Let’s say you live in an isolated area and you don’t have the money for airfare or gas to travel to a large convention.  Or maybe you can’t get more than a day or two off from your day job, and if you want to spend more than an afternoon at the con, that’s just not enough time.

Are small local cons and geek markets worthwhile?

One of the benefits to doing a small local con is that many of them are happy to have another guest.  You’re probably not struggling for panel time up against the latest New York Times bestselling author.  This means it’s easier for you to get a chance to do readings and panels, even if you’ve only got a couple publications under your belt.  Small cons are an excellent place to get comfortable doing readings and panels and build up experience.

A geek market is like a dealer’s room without the convention.  It’s typically a more attractive venue than a farmer’s market or flea market for a speculative fiction author, because it’s drawing an audience specifically interested in geeky things–sci fi, fantasy, horror, pop culture and collectibles.

Should you get a table at a local con?  This will depend on cost of tables, your budget, and what you hope to get out of the con.  If you want to attend lots of panels yourself, consider sharing a table or bringing a friend to watch the table while you’re elsewhere.   Other cons allowed me to sell books after readings or during signing periods, which was more cost-effective than a table.  Always check with the con staff to be sure you are acting in accordance with convention policy.  Small local cons may waive registration fees for panelists, or you may receive a partial or full refund on your admission depending on how many panels you are on.  Some of them also offer free snacks or meals for staff, which may include panelists like you.

Should you get a table at a geek market?  A writer friend of mine has had great success sharing a table with her friend, an artist and toy collector.  She says that a good number of people came to the table to look at the toys and art, but stayed to buy books after she started conversations with them.  Sharing a table splits costs and gives everyone involved a chance to take breaks, get food, check out the other tables, etc.

There are a few down sides to small local cons and geek markets.  First, there’s less likely to be an opportunity to network with publishers and agents.  Secondly, you can never be sure how many books you will sell, so if you’re going to a local con because money is tight, be careful.  While there’s lots of things you can do to increase your sales, like talking to congoers, doing readings, and offering incentives like bookmarks or buttons, in the end there’s a certain amount of luck involved.   Are the people at the con interested in the theme of the books you’re selling, or are they more interested in spending their money on toys, art, or games?  Don’t depend on sales to feed yourself or pay your transportation home; you’ll end up resentful and in a tight pinch if you have a tough day.   Instead, my goal is to funnel all profits from books back into my writing somehow–upgrading my computer, buying more stock, travel money for future cons.

So are geek markets worth it?  The cost of the table is the major factor.  Make sure you can afford the table fee even if sales are disappointing.  This will be easier if more than one person is sharing a table, or if you’re selling other merchandise besides just books.

Are small local cons worth it?  If you are new to conventions, absolutely.  You can gain experience and get comfortable with pitching your work, doing panels, reading for an audience, and learning to sell in a smaller setting for far less cost.  If you can’t afford time or cost to attend a big con, a small local con can keep you “in the rhythm” of putting yourself out there.

If you’re an experienced congoer, ask yourself whether you’re giving up something else in order to go to the local con.  If you’re jetlagged from a big con the weekend before, overextending yourself and getting sick probably isn’t worth it.  Rest, family time and writing time are important too.  If you’d just be sitting around bored, though, take a day and connect with your local community.

Ironically, following a piece of “good advice” left me unable to write for months.

That good advice was Write Every Day.

So I did.  I set what I thought was a reasonable goal:  2,000 words.  On a good day, I can write twice that.  Even on an average day, 3,000 isn’t that hard.  I decided that every day, no matter what, I’d write 2K words.

So I wrote, even if I was tired.  I wrote, even if I was a little sick.  I wrote, even if I had to break prior plans because I hadn’t gotten my day’s writing done before it was time to go.  I wrote, even if I was writing incoherent garbage I’d delete the next day.

Then life began to trip me up.

