Category Archives: Business

A guest post by Travis Heermann.

Writers are some of the most desperate people on this planet.

We pour our poor, tender subconscious out into an endless void, where most of the time nothing comes back to us but endless rejection. Except for Mom, who loves our stuff. The writer’s life is a long, lonely road through a thunderstorm, the aloof gaze of a bazillion passing headlights washing over you in the pouring rain as you drag your luggage behind you, which contains your most precious things–your dreams, your stories, your underwear. And all you want is someone to notice you, pull over and give you a ride, someone besides your mom, someone in the industry who’ll drive you to that cocktail party where the real authors hang out. Many of us walk this road for years, and it breeds a kind of desperation akin only to that experienced by would-be starlets bound for Hollywood, suicidal painters, and musicians living in their van.

On the advice of several people, I attended my first World Science Fiction Convention in 2008 to stick out my thumb and hope for a ride.

I was there with singular purpose: meet editors and pitch my next novel. But the hard part was, I knew practically no one there. There was an acquaintance I had from back home, a fellow writer, and he was literally the only person I knew. As most writers are introverts for whom assertiveness and social intricacies are secondary skills–that’s why we write, for frak’s sake–this kind of situation is a like a death-trap designed by our arch-nemesis.

I could not help but walk around just agog, thinking “Oh, my god! There’s Favorite Writer X.” Such people were thick on the ground, writers I had been reading for years. If Heinlein (were still alive) and Bradbury had been there, I would have collapsed into a puddle of nerveless protean goo.

When one is walking around an event like this, a world of incredible conversations spin about us. It is not uncommon to see four or five established, A-list authors just sitting around chatting. The newbie can only imagine what spectacular deals and secret insider news they must be discussing, what great mind-blowing works they’re forging next, and then one is stabbed by that dagger of silent desperation to be in that circle. And then one stands there, perhaps twenty feet away from the august gathering, mooning like a stalker, until finally sighing and shuffling off, all but drowning in the soul-crushing certainty that one will be an utter nobody forever.

At conventions like World Con and World Fantasy, the two principal cons for professional networking, the air is redolent with the scent of Desperate Newbie Writer, an aroma unique and distinguishable from Unshowered Fan or Get-Me-The-Frak-Out-Of-This-Rubber-Costume-I’ve-Been-Wearing-In-95-Degree-Heat-For-Six-Hours. Many of these desperate newbie writers–and having been one for many years allows me to spot them in a crowd–brim with the same purpose as I had. Meet that editor. Meet that agent. Meet that publisher. Why? To break in! To enlist the aid, or at least snare the momentary attention, of one of those revered, overworked gatekeepers.

Given the speed at which publishing works, and the infrequency and cost of conventions like these, the newbie’s mistake is thinking that anything is going happen within the lifespan of a Galapagos tortoise. Yes, lightning does strike, but would you really want to expect your career to be built on one lightning strike? Ain’t gonna happen, get over it.

But here’s what does happen.

At that first World Con, my friend from back home introduced me to some people, who introduced me to others. I met a few other people who were further down the path that I was. In the five years since, as I attended other cons like World Fantasy, and this year for the first time, Dragon Con, those initial acquaintances have become friends and mentors, and as my social network has grown, so has the potential for professional development. Let us not fail to mention that the respect and camaraderie of one’s peers feels pretty good to a writer’s soul worn ragged by screaming into the echoless void. I should also not fail to mention that I have built up my publishing history with a few more novels and some short stories.

At about this time, I had also launched an Author Interview Series for my blog, which I had conceived as a way to not only build traffic, but also to network with writers I admired. So I had a secondary purpose: to secure contacts for interviewees. Most authors are hungry for exposure, so I found most of the people I spoke to receptive to an interview. I came home with an armload of interviews, and months’ worth of blog content. And because I had asked questions that were not run-of-the-mill fan questions, questions that attempted to get at the heart of how one became a career author, which is what truly interested me anyway, they remembered me. The Author Interview Series became a form of networking.

Here’s the disheartening truth: you will never be part of that circle you so desperately wanted to join, not even if you do break in and build a fabulous career. Because those circles are made up mostly of friends who have known each other for years, and often came up through the weeds from Newbie Land together.

Now here’s the encouraging truth: if you keep at it, if you write, if you sell, if you persist, you will eventually be part of your own circle of long-time friends sitting around at cons, talking shop, bitching, gossiping, all the things that professionals do at professional events.

