Category Archives: Evan Braun

The Many Facets of Intimacy

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What makes romance interesting? If you don’t read romance novels (like me), then you might answer, “Nothing.” But such a pat answer would be a little disingenuous. Personal preference aside, romance is the best-selling fiction genre by far. By far. If you don’t believe me, then just take a quick jaunt over here. Seventy-five million people read at least one romance novel in 2008 and the genre generated nearly three billion dollars in sales in the last two years. Yikes. Anyway, who am I to argue with seventy-five million fellow readers? That’s a fight I can’t win.

You could argue that it’s almost impossible to write a compelling narrative with no trace of romance in it. Even if it were possible, though, you’d be missing out on a massive storehouse of dramatic potential. Interpersonal relationships drive stories, and that’s a fact; romantic interpersonal relationships, by virtue of being the most complicated and emotional type of relationship, drive the most complicated and emotional stories. I know those are some broad statements, but they’re generally true.

So again I’ll ask, what makes romance interesting? What makes it compelling? “The love,” you might say, reductively. That would be true. Kind of. The conflict—the fireworks—doesn’t come from love, per se, as feelings of love are symptomatic of the true root cause of all this interest: intimacy. People really get off on intimacy.

Now, bear in mind that love and intimacy aren’t quite the same thing, though they are certainly close cousins. Love comes from intimacy, as I just alluded to, and the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Which is why, to cite a popular example, you can have sex (highly intimate) without love. This is largely the difference, I suppose, between romance and a lot of erotica.

Intimacy is about closeness. When I fall in love with another person, I let them into my life, sharing aspects of myself with them; they, in turn, share aspects of themselves with me. Our lives merge, at first slowly, and then in more significant ways as the relationship develops. Two—or more, if you swing that way—become one. By absolutely zero coincidence, sex is a wonderful metaphor for this process, which is why it’s intimate.

If closeness generates intimacy, then outright control does the same. Instead of merging your life with another person, you allow another person to take over your life. To control you, to take over your decision-making process. That’s as intimate as it gets. Well-meaning fetishists engage in bondage play all the time, and hopefully they do it temporarily and with some imposed structures. Beyond that, intimacy can go to some really dark places. A lot of crimes revolve around the perverted need for intimate control—rape and kidnapping, to name two—and then finally, the most extreme intimacy of all: murder.

My curiosity was piqued last year, in the darkest and most horrible way, when I stumbled upon some disturbing research while working on a book. As a matter of course, I don’t know that much about various fetishes (and fear not, I’m not going to commit much ink to this), but did you know there is a fetish in which a person can deeply desire another person to murder them, for sexual fulfillment? I even heard of a case from Europe where a person contracted another person to murder them and then cannibalize them; if sex, as a means of physically merging oneself with another, is a metaphor for romantic intimacy, then surely cannibalism is the most extreme metaphor for the intimacy of control.

And thus horror and romance are inextricably linked. Perhaps I’m just naïve, but I’d never heard of any of this before, and frankly I wish I never had.

So yes, people crave intimacy. It’s no longer looking so strange that the romance genre sells so many books. I mean, people are looking for the fulfillment of deep drives and desires which are sometimes hard to fulfill in the real world. Romance in stories—whether in a full-blown romance novel or in the majority of stories which merely contain a romantic element—helps frustrated readers of all stripes come to terms with the state of their own mundane lives.

Horror works the same way, by giving cathartic rise to the dark places inside us all and letting us (or perhaps forcing us to) confront them. Murder specifically—and death in general—is powerful precisely because it touches us in horrifyingly intimate ways. It’s no shock that the best works of fiction combine all these emotions and feelings to get a rise out of us—and understanding these connections can make us all better writers and observers of the human condition.

The Year of the Revolution

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Well, here we are: 2014. Normally this is the time of year to re-evaluate our objectives and set new goals—dare I say, make resolutions? In this context, “resolutions” has become a bit of a bad word, a trite one, and rightly so. Today’s post is not about resolutions so much as revolutions.

My revolution began in 2010, as I finally started to understand what it was going to take to become successful as a writer, as a professional. It goes without saying that blossoming into a successful writer requires a phenomenal grasp on the craft of writing—on character, on story, and yes, on grammar. Well, if it doesn’t go without saying, then at the very least it goes without me needing to devote a blog post to it. What doesn’t go without saying is that you need to think like a small business owner. You need to think like a publisher, like an agent, and perhaps even like a book store owner—all at the same time. You need to understand how the business of publishing functions—or perhaps more importantly, how it’s changing—and then conceive of how you can fit into that world and find your niche.

You are a writer, and thus a business owner. You have a lot of important considerations in addition to what you jot down on the printed page. You have resources, and you must apportion them in the best way possible. There are so many places to put your resources, so many competing demands fighting for your attention. January here at the Fictorians is all about helping you make good choices. This month, we’ll be talking about the very best cons and seminars, where you can learn from the professionals who have gone before you. These provide key, potentially career-changing opportunities to network. They are important.

