Yet it excites me.

I suspect that in every successful creative career, there’s a point where the artist took a risk. I took a slight risk self-publishing Make a Move, but I was reasonably confident I’d at least make my money back. It wasn’t a leap of faith. This… is something of a different magnitude.

I needed to capture this moment so I could look back at it later – either to recall this feeling of fear in taking a risk, or to loathe myself for being a loser and not jumping for it. It might not work out; there might be too many obstacles in the way, and it’s an idea I have to “sell” to at least two different parties, but I’m more interested in finding out how I respond to this situation as/if it develops. Details, hopefully, to follow.

And don’t worry, Make a Move fans: Freddy, Jay and Holly WILL be back soon. This project, by its nature, would have to be a very fast turnaround, and it could be the creative burn I need to get Make a Move 2 fired up.

I’d like to say I don’t need the validation, but I do. I can’t take myself out of the equation as I wrote the thing, so I need someone else to do that for me.

I’ve done everything I can to make sure the book receives a sympathetic review (apart from getting a friend to review it, which is ultimately pointless). I chose a local publication with a readership that sits squarely in my target demographic, and I queried the literary editor without sending in the book, who is now keen to review it himself after reading the blurb I sent. So far, it all looks good, but I’m not making any assumptions; I need this review to be objective, which means no safety net.

I’ll post a link to the review (if it’s also in the online edition of the paper) once it’s out.

Fingers crossed…

So, this post isn’t writing advice; it’s just some changes I made to my writing and life styles that got me through Make a Move, and that are on my mind as I plan book two. Maybe there’s something in here that will inspire you to make your own changes.

The List

• Don’t plan in too much detail. If you already know every last plot detail of a book, there’s nothing left for you, as the author, to discover. If the writing of a book isn’t filled with delights and surprises, it’s just work, and most day jobs pay better.
• Make it as easy as possible to write. For me, this meant buying a new battery for my laptop and taking it with me everywhere. A lot of people create a sanctuary of creativity in which to work – a haven of peace and inspiration. If you need that to write, what are you doing when you’re not in it?
• Stop watching tv. Okay – this was one bit of advice I did take on board from Stephen King (in his book, On Writing), but I added my own twist. I like tv – I think Make a Move would make a great tv show, so I’m not going to dismiss it, either as an art form or a source of inspiration. What I did instead was to break my watching habits so I watch a show in my own time, rather than when it’s on. I have Sky+ for that, but there are many ways to “time-shift” your viewing (legally…): HD/DVD recorders, catch-up tv services, hell – even a VCR. The trick is to get out of that mentality that tells you “it’s 9pm, time for show X”; that hard stop is like an incoming truck ready to crush your productivity. And try to limit yourself to having one or two shows on the go at a time unless you’re working to a 30-hour day.
• Create demand. The first book you write has nobody waiting on it, so the only pressure to complete it comes from within. If you can, deliver it to your first readers in stages, so that their expectation for subsequent parts is driving you. Make a Move is written in six episodes, so it’s perfect for this, but any book can be broken up during the writing. Those smaller project goals make it easier to keep going too.
• Write something new. Okay – this is a contentious one, but it applies to me, and that’s what this list is about. If you’re writing your own take on a story that’s already in print, all you’re doing is walking in someone else’s footprints, and chances are, their story was pretty good (or why else did you read it) so you’re setting the bar even higher than it needs to be. My biggest issue with this approach is that I feel like I’m copying/rehashing/riding coat-tails (choose a term based on which is least offensive to you), and I can’t think of anything more likely to sap energy and creativity. If you think you’re in familiar territory, make it REALLY different. Play with textures of writing, with readers’ expectations. Break the rules. And if you’re convinced that you can’t get away from that previous work, ask yourself if there’s even a need for your book. Maybe you should move onto the next idea instead.

Like I said, this isn’t advice; it’s just a summary of the thought processes that got me where I needed to be, but like I said above, people love to give advice, so I’m going to give in to temptation and share one cast-iron writing tip:

Adverbs are for children.