And you know what? Trusting that this will happen is enormously liberating; it removes all that pressure, assuages all that desperation, blunts the edges of that longing to be “one of the pros.”

So here’s what you need to create your own circles of professional friends, acquaintances, and contacts.

Basic social skills. Most people, especially other writers, recognize that writers are themselves eccentric folk, so they’ll likely forgive a rookie gaff or two. But the better you are with people, the more confident you are with yourself and your work (and oh, isn’t this the tricky one!), the faster your network of acquaintances will grow. If you’re going to World Fantasy, imagine a four-day cocktail party, and prepare yourself for it. Study social dynamics if you have to.
Street Cred. That’s right. You have to write, and keep writing. Eventually, you will pick up some sales. People will start to notice. People will remember you from conventions (hopefully positively), and it will get easier and easier.
Patience. We all know how long it takes to build a real writing career. If you’re in this demanding overnight success, quit now. Go away. You’re deluded. I used to envision Harlan Ellison and Ray Bradbury toiling away at the typewriter, struggling but getting by on the money they made from their short stories. I saw an interview with Ray Bradbury wherein he described how it him about seven years to make any kind of appreciable income from his fiction writing efforts after he sold his first story. Along the course of your career, there will be likely a few big leaps, but mostly it consists of thousands of meandering baby steps.

Now, there are still a lot of people who are further down the path than me. They always will be. But I can also look back and see that there are many, many people behind. Some will give up and turn back. Some will get lost in the Swamp of Despair, or take a wrong turn into the Valley of Evil Counselors. I have come a long way since that first World Con. I can go to major conventions now, guaranteed to know people there. My circle of professional friends and contacts continues to expand.

So relax. Take heart. Your network will grow like a tree that has taken root, and fruit will eventually start to appear on some of the branches.

Guest Writer Bio:

Freelance writer, novelist, award-winning screenwriter, poker player, poet, biker, roustabout, Travis Heermann is a graduate of the Odyssey Writing Workshop and the author of the Ronin Trilogy, The Wild Boys, and Rogues of the Black Fury, plus short fiction pieces in anthologies and magazines such as Weird Tales, Historical Lovecraft, and Shivers VII. As a freelance writer, he has produced a metric ton of role-playing game work both in print and online, including Legend of Five Rings, d20 System, and the MMORPG, EVE Online. He enjoys cycling, martial arts, torturing young minds with otherworldly ideas, and zombies. He has three long-cherished dreams: a produced screenplay, a NYT best-seller, and a seat in the World Series of Poker.

When to get Stubborn . . . And when to get Smart

September 10, 2013

Frank Morin

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Just this month, NYT Bestselling Author, and well-known author mentor David Farland wrote an excellent post titled “A Question of Balance”. He opens by saying, “How do you develop as a writer? It requires a balance of study and practice.”

That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking about this month as I prepared this post, and I highly recommend you read his blog. If you’re not signed up to receive his Daily Kicks, you should consider it. His wisdom and advice is one of several factors I point to in helping me break through obstacles in my writing.

When I first started writing almost eight years ago, I took the stubborn approach that all I had to do was write, and write and write, and eventually I’d get there.

And so I tried.

Working pretty much in a vacuum of my own little world, I plowed ahead and wrote my half million throw-away words. Sure I improved many skills related to the actual craft of writing words on a page that make sense and, not knowing any better, figured I was at the top of my game.

The only problem was, no agent wanted my 300,000 word ginormous epic novel, and I couldn’t figure out why.

That was my first big obstacle, and I could not overcome it by just writing more – which I continued to do anyway. Just like David Farland said in his blog, I needed a better balance – some training to go along with the writing – to learn to work smarter instead of just harder.

That’s when I reached one of those milestone events in my writing career: I took David Farland’s Professional Writer’s Workshop. I found out about it by listening to Brandon Sanderson’s weekly podcast Writing Excuses, which I also highly recommend.

It was only with the knowledge I gained at that writing workshop that I recognized the flaws in my first book (weaknesses in the plot, waaaay too long, etc).

That’s when I faced the second challenge: What to do next?

Here, stubbornness kicked in again and provided the answer. Time to get to work. I threw away all that initial work, that entire novel, mined some pieces that were salvageable, and totally re-designed the novel from the ground up. That new novel, now titled The Sentinel’s Call, is in the hands of my agent, who will hopefully find a home for it.

