Suspension Of Disbelief

As readers we all know that when we pick up a novel or a short story, it’s a work of fiction. Something someone made up in order to entertain us.

In other words, we know it’s a story but choose to disregard that knowledge, and instead pretend it’s real.

Lawrence Block posited an interesting thought in his book Telling Lies for Fun & Profit:

But first is it not essential that the writer suspend his own disbelief? He more than anyone knows it’s just a story… To the extent that he visualizes it first, to the extent that he has the experience of his fiction himself before he puts it on paper for someone else, his work acquires an essential reality in his own eyes. He suspends his own disbelief and makes it easier for the reader to go and do likewise.

I hadn’t thought about suspension of disbelief this way before, but I’d have to say Block is on target.

When I think about my own stories and novels, they do indeed acquire an essential reality. The characters become alive and their story becomes real.

I know objectively that Pierce Mostyn and the OUP, Tina and Harry, Bill Arthur and the world of Rocheport, aren’t real. Yet, they are very much real to me. They have lives of their own, and I’m privileged to share their lives on occasion.

The more real my characters are to me, the more I transfer that reality to my writing, which in turn transfers that reality to the reader.

I can’t help but wonder if the books I read that I find boring and fail to enable me to suspend disbelief, are the ones that, in Anthony Trollope’s words, were written by writers telling a story, instead of having a story to tell?

In the first instance, a writer tells the story because he feels he has to. Maybe he needs to pay the rent. In the second, he has a story and it’s so amazing he just has to tell someone. The first is a case of manufacturing a story and selling it to the reader. The second is a case of receiving a story, as it were, and telling it.

When a story has captured a writer to such a degree that he has to tell it, that’s when I think the writer has suspended his own disbelief and thereby enables us to suspend ours.

Of course, subject matter, genre, the writer’s skill, the writer’s style, all come in to play and impact suspension of disbelief. There are some writers who I just can’t stand, yet others love their writing. It’s the beauty in the eye of the beholder thing.

Nevertheless, I’ve read books where the writer truly needed to hire a proofreader. Yet, I read on in spite of the textual interruptions, because the writer told his story so well. My suspension of disbelief weathered the interruptions.

Lawrence Block’s observation is something to think about, and one we writers need to take seriously.

If the story we are writing is just a story, how can we ask our readers to treat it as anything else? They may enjoy it, but will they remember it? Will they even finish reading it?

But if our story is reality to us, then there’s a much greater chance our readers will be suspending their disbelief right along with us.

You can get Mr. Block’s excellent book on Amazon.

Comments are always welcome. And until next time, happy reading!

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Who Am I To Talk?

Every now and again I write about writing. Specifically, writing fiction. And some may ask what are my credentials? What gives me the right to give you advice on fiction writing?

Those are good questions. In my years of writing for publication, I have not been on a bestseller list. I’ve garnered some awards for poetry, but not for fiction. And I’ve yet to earn a hundred dollars a month writing fiction.

So what gives me the right to talk to you about fiction writing? What do I know that you don’t?

Derek Doepker talks and writes about Content Curation. You see, we live in an age of information overload. There’s just too much of it out there. How do we know what’s good, bad, and just plain ugly?

Well, that’s where I come in. I curate the content for you. I do so based on my years, many years, of reading and observing other writers, many of them successful, as well as steering you away from the mistakes I’ve made. I sift out the chaff, and present you with the wheat. And I do it for free. I don’t charge you anything for what I share. It is all free to you.

I hadn’t thought of myself as a content curator until Derek Doepker mentioned that being a content curator is one way I can be of service to those folks who subscribe to my mailing list. And if I can do that for my mailing list, I can also do it for readers of my blog.

So who am I to talk? I am a nearly 69-year-old guy who’s been reading about fiction writing for the past 57 or so years. More years than some of you have been breathing. I’ve taken creative writing classes and writing courses. I’ve talked with successful writers and I’ve observed what the moneymaking writers do and don’t do. 

In addition, I have plenty of life experience that helps me to smell out the scam artists. Those folks who are in it just for the money and not to help you. The PT Barnums of the world who believe there is a sucker born every minute, and that sucker may just be you.

I cut out the bull crap for you, because I wish there had been more people to cut out the crap for me.

Remember, my friends, writing is analogous to the gold rush. Just as the ones who made money in the gold rush were not the prospectors, but the ones who sold the shovels, the wagons, and the blue jeans to the prospectors — so to, most of the people who make money in the writing business, are the ones selling advice and software to wannabe authors.

