Showing posts with label Neal F. Litherland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Neal F. Litherland. Show all posts

Friday, October 26, 2018

The Thousand Masks of God (A Writing Trick For Fantasy)

If you're a fan of fantasy, chances are good you've noticed how crowded the field of the divine can be. This can be particularly problematic in this genre because deities are assumed to be real forces in a lot of fantasy stories (particularly when their servants are the ones standing in as heroes or villains, and drawing their power from that divine source), and thus they represent a major force within the world.

There is an old trick regarding the divine, though, that you can use to clean up the field. I call it the Thousand Masks of God.

For who truly knows what the divine is?

What Is That?


The Thousand Masks of God is a simple idea, and it's one you've probably seen before if you're a fan of fantasy. It's the idea that there is only one set of gods (or sometimes only one god), and that these divinities appear to different cultures in different ways. Sometimes this is done on purpose (a divinity that appears as an old, bearded man to one culture, but a young mother to another), and other times it's human error (due to cultural differences, two very different people received two very different interpretations of the same being, and the same event), but the point is that there is actually a small number of divine forces at work in the world no matter how many different gods people think they're worshiping under different names.

Let's take a real-world example. Many cultures have a patriarch god in their pantheons; the Greeks had Zeus, the Norse had Odin, and so on, and so forth. Under the Thousand Masks of God, those patriarchs would all be the same divinity. While each might capture an aspect of him, they are just a hint of the true nature of that god. None are false, but each is only a singular aspect, seen through the lens of that particular culture.

What's The Purpose?


As a writing/world-building tool, this trick offers you a couple of different advantages. First and foremost, it means that you only have a handful of divinities to keep track of in your world's events and struggles. Secondly, it allows you the opportunity to give your characters (and through them your reader) a peek behind the curtain at pivotal, important points in the story (assuming you're going to reveal the true nature of the divine, which is a necessity if you're going to use this setup). Most importantly, though, this trick allows you to hand-wave away multiple pantheons or deities existing when their doctrine expressly says they're the only gods, or the only true gods.

That escape hatch comes in handy if you want to portray something like angels, demons, rakshasa, etc. in a way that seems to run counter to their presented mythology. Because if these beings, and those who control them, are only glimpsed through a mirror darkly, it's not always possible to understand their true motivations. Especially if you throw in Orange and Blue Morality on top of flawed human understanding.

To Be Clear, You Aren't Blowing Any Minds


That's your prose's job.
Every writer discovers the tools of the trade in different ways, and one of the most frustrating experiences you can have is thinking you've discovered something new and unique that's actually been done a thousand times before by writers you've never heard of. This trick is one of those things I thought most writers knew about, but there are always new folks coming into the fold who think this idea is groundbreaking.

Let me be clear, it isn't. Also, if you're concerned with being new, unique, and original, then writing may not be the career for you. Every story has been told before; the best you can do is hope to tell it in a new way that everyone really likes.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing installment. If you liked it, and would like to see other examples of my work, then check out my Vocal archive. Also, don't forget to follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter to get all of my recent updates and releases. If you'd like to support me you could Buy Me A Ko-Fi as a one-time tip, become a patron on The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a regular, monthly tipper, or you could go to my Amazon author page to Buy My Books!

Whatever method you choose, know that I'm grateful for any support you can offer!

Wednesday, August 1, 2018

Authors, Remember, You Don't Have To Re-Invent The Wheel

If you're an author, then chances are you want your stories to stand out. You want to be thought of as new, unique, fresh, and different both from those who came before you, as well as from your contemporaries. Speaking as someone who enjoys experimenting with genre mash-ups, I get this feeling. However, I have a piece of advice I'd like to share for all the folks out there getting brain cramps from their mental gymnastics.

Don't try so hard to be different that you lose sight of what you're here to do.

Seriously, it's okay to use an old mold. You don't have to start from scratch.

Store Bought Is Just Fine


Have you ever tried to cook something from scratch? Whether you were baking a cake, or making your grandmother's old meatloaf, it was probably a great deal more difficult than using store bought ingredients, and just whipping them together. And sometimes that effort is really worth it. Sometimes, though, there's no way to tell the difference between homemade and store bought. Even if you put ten times as much sweat, effort, and swearing into doing it the hard way.

Writing is kind of like that.

Let's say, for example, you want to tell a high fantasy story. However, you want to stand apart from other entrants into the genre, so you do your best to scrape off all the serial numbers you can find. Traditional elves, dwarves, and orcs? Nope, they're gone. Then you go through the traditional bestiary, and you toss out all the dragons, ogres, trolls, unicorns, and other stuff. You flip the assumption of a human-centric world, and put a different creature at the top of the food chain. You make your own magic system, you add in non-medieval technological elements, and you put together a massive timeline of events for how your world got to be the way it is.

There's nothing wrong with any of these changes... provided they are in the service of your story, themes, and narrative. As soon as you start making changes just to be different, that's when you can end up cutting off your nose to spite your face.

And that won't get you anywhere.
As an example, say you choose to keep the basic archetypes of fantasy races (the long-lived ones, the not-quite-as-long-lived crafters and enchanters, the humans, the bigger, tougher humans who are a different color, and at least one race that's like humans, but tiny), but you rename them something specific for your world. Nothing says you can't, but you need to ask why you're putting in all that effort (and asking your readers to learn a bunch of new names and titles)? Is it because your creatures are already different enough from their store-bought variety that your readers would have trouble thinking of your red-skinned Marat as orcs, or your insectoid immortals as elves? Or is it just because you want to avoid as many familiar touch-stones as possible?