In the meantime, I’ve since written 3 other novels. In each project, I’ve faced additional hurdles. Sometimes the answer was to get stubborn, plant butt in chair, and write like mad – like last November when I had to re-write 80% of my YA novel. In six weeks, I pounded out over 75,000 new words, and edited another 50,000.

Other times I had to get smarter, like when I signed up for the Superstars Writing Seminar– again, highly recommended. It’s the best place to learn the nuts and bolts of being a professional author – the business side of writing. Or, when I studied other writing books – like Story Engineering by Larry Brooks, which I found extremely helpful.

Over the past eight years, I’ve found the best way to overcome the regular obstacles we face as we strive to become professional writers is a balance of stubbornness – just sit down and write; and an ever-increasing foundation of knowledge gained by studying, attending seminars and workshops and by networking with other writers.

I just wish I’d started the focused learning aspect sooner.

Depending on what stage we are at with our projects, or where we stand in our writing career, we’ll need a different answer to break through whatever obstacle we’re facing. What is your biggest challenge right now? Do you know yet if you need more stubbornness, or more learning to overcome it?

Sit Down and Shut Up

September 9, 2013

Leigh Galbreath

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I admit it. I’m a slacker. I have no discipline in my life. It practically takes an act of Congress to get me to do my dishes. I’d rather sit around and spend my days swimming through a sea of imagination. Whether reading books, watching movies, or daydreaming, I’m not big on the real world, and as I live alone, I don’t have anyone around to tell me I can’t. But, that doesn’t help me get the stories in my head out. It doesn’t help me get to the next level.

Oh, I could just wait for inspiration, or that terrible urgent need that comes along that makes me write because, if I don’t, my head will explode. That happens, but not often enough to produce any complete story with any speed. I have friends who do that. Who complain that they can’t finish anything because they had “writers block” or they’re living with world-builder’s disease.

My particular demons aren’t original. I get knocked down often by periodic depression. I get mired in the difficulties of trying to construct a plot from the myriad wonderful moments I’ve concocted in my head and often like a complete failure. I forget how much I love writing. But I’ve learned the best thing for it is to keep plodding along. Even when I’m not feeling it. Even when I’d rather be reading that new book I bought. Even when I know the scene I’m writing is complete crap and will probably get cut in the next revision. It doesn’t matter. Every crappy line is one step closer to the good stuff. Every cliche is one sentence out of the sludge that keeps me down.

I’ve said it before on this site, and I will probably say it again and again. The only way to truly defeat the nagging doubts, the distracting delays, the fear that the story will never be ready, or whatever the current issue that keeps the story locked away where no one can read it, is to plant my butt in the chair and keep writing.

So, whenever I get a little lost or down or frustrated, I remind myself that no one is making me write. If I’m having trouble, it’s my own damn fault. I might feel as if writing, when I’m especially inspired, is a need rather than a want, but like the doubts that eventually creep in, that’s really just in my head. Thus, it’s up to me to get over whatever is holding me back. It’s a heady and terrifying thing to think about. It’s also easy to forget.

But even when I do forget, eventually, my inner critic slaps me in face and shouts at me to sit down, shut up, and write. This ridiculous story isn’t going to write itself.

Franchises: Buying In for the Long Haul

August 22, 2013

Nathan Barra

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I remember reviews of the Wii that compared it to the Xbox 360 and the PS3, when all three consoles were shiny and new. From a technical perspective, the Wii was an inferior console. It lacked entirely in capabilities that its competitors were counting on as differentiating selling points. Like millions of others, I still bought a Wii. In fact, the Wii sold so well that it dominated the competition for a number of years after its release. Why would a technically inferior console do so well?

Loyalty.

Nintendo holds a number of huge franchises that have always released a installment shortly after a new system’s release. On IGN’s top 25 Videogame Franchises list, Nintendo franchises occupy the top two spots (Mario and the Legend of Zelda) and a handful of the remaining twenty three spots.

Authorial franchises start with a series. With enough time, and if enough quality works are produced, the author’s name becomes the franchise, instead. Even one series with the popularity of one of Nintendo’s flagship franchises, the Legend of Zelda as an example, is enough to build a very successful career on. The question is, then, what can we learn from Zelda’s success?

#5. Successful franchises are cannon controlled.

To the best of my investigative skills, there has been neither a third party production of a Legend of Zelda game, nor a Legend of Zelda game produced for any system other than a Nintendo console since Nintendo started producing hardware. Why would the license holder of such a huge franchise do this? Isn’t Nintendo limiting their potential audience by not offering the game on PC or it’s competitor’s consoles? The answer is two-fold.