It’s easy in this writing gig to get-poor-quick. In fact, that’s usually what happens. Especially with fiction writing. My goal is to help you not fall into that trap. I don’t want you to be the proof that PT Barnum was right.

One more thing. If you seriously want to make money writing fiction, write non-fiction instead.

Not only is there a much, much better chance of making money writing non-fiction, but if you get sufficiently well-known — people will buy anything you write. That’s what happened to a late friend of mine.

Comments are always welcome. And until next time, happy reading and writing!

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Defining Success

In any endeavor, we consciously or unconsciously define what success looks like.

When I was writing poetry, the writing of which is not financially lucrative by any measure, I defined success by such things as name recognition, the ability to get into certain magazines, the ability to write and get published, what was for me, a difficult form to write, and to be considered by my peers as the first amongst equals.

None of those measures of success involved receiving payment for what I’d written. Yet they were all determiners, for me (and most, if not all, of my fellow poets), of being a successful poet.

So how do we define success for ourselves in general and in writing fiction in particular? That question is no different than asking what is the meaning of life?

The answers are personal, and only you can provide the answer for yourself.

Writers, especially fiction writers, seem to think their work only has value if they get paid for it, and such payment that will enable them to quit the day job.

Is money, though, the only measure of fiction writing success? Can we define success some other way?

Of course we can. We can define success anyway we so desire.

Ask yourself this: if I were to never get a dime for any story or novel that I wrote, would I keep on writing? Or ask yourself this: Do I love writing? Or do I love the dream of getting rich from writing?

If most aspiring novelists were honest with themselves, they’d admit that they see writing fiction as being like the gold rush, or the lottery. They just want to get rich in what they think is a very easy way to do so. 

What they soon discover is that writing, especially indie writing, is a job — not a get rich quick scheme. Writing is work. Rewarding work, in my opinion. But work, nevertheless. And as with the gold rush and the lottery, the middleman is the one who makes the most coin.

Here’s another question: What do you love to do, even though you get no money for doing it? In fact, you have to pay money to do it. What is that activity? Whatever it is, that’s how you should view writing. You love doing it, even if you have to pay money to get your books into other people’s hands. And in the process, if you’re good enough, or lucky enough, you might make some money at the writing gig.

I’m going to let you in on a secret. Writing fiction — if you want to make serious coin by writing — is a business. And if you aren’t good at business, you won’t be good at making money from your pen.

But if you’re willing to put in the time to educate yourself on the business part of the writing gig, then, like any other self-employed person, you might make a living at writing. Probably won’t get rich, but you might make a decent living. Might. Just keep in mind that most businesses don’t succeed. They fail.

Which brings us back to defining success in writing fiction some other way than monetarily. It might be helpful to see ourselves as entertainers. Entertainers who make people laugh and cry just for the pleasure of giving them a brief respite from their lives.

In the nearly 7 years that I’ve been doing this writing gig, I’ve sold 929 books. It’s not a million, but it is more than none. And to my mind, that is something.

If I add in the 61,291 Kindle Unlimited page reads, and figure them to be equal to at least 300 books, then I’ve had people pay me to read over 1200 copies of my books. Incredible. That is, simply incredible.

I’ve also given away over 3300 books as lead magnets, ARCs, and gifts. Which means even more people have at least one of my books in their hand, and hopefully found the read a pleasurable and entertaining experience.

You see, on July 1st of this year, 2021, I had an epiphany. And it was simply this: focusing on trying to make money was destroying what I love. The pursuit of riches was making me hate writing.

And I truly love writing. I love the very act of holding a pencil or pen in my hand, and putting words on paper. I love the experience of the mystery of the creative process and seeing the results appear on paper. That, in and of itself, defines success for me: getting the story out of my head and onto paper.

Marcus Aurelius, the last of the Five Good Emperors, wrote, Life is opinion; or, Life is what you decide it is. One can define success the same way: success is what you think it is.

If you define success as being the second James Patterson, good luck. You might have a better chance of winning the lottery. Why set yourself up for what is surely to be failure? Then, again, who am I to say you won’t be successful? Because you very well may be.

You see, I’ve never had much interest in being a bestselling author. I simply want to sell books, have people read them, and like them enough to buy more of my books. To me, that is plenty of success. But it might not be for you. On the other hand, I encourage you not to define success in such a way that if you don’t achieve it that lack of achievement destroys your love of writing. Or your love of anything, for that matter.