We’d planned a trip for the weekend.  That’s 2K for Friday, 2K for Saturday and 2K for Sunday that has to be done before we leave on Friday.  I managed it, but when I got home, my “a little sick” became “a lot sick” and I spent the day unable to sit up and write.  That meant the next day I was under the gun to write 4K words to make up for what I’d missed.  I started staying up later and later, saying no to more and more activities, skipping more and more meals, trying to catch up for words I’d missed, or get enough done in advance to do activities planned weeks in advance.  I gave up more and more interests to save time for writing, until writing was the only thing I did.

Soon the schedule I’d made in the hopes of keeping momentum ended up getting away from me, mowing me over, and hammering me into the ground.

By the time I gave it up, I was sick long-term, and when I recovered, I had to focus on making up the time lost from my day jobs.  In the end, I think I lost about three months of writing time because I’d tried to keep momentum.

The moral of the story was for me to build in time off.  If I’m treating writing as a full-time job, I work five days a week–not seven.  That way I don’t have to do extra work in advance to go on a weekend outing, and if I’m sick one day, I don’t have to worry about making it up so long as I make that day one of my two “days off.”  I don’t sacrifice cooking and eating time for writing:  no more convenience junk food or skipped meals.  I also don’t sacrifice sleep.

Ironically, I’ve found myself gettting more work done by taking two days per week off.  10K words a week is still a novel’s worth every three months.  I’m in better health, in better mood, and producing better quality work–no more sitting at the typewriter hammering out garbage just to get the 2K done so I can sleep at last.  I’ve found a goal that’s achievable, repeatable, and long-term sustainable.

So to me, momentum doesn’t mean writing every day.  It means finding your rhythm that you can sustain long-term, without sacrificing your physical health, your mental well-being, your connection with friends and family, and the other interests that enrich your life.

Sometimes your setting isn’t yours.

When you’re writing in a shared universe, you, as the author, are coming into a setting where someone else has already done some of the designing.

This might be franchise work (consider a setting such as the Star Wars Expanded Universe, or a novel series based on  a video game or role-playing game), or perhaps you’re just role-playing for fun.  The setting that you are writing in has already been outlined.  Your job, as a storyteller, is to create a novel or short story or character that fits into that universe.  This involves reflecting not merely the setting, but also “flavour,” themes, and overall experience.

If you’re writing in a shared setting, my number one advice is to respect the rules of the setting.  If the setting states that human beings each have one and only one magical talent, or there are no aliens in outer space—please follow those rules.  Your characters don’t have to defy the rules of the setting to be interesting.  The franchise owners are looking for people who can tell compelling stories within their pre-existing setting.  They want characters who are complex and interesting and who fit within the rules—characters who embody the kinds of people who can live in the world of the video game, or role-playing game, or movie universe, or whatever kind of world it might be.

Sometimes it seems as though beginning writers think the best way to make their characters interesting is to break the rules of the setting—to be the first known alien in the no-alien galaxy, or to have three magical talents in a setting where most people have only one.  What makes a compelling character isn’t what their character can do, it’s the kind of person their character is, and the ways in which that character interacts with other people and the world around her/him.  Similarly, a powerful, rule-breaking artifact doesn’t, in itself, make for an interesting story.  Readers are looking for a tale that conveys the flavour of the setting, not a story intent on breaking the setting to suit itself.

If you’re writing in a shared setting, please read the lore before you begin outlining your story, and ask your editor, lore keeper, game master or overseer if you have any questions.  It’s much easier to ask about an idea first, rather than have to make major edits to a completed novel because you assumed that all sci fi would have aliens, or forgot that in this setting there are no aliens in outer space.  Suddenly you’ve got a book about human-alien relations that doesn’t fit in the setting you’ve been contracted to write about.

Shared settings work because of common rules accepted by everyone who’s creating works within that setting.  If you’re hired to work for a shared setting, it’s because the people who hired you want stories that reflect the world of that IP (intellectual property) or setting.   Your job is to reflect the world of the shared setting, as creatively as you can, while providing an experience of that setting that its audience is seeking.