Changing something because it adds to your story, or because it supports the themes you're working with is good. Avoiding tropes that have become problematic, or even regressive, is great. However, refusing to use something because it might be considered a trope, or because someone else did something similar in their world so yours has to be different, is just punishing yourself for no reason. And worse, it's possible that if you don't use any trope, or have anything that feels familiar, your readers might feel lost instead of intrigued. So change responsibly, and make sure the changes you do make are always in the service of the story, world, and theme rather than out of a need to try treading fresh ground.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing advice. For folks who'd like more of my work, check out my Vocal archive. To stay on top of all my releases, follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you'd like to help support me, consider Buying Me A Ko-Fi, or dropping me a tip over on The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page.

Thursday, March 29, 2018

Want To Make Money Writing? Check Out Vocal!

Writing is hard. Getting paid for writing is even harder. Because in this age of instantaneous entertainment, where even the most obscure novel can be at your fingertips in seconds, it seems like more companies than ever before are trying to get writers to work purely for the exposure (as evidenced by companies like the Huffington Post asking to publish Wil Wheaton's work as a way to "take advantage of their unique platform").

Trust me, grocery stores don't take that shit in trade.
That's why I try to test the places I find that purport to pay writers for their work, and those who past the acid test get shared with you find folks. Like how, a while back, I wrote Make Money Writing (By Joining Infobarrel.com) after I'd put together an archive, looked at the metrics, and gotten a sense for the return on investment for work you put on there.

That's also why, this week, I'd like to let you all know about Vocal.

What Is Vocal? How Well Does It Pay?


To paraphrase the search results, Vocal is a long form social publishing platform where contributors are paid based on their personal traffic streams. Or, translated into common English, Vocal is a place that pays you for the traffic all the articles you write earn. All you have to do is sign up, write something, submit it for publication, and soak up reads.

Yeah... but how many readers do I need to get paid?
I've been contributing to Vocal since last summer, and I've amassed a small archive of my own. As such, I can tell you with some authority that it takes about 300 reads to earn $1. Not that I said reads, not views. People who just glance at your content don't count; they have to go through what you wrote, and actually take it in.

Fortunately, that's easier than it sounds. Doubly fortunate is the fact that Vocal has so many different sites under a single umbrella. So whether you want to write about sex (and put your articles on Filthy), or you want to write about games (and put your articles on Gaming), there's a site on Vocal for that. From dating and music, to politics and life hacks, there are all kinds of options out there. And as soon as you hit $35 in your archive, you can request a payment through Stripe. A few days later, bam, cash in your account.

How Much Do You Want To Make?


Most people ask how much they can make, but that's the wrong question for the setup Vocal uses. Instead, you should ask how many reads you can get for your content. Because some pieces I've written, like It's Okay To Admit There Are Problems In Your Hobby or 10 Signs You're Actually A Dom got thousands of reads when they first went up, and they've had fairly steady traffic since then. On the other hand, articles like What Are Charity Arcades? have barely broken 100 reads, and haven't generated a lot of ongoing interest since I put them up.

So, long story short, it's a popularity contest.

Fortunately, the more you write, and the more you build up your audience, the bigger your views get. Even if you only write a few articles a month, it's perfectly possible to make at least the minimum $35 every month. Two if you're slow in your marketing. As to the maximum... like I said, how many reads will you be able to get?

That's all for this week's Business of Writing update. Hopefully it helped some folks out there. If you want to see some of the different kinds of content the site accepts, check out my Vocal archive. For those who want to keep up-to-date on my latest releases, simply follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you want to help support my work, go to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page, or click here to Buy Me A Coffee.

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Making A Living As A Writer is A Waiting Game

Anyone who has followed this blog for any length of time has likely noticed I talk a lot about how authors need to get paid. I've mentioned sites like InfoBarrel that pay authors based on their traffic, I've talked about what a lifesaver Patreon is, and I've even put out a list of 5 questions you should ask every freelance client before you agree to take on a project.

Today, though, I'd like to talk about time. Because time is the reason almost every freelance writer I know is broke as shit.

The check's in the mail. What do you mean PayPal only takes a few minutes?
Let me put something into perspective for you, just to clear the air a bit. If every client who owes me money paid up right now, I would have nearly $2,000 in my hand. Some of those projects have been done for a few days. Some of them have been done for months. But the point is, I have a lot of clients who owe me money.

And you know what? Most of them are going to keep owing me money for the foreseeable future. That's not a flaw of the system as it stands... that's how it's supposed to work.

Just Because You're Done, Doesn't Mean You Get Paid


Under normal circumstances, being a freelancer is pretty simple. You show up, do the job, and the client pays you. Whether you're cutting their grass, repairing a roof, building a website, or drawing up a piece of art, once you turn in the project the client hands you a check.

Sometimes that's how it works when you're a writer. If you're really lucky, you can even get a portion of your fee up-front as a kind of deposit. But most of the time you don't get paid until your work is actually published by the client. Sometimes you don't get paid until a month or more after your work is finally printed.

Does that mean what it sounds like it means?
Yep. It means that sometimes when I complete a piece of work for a client, and it goes onto the pile, I get paid right away. More often than not it takes a 1-3 months for a client to cut me the check they owe me. Sometimes it can take 6-8 months before the work I did transforms into money in my pocket.

Problem is, I need to eat, and I've got a landlord that expects a check by the 5th.

Why Don't You Just Negotiate A Better Contract?


This is probably the most common question I get asked, and the query always comes from people who don't work as freelancers, and who have never worked as writers. So, let me turn the question around on you. Why don't you walk into your boss's office and say, "Hey Greg, got a spot of bad news. This job you want me to do? Yeah, I'm going to need you to up my wages if you want it done faster. Also, I expect to be paid at the end of this week, not two weeks from now."