Nor have I ever had an interest in being an award winning author. That’s just someone’s opinion, and most people’s opinions aren’t worth a tinker’s damn because they are subjective and not based on evidence. Which is certainly true about art, and fiction writing is art. But if awards float your boat, go for them. Just don’t be disappointed if you don’t get one, and quit something you love.

In my own eyes, and I’ve come to realize at the age of 68 years and 9 months that those are the only eyes that matter, I’m a successful writer of fiction.

Have I climbed the highest mountain that’s out there? No, I haven’t. But you don’t have to climb Mount Everest to be a mountain climber.

Comments are always welcome. And until next time, happy reading (and writing)!

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To Write Is The Thing

This past weekend, I got a big shock, a sad shock: one of my favorite indie writers, Ben Willoughby, is hanging up his pen. He’s taking down his Twitter profile and pulling his books off of Amazon. I encourage you to get his books while you can — you won’t be sorry. He’s a doggone good writer.

Buy Ben’s  Books!

For nearly 5 years, I’ve been an independent author/publisher. And I’ve had a blast. I’ve loved every day of the adventure.

However, along the way, I’ve seen writers drop out for sometimes unknown reasons. None of those writers were bestsellers, and perhaps the lack of financial reward convinced them that they had better things to do with their time. And that is a decision only they can make.

In the end, the writer himself or herself has to decide if telling stories is worth the effort or not.

In the case of Mr Willoughby, I’m very sad that there will be no more new books from him. But I have to respect his decision that his time can be spent better in other pursuits. After all it is his time and not mine.

But it is just a tad frustrating for me as a reader, when a good writer, such as Mr Willoughby, quits writing, leaving the field to writers who are much inferior. Writers who are often on the bestseller list. Which completely baffles me, by the way. How does a mediocre at best writer get people to buy his or her books by the truckload? In a world full of unfair things, that is perhaps one of the most unfair. Mr Willoughby should be on the bestseller list, and it is very sad that he is not.

For me, though, writing is the thing. I cannot imagine any other life. And at my age I have lived a life or two. I hope to heaven, I die with a pencil in my hand putting words on paper. And that after I crossover, I pick up that pencil and continue writing.

As I’ve noted before, I don’t make much money at this. Last month was the best month I’ve had in a year. I made 30 bucks and change. And there are better writers than I, who don’t even make that much. Which is a very sad commentary on those of us who are readers.

In some ways, I see myself like the old prospector in the movies panning for gold and hoping to strike it rich. If I don’t keep at it, I definitely won’t get rich.

On the other hand, is such a pittance worth all the effort? I can only answer for myself, and that answer is yes.

From 2001 to about 2013, I actively published my poetry. And I did it the traditional way, submitting to print and online magazines. I was fortunate enough to achieve a bit of renown, and to pick up an award or two, and even pick up a couple bucks.

The truth is there is no money in writing poetry. Yes, there is the exceedingly rare individual who for a short period of time is popular enough to make some money. But that popularity doesn’t last and the person fades away.

Writing poetry is truly a labor of love. You have to find satisfaction in something other than money. And for over 10 years I did. But then I felt I needed a bigger canvas on which to work, and as I was nearing retirement I wanted to live my dream of writing fiction full-time. And I am living my dream. I write full-time. I just don’t make a full-time income.

Once I realized that in order to make money at this writing gig I needed to have money, money for websites, money for bookcovers, money for various services, money for advertising, I realized that unless somebody took me under his or her wing and promoted the heck out of my work I was not ever going to get on the bestseller list. Because I just don’t have money to risk on the business end of self-publishing. I’m retired and on a fixed income.

Reality sucks, but realizing what reality is has helped me to adjust my attitude from fantasy to something more realistic. 

And I am content, at least for now, at where I am at. I don’t have money to pour into advertising, I don’t have the money to get fancy-schmansy bookcovers like the bestselling guys have, I don’t have money to pay other people to do all the stuff that I don’t want to do just so I can spend all of my time writing. I am a one man band and I have to live with that reality.

And I am okay with it.

But if other writers do not want to put up with the crap and decide that they have other things they would rather do then spend hours producing work that virtually no one buys — I cannot blame them for leaving writing behind. After all who wants to do a thankless job forever, especially if you have other things on your bucket list that you want to do?

I am just sorry to see the good ones go, because that leaves me just a little bit poorer.

I wish Mr Willoughby well. I am thankful that I got to know him, that I have his books on my Kindle app, and that I can reread them at my leisure.

