A Complaint About Complaints

I was born on a Wednesday.

Growing up, anytime I whinged in the slightest, I’d be mocked.

“Wednesday’s child is full of woe!” (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s a reference to a nursery rhyme.)

Perhaps the continual mockery shaped me. Perhaps it is why now this Wednesday’s child has next to no patience for woe… especially when it comes from fellow authors.

I’m not selling enough copies! I have no inspiration! Everything I write is crap! No one would ever publish my work. There’s no point even trying.”

Sure, everyone complains at some point. Writing – and life in general – can be frustrating, and we all need a good moan now and then (as exampled by this very post).

BUT.

One thing is a little sulk, a one off complaint. Another thing is continually complaining about the same things.

So you’re not selling enough copies, don’t have inspiration, and think your writing is crap.

What are you going to do about it?

Standing there moaning solves NOTHING.

If you’re unsatisfied with your lot, make a plan. Write down your complaints and set achievable goals to improve the situation.

Think your writing is crap? Find a critique group, read critically, keep practicing. Not selling enough? Reevaluate your marketing strategies, try new techniques.

All that time you spend sitting about moaning is time wasted.

Do SOMETHING.

If only for my sake, and the sake of all the other Wednesday’s children who’ve been mocked for complaining.

Over to you. Is there anything you’re not happy about when it comes to your writing? And if so, what are you going to do about it?

The Power Of Words

Thinking back to my days at school, the first thing I feel is old.

Almost eight years have passed since the heady, post-exam days of the summer of 2005. Almost eight years since my classmates and I were together, dressed in shiny blue silk gowns and unflattering hats.

The girl I was at graduation would have thought of eight years as an interminable length of time, yet it has passed in a blink. Now — with a Bachelor’s, a Master’s, and two full-time jobs under my belt — I can look back to my time at school with a degree of nostalgia.

The truth is that without school, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not wishing myself back in time. Those young enough to remember the terrible anxieties of school dances and classroom politics will agree that teenage drama is worth experiencing only the once. Yet there are some memories that have stayed with me, and these are the ones that have shaped me into the (slightly older) girl I have become.

What connects all these memories is the most important lesson I ever learned at school:

Words have power.

Communication is the cornerstone to learning, but it is also so much more than that.

It is through words that teachers motivate, inform and inspire their students. However much being a teacher can become frustrating (particularly when students aren’t in the mood to concentrate) it is also an empowering role. As a teacher, you can help a struggling student if you know what words will motivate them.

As for students, it is through words that they express and find themselves. Writing well-constructed essays, however dull the subject matter, is an invaluable skill. The ability to critically discuss issues or stand up and present to a crowd should not be taken for granted.

Trust me: in the last eight years, I’ve met my fair share of inarticulate people. Perhaps that is why, when I think back to my time at school, the moments I remember most are those that involve the power of words.

At first, I was slow to enjoy words. I was a poor reader and a worse writer in elementary, lagging far behind my classmates. Yet one teacher managed to convey the joy of reading to me, to motivate me into wanting to learn. I began to devour books, not to mention write countless (appallingly drawn) stories about horses. Without her words, I wouldn’t have read one hundred books in a year.

In middle school, it was a teacher who taught me the difference between ‘can’ and ‘may’. To this day I remember my utter bemusement when I raised my hand and asked, “Can I go to the bathroom?” to which the teacher replied with a smile, “I’m sure you can.” Now, when I’m editing, I correct people making the same mistake with a little smile of my own.

Another teacher, frustrated by our snickering, pre-teen humour, stuck posters around the classroom with words such as ‘long’ and ‘hard’. With time, these words lost some of their power — or perhaps we learned to suppress our immaturity. This taught me that words mean different things to different people, and the importance of adjusting your lexicon to your audience.

My favourite memories, however, are the moments which inspired me.

I remember one day, our teacher came in and wrote on the blackboard that he had laryngitis and couldn’t speak. The entire class passed in attentive silence; never before had a class of teenagers been so quiet. He wrote a line of poetry on the board, and we wrote the next. Then he wrote another line. Then we did.

At the end of class, the teacher clapped his hands and said: “Right, let’s hear your poems.” Not only did he not have laryngitis, but in the last hour of silence I’d written my first poem. As each student read their poem aloud, it was astonishing to see the differences emerge.

In another lesson, our teacher asked one of my classmates to bring in his cello and play for the class. As the first notes strummed through the air, the teacher told us to relax and write whatever came into our minds. The words flowed through me onto the page, and I was filled with a contended lightness that made me realise: this is what I want to do.

There are many more moments I could mention. Throughout the twelve years I attended school, my love of words was recognised, nurtured, and encouraged. My current successes are in part due to being taught the power of words, and for that I am forever grateful.

Of course, I am a little biased. As an author, words mean everything to me. But I believe that the power of words can take you wherever you want to go, whether that place is writing a collection of zombie short stories, starting up a business, or even just surviving the next school dance.

So to the teachers out there, here are a few words of my own: watch what you say. You never know who is being inspired or motivated by your words.

To the students: listen carefully, and listen hard. School is what you make of it.

And to the (kind of) grown-ups like me: school may be over, but you should never stop learning.

The Importance of Deadlines

Working in production has taught me the value of deadlines.

I’ve always been a deadline enthusiast – I am, by nature, a procrastinator and need structure to make sure I finish project on time – but when you’re publishing weekly and monthly magazines (plus a load of supplements), deadlines take on a whole other meaning.

Each magazine has multiple deadlines – sales, editorial, design, subbing, printing, and shipping – and it is my job to ensure that every single one is met.

