Trying it on for Size

Okay, what I talked about doing I have done:

I have combined the 80,000 words of "Considering How to Run" with the 34,000 words of "Their Hearts Run Cold" into one book and will now let it sit for a little while, fermenting, until I decide if that is the route I'm going to go.

I feel good about it, having done it now, at least in one little separate file I can cordon off from everything else while I percolate on it. I know it's going to take some editing to get it into shape, but as I've already edited the first 190 pages of this 270-page work, I'm feeling pretty good about my prospects.

Then I send it off to my ace in the hole. I've got a guy in publishing -- not necessarily a publisher -- who said he'd look it over and give me a bit of advice on where to take it and whether it's good enough to take there.

That's exciting.

What's more exciting is that as I sit and look at this entire file, sitting there like an atom bomb on my computer desktop, I see I've accomplished something.

So, the goals: Have it edited and at least the second draft done by July 1, 2011. From there, I send it to my publishing contact. Then we see what happens.

Then I start researching agents in earnest.

And I start again, from page one, on the next installment of the story. That's probably the scariest part. But then when I consider that this first part, these 114,000 words, took me just over a year to write. I can do that again. It was fun. And in some ways, easy.

A Question

Used through the fair used doctrine for commentary purposes.

Many years ago, I read Robert Asprin’s MYTH series of books, but gave up after the one in which he shifted the narrative perspective through a series of characters in the same book.

I didn’t like the change. At all. Hearing those different voices, after books and books and books of the story from Skeeve’s perspective, just stopped the story cold for me.

Now the question:

When is it good to shift from one character’s perspective to another, when the story thusfar has been written not from an omnipresent narrator’s perspective, but from one character’s perspective?

I ask because I’m contemplating doing something radical with “Considering How to Run”/”Their Hearts Run Cold.” Here’s the rub: Up to this point, the story has been from Seth’s point of view. I’m now at a unique crossroads where the story could easily shift to Altus’ point of view and easily segue the story into another book entirely. That would mean combining the two proto-novels I’ve got now into one, and then doing a major refocus in the second installment, all from Altus’ point of view.

Truth be told I’ve contemplated simply combining the two novels for now, so that part of the shift isn’t all that scary. The shift in narrative perspective, however, is daunting.

I’m about to take that proverbial leap through the Guardian’s portal and into that other world. Thoughts?

Character Chart

Here's the completed -- well, chicken-scratched -- character chart for "Considering How to Run." It's a lot more complicated than I thought, and it's just here in simple form.

What is this, you may ask?

Well, it's a list of every named character in my book (two don't have names, but their significance is noted anyway, since they're central to the story). I wrote this up first of all to remind myself of the names I used, and secondly to see if I was using them consistently, which I am not. It's part of the editing process also that helps me visualize where and when I'm featuring the characters I've created. The difference in ink color is merely coincidental, it just shows where I lost my red pen and reverted to black. The ink pattern did break, however, at the point that my characters shift from one location to another, so it's interesting to see how many characters I created in both places.

Eet Ees Done

Well, folks, though I had my doubts about a week and a half ago that I'd be able to complete this task, I have the pleasure to report that it is done.

What did I learn from the experience? Well, I have a lot to learn about writing a novel. My biggest weakness: Keeping track of characters' names. I've got one character who changes names no fewer than three times in the 80,000 words of "Considering How to Run," and to me that seems a bit much.

So my plan for the future is this: Keep a running list of characters' names, basic characteristics and such on hand so I can refer to it as I refer back to my characters in further novels. I'm sure this is an elementary step in planning a novel, but I'm also certain it is something I had to learn on my own rather than reading it in a writers' checklist or other some such writers aid.

And when I say done -- if I can now revert to the first paragraph of this post -- I mean the editing is done. The re-write is yet to begin. But I've got a good road map, once I finish writing an outline of everything I need to do continuity-wise to make the book better. Thankfully, it's a shorter list than a longer list, but I've still got my work cut out for me.

I'm not scared of the work. I'm actually looking forward to it. So here's the next goal:

Novel re-written by March 31. That'll give me three months to get it done. I think that's as doable as getting the thing edited by the end of the calendar year.