Now you can do him a favor by buying his books and giving him a nice goodbye present. You won’t be sorry. He’ll be gone and you will still have his wonderful books.

Buy Ben’s  Books!

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Fiction Is People

Fiction is all about people. At least good fiction is. That’s why good fiction stays with us. Why it’s memorable.

Theodore Sturgeon once said, “Good fiction is people. And people are people you know.” Which is probably the point of the old writing adage: write what you know.

It’s all fine and dandy for the writer to show off his or her knowledge about cars, or cooking, or stamp collecting, or orchids — but if those things don’t touch people, so what?

Of late, I’ve been watching Colombo. The lieutenant is a wonderfully drawn character, and certainly went a long way to contribute to the show’s popularity. What I find of even more interest, is that Colombo knows people. He knows what makes them tick. What is likely and unlikely behavior. He’s a shrink masquerading as a police officer in a rumpled raincoat.

Columbo is all about people: their greed, their habits. And how it is that in the end, who they are is what ultimately trips up their attempts to get away with murder.

Good fiction is about people, because without people there is no story. How can a story exist without people? Sure, we can substitute animals for people, but that’s just a camouflage. The story is still about people, and still tells us something about the human condition. It is as Ray Bradbury noted: create your characters (the people), let them do their thing — and there is the story.

There are writers who get hung up on plot. They have to detail each little action in the story. Too often, what gets lost along the way are the people in the story. And the reader knows it. The characters are flat, lifeless paper dolls.

Now some readers don’t care. They devour the story and move on to the next one. Those readers are kind of like junkies just looking for reading fix.

However, I think most readers want a quality reading experience. They want to read about people like themselves, or about people they would like to become, doing wonderful and amazing things.

Tarzan is memorable because he personifies the best in us and is ultimately someone who we’d like to be.

Rex Stout gave us the sedentary eccentric genius, Nero Wolfe, and the wisecracking man of action, Archie Goodwin. I find myself drawn to both of them, but particularly to Wolfe. Why? Because I would like to be the master of that brownstone. Good food, good books, the big globe, beautiful orchids. I’d just sub tea for the beer.

I can’t recall any story that I remember solely because of the plot. I do, though, remember many because of the characters. Bilbo Baggins. Hercule Poirot. Sherlock Holmes. Carnacki. Rona Dean (from RH Hale’s Church Mouse). Tony Price and Chris Allard (from Richard Schwindt’s two mystery series). Carol (from Steve Bargdill’s Banana Sandwich). The Zombie from Ben Willoughby’s The Undude. Tatsuya (from Crispian Thurlborn’s 01134). And more. So many more.

Fiction is all about people. Fiction is us.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Write Bravely

The best writing advice is free. Mostly because there is nothing new under the sun, and the same advice is simply recycled. And the internet is a great repository of recycled advice.

I started getting The Writer magazine in 7th grade (1964) and Writer’s Digest shortly thereafter. And I constantly run across the same writing tips that I read 56 years ago. And when I read books on writing from the ‘50s or earlier, I smile at the knowledge that what I read a half-century ago was simply advice recycled from decades earlier.

A couple weeks ago I ran across the following advice on Twitter from Matthew J Crocker (@CooksUpAStory):

My 1st book taught me I COULD write.
My 2nd book taught me my method.
My 3rd book taught me my voice.

All will never be published as is. And all were invaluable.

Writer. Every word you write teaches, makes you better.

So write bravely.

There is nothing new in Mr Crocker’s advice, other than it receiving the imprimatur of his own experience, which moves the advice from the academic to the personal. And therein lies its value. It’s proof that what he says is true.

Mr Crocker’s experience is similar to my own, just substitute poems for books.

As Dean Wesley Smith notes — writers write. You learn writing by writing — not by re-writing. 

A carpenter learns how to make cabinets by making cabinets. A potter learns how to make pottery by throwing pots. A painter learns the art of watercolor painting by painting. 

It is only in writing that the authorities tell you to learn the craft by not doing the craft.

However, the pros, the ones who earn a living putting words on the page, will tell you that it is only by writing that you will ever truly learn the craft and art of writing.

Robert A Heinlein and Edgar Rice Burroughs were two writers who gave the same advice to new writers as Smith currently does. They just said it differently. And Mr Crocker is saying the same thing as Smith, Heinlein, and Burroughs. He’s simply using his own words to describe his experience.

Each book we write teaches us something. Doesn’t matter if it’s our first, or our hundred and first.