Now, if you're really good at your job, and your boss values you, he might be willing to play ball. If you've worked for him a long time, and he knows you would be hard to replace, he might be willing to meet you in the middle on some things. But if there are thousands of people waiting outside who'd be happy to do the job you've got problems with, then Greg will tell you to clean out your desk so someone who doesn't complain as much can take over.

The button on the boss's desk is black, with flaming red letters.
If you're a freelancer, you have pretty much no power. So yes, if you want to be paid on acceptance, rather than publication, you can ask that your clients do that. If the client says, "no, we're not doing that," then you either have to take the job anyway, or wait for a unicorn to come walking by.

I don't know a single writer out there who wouldn't love to have a unicorn of their very own. But most of us have never found one, so we take the work we get, and hope that the due date on our bills happens to match up with when our checks finally clear.

You Can Take It Into Your Own Hands... If You Have Time


A lot of people also ask why I spend all this time and effort working for clients when I could just write for myself. Cut out the middle man, and release my work directly to the masses. After all, self-publishing is a huge thing now, and it can make mad returns.

It can. However, you know what self-publishing also takes? Time.

Me Again!
I have a novel manuscript sitting on my computer right now. I could format it, put together a cover, and release it by the beginning of next week. I could launch a promotional campaign for it over the next few months, complete with free samples and giveaways. But you know what that would likely gain me, if I went by both previous experience and numbers for the genre? Maybe $50 or so by the end of the year. $100 if I manage to intrigue more folks than usual. That's not much for a season worth of work, and that's not even including the year and a half it took to write and edit the novel in the first place.

The same is true for blogs, or for stand-alone articles; you need time to build a following, and an archive. You can't just sit down one day to self-publish a new blog, or a YouTube channel, or an article, and expect to make bank by the end of the month. Building those endeavors up can take a year, or longer, depending on your audience, niche, release schedule, etc.

And if you're some nobody who doesn't even show up in a Google search? Then you're running a race against time while wearing lead boots.

Are You Damned If You Do, And Damned If You Don't?


Yes and no. One of the supreme ironies of this trade is that the longer you work at it, and the more contacts you make, the less often you have to deal with long waiting periods, and uncertain pay dates. If you develop a close relationship with your stable of clients, then they will make sure you have the funds you need, and that you have them promptly, because they value your work. They've come to know you, and your reputation, and they don't want to take the energy or the risk of getting someone else to do your job.

Again, though, that takes time. Years of time, barring some extremely good fortune.

I say all this not to try and make you feel sorry for me, dear readers, or to feel sorry for my fellow freelancers that we are poor, mistreated souls. I'm just trying to relay the reality of the industry we work in, and how frustrating it is when you have to pay for Ramen with the change from your piggy bank, even though you have thousands of dollars worth of work that will be hitting your account any day now.

Any day now...

If you'd like to help contribute to my financial stability, and ensure I keep this blog going, why not head over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page? If you become a patron, and contribute at least $1 a month, I've got a whole pile of swag to send you as a thank you. That's all for my Business of Writing post this week, though, and if you want to keep up to date on my future posts you should follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Stop Talking About How Your Writing Sucks!

As writers, we all have moments of doubt. Those times where we look at our work, and just shake our heads at what we've done. Those times when we think about wiping the screen, and starting over from scratch. For a lot of us, though, these are private struggles. Moments we have when we're home alone, or that we'll sometimes share with a friend who understands our creative process, and who can sympathize with our frustration. Generally speaking, though, we keep these moments of doubt to ourselves.

There are some of us, though, who don't. There are some writers who proclaim loudly, and almost proudly, that their work flat-out sucks.

Yes, we're just as sick of them as you are.
If you are one of those writers, I am here to tell you on behalf of the rest of the community that it's time to shut up. Because if you really felt your work was that bad, you would have quit by now.

Honey, Tell Me I'm Not Fat


Proclaiming your work to be awful, and yourself to be a no-talent fake, is the literary equivalent of the sort of compliment fishing we often see in romantic relationships. If you've never been in a relationship, here's how it works. It starts with one partner will say something loud and derogatory about themselves. Maybe a wife says she's fat, or a husband says he's stupid. Most of the time they don't really believe these things. What they want is for their significant other to pat their hand, kiss their forehead, and say no, that's not true. Your waistline is just fine. You're smarter than people give you credit for.

Really, your story is very good.

Seriously, no one has time for your bullshit, guys.
If you really believed your work was bad, would you go on social media to tell all your friends and family about it? Would you spend hours on writing forums telling people that you just didn't have it? And if you really believed these things, would you provide samples of your work to prove to people how bad your writing was?

Or doth the writer protest too much?

Get Back To Work


The only time it's acceptable for you to go out in a public forum and say, "hey, my work is terrible!" is when you're actually trying to find help to get better. Typically cries for help are phrased with what's wrong, followed by a request for other writers to help you improve your habits, or your work.

If you're not asking for help getting better, the only other option is that you're fishing for praise you don't deserve. If your ego is too fragile to get to work without constant reassurances that no, really, your book will be very good and lots of people will love it, then stop writing and step aside. There are folks ready to knuckle-down to do the job, and you're blocking the aisle.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing post. Hopefully you found it useful, or at least you know someone you can throw it at because you're tired of their long-winded sessions on Facebook. Speaking of which, if you want to stay up-to-date on my latest content and releases, then follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. Lastly, if you'd like to help fund my work, and this blog in particular, then head over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron. All it takes is $1 a month to buy my everlasting gratitude, and to get some sweet swag of your own.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

The K.I.S.S. Method (Keep It Simple, Stupid)

Books can be complicated. Take a long-running fantasy series like Lord of The Rings or A Song of Ice and Fire. The former has a massive history, a complicated world, and a cascade of actions from the dawn of the world leading to the present adventure. The latter is a political thriller with magic, where dozens of major noble houses, and hundreds of minor ones, all jockey for position in a story line filled with betrayal, murder, and more secondary characters than you could shake a stick at.