I'll couple the re-write with two other major tasks:

• Researching agents so I can find a dozen at least to whom I can send the completed manuscript.
• Writing the next book.

The latter seems most essential.

Editing Continues Apace

One of my hopes for Christmas vacation, as you may recall, is that I'd be able to do a thorough edit of "Considering How to Run." I'm now three-fourths of the way through the manuscript, and I recognize more and more that as much as I like the story, I've got a lot of work to do before I've got a draft that's ready to send to an editor.

But, as I am prone to saying, that's okay.

Found some interesting flaws today, most brought on by the method I used to write the thing: Since I wrote it in bits and tried to sew them together into a whole, sometimes I've popped a seam or left out part of the overall pattern. The name of the protagonist's youngest, most favorite sister, has changed from one part of the manuscript to another, changing to a name that I used for a different character altogether about two-thirds of the way into the book. So that's a major error that this first run-through has caught.

Then there are the constellation of other errors, where I state one thing will happen, for example, and then it really doesn't happen, or at least happens too subtly that it's not evident that it's happening. I know some subtlety is a good thing in a novel, so I've either got to bump up the occurrences or get rid of the more blatant hints. And I can't make a blanket pronouncement on either getting rid of one or the other, either, because in some places one method works, while the other method stinks.

And I also noticed that at the point I decided to end the first novel and start the second, but then reconsidered and added the rest of the stuff I'd written to the first book that there's some re-exposition that I need to re-examine in order to decide if it adds to the story or if it makes the pace suddenly slow down. Not that the pace is break-neck, but still I have to ask myself: Does it need to be there?

What's important, though, is that I still like the story, and that's happened after it's been set side for three or four months before I began reading it and editing it. I can tell, however, that it's got flaws in language.

So what's the next step from here?

• Finish the edit.
• Begin rewriting. Sofar, most of my edits have been to point out where the book needs fixing, and I have only done some preliminary patching as of yet.
• Read it aloud. Once it's rewritten, I'll read it aloud to see how it sounds. If it sounds klunky in parts -- which I'm sure it will -- I'll have to fix it. But reading it aloud is critical because as I read books in my head, I can tell if the writer got too writerly in writing. If a book sounds written, in my opinion, you're in trouble. I call it the "Human Tooth Yellow" problem, a title I take from an old radio interview in which the reviewer obsessed about the writer obsessing about finding the exact yellowish color to describe something. Who cares, I have to say. My readers won't. So I can't include those writerly tells.

The character graph I started has been invaluable, too, as it's helped me note the changing name of the youngest sister, and to see what names I've used for what characters in what situations so I can track them for future inclusion. And as I mark the characters in this way, I can tell that I need to work to make them more human, less cardboard. Some will remain as cardboard characters, of course, but those to whom the story is central, they've got to have character in their characters. Then again, i think part of my voice as a writer is not to reveal too much about characters, and not to concentrate too much on the relationships between characters (though I know I've got one relationship I've got to seriously re-investigate in order to increase the tension the two characters feel between themselves as the story progresses).

Hm. All this writerly talk is beginning to upset my stomachs. Centurions! Come to attention!

I'm also wondering about the shadowy enemy. It's a cliche, of course, to have a shadowy enemy, but in part I'm using the shadowy enemy as a red herring, so maybe that's okay. But I still need to keep an eye on the Weird Shit-O-Meter to make sure I'm not going overboard with the real enemy of sorts.

So in other words, I'm still having fun as a writer. I love that part.

Halfway Done

Well, with about a week or so to go before the end of the year, I’m halfway through editing the text to my first complete novel, “Considering How to Run.”

I’ve seen both good and bad. Good story, I think, with some good characters. But I’ve seen a lot that needs improvement. A lot I can see that led from my gonzo style of writing this novel – no outline to begin with at all – to some plot holes and chameleon characters that are going to have to be fixed and reconciled before I can call this novel complete. But, oh, the joy of editing a complete thing of my own creation! To know that I’m not reading this for someone else, but reading it in order to make something I made that much better. That pleases me a great deal.