Writers write. So, my friends, write bravely. Because there are no mistakes. Only happy accidents.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy (and brave) writing!

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Making Life Pleasant

“I wish… to thank you for your share in making life pleasant for me.” —from a letter, by a reader, to William Wallace Cook

In this little world, so crowded with sorrow and tragedy, what is it worth to have had a share in making life pleasant for a stranger?

—William Wallace Cook, in The Fiction Factory

William Wallace Cook, due to his prolificity, was called “The Man Who Deforested Canada”. Unfortunately for us, and I suppose him, his popularity with the reading public seemingly died when he did in 1933.

A search of the internet yielded no complete bibliography, nor even much of a biography. It seems none of his books are in print. And virtually none have been digitized. I suppose the lack of bibliography is due in part to the many pen names he used, and to a very large portion of his work being published under house names, and a considerable portion of his writing for the 5¢ and10¢ libraries of the day not being credited at all!

Would his present anonymity have bothered Cook? I’m sure I can’t answer that question. However, in his autobiographical The Fiction Factory (published under a pen name!), Cook does not seem to have had an eye to the future. He knew very well he was writing “disposable” fiction. He was not writing the great American novel — he was writing fiction to make a buck to pay the rent and put food on the table. He was an entertainer, much like TV scriptwriters today, and he seemed fine with that.

Then there are the quotes above.

While it’s clear Cook wrote hundreds of novels and stories for money, he was not averse to the writer’s higher calling: making life pleasant for the reader.

If he could, by his typewriter, help to alleviate someone’s sorrow, that was worth more to him then the check he got from the publisher.

I was a prolific poet: writing something over 2000 poems in the space of about 10 years, and seeing several hundred of them in physical and virtual print.

As I’ve said before, there’s no money in poetry. One must seek satisfaction in something other than the almighty dollar. For me, it was hearing from a reader how much one of my poems touched him or her.

Quite honestly, 99% of us will be forgotten by the time our peers and our children are dead. And some of us a lot sooner than that!

What matters most in life is how we touch others. We can be a vehicle of positive energy or one of negative energy.

As a writer, I can crank out books to make a buck — or I can seek to step a bit higher and hopefully make life pleasant for someone. The choice is mine.

I like money. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t writing in the hopes of making money. However, at the end of the day, I’d rather touch someone, inspire someone, or make life pleasant for someone than bring home shopping carts full of money.

There’s nothing wrong with money. After all we do need it to live. If suddenly my sales took off, I’d be jumping for joy. And I wouldn’t give the money back. But if no one ever told me one of my books made life pleasant for him or her, I would be very sad. Very sad indeed. For though rich, truly I’d be poor.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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Good Villains

What makes the hero (or heroine) stand out, and show us what he (or she) is made of, is the villain. The hero’s nemesis.

Who can forget the Wicked Witch of the West? Or Inspector Javert?

A memorable villain will make a story a success, even more so then a memorable hero. Because the hero must triumph over the villain to win. The bigger the villain, the bigger the triumph.

Of course, an author can shake things up. Take Macbeth, for example. Where a hero becomes his own worst enemy, aided by his lovingly ambitious wife. The same can be said for Stevens in The Remains of the Day, where he is the villain to his own hero.

Generally, though, the villain and the hero are two separate persons. Both want something and are at cross purposes in the achieving.

A good villain can even save what might otherwise be a mediocre production. The TV show Colony, canceled after three seasons (which is a shame), in my opinion, was carried on the back of the villain Alan Snyder. The hero and heroine, Will and Katie Bowman, were lackluster characters (nor was the acting very good for their parts).

What made Colony a success, I think, was the complexity of the character of the bad guy. Alan Snyder was someone you justifiably hated, and yet empathized with because in many ways he is us. He personified the dilemma of survival.

There are many great villains in literature. A few of them are:

Augustus Melmotte in The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope

Count Dracula in Dracula by Bram Stoker

Captain Ahab in Moby Dick by Herman Melville

O’Brien in 1984 by George Orwell

Fagin in Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Mrs Danvers in Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Four of my favorites are:

Mrs Proudie in Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope

Mrs De Ropp in “Sredni Vashtar” by Saki

She in She by H Rider Haggard

Cthulhu in “The Call of Cthulhu” by HP Lovecraft

Mrs Proudie, like Lady MacBeth, is driven by ambition. However, operating in Victorian society, Mrs Proudie must take a different approach than did Lady MacBeth in achieving the goals of her ambition.