The commercial viability of books, and how some books are too niche to sell enough copies to justify the setup costs, is one of the main arguments of the “gatekeepers” – those who decide who does and doesn’t warrant a book deal, namely agents and editors. It’s a fair point; if a book is going to lose money, you’d hope they wouldn’t print it, especially if you have shares in their employer. It’s a shame, then, that so many vocal supporters of the gatekeeper model are so negative about the alternative – namely indie publication (whether small-press or self-published). Books published through these channels are so often dismissed as “not good enough”, but the fact that they could just be “too niche” is never considered.

I don’t think Make a Move is niche (in fact, my current readership is more diverse than I dared to hope for) so this isn’t about me. It’s about a segregated market – and the colour and variety that can provide – being hindered by a curious, self-defeating world view of the mainstream.

I’m not sure what the cause of this view is, but whenever I see some unfair disparity in a situation involving massive numbers of unconnected people, I just assume it’s fear, and it usually is. I know that makes me sound old and bitter (I’m 35, and reasonably equanimous) but I’m pretty sure it’s the case here. Maybe it’s the fear that with the advent of eBooks, there’ll never be another Harry Potter (there won’t – piracy guarantees it) but maybe the real fear is that we might see a literary Blair Witch Project. Now that would upset the apple cart.

It’s not a polished theory, but it’s an interesting notion, and one I’m going to explore more.

Thoughts?

Fair enough. Money and celebrity – or lack of – seem to be the benchmarks for success in modern culture, so let’s assume the masses know something I don’t.

So what if you can’t make it through that process, and you’re stuck without an agent? Would you keep trying for a year? Of course. How about 10 years? Maybe. How about your whole life? What if the inability to get a deal on your first book is mentally holding you back from writing your second? Would you blow your entire career waiting for someone to give you a chance?

Or would you try something else?

The Past

I submitted Make a Move to 5 agents and publishers. These were people/companies who’d expressed a taste for the kind of work my book vaguely falls into, so I thought they’d be worth a try. As I’ve said before, Make a Move is a hard sell, and I targeted people I thought would give it more than the cursory look it needs to understand why it exists. I got stock rejections from all but one of them. I was ok with that, as I’d prepared myself for that rejection, but I admit I was disappointed. A bit.

About that time, people were arriving in my life who helped me break out of that linear mindset, and stimulated me to look at other options. Readjust my perspective. Break out of the box. I recalibrated my definition of success and what my goals were in getting Make a Move out. I looked at the money in my bank account, decided that having more of it wasn’t going to make me any happier, and thought hard about what I needed from my writing. I needed connections. Ideas. Human interaction. Life.

And all of those things were there for the taking, without needing a single nod of approval from anyone in “the process”.

It’s been two months since I released Make a Move, and in that time I’ve met more cool people than I have in the previous two years. I’ve created relationships. I’ve given people ideas. I’ve changed.

The Present

I received some comments today that implied that I’m nothing more than a vanity publisher, and that my book, by definition, must bite. It’s not the first time. What was scary to witness though, was that the negativity was aimed at myself, and another writer, who have both put out work online for free download, and who are both “out there”, and that it originated from a number of unpublished, unrepresented, unfinished writers. It’s the internet, and we all know the joke about arguing on the internet, so I left it, withdrew with my honour intact, and thought about what I’d learned. And what I learned is this:

People need the validation the system gives them, as they’re too scared to say “my work is good enough to sell”. They cling to that system, even when it steals their productive years from them. Sure, the system keeps mediocre or even terrible books off the shelves, but there are more good writers than there are publishing slots, so good writers – good people – are going to be left behind.

The Future

I’m not turning my back on the system – I’d love to land a deal with a reputable publisher who could get me into the big retailers – but I’m not waiting around either. I’ll send some more submissions once I have time, but I know that establishing a readership is probably the only way I’ll find someone willing to give Make a Move a read with a view to taking it on. A lot of people dedicated to the process would call that arrogant; I call it self-aware. A lot of people would say I’ve given up; I say I’ve opened myself up to possibilities.

I’ve been thinking for some time that I’m too tuned-in to the internet and the ideas and opinions of its denizens, and today confirmed that. I’ve found a few good people online whose opinions I know I can trust, but aside from them, I’m going to tune out the noise . Take a step back and focus. Enjoy this new clarity.