But while those books are complicated in the details, the thrust of their stories are fairly simple. In the first story, a magical Weapon of Mass Destruction has to be thrown into a volcano in order to destroy it. In the second, the fight for who sits on the throne of a kingdom is steadily eclipsed by a fight for the entire world, with a massing army of monsters just over the horizon as petty factions fight for scraps rather than uniting against the looming threat.

One sentence. Easy to follow. K.I.S.S.
The problem is that many of us will miss the forest for the trees when we look at the masters, and try to emulate their complexity in our own work without understanding the bedrock simplicity that supports it. So instead of a clock, which runs crisp and clean, we end up with a Rube Goldberg device that technically does the job, but by the time we reach the end we've totally forgotten what we set out to do in the first place.

The K.I.S.S. Method


K.I.S.S., in case you didn't intuit it from the title, stands for Keep It Simple, Stupid. In short, if you're writing a story, make sure you can draw clear lines from where you are, to where you're going. Even if you're putting together a convoluted spy thriller, or a sleight of hand mystery, you need to be sure that everything makes sense once the reader reaches the end.

The easiest way to do that is by keeping things as simple as you can.

Don't make us find the lady for your plot.
As an example, let's take The Maltese Falcon. Private detective Sam Spade takes a case from a woman he's pretty sure is lying to him, and he quickly finds people trying to bribe him, follow him, and shake him down for information. His partner is gunned down in the streets, he finds gunsels and thugs around every corner, and it just keeps getting worse. He has little to no clue what's going on, and every time a new figure steps on the scene things get even murkier. It's not until the end when the deus ex machina is revealed that we finally get all the answers to all our questions.

However, the plot is simple in terms of structure and story. Sam gets embroiled in a conspiracy between four thieves, each of whom are trying to get their hands on a valuable artifact they stole as a group. Despite all the back-and-forth, the changes of allegiance, and even the gun play, the story is simply a gang of criminals where each individual is trying to get their hands on the loot before the others do.

The Importance of Simplicity


Simplicity should be thought of as the foundation of your story. It is the tale you're trying to tell, free from any bells, whistles, or plot twists. Everything, from your hero's needs to your villain's motivations, is something you should be able to explain simply, even if the story attempts to make those things more convoluted.

As an example, take the film Die Hard. It's a classic movie full of twists, turns, fakes, and convoluted decisions, but it can be summed up by Holly's reaction to Hans Gruber's plan. "After all your posturing, all your little speeches, you're nothing but a common thief."

With uncommonly good dialogue
For all the other complications of the plot, from Gruber's fake-out at being a terrorist, to the manipulation of getting the feds to cut the building's power, to John picking off the invaders one by one, that's the plot in a nutshell; a heist movie with a cover story.

Simplicity gives you firm footing to stand on when you start building your story, and hanging window dressing. It is the bedrock that keeps your story anchored, no matter how strange or colorful it gets. As long as there is a clear through-line, and your readers can see it, then you'll never lose anyone. Even better, you won't get lost in a plot morass because you ended up making a swamp when you were trying to grow a forest.

Just remember, if you start running into a problem, what is the simple solution?

That's all for this installment of the Craft of Writing. If you liked it, and you want more, feel free to follow me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter. And if you'd like to help support me and my work, why not head over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page? All I ask is $1 a month, and for that you buy both my everlasting gratitude, as well as some sweet swag of your own.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Why Do You Have Your Best Ideas In The Bathroom?

We've all been there. Maybe you had one taco too many, and now you're seated on the throne, taking care of some pressing paperwork. Or you're in the shower, rinsing off the sweat and salt of the day. Then, out of nowhere, an epiphany! You get an idea for a new book, or you realize what's wrong with your chapter seven plot twist, or you suddenly know what to do about the problem of your protagonist's parents!

Thanks hot water!
Almost every writer out there has a story like this, and all of them share a single element; a completely mindless activity. Whether it's showering, taking a dump, lifting weights, fishing, doing the dishes, or any of a hundred other tasks, your brain disconnects as soon as your hands go to work. You can do these tasks on muscle memory, after all, so your brain is left to its own devices while your meat goes about the busywork.

Take Your Hands Off The Wheel, and See What Happens


Mental Floss lays out the chemical reasons for how we get great ideas when we relax our brains, but I'll sum them up for you here.

So, your brain has something called a default mode network, sometimes abbreviated as DMN. This network clears the passages between the different parts of your brain, and allows ideas and intuitions to flow freely. The problem is that, while we might call it the default setting, it isn't the mode most of us are in a lot of the time.

You see, most of the time we are focusing on something we're doing. Maybe it's solving an issue at our desk, navigating city traffic, or laying out a budget for the coming months, but whatever it is, this kind of thinking shuts off the default network, and boosts the frontal cortex. This is where a lot of our ability to focus comes from. Unfortunately, that very focus can often be a detriment when it comes to thinking around problems. Especially if those problems are creative in nature.

There's a reason we still use word association, after all.
This is actually one of the reasons creative people tend to be more easily distracted, according to Shelley Carson at Harvard. The insinuation is that it's hard for them to turn off the DMN fully, or that it's easy for them to revert back to it... even when they should be focusing on something else.

It's not just being in the right state of mind, though. You have to relax, too. Because when you relax, your brain releases dopamine, and that is the feel-good rush you need to really get the juices flowing. It's particularly useful for those who've returned to the DMN state, because then it lights up different parts of the brain, and things start bubbling up from the depths.