Mrs Proudie whips her milk toast husband, the bishop, up the ladder of clerical success — and she steps on whoever gets in his way. Trollope makes it quite clear early on that it is indeed Mrs Proudie who wears the trousers in the Proudie household. The bishop’s attempt at taking over the reins of his life are quickly quashed.

Mrs Proudie is not a nice person. Unlike Lady MacBeth, she doesn’t have anyone do the dirty work for her, nor is she the least bit repentant.

Mrs De Ropp, for me, represents the evil of duty, and manners, and expectations — all hidden under a façade of do-goodism. Mrs De Ropp does what is proper and expected and in the process is killing Conradin. And she doesn’t seem to care.

She, or She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, is the ultimate jealous bitch. She kills her lover in a jealous rage, then bathes in the magic fire so she can live forever until her true love is reborn and they can be reunited.

In the meantime, she enslaves a whole nation of African tribal folk to serve her. She takes a woman scorned to a whole new level of meaning.

By the way, her actual name was Ayesha, and she was an Arab. Her lover was Egyptian and she wanted to rule Egypt. Ambitious to boot.

The ultimate question about Cthulhu is this: is he truly evil, or just indifferent?

When it comes to, let’s say ants, are we evil or just indifferent? There are ants on the sidewalk. Do you step on them, or over them? Do you even notice them?

Given Lovecraft’s worldview, I’m inclined to say Cthulhu and his ilk are merely indifferent. On the other hand, an argument can be made for the evil of indifference.

Put yourself in the place of the ant. Now contemplate humans.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

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From Reader to Writer

Readers become writers when at some point they say to themselves, “I can do that.”

Or they just know the writing life is for them. An intuitive sort of thing.

With the advent of viable e-books, a new breed has risen up. I call them the gold rush writers. They see writing as a get rich quick scheme. And there are quite a few who are making significant piles of money. But as with most prospectors in the gold rush, most writers aren’t making those piles of money. In fact, it’s the middle man who is: the man who sold shovels to prospectors, and the ones selling covers, and formatting and editorial services to writers.

For myself, I cannot remember a time when I didn’t read. My mother read to me when I was young, and, even though she wasn’t a very good reader herself, she instilled in me a love for reading that has never left me.

Along with never remembering a time I wasn’t reading, I don’t remember a time when I wanted to be anything but a writer.

Unfortunately, my parents were of a practical bent and writing was just too dreamy and artsy-fartsy for their tastes. I got no encouragement from them to write.

However, a person who truly wants to write can’t be held back and I did write some during my school years, got one or two things published in the school lit mags, had a play produced in high school, a poem published in a fanzine, and that was about it.

After school, life and family responsibilities took over and the writing got pushed to the back burner.

The bug, though, had bitten and in 1989 I wrote my first novel, a mystery, Festival of Death. The book took me a year to write, but I wrote it. When finished, I sent it out, got a rejection slip, took another look at it, and decided it needed work, as most first novels do, and put it in the drawer.

I made a few more attempts at fiction. Had one or two pieces accepted in fanzines. And then switched to poetry.

Never in a million years would I have thought of myself as a poet, but it was via poetry that I found my initial writing success.

During the 1990s, and into the new century, I wrote several thousand poems, had hundreds published (mostly in e-zines), and eventually became a “name” in the small world of English language Japanese-forms (we’re talking about haiku, tanka, and renga).

The Internet is fragile and its content ephemeral. What is here today, is gone tomorrow. And most of my published poetry is no longer extant. The myriad of pixels have vanished. The e-zines are gone.

As I approached retirement age the fiction bug bit me again, but this time very hard. Poetry didn’t provide a big enough canvas anymore. I wanted the space a short story or novel provided. I wanted to create interesting characters and saddle them with impossible problems.

And so it was, I gave up poetry and returned to fiction. I had many false starts. Mostly because I thought I had to outline my novel. And I can’t outline worth a darn. When I finally learned there was such an animal as the “plotless” novel, and such a creature as the pantser — I knew I could finally write fiction. After all, I never planned my poems. I was a pantser poet. Why not a pantser novelist?

I never looked back. My first novel as a pantser was a monster of 2000+ pages. A sprawling cozy catastrophe completely un-publishable as originally written — it nevertheless broke the ice.

I’m now revising and publishing The Rocheport Saga as a series. There are currently seven volumes, with more to come.