I’m going to go non-linear for a while.

The cool part was that, although one of the guys ran around the square to collect donations from the appreciative crowd, that wasn’t why they were here. They’d set up to hang out, practice and maybe make a few euros, and everyone – from the crowd, to the diners at the adjacent cafes, to the owners/staff at those cafes – was cool with them being there. I was happy taking photos from a way back, staying out the way, but then this guy took a turn:

That’s his fricking elbow!

OK, so I figured these guys had some real ability, and I wanted some good shots, but they were in the middle of the square and I didn’t have my longest lens with me. So, I jettisoned my English reserve and got in close, which got me this shot:

Note that his hands aren’t touching the floor… This shot took some catching…

I’d chucked the guys some euros, so they were happy to be photographed, and even framed a few shots for me:

The light at that time was amazing, so I’ve left these pretty much as-shot, but that last one was screaming for a black-and-white conversion. Notice the guy on his bike in the background, just hanging out, trying some tricks – young Parisians having fun.

I was really happy with how these photos came out, not least because I gained a lot of confidence in getting in close and putting myself in the scene, if not in the picture. I guess that’s the more personal story I took away from this encounter: how I found the confidence to tune out my surroundings when I’ve got my camera and a picture to take, and how photography can be an enabler – placing you into the moment, rather than shielding you from that slice of life with a hermetically-sealed lens.

So far so good.

One indie publisher I queried seemed particularly well-thought-of, having won awards for their trade, and were advertising a willingness to view work of the type I was sending, so I had high hopes that this might be “The One”. I was reminded of that submission a couple of days ago when I received an email advertising their print-on-demand service, the second (or third?) I’ve received from them. Their service is actually a bit more than print on demand, as they’re offering to pick up top-selling POD titles with a “traditional” contract, so they’re effectively asking you to pay some money, do all of their marketing, promotion and market research for them, and they’ll step in at the last moment to pick up a sure-fire hit. Good business for them, but not for me, so I passed.

Thing is, this is the only communication I received following my submission about nine months ago. I didn’t even get a rejection letter.

If I was feeling charitable, I’d suggest a slip on their part that is not the normal way they treat people, but I’m not feeling charitable today, so I can only see it as a marketing ploy of questionable ethics. They offer a potential publishing opportunity, attract a market of writers keen to get published in an increasingly impenetrable industry, and make it as easy as possible for you to give them your email address for their direct marketing. That first advertising email from them shattered a few illusions I had, and I felt thoroughly let down, to the point that I’ve only now felt able to write about it dispassionately.

One other publisher failed to respond, but they’re much bigger and, to be honest, it’s easier to dismiss if you’re expecting it, but that’s kind of the point of this post. Email is easy and free, and that perceived lack of value impacts on how people behave in response to it. If you send a paper submission with return postage, the recipient is compelled to respond, but with email, it hasn’t cost you anything, so people find it easier to let their manners slip.

I wrote before about how the perception of poor quality in one self-published book affects all self-publishing writers negatively, and I don’t want to reinforce negative preconceptions about independent publishers and small presses by suggesting this behaviour is commonplace. It isn’t, and most indies are far more open and engaged than their larger, traditional counterparts, and should be a valid, if not preferred, target for your submissions. Just take care, do your research, and don’t be surprised if your eSubmission fails to find its way back to you.

And, no, I’m not naming names.

The Reasons

The following reasons are not stating why you should self-publish; they’re just why I did.