I know it’s not perfect. I’ve got some major things to fix. But at least I’ve got a something, not just a vague notion, down on paper, in one complete form. The first draft. That’s a huge milestone. Editing it has been and will continue to be a pleasure because, despite its faults, I can see that I’m trying. I’m not just going through the motions, not at best simply sewing together forty or so blog posts into something that’s supposed to be whole. Oh, I’ve got some spots where the seams show, where the cloth is threadbare, but I’ve got it all here, ready and waiting to be fixed.

And I can do this.

As for the other part of the goal – the query letter: I know that’s not going to happen before the year ends. I’ve got to find potential agents, research them, then and only then craft that letter, based on advice issued by Nathan Bransford, a former literary agent himself, on his blog. That blog’s a treasure-trove for wannabee writers like me.

So, how am I approaching the editing? Here’s a breakdown:

• A higher level of edit. While I am catching the occasional typo, what I’m focusing on mainly is a more than mechanical level of edit. I’m looking for the way things flow, the way things work together, and the ways they don’t. I’m asking myself a lot of questions in the margin, asking myself “What do I mean by that,” “This is contradictory to something you wrote earlier, right?” “This character seems uncharacteristically mean. Where are the hints of kindness?” Just lots of things to get me thinking.
• A character map. I’m also writing out a bar graph to show who my main and ancillary characters are, how they relate to one another and different parts of the story, and who they are. I’m doing this to make sure I’m using the characters as I intended, and not at cross purposes.
• Repeats. I noticed today that in this book, I use a situation that I repeat in the second book. I’ll have to study why I put it in the first because it works better in the second, or if I can repeat the situation for better effect in the second book, echoing the first, just to show the interrelation of the characters and situations. I’m sure other authors do this, but until you’re actually writing your own, you don’t realize how important it is to get everything just exactly right.

I’ve got to say that having put this novel away for a few months, I can come back to it with fresh eyes and while I’m seeing its warts, I’m also seeing still the potential that initially got me started down this road nearly a year ago.

Ah-ah. Found it. Started this book, or at least put up its first post, on Feb. 19, 2010. So I feel plenty good that I’m now editing an 80,000-word first draft that came from this initial 885-word post. Though it does seem weird to think that the first post contains just over one percent of the completed first draft.

So, How's the Goal Going?

Here I sit on the 12th of December, giving me 19 days in which to finish editing the first draft of my novel, "Considering How to Run," as well as having a query letter ready to go to potential agents. So how am I doing?

Not well.

Digging the manuscript out of the pile of detritus on my desk reveals that, thusfar, I've managed to lightly edit 24 of the novel's 180 pages. The query letter is a distant bit of fiction. My only consolation is that I've written nearly 7,000 words -- that sounds like a lot until you realize it's not -- of the second book in the series.

I've got a lot of ground to cover in the next nineteen days.

So, how am I going to make it up?

Well, I'll bring the manuscript with me to work. I've got an hour and a half on the bus each way each day, so I ought to be able to do some editing then. I'll be realistic, though: Probably not going to happen on the way out. I get on the bus shortly after 5 am, and am usually asleep before we hit the next stop. And on the way home I'll have to compete with "The Two Towers" and "The Return of the King," movies I've just uploaded onto my iPod Touch. Then there's that query letter.

I think I can still do it, however. Nineteen days doesn't sound like a lot, but it sounds like a whole lot better if I get my mojo going now rather than waiting another week or so.

Editing this thing is also going to be an essential part of writing more on the story -- it'll remind me of characters and situations and such that maybe need fleshing out or further explanation. I keep reminding myself of that as I try to put the editing off in favor of other activities.

OK, Now 'Considering How to Run' is Done

When people ask me what was the most difficult portion of "Considering How to Run" was to write, I'll point them to this passage:

Chemistry does not lead to obfuscation. Chemistry is straightforward. Mix a bit of sodium borate solution with a bit of glue and cornstarch and you turn some liquids and powders into a ball for bouncing. Get the proportions right and the ball is sound every time. But when the classes turn to philosophy, double talk becomes quadruple talk and my mind wanders. But wandering minds are punished.

If it appears simple, that's because it is. But though it took only thirty seconds to write, it was, up until this morning, the last bit of the novel that hadn't left the first draft stage. Now it has.