Next was Festival of Death. I love Tina and Harry and couldn’t let them languish. I hauled the original manuscript out of the drawer, kept the first chapter and the ending, and rewrote everything else. A much, much better novel the second time around, I went ahead and self-published it. And have chronicled many more adventures of Tina and Harry, Tina being Minneapolis’s most unusual private eye.

The life of Lady Grace Hay Drummond-Hay is every feminist’s dream. I don’t understand why no one has written her biography. A fascinating woman who lived in fascinating times: the period between the two world wars. A prominent and well-known journalist in her day, it’s sad to see she is virtually unknown today.

She became the inspiration for my own Lady Dru alternative history novels. Of which I currently have two.

I’ve always loved horror and have several short stories and the Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation series published.

And as long as I have breath there will be more ideas coming from my pen, and that makes me want to jump out of bed every morning and get to work.

The e-book revolution has allowed me to realize my dream. I’ve had enough rejection slips in my day to know I don’t like them — and to know they come from the subjective whim of another person, a person who just so happens to have the title “editor”. But a person who puts his or her shoes on the same way I do.

Editors aren’t infallible, nor are they omniscient. They make mistakes and their knowledge of the marketplace is limited. Most are in fact simply buyers for their publishing houses. And as such tend to be very conservative and not willing to take any chances.

Today’s e-book revolution puts the work of writers before readers — and lets us readers make the decision concerning a book’s future.

However, while writing is easy for me, marketing is a nightmare. And no writer hoping to get his or her work read can avoid marketing. Somehow we writers have to get our books before readers. And we readers will never know a book is out there unless someone tells us it is. There are just too many books for us readers to possibly know them all.

I once read that 3000 new books appear each day on Amazon. Amazon, however, only promotes those books on which it can make money. In the end, those are darn few. Most books, therefore, languish in Amazon’s dusty book basement. And many good books, sad to say, are sitting on those dusty shelves.

Why are good books not seen? Mostly because the author isn’t marketing them, or isn’t marketing them effectively.

Some authors believe in the magic wand. They say, “I’m a good writer and my friends like my book. It’ll sell.” Then they’re disappointed when it doesn’t. And it doesn’t sell because too few people even know it’s out there. One book in a sea of millions is the same as one needle in a haystack. There are no magic wands.

Marketing is difficult. It has few established rules, involves a lot of guesswork, and many years of experience. It also takes money. Maybe not a lot. But if a writer doesn’t have the money, then any amount is a lot.

I’m in that category. I don’t have a lot of disposable income. Therefore, I have to think harder and smarter about marketing. I just can’t throw money at the problem in the hopes of finding a solution. And I know there are no magic wands. I am going to have to do something to get people to find my books. And I want them to find my books. I want more readers. I think my books are good reads. Others think so, too. Those that have found them, that is.

IMO, Patty Jansen has laid out the best course for indie authors to follow if they want readers and would like to make a living from telling stories. It’s my plan to get more readers and hopefully make a few bucks while I’m at it. Art for art’s sake is fine. But it’s better if lots of people can appreciate it — and that takes marketing. And while I’m at it, you can find all my books here.

Even though I’ve moved from reader to writer I’m still a reader. Reading is my favorite form of entertainment. The number of books is endless, they’re fairly easy to find, and one can read anywhere and at anytime.

Currently, I’m reading the delightful Flaxman Low occult detective tales and Seabury Quinn’s Jules de Grandin stories.

Let me know what you’re reading. And the more obscure the book, the better! If the book is by an indie author, and I like it, I’ll give the author a little free publicity.

Comments are always welcome, and, until next time, happy reading!

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The Mars-Venus Thing, Part 2

                             Mars vs Venus

Men are from Mars and women are from Venus, so it’s said. Mark Gungor’s “Tale of Two Brains” humorously describes this difference.

Last week, I began taking a look at these differences and how they affect fiction writers. I concluded with the idea that men who read fiction are the collateral damage of the contemporary fiction scene.

This week, I want to look deeper into the notion men don’t read fiction. Before I do, I’d like you to read two articles. They are excellent and describe the problem eloquently. The first is by Jason Pinter and the second is by Porter Anderson.

Okay, now that you’ve gotten the background material, let’s look at what those two men have to say about men and fiction and what the ramifications are for indies.

Big corporate publishers believe the maxim “Men Don’t Read”. Consequently they don’t publish for men or market towards men. As Pinter points out, when there aren’t many books on the market for men to read, they’re going to do something else with their time.

While Pinter excoriates Big Publishing concerning men and reading in general, Anderson focuses on fiction. Where the bias is even greater. In fact, Anderson’s statements regarding his own and men’s attitudes in general are supported by Kate Summers in her study. (Here’s a pdf version where the tables are visible.)