First, Nintendo does not want anyone other than Miyamoto and Tezuka (the games’ designers) working on the franchise, lest they muddle the cannon. The current prevailing theories as to the canonical timeline suggest at least three independent time streams. This milieu and wealth of plot is too complicated for anyone else to handle. One bad game, like one bad book, risks the entire franchise. As to the second point, a gamer must do business with Nintendo’s hardware branch to play a Legend of Zelda game. By limiting the availability of the game, Nintendo increases the profitability of all of its branches.

The Take Away: Upon establishing a successful series or franchise, it is essential to recognize the power of the IP represented therein. I need to be very, very careful who I allow to work on it and how it is distributed.

#4. Successful franchises use iconic imagery.

To me, the Triforce is indelibly linked to the whole Legend of Zelda series. When I see that symbol, my mind automatically goes back to the games and how much fun I had playing them. And you know, doesn’t those three golden triangles mean that this game is also a Zelda game? Maybe I should stop walking through the mall and pay attention to that cutout in the window of the game store.

Point being, the Triforce is an excellent branding piece for several reasons. First, it is strongly tied into the series, serving as a major focus for no less than six of the Zelda games. It appears as a design element in many of the other installments of the series. It’s a simple design that can be easily printed, embroidered, cast or otherwise incorporated into merchandise. I am able to recognize it from across a crowded game store. That’s some good branding.

The Take Away: If used properly, brands let me market my books, sell merch, and establish and communicate a reputation at a glance.

#3. Successful franchises inspire nostalgia.

The basic premise of a Zelda game is that a young boy from a rural village in Hyrule is called to save the world and sets out to explore a number of dungeons, killing monsters and collecting loot, until he faces off and defeats the ultimate evil of his time. It’s a Hero’s Journey, every time. Each game feels the same, and has the elements of puzzles and monster combat that I enjoy. The familiarity is comforting. Yet, there is enough variety in the storyline, treasures and items to collect, and milieu to explore, that it still feels fresh. The learning curve from one game to the next is shallow.

Nostalgia also has value in that it can generate sales. I remember, very fondly, my first game of the Majora’s Mask. Because I enjoyed that game, I bought and played the Ocarina of Time, which I also enjoyed. Each subsequent game has built up the nostalgic warm and fuzzies that I have for the Zelda franchise. The release of a new Zelda game has pushed me off the fence about buying a new console before.

The Take Away: Nostalgia is a powerful position from which to sell books. If a consumer looks at my name at the bottom of a new release, and is flooded with a sense of nostalgic enjoyment, the book is likely sold.

#2. Successful franchises have staying power.

The Hero’s Journey is one of the essential story archetypes that speaks to the human condition. It has resonated with people for thousands of years and continues to do so. I want to start the game with Link and gain power enough to kill the ultimate evil of the day. I can play, and read, that storyline over and over again, and never get bored so long as there is enough variety in other aspects.

Wise selection of archetypes is not the only element that can give staying power to a series. One of my favorite things about a Legend of Zelda game is the underlying philosophy that serves as the theme for the game. In Majora’s Mask, the world is destroyed at the end of the third in-game day, so you are forced to time travel back to the dawn of the first day repeatedly. Whenever I play this game as an adult, I can’t help but ruminate afterwards about the nature of time, how I live my life and what I would do over if I had the chance. In the Twilight Princess, the game focuses on the concept of twilight as the border of light and dark, and this imagery is dragged throughout the game’s other aspects. To me, this speaks to the idea that the world is both bright and dark, and that, most of the time, we live in a world of moral greys.

The Take Away: There isn’t one method to give staying power to a series, but it is essential for a series to have the endurance to become a successful franchise, none the less.

#1. Successful franchises have consistently high quality.

I didn’t start at the beginning of the Zelda franchise. I started with Majora’s Mask, then went backwards in the release chronology. I then follow the series to this day. If Majora’s Mask had been the one bad game in the series, I would have done neither. There are some other franchises which I started from the beginning, but ended up dropping mid-series due to a single bad installment. When I build a franchise, what I’m really doing is building a brand, and for that brand to continue living, I must be sure that I deliver quality work, every time.

The Take Away: If I’m disappointed by the quality of a single installment, I may not come back. Franchises trade on their name and upon garnered authorial trust.