustion. Only you know whether you’re inspired or not tonight. And if you’re exhausted, or uninspired, there is absolutely no reason you shouldn’t take a day off and go play some video games, or read someone else’s writing. Plenty of famous, successful writers take time off from writing, sometimes going a very long time between projects. When it comes to your writing schedule, you do you.

Of course, if you always give yourself permission to do something else, you will fall into the trap this pithy advice is designed to prevent: You’ll never get anything done. The point though, is that you have to figure out how to defend against that. Maybe making yourself sit down and write every day works for you. Maybe it doesn’t. It’s up to you.

For some, the whole “writers writer every day” thing is more about identifying as a writer and less about actually creating great stories. If forcing yourself to write every day without fail works for you, great. If it doesn’t, don’t fret. You’re still a real writer.

career, General, Writing

Suck It Up

Author: November 1, 2017 0 Comments

There aren’t a lot of rules when it comes to actually writing a story or novel (I would say that, wouldn’t I, considering that’s the title of my book?). Writing a story can be accomplished in an infinite number of ways, and there are endless strategies for fixing up plots, fleshing out characters, and stringing ideas together into great concepts. There’s simply no right way to write.

There are, however, some rules that do apply to the writing life in general. One that came to mind recently was this: If you ask for feedback on a story or idea, you have to take that feedback like a grownup.

Sucking It Up

I was out with a fellow writer the other day, enjoying a few beers and chatting. The subject of his WIP came up. He’s usually a bit cagey about what he’s working on, but he smiled and asked me if he could lay out his concept for the book. I was happy to hear it, and then he asked me what I thought, and I told him: It was a great idea with a lot of potential, but the story he’d described to me was flabby. It was a series of incidents without a central conflict for the character. The incidents themselves were interesting, but it didn’t hold together as a story.

My friend didn’t like that. He didn’t complain or punch me in the nose, but he got a little … grumpy. It became obvious that he hadn’t been looking for real feedback, he’d just wanted a pat on the back. He wanted me to say wow, that’s great stuff! and move on.

And that’s bullshit. Look, if you ask someone to listen to your ideas, you have to accept the fact that just about everyone will give you at least a kernel of negative feedback. It’s human nature—what I sometimes call Challenge, Accepted! Syndrome. We all want to prove our smarts, so when you tell us your idea or give us a manuscript to read, we’ll look for stuff to critique.

It’s annoying, sometimes, and often not helpful. But it’s the way it is, and as a writer if you ask someone for feedback you cannot then complain about the quality or tone of that feedback. You have to just smile, say thanks for your thoughts, and grouse privately about it. And, very likely, slowly come to realize that there was some real truth in that negative feedback and start the sad work of dealing with it.

These moments are, after all, why beer was invented in the first place. Order another round and then get back to work.

General, Writing

Doing NaNoWriMo? Don’t Look Back

Author: October 30, 2017 0 Comments

So, it’s once again National Novel Writing Month. I’ve never personally attempted NaNoWriMo; my personal best for writing an entire novel is about three months, but that was back in my youth when my brain was more plastic and I had more of it, and also not coincidentally back before I had the Internet and enough money in the budget for decent whiskey. These days I’m not sure I have enough of either to write a book in a month.

That doesn’t mean I have no advice for you if you’re attempting NaNoWriMo yourself. Because that’s sort of what I do these days: I write novels, I wrote about other people’s novels, and I write about how to write novels. So here’s my advice for anyone attempting NaNoWriMo this year: Don’t look back.

Head Down, Hands on Keyboard

That means don’t revise. Don’t reconsider. Don’t think too hard. The NaNoWriMo train only goes in one direction: Forward.

The moment you start to wonder if the scene you just wrote matches up with what you wrote two weeks ago, you’re lost, bub. If you’re going to end the month on THE END and 50,000 words, you’ve got to just keep writing. Get to the end. Place scene after scene until you have a plot.

Because that’s what revision is for—that’s what National Novel Editing Month is for. Your NaNoWriMo book might be a hot mess, but if it’s recognizably a book you win The Internet and get to go back and spend the next month (or year, or years) fixing it up and making it into something great. But to get there you can’t get bogged down in details like, Does my story make sense?, or, Do my characters read like real people instead of Internet contraptions? Those kinds of questions will kill your forward momentum and leave you with 20,000 words that filter through your fingers like sand.