Why did it take so long? Well, in the manuscript I wrote "(Find a simple chemistry experiment to include here.") and then I promptly forgot about it. Went on writing the book. Finished the book. Started on the sequel. All the time I knew there were things I needed to do on the first novel as part of the edit to make sure things were right. One of them was to search for little parentheticals like this. I finally did it, and found this one. Now it's fixed.

So what else is there to be done: As I continue editing the thing, I'm also going to start a list of names, particularly people. I don't name a lot of places in this story, but I do name some people and I want to keep track of who I've named and who they are so I may re-use them in the future and so that I don't re-use someone who's dead or incapacitated or annoying or something like that.

And, as a bonus, I got to get rid of the six sheets of paper that experiment was on from the top of my desk. Oh, I love convoluted sentences!

Get off Those Tenterhooks

Grandpa Spiers. I like the hat. He'll be a character in the next book.

I'm sure there are many out there in Blogland waiting on tenterhooks to find out if I've decided what the name of my next novel will be. There's probably a larger group out there in Blogland wondering if I'll ever finish editing the first novel and getting it out to agents for possible publication.

I'm here to answer both of those questions.

First, I'll take on the second question. Yes, I'm still editing away. It is my goal, remember, to have the novel edited and a ready-to-go query letter, uh, ready to go by the end of the calendar year. Finding an agent is not going to be fun, but I'm going to do it. Pity that the agent I was going to test my query letter on is now no longer in the agenting business, but, perhaps since he's no longer in the business, he won't be as inundated with queries and could possibly maybe want to help a budding novelist put his thing down.

As for the first question, yes, I have decided on the title for my next novel, which will continue the story of Seth and Altus and the rest as they try to figure out this whole Messiah business and, who, technically became a Messiah at the end of the first novel.

Drumroll, please.

The title will be "Their Hearts Run Cold," (following up "Considering How to Run," and will focus, again on mainly Seth's struggles to come to grips with his learning and power and the defection of Altus to the dark side of the Scwartz.

No, I don't really understand it that much, either. I'm exploring the characters and premise along with you.

So to keep my mojo working, I'm going to do a two-fold project. I'm going to start writing the second book in the series. At the same time, I'll edit and polish the first.

From what I understand about agenting and writing, this is a good practice. Firstly, for the writer, it keeps us in that creative groove, thinking and putting the Bradbury Postulation to the test. The postulation, of course, is that most of the stuff a writer produces is crap, but it has to be removed from the system in order for the good stuff to come out. If I can get the bad stuff out and invite the good stuff along, well then, I'm that much more ahead of the game.

And I'll edit the first along as well, reminding me of little plot things that I hinted at that can be addressed in further novels. This is good all the way around.

And since basically the entire state of Idaho is closed by a blizzard today, I'll have plenty of time to work on things. As long as the kids don't realize I'm home.

Watching the Hooptedoodle

Illustration used on the Fair Use principle, as is the quoted material below.

I spent about an hour this morning editing my novel, "Considering How to Run," realising that indeed as perfect as I thought it was when I finished the first draft this summer, it's got enough holes in it to make it look like a slab of Swiss cheese And that's okay; re-reading it is helping me see the holes and giving me ideas on how to fill them in, as well as showing me the places where I need to add stuff, and the places where stuff needs to be edited out.

All the while as I worked this morning, however, the word "hooptedoodle" kept going through my mind.

Hooptedoodle comes from a prologue John Steinbeck wrote for his novel "Sweet Thursday." The prologue, barely a page in length, remains the best bit of writing advice I've ever come across. It reads:

One night Mack lay back on his bed in the Palace Flophouse and he said, "I ain't never been satisfied with that book Cannery Row. I would of went about it different.

And after a while he rolled over and raised his head on his hand and he said, "I guess I'm just a critic. But if I ever come across the guy that wrote that book I could tell him a few things."

"Like what?" said Whitey No. 1.

"Well," said Mack, "like this here. Suppose there's chapter one, chapter two, chapter three. That's all right as far as it goes, but I'd like to have a couple of words at the top so it tells me what the chapter's going to be about. Sometimes maybe I want to go back, and chapter five don't mean nothing to me. If there was just a couple of words I'd know that was the chapter I wanted to go back to."

"Go on," said Whitey No. 1.