Practice Self Care, And See How It Helps


Sometimes the weight of a project can really get to you. When you feel like you've written yourself into a corner, or there's just too much word count for you to ever come up with, remember to take a break. Take a steamy shower. Clean the kitchen. Hell, light some incense and meditate for a bit. Whatever it takes to get your mind to unclench, you need to do that.

Think of it like a muscle cramp. You got there by putting in intense, focused effort. Some time on the couch with a heating pad is a lot more likely to ease that cramp than doing another set of bicep curls while hoping for a different result.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing post. I hope folks found it interesting, and if nothing else that you'll now have a conversation starter when you sit down with a friend who talks about their latest shower inspirations. If you'd like to see more from me and my blog, then head over to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron today! As little as $1 a month gets you my eternal gratitude, as well as some sweet swag to call your own. Lastly, if you haven't followed me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Twitter yet, then now would be a great time to get started.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Success Is Not A Sprint... It's A Marathon

We love success stories. The tale of how a couple wrote a lurid indie romance novel, and a year later they're paying off their mortgage, is a particular favorite. We love telling the story about how J.K. Rowling was rejected dozens of times, but when the first Harry Potter book hit the market, it exploded. Even success stories we disapprove of, like the massive success of Twilight or its offshoot 50 Shades of Grey, still fill us with a kind of awe. And envy, because if those books can do it, then why can't we?

Come on... what's a guy got to do to make a little scratch around here?
Something that we tend to forget, though, is that being an author isn't like winning the lottery. You're not looking for one, big payday. You're setting a foundation to erect a money machine that will continue long after you've written this article, that blog entry, or the other novel.

In short, you aren't running a sprint. You're gearing up for a marathon.

It Takes A Lot Of Work To Be An Overnight Success


It's possible for your first book to be a roaring success. You might get snatched up by an agent with an eye for talent, placed with a major publisher, and your book could fly off the shelves. You could get a major movie deal, and thanks to the film's success, your name is known far and wide for this one story you told.

Possible doesn't mean likely, though.

What's significantly more likely is that you'll get a dozen or more rejection letters for your book. You might finally place it with an agent, or a mid-size publisher if you're either lucky, or have connections. Barring fate and friends in the right places, you'll probably get published by a small company, or you'll do it yourself through a self-publishing platform. Then, once your book is actually available, you'll find that no bookstores will put it on their shelves. The mainstream media won't be terribly interested, unless it's a slow news week, and most of your attempts to move copies aren't going to go very well.

Even if you offer a special deal.
You'll sell some books, of course. Everyone sells a few books, but it's unlikely your first book is going to make you a lot of money without a lot of luck, or some serious marketing zeitgeist.

So what do you do when that happens? When you spent more than a year of your life to make something, and it seems no one's really interested in it? Well, you keep marketing it. You also spit on your hands, get a grip, and start working on the next project. And the next. And the next.

A funny thing happens at that point. First, you're working too hard on writing new projects to really worry about your low sales figures. Secondly, your figures are going to start going up a little at a time. That's numbers of sales, reviews, followers, and all the other metrics that matter. Why? Well, if you put one letter in a bottle, you'd be pretty unlikely to get a response. A hundred letters, though? A thousand? People are going to start to notice.

Stack Up Enough Content To Create an Avalanche


There's an old saying that goes, "the best advertisement for your recent release is your next release." That goes for authors who write stand-alone books just as surely as it does for those who write series, because when a reader decides they like your style, they will look you up by name. If you have ten books they haven't read, they'll start working their way down that list. This means that things you already had on the market get retroactively popular as you accumulate new readers.

Don't take my word for it, though.
Vincent Cross is a Chicagoland author, and fellow con rat, and in 2016 he started releasing stories of his own through Amazon's Kindle Direct platform. I asked him what his numbers looked like, and what he said was about what I expected. His best month, when his first release got rolling in November, netted him about $20 in sales. Attention fell of, though, because you can only repost a link so many times. Then, when his next piece went live, the process started all over again.

Every time, without fail, there's a scattering of older titles that pick up reads whenever a new piece hits the market. Because at least a few people who've seen the new stuff want to know more about his body of work. Speaking of which, if you're curious about that cover up above, go take a look at his most recent release The Terror From Titan. And if you like what you see, check out his Facebook page.

Endurance is The Stat That Matters In This Game


Becoming a successful author is a lot like going from being a couch potato to being a bodybuilder. It doesn't happen overnight. Worse, before you see real progress, you're going to have to deal with some serious sore muscles, and peering into the mirror for any evidence that what you're going through is having an effect. A lot of authors will quit after their first, second, or third swing gets them nowhere. Others stick it out, and when they do, something happens. They might not win the trophy, or go down in history as Mr. Universe, but they still get the physique they've been trying for. They still end up with the power, and build, and the prowess they've been working toward this whole time.

Five more pages! Don't give out on me!
If you have a huge archive of work, and you put it out there for people to see, trust me, you will find readers. You might not live in the lap of luxury, and have lines of people waiting around the block to get into your book signing, but mark my words, you'll grow a following.

And who knows? It might be the next book release, the next blog entry, or the next article that garners you widespread attention. But if you don't push for one more rep, then you'll never know.

That's all for this week's Business of Writing post. It might sound similar to what I've said before, but I think it's an important message to remember for all those authors out there discouraged by giving it their best, and getting nothing back. If you like what I'm posting, though, consider showing your support by going to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron today! $1 gets you my eternal gratitude, along with some sweet swag in the form of free books. Also, if you haven't followed me on Facbeook, Tumblr, and Twitter, why not start today?

