Show Me the Money

I've been reading some interesting articles on self-publishing -- in particular, how some writers (John Locke, Amanda Hocking) have sold millions of books. Which generates many, many royalty payments.

However, there is another set of millions to consider. This group contains the writers who would like to emulate Locke and Hocking. (Hocking sells an average of 9,000 books a day.) So they write a book, format it for Kindle and CreateSpace, say a prayer and launch it.

And wait.

I've played that game, too. I feel very lucky if I sell one book a month. Somebody out there bought my book! I can buy a cup of coffee!

Maybe my expectations are low or maybe they are simply realistic. No one knows my name, so they aren't looking me up to see what I've written lately. They have to stumble across me or hear about me from someone else who knows someone who has read my book.

It's the old Catch 22. The book has to be a best-seller before people recognize your name, and it won't beome a best-seller if no one knows who you are.

So the next step is gaining recognition. In other words, become your own publicist. Some people are very good at this. They are someone's guest blogger every day. They write a blog with their book prominently pictured somewhere in the margin (gotta do that!). They have a website (check) and Tweet a dozen times a day. They go on forums and modestly drop their book's title in the conversation.

That's fine, if you have time. I don't. Neither does Locke, who has kept his day job. So how did his book make it?

He writes very good books. That should be step number one.

Secondly, he pays an editor to go over his manuscript. Too many writers think they can catch their own typos and flaws in the plot (hint: they can't) and send out a book riddled with errors.

Think readers will be eager for the next one?

He also hires someone to design his covers. This should be a no-brainer, but too many people rely on a friend or their kid. Or they say, "Hey, this is easy, I can slap together a cover using Google Images." One word: beware of copyrights.

I'm not saying most self-published books are terrible. Quite the contrary; many authors pay close attention to grammar, editing, plot line, etc. They shell out the bucks to get a professional cover. And their stories are darn good.

I got an e-reader just to download books written by people in my writing groups who ae self- or Indie-published. Many of these are as good or better than some best-sellers I've read. So why aren't they raking in the dollars?

That, my friends, is the question. Maybe there are just too many books out there. Maybe it takes time to get recognized. Maybe it is all pure luck of the draw.

Maybe, in the end, word of mouth is the best advertisement.

Killing Your Darlings

When William Faulkner said, “Kill your darlings,” he meant to take out the wonderful sentences, the sparkling paragraphs, the powerful descriptions that do absolutely nothing to advance your plot. If you love it beyond reason, it doesn't belong.

While acknowledging this admonition, I am using it in another sense. I mean, literally killing your characters.

It wasn't hard to kill the villain in my unpublished historical novel. He was a bully and a rapist, an opportunist and a cheat, and he deserved what he got.

It was a lot more difficult to kill off one of my characters in "Angels Unware." But someone had to die to show just how precarious Kat's (the heroine) position was. I had created them, I had grown fond of them, and now I had to kill one of them. But which? The young mother, Mindy; Barbara, who finally followed her dream; or Reva, who found her love late in life?

It wasn't an easy decision.

Then there is the method. Sometimes the answer is in the story and the death, while unforeseen, is a logical outcome. Or it can come as a shock. In "A Question of Boundaries," one villain's death is unexpected and jarring. This death is immediately followed by another equally shocking -- not by its timing, but by the method.

Or maybe not, if you recall the hero's special gift.

I don't have to kill any of my characters in "The Lunch Club" (coming soon!) although there is one in particular I would have liked to have done away with.

How about you? Do you find it brings you to the point of tears when you realize that one of your beloved characters must leave? And when you make the decision, how do you decide the manner in which he will make his departure? Sweet and poignant or sudden and brutal?

Let us know -- we're wondering.

Why I don't have an iPhone

We were talking about computers at Sunday School a week or so ago. This is a senior class and most of the members said that not only did they not have a computer, but that they had no desire to get one.

One woman said she had one, but only used it to Skype her grandson, who is in the military.

The rest agreed this was a legitimate reason to break down and buy a computer. Someone suggested e-mail as another incentive.

"Oh, I'd rather write a letter or call," came the objection.

With stamps now at 45 cents each, I have to assume these people have more disposable income than I do. Or they are more efficient than I am. I write letters, of course, but as soon as I put one in the slot at the Post Office I think, "Dang! I forgot to mention ..." Fill in the reason I wrote the letter in the first place. Which necessitates writing another letter to convey the missing information.