Plus, that sort of writing is fun. Even if you’re an inveterate Plotter, just saying yippee-kay-yay, motherfuckers and tapping away at the keyboard while giggling like a Batman supervillain is invigorating. No, it doesn’t always mean great writing, but it does give you a chance at finishing your novel.

Although I’d keep the cursing and giggling to a minimum if you’re writing in a public space, he said from no personal experience whatsoever.

General, NaNoWriMo, Novels, Writing

The Unexpected Journey

Author: October 20, 2017 0 Comments

Life’s funny. When I was younger, I never imagined I’d someday be a Contributing Editor at Writer’s Digest Magazine with a book on writing coming out (Writing Without Rules, natch) and a solid freelance writing career going. There was also a time when I didn’t see myself as a science fiction guy, and yet seven of my nine published novels are SFF.

On the other hand, I also never saw myself married and living with five cats. Make of that what you will.

FIVE GODDAMN CATS

The point is, your writing career may not go exactly as you imagine. When I sold my first novel, Lifers, I thought it was the first step in a very literary career; I saw myself as writing a series of realistic novels with subtle genre twists. When the book got reviewed by The New York Times I thought that was the next step. And then literally nothing much happened until I sold the sci-fi cyberpunk novel The Electric Church that I didn’t even tell my agent about until it had sold.

Every time I thought I knew where my career was going—or where it should go—I’ve been pretty much wrong. I’m at a point where I’ve stopped trying to guess—I just follow my opportunities combined with my imagination and passion, and hope that the combination of the two leads to something interesting. There’s just no point any more of trying to figure out whether a certain book will sell, or some kind of master plan for literary domination. I’m just along for the ride.

It can be frustrating to realize you’re at the mercy of forces. Forces like the market, which may or may not be buying what you’re writing. Forces like your agent or editors, who may or may not like your latest project. Forces like the fact that you need to make a living and therefore take writing jobs you might not have ever imagined yourself taking—which in turn lead to unforeseen moments of grace.

So, just write, submit, revise, and say yes to opportunities. No other strategy makes any sense.

I’d also suggest “drink heavily” as a way of blunting the horror that is writing for a living, but that seems like something y’all will figure out on your own.

career, General, Writing

Bad Ideas: Speaking in Speeches

Author: October 13, 2017 0 Comments

Everyone loves a good dramatic speech. Whether it’s the hero taking a stand against one final act of evil or humiliation, or the villain declaring his hatred for humanity on a grand scale, or even a supporting character suddenly making their case for their very existence in a story, a speech can be a powerful moment. There’s a reason, after all, that even people who’ve never read Hamlet can quote the beginning of his most famous soliloquy—because speeches kick ass.

Which is why it’s tempting to basically make your story a series of impassioned speeches by your characters. This temptation is supported by a lot of current pop-culture, as there are several TV shows on the air right now where characters basically communicate through lengthy, impassioned speeches. The folks on these shows and in these types of stories stop on a dime and launch into eloquent, frequently well-written speeches defining their worldview, or justifying an odd life decision, or just dragging another character on the carpet for bad behavior. It can be thrilling.

It’s also very bad writing.

Bringing a Gun to a Knife Fight

Speeches are powerful because of their inherent drama; in real life people rarely make lengthy speeches aside from the boring kind made at events. If someone in real life stood up in a crowded place and made a five-minute speech about why they love you, or hate you, or why they’re about to drive into the desert and leave everything behind, it’s a powerful, unexpected moment.

Like all powerful moments, you’ve got to meter your usage of them. Building up to a powerful speech for a character over the course of chapters and thousands and thousands of words? That’s effective. Having characters pause every three pages to make a speech? That’s lazy, and every time you do so you take away some of the power of the speech. Eventually, as we see on TV, speechifying becomes so familiar it becomes the new normal, and at that point the Speech as writing technique has no power left. It’s just characters interacting in stilted, unrealistic ways.