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

How A Grain of Irritation Builds A Pearl of Story

So, as I mentioned way back when I first started this blog, I'm going to have occasional posts where I get up on my soap box and talk about how I do things. This is one of those posts. So instead of trying to offer general advice on craft and industry, today I'm going to share some information about how my personal process works. So if you've been curious about that for one reason or another, then today is your lucky day.

Let me show you how I make these.

A Lifetime of Literature


In order to be a good writer, you have to do a lot of reading. That's a truism that we all know, and it's one I took to heart early on in life. I checked out whole shelves of the library, bought anything I could get my hands on, and traded for pulps, paperbacks, and even a few classics before all the used bookstores shuttered their doors. I always have a book on CD in my car, and I finish them with some regularity between errands, conventions, and other appointments. In addition to books, though, I am an avid lover of genre films. Sci-fi, fantasy, horror, and others have made up a lot of my entertainment diet over the years.

I've consumed a huge amount of media, popular, obscure, and otherwise. Some of that media has been great, and it's shaped me as both an author, and as a person. Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are two titles that come to mind right off the bat. Other stories, though... they weren't so great. In fact, some of them were downright awful. Poorly thought out, badly constructed, rushed, hacky meals that, if someone had physically asked me to eat them, I would have sent it back to the kitchen and demanded something fit for human consumption.

I'm sure you all have a book or two you could think of.
However, while I might learn important lessons in craft from reading books I love, I gain inspiration from books I don't like. Because nothing makes me want to roll up my sleeves and write a good story than seeing someone who did it in a way that stuck its thumb in my eye.

My Brain is An Oyster


Do you know how pearls are made? Well, it all starts with a tiny irritant. A piece of sand, or a chunk of rock, gets pulled inside an oyster, and gets stuck. The meat inside an oyster is sensitive, so it starts excreting a defensive coating. The irritant is coated repeatedly, until it's smooth, and can no longer cause the oyster any pain. By the time it's done, though, the irritant has turned from a worthless, painful speck, into a beautiful work of art.

That's kind of how my creative process works.

I sense you're looking for an example?
If you haven't read The Big Bad II, you really should. Because in addition to a bunch of other great stories, you'll come across a dark little piece I wrote called Little Gods. The basic premise is that Richard Blackheart, warlock for hire, has his services paid for by a woman called the Sterile Saint. She's trying to take the mantle from the Hook Man, Chicago's little god of murder, and she needs help. A mercenary to his core, Blackheart takes the job... but he does it in his own way, and for his own reasons.

This story takes place in what I refer to as my Chicago Strange setting, and a lot of the elements of that setting came from things that frustrated me about the urban fantasy novels that made up the rest of the genre at time of writing. The biggest issue I kept running into as a reader was the way so many authors felt the need to bring in pagan gods, but then to have them act just like any other character, or to put them there for nothing more than name-drop purposes before going back to the (now less interesting) main character. Neil Gaiman's American Gods managed to strike the balance between beings who possessed immense power, and who were also very vulnerable, and very mortal despite that power. That novel made other attempts at turning gods into side characters, from the Dresden Files to the Iron Druid series, stick in my craw. After a while, I'd actually shut books who started name dropping gods if the plot wasn't actually about those gods, and what they were doing.

Why did I do this? Unanswered questions, mostly. For example, if the author declares certain gods exist, then which ones are real and which ones are fake? In worlds where the Abrahamic god is real, and pagan gods are also real, where does the power of one end, and the other begin? If these deities are walking the world, then are they getting involved with things? Does it matter how much someone believes in them, or is that irrelevant to their existence? Why couldn't you think of a deus ex machina that was a little less literal?

So many questions, and so little attention to them, annoyed me. That annoyance got into my head, and made me examine the setting I was putting together. There should be some kind of divine force for this dirty little noir world I'd made, but I didn't just want to rip off real-world religions. The more famous Neil had already done it far better than I thought I could. So I created something different.

I made the Little Gods.

Who are the Little Gods? They're the whispers on the street corners, the legends in the back alleys, and the stories you tell around the campfire. They're the bloody faces who come through your mirrors, the maniacs that prowl lovers' lane, and the lost souls who walk weeping through the streets under full moons. The little gods of the city, as some call them, are urban legends. The patrons of murder, death, sorrow, and luck, all of them waiting and listening as their stories are spread just a little bit further through the cracks of the concrete grapevine.

The Little Gods are not permanent, though. Their mantles can be stolen, and their stories changed. The Hook Man is the little god of murder, it's true, but there were others before him. Bloody Jake, Kate Hatchet, Raw Head Bloody Bones, the Wendigo, and others. The pantheon of this city is ever new, ever changing, and when something grows too old, or too corrupt, it will be torn down by a younger, hungrier rival who wants its place at the top of the heap.

Don't Complain, If You Aren't Willing To Do Better


That's just one example of how my brain sees an idea that irritates something sensitive in my head, until my creative process coats it in enough layers that I have my own version. The irritation I dealt with while attempting to read The Space Wolves Omnibus (I made it 100 pages before I gave it up) led me to pen my story Heart of The Myrmidon, for example, because I wanted to see what would happen if the gigantic super soldiers still had emotions, and could suffer existential crises. I wrote New Avalon: Love and Loss in The City of Steam because so much steampunk that I saw was either saccharine, or involved the authors just sticking some gears and brass on modern machinery, and calling it good enough. It wasn't, so I tried to write something better.

The list goes on, and I have a ton of other projects coming down the way that grew out of a single irritant that just got lodged in my eye. But, by the time I've coated, and dissected, and planned, and written, you know something? Not only do I have a new story (or in some cases a full-on manuscript), but the original irritant no longer pains me. I still won't like the place it came from, but I will no longer feel the need to lash out at it.

Because I already created something that soothes my frustration, which I think will give readers a new take on this idea. And that is the best answer a writer can give to something they don't like.