This is akin to our trips to the grocery store. Invariably, we come home with three bags full of foodstuffs only to discover we forgot the milk that was the reason for our going in the first place.

So I e-mail. That way, immediately after I hit "send" I can write another e-mail with "forgot to add" in the subject line. And it doesn't cost me another 45 cents, either.

Yes, I have sympathy for the Post Office, but there were people who had sympathy for the buggy-whip manufacturers, too, when automobiles came along.

I think I am fairly computer literate. I can create simple web sites, upload a file to Youtube, and format a book on CreateSpace. I Tweet (about once a month because I really don't have a lot to say) and have a Facebook account.

But when the Sunday School class's conversation turned to iPhones and iPads, I had to admit I was lost. I have a cell phone, but rarely use it. It took me a year to figure out how to delete old messages and another six months before a someone showed me how to lower the volume. I text, but I could walk to the person's house and deliver the message in the same length of time. I watch the ads on TV and wonder aloud, "How do they do that?" as people go from games to movies to news to finding a restaurant with a sweep of their index finger.

So here I am, a geezer with one foot in hi-tech world and another in the Land of the Luddites.

I can't help but wonder what technology will have today's baby boomers bumfoozled 20 years from now.

As does the old "technology" bewilder and frustrate our actual babies -- take a look.

Do you need an agent?

At what point does an author decide she needs an agent?

Some writers find an agent with their first book and build a long and happy relationship. Others may find at some point in their career that the relationship is no longer working and part ways.

And some do very well working directly with the publisher, putting that 15% fee in their own pocket.

Quinlan Lee of Adams Literary talked to my chapter of RWA (Romance Writers of America), Carolina Romance Writers, at our last meeting. As an agent, she was well-qualified to discuss the advantages of working with an agent.

Agents, she said, become your advocate, working tirelessly to manage your career, provide support and negotiate rights to your work.

An agent doesn't just sell your book. Her job is to license the rights to your work in the U.S. and abroad. That includes audio and electronic versions, film, TV and merchandise, permissions and subrights, and theme park rights.

Theme park rights? Just think of the new Harry Potter theme park at Universal Orlando.

If you are fortunate, you have been offered a contract. One writer friend told me her first contract was four pages and five years later, her most recent contract was 14 pages long. The reason for the additional length is the ever-increasing and confusing world of electronic publishing. You can find an intellectual property rights attorney who sees you as another one-time client, or find an agent who will be with you for the long haul.

An agent will keep you from making mistakes. She knows editors personally and she knows what they are looking for. You might or might not know that Publisher X has lost interest in paranormal and is looking for World War II stories. She won't waste your time or hers by querying.

In the event that you get several offers for your book, she can sift through them and guide you toward the one most advantageous to your budding career. It might not be the largest advance, but it will earn you more over the book's life.

How do you find an agent that is right for you? Lee suggests attending writers conferences and writing groups, checking the AAR website and referrals from other authors. Look for an agent who has a knowledge of the market, a good reputation in the industry, a passion for her work and a commitment to your work.

Lee concluded by telling us what an agent looks for in a writer. "She should make us laugh, make us think, and make us want to turn the page," she said. Clients agents avoid taking on are "too needy, too greedy and too speedy."

Lest you wonder at the added expense of paying annual dues to a writers' group, I can asure you that the advice I got at this meeting alone was well worth it.

Before I stop, a gentle reminder that the 2012 Carolinas Writers Conference will be held in Wadesboro, N.C., April 13-14. Registration fee is only $20 in advance What you learn might be priceless.

It is all over for another year: the shopping, the wrapping, the baking, the decorating, the cards and the carols, the family visits...

Of the above list, the last is my favorite. We enjoyed having the grandkids for a few days between Christmas and New Year's (accompanied by their parents, of course). I had baked three kinds of cookies and two kinds of fudge. Needless to say, what they didn't eat went home with them.

Before they came, Jim and I asked ourselves how we could entertain an 11-year-old boy, almost 14-year-old girl and almost 15-year old boy. And, as in previous visits, the worry was needless. The cousins entertained themselves quite well.

Our big excursion was to Carolina Place Mall so they could spend their Christmas loot. In their case, it was books (yay!) and games.

On the following day, when someone suggested we go Allen's General Store's petting zoo, I thought they were too old -- but we couldn't drag them away! Woody the llama was a favorite. The clerk said Woody had never taken food from anyone's hand, but both boys proved her wrong.