"Well, I like a lot of talk in a book, and I don't like to have nobody tell me what the guy that's talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. And another thing -- I kind of like to figure out what the guy's thinking by what he says. I like some description, too," he went on. "I like to know what color a thing is, how it smells and maybe how it looks, and maybe how a guy feels about it -- but not too much of that."

"You sure are a critic," said Whitey No. 2. "Mack, I never give you credit before. Is that all?"

"No," said Mack. "Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. The guy's writing it, give him a chance to do a little hooptedoodle. Spin up some pretty words maybe, or sing a little song with the language. That's nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don't have to read it. I don't want hooptedoodle to get mixed up in the story. So if the guy that's writing it wants hooptedoodle, he ought to put it right at first. Then I can skip it if I want to, or maybe go back to it after I know how the story came out."

Eddie said, "Mack, if the guy that wrote Cannery Row comes in, you going to tell him all that?"

Whitey No. 2 said, "Hell, Mack can tell anybody anything. Why Mack could tell a ghost how to haunt a house."

"You're damn right I could," said Mack, "and there wouldn't be no table-rapping or chains. There hasn't been no improvement in house-haunting in years. You're damn right I could, Whitey!" And he lay back and stared up at the canopy over his head.

"I can see it now," said Mack.

"Ghosts?" Eddie asked.

"Hell, no," said Mack, "chapters . . . "

Steinbeck's little lesson here gets repeated a lot in writing instructions offered by writers both famous and not-so-famous, notably as in Elmore Leonard's well-known advice to writers, seen here.

Steinbeck offers good advice, some of which I'm taking as I edit this book of my own. But hearing Mack and Eddie and the Whiteys talk about house-haunting, part of me wonders if Steinbeck at the same time he's offering writerly advice is poking fun at people who offer writers advice, especially since they seem willing to offer any kind of advice to anybody in any situation. After all, one of the main reasons writers learn the rules is so they can figure out how to break them.

Still, the chapter idea has merit. As I re-read my own work, I see that now, thought having only the barest of divisions at the time seemed to work. That certainly works for Terry Pratchett and other authors.

Steinbeck himself breaks his own rules -- notably with "Travels with Charly," in which he dons the hat of a journalist, rather than the hat of a hooptedoodle writer. Still, they're good rules to live by, until you're ready to break them.

Feeling the Distance

I have thought a lot about Considering How to Run for the past 72 hours and, without even re-reading a single word, I recognize it needs work.

No real surprise there; what I’ve got is only a first draft, and a quite haphazardly written first drat as well. My writing style for this novel was, well, start out with a premise and then each day shakily wobble forward, aiming only for enough words to substantiate a good blog posting, then stop. Kind of a gonzo way to go about writing a book, but it worked for me in that I’ve got a first draft to play around with.

So now I’ve got to review it for continuity. Plot holes. Cliches and instances where I can use the language better. Insert more original stuff. Have faith. Be spiritual. And ring that doorbell. And do a lot more to make the story more interesting, the characters more appealing and plant more motivation in the book so the readers understand why the characters are doing what they’re doing. Maybe it means I’ll have to go over the draft a few times, working at it and working at it to make things better, taking longer than if I’d planned things out from the beginning rather than just, every session, pointing myself towards the end of the page and letting go.

Yes I’m going to obsess about this a lot. That’s my schtick. And it’ll help me in planning out the next book I write, once I get the system down.

How Long is Too Long? Or too Short?

So, how long should a novel be?

Quick answer: Long enough. But I'm finding out as I research a bit more on what agents and publishers expect from a novel, I'm finding some of my preconceived notions my not be all that accurate.

Length, first of all. I apparently am thinking too short. My first manuscript clocks in at just over 50,000 words. I thought that was a good length for a first novel. But it appears in the reading I've been doing that the expectation, at least for printed books, is somewhere in the neighborhood of 85,000 to 100,000 words. I've read lots of formulas as to why this is the alchemical number range to achieve, some of it having to do with print runs and editorial costs and whatnot.

Still, I'm in the original camp: How long should a book be? Long enough to tell the story.