What I’ve found, though, is that each department isn’t really aware of how anyone else works. They argue and wheedle to get more time, without considering the knock-on effects.

When one person delays, everything is delayed, and since I’m the final gateway, that means I bear the pressure to get the magazine out on time.

So what does this have to do with writing?

As an indie, it is YOU who must set the deadlines.

If you want to make books happen, set deadlines. If you struggle to finish stories, set deadlines.

How? Here’s how I do it.

Decide when you want to publish the book.
Consider what time of year might suit its subject matter best (Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day) and also when it’s likely to get noticed. August, for example, tends to be a fairly dead month.
Count back one-two months
Yes, MONTHS. You’re going to need 1-2 months prior to release in order to do your marketing prep, send out advance copies to reviewers, etc. Build up the buzz so your book’s launch doesn’t go unnoticed. If you’re releasing a print edition, you can use this time to get the copy prepped and ready for distribution, so that the ebook and print versions launch together.
Count back one-two weeks
This is the time to typeset/design/lay out the book and review the finished product, catching as many of those last minute typos as possible.
Count back another month
Give yourself a month for edits and revisions. Ideally, you’ll hire someone in to work through your manuscript with you.

Can you finish your manuscript in time to meet that first deadline and have your manuscript ready to be edited? If not, you’ll need to rethink your timings, considering carefully how long each step of the process will take and — most of all — allowing time for delays.

Confused? Here’s the schedule in practice:

March 31: Manuscript finished.
April 1-30: Liaise with editor and make final revisions.
May 1-7: Lay out the book, final proofing.
May-June: Prep the print edition, do your marketing work, etc.
July: Launch!

That’s how my ideal schedule works, at least.

Teaser Excerpt: FTSB

Every door in the village was barred shut, every window sealed from entry. The red dirt of the main street was baked dry and clouds of dust stirred with their footsteps. If it weren’t for the scent of the people hiding behind closed doors and the sound of their heartbeats—fast and frightened, like hummingbirds—Fang would have thought they had wandered into a ghost town.

He looked over at his companion Jake, who was weary and covered with dirt but still handsome somehow, and felt a stab of guilt. It was his fault they were in this state, his fault they were fleeing further and further away from Jake’s home.

“This is the third village like this,” Jake remarked grimly, untying the sweat-soaked bandana from around his neck. “Where’s a werewolf going to get a shower and a drink these days?”

“Perhaps the next village will be better,” Fang said. The skin between his shoulder blades was crawling with the weight of the villager’s stares. They knew what he was; Fang was sure of it. “We should keep moving.”

“Fuck that. I’m tired, I’m thirsty, and I’m all out of cigarettes.” Jake continued down the road, hunting for an inn. When he spotted a likely door he strode up to it and knocked. “We know you’re in there,” he called. “We’d like a room for the night.”

Silence. Fang hung back, alert for trouble.

“We’ve got cash,” Jake added.

Now there were murmurs from behind the door. The summer drought was at its peak, and judging by the fine dust permeating the air this village had been hit worse than most. There wasn’t a hint of green as far as the eye could see—even the weeds growing in the shelter of the house were twisted and yellow.

“Step back,” a woman finally said.

Jake backed a few steps away from the door, keeping his hands slightly away from his sides to show he wasn’t armed. The door opened a crack.

“Turn around.”

Jake turned on the spot, looking amused. There was no place to conceal a weapon in his baggy trousers or vest top, but he had no need for weapons. Even without shifting to wolf form he was stronger than the average human. They both were. Fang put on a smile and did his best to look harmless.

The inn door opened fully. A girl barred the doorway, human by the smell of her. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a bun and she was wearing tight trousers under a loose shirt. In her hands was a long broom, held before her like a weapon. Her breathing quickened as they looked at her but she stood firm, and there was something about the way she lifted her chin that reminded Fang of his little sister. His heart twisted painfully in his chest and it took all his focus to keep on smiling.

“Hello,” Jake said, his voice sinking that little bit lower as he smiled at the girl. She flushed under his attention and Fang suppressed a flash of jealousy. “Could we stay the night at your lovely establishment?”

* * *

An except from my current WIP, which is set in the Above Ground universe. I’m aiming for novella length and am having good fun with these characters.

5 Reasons Why Not To Write A Sequel

Now that the initial flurry of publishing Above Ground has died down (and the subsequent post-publication I-hate-my-writing stage has passed) my thoughts have turned to writing the sequel.

Ideas keep bubbling. The excitement is returning. What can I do to the characters THIS time? How can I raise the stakes? How can I give the readers who’ve enjoyed Above Ground more of what they love?

And yet…

Even though I’ve jotted down every idea and drafted a rough outline, I cannot bring myself to sit down and begin writing.

It took me over three years to write Above Ground. In that time, I’ve learned where I went wrong. I’ve learned how to write better and faster. I’ve learned that I CAN write a novel.

But what I haven’t yet learned is if I can write ANOTHER novel. A sequel doesn’t count: it’s the same characters I love, the same stories, the same threads.

Can I write something unrelated? Can I build a new world and fall in love with a new cast of characters?

The idea of starting afresh terrifies me.

And yet…

5 Reasons Why Not To Write A Sequel

Only people who like Above Ground will want to read the sequel.
Diversifying my offerings will introduce my work to new readers.
Creating a new world, plot and cast will improve my skills.
It will prove that I can write unrelated novels.
Most importantly, because it terrifies me.

Yes, those waiting for the sequel will most likely throw rocks at me. But I believe that a writer who only sticks to writing what they find comfortable will never grow. And I want to be the best writer I can be.

And when I do go back to write the sequel to Above Ground, the story will be all the better for it.