That's all for this week's Craft of Writing post. Hopefully it helped some folks out there, and even if it didn't, that you found this look into my head to be entertaining. If you'd like to support me, and help me keep the blog going, then stop by The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page to become a patron today. Pledge at least $1 a month and you'll buy not only my everlasting gratitude, but some sweet swag as well! Lastly, if you haven't followed me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Twitter yet, why not start today?

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Most Authors Aren't Really "Making It"

I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Authors lie. In fact, lying is our job. We are told to create plausible impossibilities, and to tell them to you in such a way that you believe, in some small part of your mind, that what you're seeing is the truth. We make you invest in this lie we're telling, and when it draws to an end, we make you want us to keep lying to you. To draw that illusion out over another book, and then another, until you can live an entire life inside this place that doesn't exist, with people who never were.

For a penny a page, I'll lie until the world fades away.
This isn't just something we do on the page, though. We do it all the time. If you meet us at signings, or at conventions, or just talk to us on social media, we spin a fiction about who we are. As a result, we tend to look put together, professional, and confident, even if we're anything but. And given that most of us are professional tale-tellers who understand how to create a certain impression, most people who make our acquaintance don't realize something very important.

We are, by and large, broke as shit.

The Simple Secret of Most Professional Artists


Now, I don't claim to know everyone who writes books. I certainly don't know everyone who paints, sketches, sculpts, and animates. However, I go to a fair number of conventions, and I've been a professional writer for over a decade now. So what I can tell you is that, in my experience, artists who are "making it" (here defined as not needing to work a "day job," and making enough money from their art alone to live a comfortable lifestyle) are sort of like unicorns. You may hear about them, and meet people who claim they've met one, but seeing one in person is always a little breathtaking.

We captured one here, a long, long time ago. Rowling, was its name.
The difficulty, I think, is that people who aren't in the industry only hear about successful authors. They hear about J.K. Rowling reaching billionaire status, and they hear about Stephen King buying a radio station out of political spite, or they hear about George R. R. Martin's latest Song of Ice And Fire sales, and they think well surely other authors are still successful. Maybe not millionaire successful, but if you write books, and put them out there, it should be possible to make a living, right? After all, authors like Ben Reeder get bestseller status for their latest books before they're even officially released, so surely it can't be that hard?

That sound you're hearing? That is the laughter of most authors in the world.

For every one author I meet who sells enough books to cover their house payments, I meet a dozen others who feel like beggars, holding out their books instead of wooden bowls or change cups. It's much more common to meet authors who live at home with their parents, who depend on a partner's income, or who have already retired from a previous career, than someone who actually makes grown-up money in this field.

But we can't tell you that, because it sort of splashes mud over our image when we're trying to sell our talent, instead of a sob story.

I'm Not A Unicorn (Just A Workhorse With A Taped-On Horn)


I'm an author. I work primarily in short stories, but I contribute to roleplaying games, I write two blogs, I keep an InfoBarrel archive, and I actively work on a dozen projects at a time. I'm not a 10k words a day sort of fellow, but I spend most of any given day in front of my machine either writing new material, or marketing material I've already put out.

You know, like this book. Go read the free sample now!
Do you know what all of that earned me in 2016? Between independent articles, ghostwriting, book royalties, short story publications, blog ads, and the contributions of my loyal Patreon patrons? The total was about $13,000 and change.

Now, if that was my earnings from any, one source, that would be pretty spectacular. I'd gladly take $13k in book royalties for a year. Or in ad revenue, or in Patreon patronage. But that's the combined total of everything I put out in the whole year, and the royalties for everything I'd put out in the years before that.

On the one hand, that's the way the market rolls. Those who write popular articles, books, blogs, etc. make bank, and those who don't... well, don't. However, I want to let folks know that, in some circles, I'm considered a success story. So the next time you're wandering through an art show, or you talk to an author at a convention, remember that you matter. Your purchase, your review, or even just you becoming a follower might be the pebble that starts their avalanche.

And even if you're not, I can assure you, no author is so successful that they'd say no to one more reader.

That's all for this week's Business of Writing post. Hopefully I've shone a little light into my corner of the industry, and folks here found it interesting. If you'd like to support me and my blog (maybe to make 2017 a slightly better year), then go to The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page today! As little as $1 a month can make a big difference, and it gets you some sweet swag as a thank you from me. Lastly, if you haven't followed me on Facebook, Tumblr, or Twitter yet... why not start today?

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

5 Unseen Hazards of Being a Freelance Author

Being a mercenary isn't easy. There's the long hours, the thankless jobs, and the sheer amount of effort and will it takes to stay in the game when there are so many other ways to make a living. You get paid pennies, asked to do impossible projects on absurd deadlines, and a lot of the time you have to give up sleep, socializing, or something else in order to keep your paymasters happy.

But you know all that before going in. Or, at least, you would if you've talked to any old hands about how they wound up on their career paths.

You don't choose the writer's life. It chooses you.
A lot of folks think they have the sand, and the skill, to handle those drawbacks. After all, a solid work ethic, a good reputation, and a little luck can do wonders for your career. That's true, but there are other pitfalls no one told you about. Traps that, if you fall into them, can leave you in the bottom of a hole with broken legs, and shattered dreams.

So let's talk about a few of those, shall we?

Hazard #1: You Get Paid When (or If) The Piece Gets Published


Being a freelancer sounds like a pretty straightforward gig. You agree to write a piece for your employer, and when the piece is finished, you get paid. Steak dinner, boom, done, move onto the next assignment.

The problem is that isn't usually how things work for authors.

I know you need this injection to keep going. What's that... when can you expect it? Well...
If you're working for a mid-to-large size company, you might be paid when you hand over the complete project. Once the client has taken a look at it, and found everything to be satisfactory, that is. However, what's more likely to happen is that you get paid when your work is published, rather than when it's completed.