I stopped at (or at least near) 50,000 words not because I liked the roundness of the number, but because I knew the story I'm writing is going to be a bit more complex and the narrative, at that point, reached a natural point where a break -- such as ending book one and leading into book two. But now that I'm nearly 16,000 words into the second manuscript, I've hit upon another natural break that either tells me I could easily add these words to the first manuscript, putting me closer to the magical territory, or that I've got to keep writing. The latter is obvious. The former, well, I'm not so sure it's obvious.

E-books Surpass Hardback sales at Amazon

Here’s food for thought as I ponder publishing my book:

Yesterday, Amazon.com said it sold 180 e-books for each 100 physical books in the past month, and that, over the past three months, more e-books than hardcover books.

Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos, according to the Wall Street Journal, credits a cut in the price of Amazon’s Kindle e-reader as a significant factor in helping e-books to their significant tipping point this summer. Makers of other e-readers, including Sony, Barnes and Noble and Apple also noted increased sales in e-books.

What does this mean for the sale of physical, paper books? A few things. Amazon says that the uptick in e-book sales was also accompanied by an uptick in physical book sales, though, obviously not to the same degree. The Wall Street Journal also quotes representatives of traditional publishing houses who are saying that there’s simply not enough data out there to say whether increased e-book sales are going to hurt traditional paperback sales.

That time is coming.

Nathan Bransford, a literary agent whose blog I follow, had this to say about e-books in a March blog post:

People will still have that choice and there are some books that simply can't be replicated digitally. But when faced with a better option, consumers shift extremely quickly. Right now the benefits of e-books are a little murky except for early adopters and those that can afford the devices. But that's just right now. Pretty soon they're going to be better (color! design! portable! interactivity! instantaneous!) and cheaper. Readers won't pay a premium for an inferior print product out of habit and nostalgia in great numbers.

The e-book era is going to be one of incredible innovation and unlimited opportunity, and people who don't see e-books dominating the future of the book world are ignoring the coming innovation and creativity and affordability. I refuse to believe the skeptics and pessimists. Books are about to get better.

So an e-book is definitely in my future. A publisher who wants to go ahead without such an option is off my list. And that sounds scary – would I really pass up publishing a book if they said an e-book was off the table? Ask me again when the opportunity arises, but for now, sitting where I am, I’d have to say yes.

No Fair Dozing Before Dinner . . .

Here I sit, one generation of Simpson, wondering what to do next.

I have finished my first novel. I have made much noise on this blog about that fact. And I find myself asking: So what? Here, the road divides: Both routes include finding someone to publish said novel, but both routes include different ancillary activities.

My impulse is to continue on, start writing the next installment of this story of Seth and Altus learning to become messiahs. I have started formulating a few ideas. But then part of me wonders: Am I better off going back and revising the first installment so I know that it works, before moving on? Because I know there are flaws. Many flaws. But am I too close to it to see them all? Probably. The best thing for a writer to do is to put his or her writing aside for a while, then look at it again with fresh eyes. It’s even better, however, to have someone else entirely look it over, because they will approach it with that cold eye. Michelle is perfect for this. But she’s incredibly busy with life and her masters classes and whatnot.

So I dither. And continue to gather ideas for the next installment. That’s probably the direction I’ll head: forging on.

Otherwise, I’ll feel empty. These past few months, working on that novel almost daily, really helped me find a sense of fulfillment. Not that I don’t have other things that are fulfilling – wife, children, career, great suit, terrific henchmen – but writing that novel really helped me find a project. Kinda like Lord Morley:

(Go to 3:03 for the appropriate moment.)

About That Long Tail . . .

When I was a journalist, occasionally we’d get a book in the mail. It was mailed to us by some obscure author from some obscure, distant place, in the hopes that we would read it, like it, publish a review and soon have the local populace beating a path to the author’s door. I read the books; I worked at a twice-weekly paper in a small town with really nothing going on, so I had the time on my hands. Rarely liked them. And we never published any reviews.

More than just occasionally, a zealous local author would call or barge into our offices, freshly-printed copy of their book in hand, and insist we publish a story about their book and about their achievement. Again, I worked at a slightly larger paper in a slightly larger town with slightly more news occurring, so I read the books. I had the time on my hands. Unquestionably, we wrote and published the stories. Local Author Makes Good, we’d say. And, because we’re not grossly stupid and wanted to preserve our readership, our well-standing in the community, and because the author’s puppy-dog eyes were focused so appealingly on us, we said nice things about their books. Even if they didn’t really deserve it.