When we got back the oldest boy asked if I'd teach him to sew. That was a surprise, but we dragged out the old machine that I hadn't touched in 10 years. I had to remember how to thread it. My son Rob made a video of me telling them how to do this, and how to feed the material through -- not pull it! The bobbin winder had frozen up, which Rob thought he could fix, but they rigged a temporary solution with Jim's electric drill. Too funny, but it worked. The boys got into it so much that I sent the machine home with them along with the cookies and fudge.

That left a space in my bedroom, so I decided to rearrange it. I ended up cleaning out my dresser drawers and tossing a lot of unused "stuff."

Then I took down the decorations. I'm still finding a few here and there that I forgot, and I like my candles in the windows so much that I may leave them there until Jim starts complaining about the electric bill.

And that, my friends, is why I haven't blogged in three weeks.

I wish everyone a very peaceful, healthy and blessed New Year.

Hey, that's MY baby...

Last summer, I was invited to join a book club. I belonged to one many years ago when I lived in New York state and realized how much I had missed it. It didn't take me long to accept the invitation.

We studied "The Shack" for several months and when we finished, the group decided on its next project. I was surprised when they all agreed to read "Angels Unaware." And embarrassed. I offered to drop out while they read it, but was voted down.

"We want your input," they said.

"Angels Unaware" is my first published novel and frankly, by the time it was out in print and e-reader, I was throughly sick of the editing and rewriting process. I hadn't even looked at in in months. So in a way, it was like reading an unfamiliar work.

But not quite.

The women attacked the book from an entirely different perspective. They called Jordan, Kat's selfish and controlling husband, "Jerk Man." Then they divided a sheet of paper into columns and listed all his good qualities on one side and his faults on the other. The faults led by far.

Like all writers, I try not to make my heroines too perfect or my villains too evil. They must have a flaw or a redeeming quality or no one would believe in them. So, I tried to point out places where I had had Jordan act, if not nobly, at least a little less self-centeredly. "Look," I said, "where he tells her he's sorry she's sick and offers to pay for a second opinion."

"Huh. Just like Jerk Man to throw money at a problem," sniffed one member.

"He must have a reason to act like he does," mused another. I had a hard time keeping my mouth shut before I gave away too much of the plot.

"Well, she might have questioned where all that money came from at some point. She just accepted it."

As they argued, I had the feeling they were talking about people they knew, friends or acquaintances whose foibles they were dissecting. It was hard to remember Kat and Jordan were just words on paper, people who lived only in my head. Except now they were living in someone else's head as well.

Although I tried to accept their opinions, it was a little like parading my first-born child at a tea party and hearing everyone both praise and criticize my darling's every feature and mannerism.

I don't know if I'll go to the next meeting. They might enjoy reading the book more without worrying about hurting my feelings. (Although no one has yet -- they seem to like the book and ask innocently why it isn't on the best-seller list.)

On the other hand, how many writers get to hear their readers react honestly to what they've written? A carefully written and thought-out review is great, but to see someone read a passage for the first time and blurt out an emotional response is entirely different.

So they hate Jordan and cheer for Kat in her struggle to discover herself. And that is exactly what I hoped would happen.

Where Ideas Come From

I am not a joiner. Oh, I belong to two writers' groups and a book club, and do some volunteer work at the church, but that's the extent of it. A good week is when I have no meetings penciled on my calendar.

Mom was different. Once we kids were grown and out of the house, she became a social butterfly. If she didn't have at least one meeting reminder on her kitchen calendar she would go into a depression. For her, a good day was a committee meeting with coffee in the morning, a bridge club luncheon, a late afternoon bridge club and an evening with friends after dinner. Or an evening with friends with dinner.

Whnever I visited she hauled me along to her bridge clubs, thinking I "needed to get out and meet people." I couldn't convince her that I had plenty of friends of my own and viewed playing any card game with the same joy I greeted a dentist appointment.

There was one club she belonged to, though, where I did enjoy tagging along. This club had no name, no officers and no charter or bylaws. It grew, if I remember correctly, from Newcomers Club meetings when all the ladies were strangers to town and to each other. Long after they were settled, they continued meeting for lunch. That was it. The only rule was the members took turns choosing a restaurant for the next month's meeting.

There was no adgenda. They caught up on each other's lives, exchanged news of mutual friends, discussed the latest book or movie (or Hollywood scandal), and enjoyed a good meal.

So when I needed a reason to have my characters come together in my next book, it was a no-brainer to adopt Mom's monthly lunch meeting -- with one difference. I gave it a name: "The Lunch Club."