This is true pretty much across the industry. If you get a short story accepted for an anthology, you get paid when it comes out. If you write an article for a newspaper, your check drops after publication. This could mean weeks, months, and in some cases more than a year between when you finish a project, and when you get paid for that project. Assuming something doesn't happen in the interim. Something like...

Hazard #2: Your Employer Can't Pay You


At this point in my career, I've lost track of how many times I've had to send emails to clients to ask about projects I've finished and handed in, only to find out that something went wrong and I'm not going to get paid as agreed. In some circumstances, they just need more time. In others, the project folded, and so I'm not going to get paid at all. This is a particular problem when you're counting on a check from a project you've turned in, only to find that you won't be buying food this month after all

At which point you may as well use that contract for kindling. It saves on the heating bill.
This situation is bad, but it isn't all bad. As a preventative, smart freelancers will try to include a kill fee in their contracts. This guarantees that you'll be paid something, even if the client opts not to publish your piece. Of course, if your employer has collapsed, then even that part of your contract might not be honored.

The upside is that you still have the article or story you wrote, and you're free to try to sell it elsewhere. The downside, of course, is that you've already wasted a lot of time waiting for your client to make good on their part of the contract, and now you need to spend even more time (as well as effort) trying to find this piece a new home. And if you were writing for a very niche market, it may not be worth the time and effort to try re-homing your work.

Hazard #3: You Can't Answer, "What Do You Make a Year?"


I'm not talking about those dinner parties we've all been to where someone inevitably tries to compare bank accounts to see who's the best endowed. No, I'm talking about the dozens of situations where, as an adult, someone in a suit looks across their desk at you and asks you to tell them what your yearly income is.

"It depends," is not an answer they like to hear.
The older you get, the more often you hear this question. It comes up when you want to rent an apartment, or get a home loan. You hear it when you want to buy a new car, or when you try to get government aid. Health insurance, auto insurance, and everyone in between wants to know what the numbers you're working with are.

And if you can't tell them, for certain, then that is going to make them nervous.

Some authors have a fairly steady income. They have a big fan base, a half-dozen books on the market, and their royalties are fairly consistent from one year to the next. Freelancers are, more often than not, the very image of feast-or-famine. Because all it takes is word of mouth to spread around, and bam, you have more work than you can handle, and checks rolling in on the regular. And all it takes is one economic downturn for those clients to dry up and blow away, leaving you struggling just to make your ends meet. Which can be particularly problematic if you are trying to show someone how steady and safe you are as a financial risk.

Hazard #4: You Have To Take On More Than You Can Handle


One of the harsh facts about being a freelancer is that you are always gazing toward tomorrow. Because you might have a steady gig right now, but how long is that project going to last? It might be a few weeks, or it might be a few months, but sooner or later it will be over. Will the client have something else to feed you? Maybe, but if not, you need to know where your next meal ticket is coming from. Which means, unfortunately, you don't really have the ability to say "no" to anything that comes your way.

What? Of course I can handle that! As soon as I finish one or two... other things.
I mentioned this in Neil Gaiman Hit It On The Head When He Talks About "The Freelance Mentality", but it bears repeating. The very idea of saying "no" to a project is something that's typically thought of as a luxury. Because sure, you're up to your ears in work, but it will be done by the end of next month, and you'll need something after that. Or, worse, all the work you're doing now isn't going to pay you until the book comes out in eight months, so you really need a way to keep your lights on between now and that big pay day next year.

Hazard #5: No Sick Days, No Safety Net


One of the primary benefits people look for from an employer is health insurance. Health, vision, and dental are the cornerstones of making sure you aren't power-bombed into a crater when something goes wrong with your body. Unfortunately, unless you either pull in some serious dough, meet the qualifications to get state health assistance (I live in Indiana. Ask me how popular the Affordable Care Act is here), or have a "regular" job on the side, insurance is just one of those things other people do.

Sick days are also not a thing. You make deadline, no matter what your fever is.
Some of us are lucky, because they can claim membership in an association that lets them buy lower cost insurance as if they were part of a union. However, freelancers aren't usually let into those clubs. So unless you've got some extra street cred, you're stuck with the choice of paying through the nose, or drinking some extra orange juice, hitting the gym, and hoping for the best.

How Do You Cope With These Problems?


Ideally, the best way to deal with all these hazards is to make good art, work with people you trust, and to build a reputation that ensures you'll get a steady stream of well-paid projects. Of course, if you can set up some additional safety nets on the side (things like an InfoBarrel account, publishing novels, or running a blog like this one), then you've got additional resources to tap in the event you run into a problem.

That's why I'm grateful for everyone who drops by The Literary Mercenary's Patreon page, and leaves a little bit of bread in my jar.

Will that work? Maybe. Sadly, it's entirely possible to do good work, be a competent professional, and still get hosed by something you couldn't have predicted, or prepared for. It's why so many creative professionals I know tend to hedge their bets by either keeping a job that gives them insurance, or depending on a spouse's coverage to let them keep doing their thing. It's also why it seems like every other week there's a Go Fund Me page starting up for a freelance author, RPG designer, or artist. Because we're fighting a dragon without a shield. We might land that killing blow, but if it breathes fire, we've got nothing to hide behind.

Until, of course, luck, hard work, and the support of your fans outfits you in a suit of armor, and you can walk into that cavern with a little more confidence.

That's all for this week's Business of Writing post. Hopefully it was helpful for those assessing the freelance life, and for those who don't understand the kinds of pitfalls freelancers have to deal with. Lastly, if you haven't followed me on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter yet, well, what's the hold up?