We were their marketing. The really zealous ones got their books in the local bookstore, back when it sold books. Others tried all sorts of gimmickry, from advertising book-centered websites by stringing up banners on highwayside bales of straw to setting up booths a local street festivals, stacks of books on hand, eager pen ready to sign autographs.

We have one local author of note: Jack Weyland, of “Charly” fame, who went the route of publishing fiction through a niche publishing house which markets to a strictly niche audience.

The rest, well, they’re in that long tail of published authors that no one has ever heard about, and for good reason: They’re not very good. I include myself – unpublished – in their company.

I don’t want to be there.

Like many authors, I believe what I’ve written to be pretty decent. Fifty thousand, six hundred some-odd words of – and I’ll be honest here – first-draft prose. I know it has its faults. First drafts, and tenth drafts, and hundredth drafts, always do.

I am exploring my options. I have looked into self-publishing, you bet your boots. And prices in the self-publishing realm are going down. A few years ago, a run at self-publishing would have put me back about $1,000. Thanks to my brother-in-law over at The Lithium Press, I now know of fastpencil.com, where the prices – for an e-book at least – have plunged to a mere $150. That’s less than a day’s wages; much more manageable.

But at what cost?

Assurance of resting in that long tail. Forever.

Assurance of haybale URL marketing.

Assurance of going, hat and book in hand, to the local news outlets. The local bookstore.

This is the bone I have to pick with self-publishing: Despite the promises of liberation, of more control, more profit, more this and more that – you get less. Far less than taking the long, certainly mostly fruitless haul of trying to find a literary agent interested in your work. They send out, hat in hand, to market your book – your far inferior book – while they come at you, hand out, waiting for the fee.

Going the self-publishing route and want someone to edit your book? Yes you can. For a flat $199 fee, fastpencil.com will provide “a professional copy editor” to review your book “to give you invaluable advice.” Who are the professionals? Schlubs like me. Parlaying their career as journalists and technical writers into freelance editing careers. It’s Russian roulette – what kind of editor will you get? And what will that valuable advice entail?

Not satisfied with that? For 76 cents a word, get an advanced editorial review – “a tailored review of story ideas, plot development, suggestions for improvement of the work as a whole.” They even toss in copy editing! And for a book of 50,600 or so words, that comes out to a fee of $38,456.

Gulp.

All that, and you’re still in the long tail.

See? There are reasons books cost a certain amount at the bookstore, coming from a traditional publishing house. They may be inefficient, slow to change, cantankerous, railing at technology – but they filter. They help an author hone and caress, mill and shape as part of the package. They put in an investment they hope they can get out. And if they don’t see the potential, they’ll tell you. Bluntly. And as often as it takes to get the message through your thick little authorly skull.

I know this, and I haven’t even gone through the process. And maybe after this long process, if you make it through, you’re still in the long tail. But at least you paid in sweat equity, not cold, hard cash.

Self-publishing is tempting. But you get what you pay for. Self-publishing – until their prices to hone and refine come down to what the market will bear – will be like going to the lumber yard and coming home with a tree.

But – but – what about that organic collaboration I blogged about earlier in my post on the Creative Commons? Well, the self-publishing industry, as it stands now, makes that approach even more appealing.

We must hang together, or assuredly we will hang separately.

Oont: The Selling Begins

Seth and Altus don't want much: A little adventure. A new weapon or two. A peek at what lies beyond the green, secluded valley they call home and have never left because, well, the elders say there's no reason to leave.

They don't bargain on getting exactly what they want, either.

The strangers bring them the weapons they want, and with them, they help the village find more food for survival. Then the strangers whisk the two boys away.

In 50,600 words, Seth and Altus are whisked to House Deus where they learn they're in training for some kind of odd apprenticeship in which all they have to do is make suggestions to others. The suggestions they make, however, become more sinister until the boys escape. They're caught by the one man they thought would help them flee and are then taken to the other side of House Deus, where they learn their mission now is to train to become messiahs, saviors of other worlds.