This rule isn’t limited to speeches—any writing technique can be overused. Right now speechifying has a certain currency because it retains its power while also being overused in hit TV shows and books, so it’s tempting. But bad writing is bad writing even if it’s currently having a Moment.

On the other hand, I kind of just made a speech against speeches, didn’t I? Goddammit.

General, Writing

Chasing Sales Never Works (for Me)

Author: October 4, 2017 0 Comments

I don’t know about y’all, but I always liked to imagine I was in charge of myself, of my life. That while I might not have a lot of influence on global events or the future of mankind, I did have total control over my own creative faculties. If nothing else, I could write anything, and write it well.

That’s true to a certain extent, but one area it’s never worked out is when I’ve tried to write a novel solely because I think it’s the right move career-wise, or a novel that will sell. This doesn’t work out for one simple reason: Whenever I write a book because I think I’m going to sell it it, it turns out to be a really, really shitty book.

Shitty Books, I’ve Written a Few

If you’ve written more than one novel, chances are you’ve written a shitty book or two (and sometimes all it takes is one novel, sadly). It can happen at any time, for any reason—you lose purchase on the concept or the characters or the plot, and the whole thing staggers towards the finish line as a stinking mess. You finally stick a disgusted “THE END” on its ass and stuff it into some dark closet, ignoring the smell.

Sometimes it happens just because. For me—and I’m not speaking for any other writers here—it happens most often when I try to write something for reasons other than pure inspiration. The more calculated I am, the less successful the book is. The nine novels I’ve sold have all been the result of pure inspiration instead of canny marketing speculation, and the times I’ve tried to be “smart” about the book I’m writing have always turned into abject failure.

Which is frustrating. Unless you’re selling books at a brisk pace and always signing new contracts with publishers, the thought will enter your mind that maybe you need to be more calculating. After all, the last few books your wrote in a fever of inspiration didn’t sell, or your Beta Readers didn’t like it, so why not look at what’s trending and go for that, or look back at your own past successes and try to replicate them?

And maybe for some writers that works. For me, it always ends in tears. And drinking binges.

career, General, Writing

The Ritual

Author: September 27, 2017 0 Comments

I’m a man of rituals. The less kind might say I’m a man of rigid, obsessive-compulsive behaviors, but I prefer to think of myself as an old-school guy who enjoys the ritual of things.

Take drinking. Sure, ultimately people drink for the effects: the derangement of the senses, the relaxation, the shedding of inhibitions. On a secondary level, I drink because I enjoy it—the taste, the texture, the smell. And on another level entirely, it’s the ritual: The opening of a bottle, the setting of a glass, the pouring of a finger or two of something really nice. Ordering in a bar—the entire bar ecosystem, in fact, with its code words and sub-rituals like the buy-back or the heavy pour.

Imploring the Gods

It’s the same with writing, for me. I’m one of them there “digital nomads” who can work anywhere; have Chromebook, will travel. Except of course I hate to travel and prefer to stay in my house like some sort of crab monster, scuttling about. My house is where I keep my liquor, after all.

But when it comes to writing, I have my rituals, and I love them. When I worked on a manual typewriter, I used to thrill at the act of sliding a page onto the drum and then hitting the space bar four times to indent a new paragraph—it was something I did several times every day, and it always brought a sense of excitement. These days the typewriter is stored away, sadly, but an echo of the ritual remains when I open a document and search for “xxxx,” my placeholder for where I left off, or when I set up a new document with a header: Somers | Title (word count): Page.

On the flip side, sometimes breaking the ritual is just as exciting. Sometimes rituals are traps, and you get caught up in doing things the same way all the time, so suddenly doing everything differently can be freeing and exciting. It feels wrong in a wonderful way for a while, stirring up the sediment of your thoughts, making things float up that would have remained lost otherwise.

I just enjoy the ritual of it. Sitting at that certain spot, using those particular tools (a blue ink pen of specific brand, a college-ruled notebook, the aforementioned Chromebook). It’s part of the pleasure of creation.

Now, when you mix the writing ritual with the drinking ritual, that’s when things get really interesting. Usually in an unfortunate way that requires emailed apologies and dry-cleaning.

General, Writing