• Make a Move is a VERY difficult pitch, which means it’s hard for an agent to work out how to sell it to publishers, and it’s hard for publishers to work out how to sell it to customers. Try this on for size: it’s a thriller populated by slackers, it’s about spies, but there’s little-to-no spycraft; it’s set in a porno cinema, but it’s not smutty, and the narrative structure is stolen from a sit-com. Would you pick it up for publication? Explaining the book takes time, and doesn’t fit into the paragraph or two available on a cover letter, so I decided to get the book out there, so it might find readers with the time to explore and understand it, who could then pass that knowledge on, and eventually word might reach an agent or editor looking for something different. Of course, editors aren’t looking for something different, they’re looking for something “original”, which I guess means different things to different people, but publishing is in flux right now, and who knows what opportunities that could create.
• Even if I could get a book deal, it wouldn’t pay very much. I’ve read the figures and I know the chances of getting a bestseller and being able to write full-time. Looking at it pragmatically, it ain’t gonna happen. I enjoy my day-job and it pays well, so if I’m not trying to get the book published for money, why give up the rights and control when I can do this myself? A lot of the process of self-publishing is hard work, but there’s a lot of fun to be had too. And I don’t need a publisher to arrange the fun stuff, such as networking and promotion. I’ve met some cool people in Manchester since I started this process, and while I’m in control, there’s no reason that can’t continue. As long as I’m chasing fun and not money, I can’t go wrong.
• Make a Move is the first in a series of 3-or-so books, and that series is dead while the first instalment is stagnating on my hard disk. I NEEDED to get the book out. I’ve nearly sold out the first print run, which means I’ll soon have 100 readers. Then I’ll have 200 (my target). Then I’ll have 1000 (my dream). That’s impetus enough to keep writing these characters, and that’s really all this is about. Me, Freddy, Jay and Holly, seeing how far we can take this.

So that’s honestly why I made this choice. You should make it for different reasons, as it’s your time and money you’re investing, and those reasons have to sustain you when times get hard. And they will get hard. But as long as you’re doing it for reasons that are right for you, there’ll be easy, fun, fulfilling, creative times too.

It’s easy to tell yourself to remain detached, to not let emotion dictate your business decisions, but the cost of that second print run has been bothering me, and I’ve delayed and delayed as a result. The first print run broke even a while back, so all of my financial risk so far has been offset, but I still have a lot of books with retailers on sale-or-return terms. They’re selling, but I won’t see that money for another couple of months yet so, financially, I’m back to square one.

On Saturday, I spoke to a retailer who expressed an interest in placing an order this week, so after I left the shop on a high, I did a quick mental count, and if I place, say, ten books with the store, I have maybe ten or eleven copies left. Hang on… The print process takes three working weeks, and I wanted to keep five books for myself to put into storage as an investment for if/when my career takes off, so that leaves six copies available to last three weeks. The absolute minimum I’ve sold in a week is two copies, so the bottom line is, I’m out of stock.

The Moral of This Story

I’m an idiot.

Yes, I shouldn’t have been so cautious and should have ordered early. But I’m learning, and I’ve learned from this mistake, and it’s a mistake I can share as a lesson for others following the same path.

In summary: grow a pair and re-order early.

On the bright side, it does mean that the first printing has nearly sold out, so I can’t really complain, but it’s going to be a tense three weeks until the new stock arrives.

So why promote it?

Because it’s that good. Writing with Scrivener is the one piece of advice I’d give any writer looking to be more productive, experimental and successful. I wrote the first draft of Make a Move in Microsoft Word, which was fine, but Episode 6 came out all wrong and needed a thorough rewrite.  I’d seen Scrivener, and decided to try it out to see if it would make the rewrite easier. I imported my Word doc, sliced the scenes up into separate files, then moved them around to fix the structure, making notes on each scene that needed fixing in more detail. I was impressed with how easy editing was in the application, so I bought a license. As I used it more, the further the application faded into the background, just letting me research, plot, write and edit as I wanted without any intrusive, misjudged design decisions interrupting my flow.

There’s one problem with Scrivener: it’s Mac-only, which means I need to write the following section to clear a couple of things up.

MacTruths

Disclaimer number 2: I like Macs, and I’m writing this on one, but I don’t hate Windows, and only mildly dislike Linux. I installed Windows 7 on my Mac for some gaming, and I like it a lot. This part isn’t about why you should switch to Mac, it’s about the realities of switching to Mac for Scrivener.

Apple computers are expensive. If you don’t have the best part of a grand (sterling) to spend on a computer, you’re not going to be buying a new Mac. But this is the buy-in price, not the total cost of ownership (TCO), and that’s what matters to me. If you buy a £500 Windows laptop, after four years it will be completely outdated and be worth nothing on the second-hand market. If you buy a base-spec Macbook (just over £800 at time of writing) after four years it will be worth around £200-300 and will sell very easily, so at a push, the TCO of the Mac is £100 more than the Windows laptop, or the same if it’s in great condition and you have a keen buyer. I’m not going to talk about bundled software, pre-installed adware, viruses, build quality or image as, like Scrivener, this is just about writing.

