Archive for » June, 2008 «
I don’t think I could have said it better myself with this article from SlushPile.net. It’s like they were channeling me. Now, if you don’t get past the title of the article and come back to me and start griping about how much of a snot I am, go back and read the flippin’ thing. Believe it or not, it makes the same point I’ve been trying to make with self-publishing.
I will admit, when I first came across the term “self-publishing,” I went ‘WTF? What’s the point? If you want to get published, do it like the rest of us. It’s not the same.’ After much discussion and research, I have come to realize the validity of self-publication, why people do it and just what the point is. Really, I do like it. I think it’s a great concept if you have something to share with a niche of people, be they just your family or a set of online readers. If done right, self-publishing can be lucrative, as I’ve seen people discuss. It takes a hell of a lot more work going that route to be a nominal success, but if you’re willing to do it, then kudos to you.
What hasn’t changed, though, is that it’s still not the same as standard publication. Most of the people I know that do self-publish are fully aware of this although I have seen some of them succumb to the “published author” syndrome.
For anyone that’s paying attention, I’ve just had a significant (for me anyway) jump in the word count for Diamond Crier (over in the sidebar, scroll a little . . . right there). I can write the books. Oh yes I can. But my payment for this talent is the manual labor involved. Ok, so I don’t break a sweat but it was heinously muggy yesterday if that counts for anything.
Writing pen to paper, while very freeing, is a bit hampering when it comes to actually typing the work into the computer, especially when I do this only once a month. Why only once a month? Because that’s pretty much when I feel like doing it. I wouldn’t want to do it every week and I like not knowing how much I wrote until the month’s end. I like the surprise, even though the number is far less than what it felt like to type, nor looked like page-wise in the notebook.
Why do I write pen to paper when writing directly to the laptop would save so much time and finger numbing? There’s a post here under the Coney Island Psyhic category where I say why. I just can’t type straight into a laptop. My brain freezes and the story suffers because of it. I’ll do what I need to do in order for the story to not read like a piece of crap and if that means writing it out, so be it. Now I just have to work on my penmanship because I came across some words yesterday that I needed a decoder ring to decipher.
And when I say I spent all day typing, I literally spent all day typing this section in. I broke for some snacks in the middle of the day and then dinner, starting the whole deal sometime around 2. I finished around 11 last night. Oye. On top of that I still have a fanfiction chapter to type in. In my insanity I contemplated doing it last night. Then the dementia waned and I went nope. So I’ll do that this morning. Much less in this typing but my fingers aren’t big fans of the keyboard at the moment.
If you’re an interneter like I am, I’m sure you’ve come across the wonders of anonymity and the mornonism that runs rampant on the internet. People don’t have to face up to any consequences. They sign on to a website with a handle that’s obviously not their name, whirl feces at the rotating device and run out and are fulling capable of functioning as if what they did didn’t just happen. No effect for the cause because the internet allows for such infantile behavior. It makes me wonder just what’s going through the head of the person on the other side of the screen, or should I say what’s not going through their head. Really, is a hobby that dastardly a thought? A game of pick-up at the school yard really that much effort to detach from the computer desk for an hour?
It’s one thing to have the internet loser flame at you for some random thing you post on some random message board. People flit in and out of those at their leisure. It’s another thing to have your writing up and people flame you for it. It happens. Why I have no idea. More than likely too much time on their hands. This happens a lot in fanfiction (although those fanfic authors are wont to distinguish flames from constructive criticism but that’s another post entirely). Frankly, though, a lot of fanfiction makes me want to say just what those flammers are saying but I leave it to them to look like an ass. I just shudder, scrub my brain and move on.
Then there’s the serial fiction. For whatever reason people can just be spiteful and leave tepid reviews simply for the sake of it. For them I recommend knitting. Or perhaps something that doesn’t involve small, pointy spears. Suction cup art. It just makes you wonder, what the hell’s the point? It’s usually obvious when a reviewer is being nasty for the sake of being nasty, especially considering they couldn’t motif their way out of a forest. They’re the ones that leave the reviews that you look at and go, “why bother?” Alas, to truly understand the motives of the anonymous interneter, one must shut off their brain entirely.
I wish I had found this article when the whole “novel in a year” came about and was able to take part in it. It seemed like a really neat idea and I wish the links were still working so I could look over what was done. I’m sure I would have learned a lot. Now I’m just learning things at my own pace and that’s working just as well.
But my pointing this article out isn’t for the novel in a year program that the author did. It’s what she said about writing and what it means to be a writer. There are many, many people out there claiming themselves to be writers. When asked what they’ve published, many say nothing. I’m in that pile. Actually, technically I have been published and recognized. However, aside from the humor award, in nothing really worth noting on a query letter. Anyway, not many people are thwarted about that. An unpublished writer is hardly rare. But when asked what have they written, therein lies the dark horse. A couple of short stories ten years ago. A poem here and there. And they’ll get to the novel “when they feel like it.”
I’m calling shenanigans on those people (how I love that term). Writing does not mean you write a few thousand words every few years and you get to call yourself a writer. Why would those who didn’t write want this title anyway? Is there some prestige attached to it that I don’t know about? Do we get decoder rings? No. Writing involves blood, sweat and homework for the rest of your life. A real writer will find any means to write, will write anywhere, under any conditions when the urge calls for it. The want to write, to tell a story, is constantly there. You don’t have to write tomes a year in order to call yourself a writer but writing something consistently with some kind of goal in mind, be it publication or just to get a story on paper, can certainly render yourself one.
And now it’s back to your regularly scheduled blogging. I had to get those posted though. I liked them too much to just delete them.
Anyway, you may have noticed that I’ve added a bunch of pictures to the sidebar there, aptly titled as being from Coney Island. You’d think that since I’ve lived in New York City, I’ve been to the area I don’t know how many times, that I would have gotten down to Coney before now. Nope. Memorial Day weekend was my first visit. I also didn’t think the sun would be all that strong that day. My arms were so burnt they were purple. Wasn’t I wrong?
As you know one of my WIPs is set in and around Coney Island. Now, if I didn’t live so close, I’d probably research the hell out of the location, Google Earth, Mapquest and all those handy dandy tools. But since I do and it gives me a great excuse to go into the city (not that I need one), I went in. And I have to say, for having never been there, I was pretty close on the layout of it all. I have to say I had images of something, um, nicer in my head but now I realize that I wasn’t thinking of Coney Island with those. Remember the movie Big? At the end where him and the woman are walking along a boardwalk? That’s what I had. That’s not Coney. I don’t know where that is but I’m sure the end credits say something about it.
I have to say, I love boardwalks. They just have this pulsing aura about them. I’m not sure what it is but it’s almost like there could be a whole subculture living underneath every one of them. Granted I’ve only been to two (Coney and Santa Cruz) but I plan on going to more (especially since a series I’m outlining will center on a boardwalk).