As Mark Gungor would say, men have a drawer labelled “fiction”. As writers, I think we need to fill it.

Since men prefer men authors (prefer is the operative word here), it seems only logical men should write for men; at least some of the time. But do they?

Hugh Howey’s protagonist in Wool is female.

Felix Savage’s protagonist in the first three books of his Sol System Renegades series is female, and a lesbian to boot.

Michael Anderle’s protagonist is female.

TS Paul’s protagonists are female.

The list can go on and on. If men readers say they prefer men writers and men main characters (as Summers notes in her article), why aren’t we men indie writers writing for them? That is the question we need to be asking ourselves.

Mark Dawson’s survey of his mailing list (some 60,000 persons at present), revealed that readers of his John Milton series are evenly split amongst men and women. Proving Summers’s survey to be spot on: while men favor men, women are much more eclectic in their reading preferences. As Mark Gungor notes: men are not as flexible as women; it has to do with how our brains work. And we all know men are lousy at multi-tasking.

Today’s cozy mystery field is, like romance, dominated by women. Women writers and women protagonists, with the requisite love story.

However, once upon a time men wrote cozies and with men as the protagonists. A few examples:

  • David Crossman with his Winston Crisp series.
  • William L DeAndrea’s Matt Cobb series.
  • Edmund Crispin and his Gervase Fen mysteries.

And there are others. Today, however, men have abandoned the field to women. Or perhaps the big corporate giants pushed the men out and indies followed suit.

Mark Coker’s Smashwords is heavily biased towards romance. From his own survey, half of his catalog consists of romance novels and 73% of the top 200 bestsellers on Smashwords are romance. It is well-known that Coker is cozy with romance writer organizations. Why? Perhaps he, too, believes men don’t read fiction. And wants to go where he thinks the money is.

It’s my desire to see us indies get out from under the publishing bias of the corporate giants and start catering to both sexes. After all, if half your potential market is men and the other half women, why not write for both? I mean, seriously, who wants just half a pie?

One way to do that is to have a man and woman as a dual protagonist. Men will go for the combo and so will women. Certainly a win-win to my thinking.

For cozy mysteries, the female amateur sleuth can hook up with a guy in the first book. And then in subsequent books, the two solve the crimes together. That would satisfy the romance part and would provide a strong draw for men readers.

The problem this attitude of everything for females in the fiction world causes for young men and boys is that they are turned off to reading. “It’s for girls.” “It’s for sissies.” And the drawer marked “Reading” remains closed. And perhaps never opens.

As Anderson points out in his article, ebooks just might be the best thing that could happen to men. We can read anonymously. Which is really what most of us men want. Yet, indie authors, who primarily publish ebooks, seem to be mainly writing for women. ‘Tis a pity.

Or perhaps indie men authors genuinely think men want to read about kick-ass hot women main characters. There might be some truth to that.

The pulp market of the 20s, 30s, and 40s certainly understood the power of a scantily-clad heroine being rescued by the hero. However, today’s writers seem to forget the hero. Adolescent boys and young men are into wish fulfillment. As Kate Summers notes, almost half of the men surveyed need to identify with the main character. If there is only the heroine, where is the wish fulfillment? If there isn’t any, the guys go elsewhere. Once again, reading is for the female of the species.

Independent authors are independent. We are the ones to buck the corporate giants and their preconceived notions. Unfortunately, the “get rich quick” crowd has flooded the indie field and lost somewhere in the quagmire is the male reader. Because we all know men don’t read fiction. BULL.

I have a friend who says he prefers non-fiction. Then he’ll go on and list novel after novel he’s read and asks if I’ve read it. He prefers non-fiction. Yeah, right.

The male reading public awaits. From grade school readers to us old guys. Give us books men can relate to.

One more example. Of the nine cozy mysteries I’ve recently read, all of the protagonists were women and three of the four writers were women. I enjoyed most of the books. They were light entertainment. Disposable reading.

I recently read a short story with a male protagonist, “01134” by Crispian Thurlborn. The story was profound. It was profound because mano a mano I saw something of myself in the main character and Thurlborn’s powerful writing made the experience alive. The story was “entertainment” in a philosophical, thought-provoking, and emotional manner. Definitely not disposable reading.

Indie writers, please don’t forget us men who love to read fiction. And there are a lot more of us than you think.

Comments are always welcome. Until next time, happy reading!

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