And that's what I've got thusfar for a plot summary and the nucleus of an inquiry letter to send to publishers. If I can find one that'll give me the time of day. Which is rare this day and age, as most publishers no longer accept unsolicited manuscripts.

Writing the book, fine-tuning the book and getting an inquiry letter than sings may be the easiest part of this book thing. I will persevere, however. I will triumph.

I'm currently following, as I have mentioned, two literary agents who have blogs and massive followings from the Yankee Stadium of mediocre novelists that exist out there. I don't know if anything will come of that, but I can at least give it a shot, right?

Not Done?

While I was driving into town today, it dawned on me: Oont isn't quite finished. I just teased readers (okay, myself) with Altus stuffing a letter underneath a flagstone in full view of Seth as Altus was leaving House Deus, and I haven't done a payoff on that note. Do I keep it for the next book, or do I do another installment?

I don't know right now. But I suppose lots of things like that will come up as I read the whole thing again and notice the many, many little things (and probably some big things too) that need fixing.

Still, it's thrilling to think that I've got a completed thing to fix.

Oont is Finished

I’ve come to a startling conclusion:

The first draft of “Oont,” or “Through A Glass Darkly,” is done. It’s an odd feeling. And part of me is a little disappointed that it’s finished here, short of the psychological 50,000-word goal. I’m at 49,382 words. But I feel the first draft is done.

So what does that mean?

Informal research on my part shows that with 49,382 words, I’ve got a novel of about 165 pages, given an average of 300 words to the page. That’s an informal average I came to after counting the words on pages in several novels and averaging them out.

So it’s short, by most standards.

But that’s only what it means on the surface. Next comes the hard part: Revising. And it’ll take a lot of revising. Not that revision is a bad thing, it’s just that the real difficulties now arrive. And asking Michelle to read it is probably out of the question, given that she’s neck-deep in her classes now. And I’m also walking down the path to teaching a course at BYU-Idaho now, which seems exciting and foolhardy. Will I be able to revise this thing?

Yeah. I wrote the damn thing, didn’t I?

And good news: If I get too tired of the revisions, I can start on the next volume. Yeah, Oont is finished, but the story I’ve started isn’t. Heck, the story in Oont is incomplete and is going to require some give and take, adding in explanations, taking out what’s confusing and such. But I’m well on course to having a revised draft of the book done by the end of the year. I’m excited, and overwhelmed, both at the same time.

Oont: The 100-Page Milestone

Oont marches on, this time with lots of wildlife. And I hit the psychological level of 100 pages of single-spaced tomfoolery. What that means beyond having a page number in three digits I don’t really know, but it is nice to be there.

While I’m prattling on about meaningless numbers, here are some more:

Words: 44,221
Characters (no spaces): 196,014
Characters (with spaces): 239,403
Paragraphs: 1,140
Lines: 4,516

This tells me that my average word length is 4.43. Must be lots of short words then, which is okay.

What the numbers don’t say, however, is whether the writing here is any good at all. Most likely it’s not, but I can at least try, can’t I?

Oont: 40,000 Words

Oh, the adventure. Not that my story is all that exciting. Or finished. Nor does it even make sense. But I am trying to live a dream here, and that dream says “write a novel.” The parts that involve re-writing the novel come later.

Back at Hosue Deus, which is not particularly surprising. And with not that much bigger a stable of characters. That tells me either my writing style is such that I don’t want a lot of characters, or that my writing is so poor that I can’t handle more than just a few. Probably more of the former than the latter, but I will persevere.

I have direction, though. And I’ve actually done a little bit of research to help me along. What that research will actually end up doing for me is anyone’s guess, but it helps me identify some of the philosophical points I might want to cover, and they, in turn, suggest plot devices and other novel hints and structures that will help when the time comes to use them.

In other words, I’m optimistic.

I’m also wordy. Terribly wordy. I know people who were bragging that, at 42,000 words, their novels were finished. I’m still in the Petey Otterloop 95 chapters of exposition stage. I’m fairly confident that up to a quarter or half of what I’ve written thusfar can be thrown away, and that may happen as the editing occurs. But still, I’ve committed myself to finishing this thing (by the end of the year, gulp) before any editing occurs. I want to see the whole of it before I start to carve it up.