Regardless of TCO, that buy-in price – even on the entry-level machines – is a lot of money, but that second-hand Mac market I mentioned works both ways. You could pick up an Intel-based Macbook for a couple of hundred pounds and it would run Scrivener, as well as Office for Mac, iTunes, an email client and a web browser with speed to spare. Go back further, and as Scrivener still runs on the old PowerPC-based systems (PowerBook/iBook), you can get even more of a bargain. As long as you can install Mac OS 10.4 Tiger on it, it’ll run Scrivener.

Back to the App

So what is it that makes Scrivener so good? In short, it’s everything you need to write.

• Any research/bookmarking applications you use can go, as Scrivener lets you drag almost any digital content into the interface to file away for reference; videos, web pages, text snippets, images, music files – they’re all supported and can be viewed/played right in the application. And it doesn’t matter how much information you drag into the application, as Scrivener uses Mac OS’s Spotlight search to let you find anything within a couple of seconds. Imagine taking your cork board and filing systems with you wherever you go, but actually being able to find things too! This is actually my favourite thing about Scrivener: as all of your research is portable, you’re not tied to that restrictive concept of your “writing space”, so you’re free to write when and where the mood takes you.
• Scrivener lets you outline in a number of ways, but regardless of your method, nothing you write is lost. Add notes to a scene in the inspector, separate from the body text of the scene file, and it can be used later to generate the skeleton of a synopsis, to mark up editing ideas, or to keep a to-do list for that section. And again, this meta-text is searchable.
• Scrivener supports experimentation. If you want to rewrite a scene but don’t know exactly how to do it, just take a snapshot and go for it, knowing you can roll it back if it goes wrong. And if you’re not sure where a scene should sit in the narrative, just switch to the virtual cork board and play around. Drag scenes into whatever order your feel like trying. Go nuts.
• Scrivener doesn’t dictate style or structure in any way. They’re your ideas and words, and Scrivener respects that.
• Scrivener is tidy. Everything is stored in a single database file, so there are no folders full of drafts and ideas to keep track of. Okay, so I still have folders elsewhere, but it’s a habit I’m determined to kill off. That single database file is so easy to backup too – either copy it manually, or zip it up and backup to another location from within the application. I have a local backup running under Time Machine and I also backup a zip every couple of days to an online directory. Scrivener makes it easy to keep my work safe.
• It’s cheap. Not as in rushed or basic, but as in around $40 (at time of writing).

So what else does it do?

• Fullscreen Mode – black out the rest of your desktop, and the application, and just write in plain text without distractions
• Google search within the editor, and Dictionary/Thesaurus and Spelling/Proofreading tools provided by Mac OS – with an internet connection, you have almost all of the research tools you need.
• Cross-file linking – allows you to link to other scenes or research information using a hyperlink, building navigation into your manuscript to aid in cross-checking. All the links are removed when you export the final draft, of course.
• Spotlight search EVERYWHERE – if you want to see every occurrence of a character’s name, or you know someone said something, but not when, you can search for it and see the results almost instantly. There’s no need to step through a document again and again using Find Next.
• Scriptwriting support – full auto-formatting support for scriptwriters. I never thought I’d use it when I bought it, but it was in there for when I found I needed it. Like I said above, Scrivener just replaces the need for other applications.

Of course there are some weaknesses in the application. I understand that Final Draft is more full-featured as a scriptwriting tool, and Scrivener lacks the formatting options of a standalone word-processor such as Microsoft Word or even Apple’s Pages, but this is about writing and story and ideas and pure, uninhibited creativity, not about industry standards and anchored frames. It’s easy to get caught up in the hunt for new software that will make you write better/faster/stronger – I’ve seen it happen and felt the pull of new software demos, but there really is only one 30-day trial I’d recommend, and it’s at www.literatureandlatte.com, along with an active forum and lots of tips, tricks and tutorials.

So, in summary, if you want writing advice, get Scrivener.