When I talk about resources, I’m not just talking about money. Perhaps the greatest resource of all is time. How are you going to spend it? We’ll also be talking about productive ways to allocate your time, ways to get things done.

In short, what’s important to you in 2014? If you don’t have a firm plan for the next twelve months, then I’ve got good news: this is exactly where you need to be. The Fictorians have your back.

Let the revolution begin!

Your Gift, Should You Choose to Accept It…

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ForYouThis month, the Fictorians are writing about the greatest gifts we’ve received as writers. Last month, we wrote a lot about the business of publishing, and the month before that we delved into the tangled web of indie marketing. Just this past Friday, I wrote about a recent experience I had with the launch of my new book. Today, I want to very briefly bring all those subjects together.

Almost seven years ago, well before I made the decision to pursue writing professionally, a close friend of mine, Clint Byars, who also happened to be a coworker, pulled me aside on a Saturday afternoon and told me he had something to share with me. Instead of some piece of juicy workplace gossip, I was surprised (and intrigued) to hear that he had a story idea. He knew that I was a writer, or at least that I had a loose endeavour to become one, and he had a story that he couldn’t tell on his own.

That story took a long time to develop, and went through a number of permutations, but the result was a novel that, five years later, finally got picked up by a publisher. It’s called The Book of Creation, the first installment in The Watchers Chronicle.

If I were to make a list of the greatest gifts ever bequeathed to me as part of my writing career, this particular story idea would have to be in my top five—maybe even my top three. There’s a reason, after all, that The Book of Creation ended up becoming my first published novel. From the moment my friend shared the premise with me, I knew I had to write it. I fell hopelessly in love.

Specifically, what drew me to this project was its combination of action-adventure and mysticism, characterized by the best Indiana Jones stories. Ever since I was a little kid, I had dreamed of writing this kind of book. Well, I had in mind a screenplay credit, but upon reflection a novel credit is very nearly as good, and in some ways better. At stake in the story is the discovery of archaeological artifacts which suggest the veracity of some truly outlandish historical “truths” straight out of the some of the apocryphal Bible texts—notably, the Book of Enoch, which contains some ideas that wouldn’t be at all out-of-place in a sci-fi novel.

The second novel, The City of Darkness, is already released in paperback, and will soon be available in the major ebook markets as well, but that’s an announcement for another day. In anticipation of that release, and in the spirit of the holidays and this month’s theme of writerly gifts, The Book of Creation is now available for free in the Kindle store. Click here to download your free copy.

This book won’t stay free forever, as I’m ordinarily a big believer in charging for my work—even if it’s very little. I think artists are often too willing to give away the fruits of their labor. But for the next three days, I’m making an exception. Take advantage!

On that subject, be on the lookout later this month for a wonderful post by Mary Pletsch about why writers should only give away their books very judiciously. In my opinion, it’s an important lesson.

The Fan Club

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The Fan ClubOn the evening of November 7, a small group of readers gathered at my parents’ home to hear the first reading from my new book, The City of Darkness. This was the pre-launch, and it was reserved not for close friends but rather the people who had responded the strongest to the first novel in my ongoing series, which had been released two years earlier. (An unconscionably long gab between books, by the way, but that’s a subject for a different post.)

It was an interesting mix, to say the least. If I had merely invited close friends and family, this would have been a very different sort of evening from what it turned out to be. We would have snacked and visited… and yes, had a few drinks. We would have talked a little bit about the book, I would have shown them the cover art, and then we would have moved on to other subjects. It would have been comfortable.

Not that it wasn’t comfortable. It certainly turned out that way. But this was a combination of people unlikely to get together for any reason except to discuss my book. Over wine and cheese, they peppered me with insightful questions about the plot and characters, about where the story was heading, about how many books I would publish in the series and when they would be released. It was heady and strange.

At some point in the evening, one of the guests sidled up to me and remarked, “How does it feel to have your own fan club?” I smiled politely and waved her off. This was no fan club. A book club, kind of, but a fan club? Movie stars have fans. J.K. Rowling has fans. Me? I have a few readers, sure, but…

Thankfully, I knew better than to say any of this out loud. As I walked away, I realized how wrong I was. My self-deprecating side had shown up right on cue to downgrade the compliment, but the more I thought about it, the sooner I realized that these were my fans. And all I had done to accumulate them was write a book, and then another book. Some of these people had known me for years, and others I really didn’t know at all, but they all had one thing in common—their appreciation for my writing.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. What a powerful gift it is to have readers—and not just any readers, but sharp and intelligent and engaged readers.

Well, my fan club is small, but I am so grateful for what they have given me. It’s now impossible to do any kind of writing without thinking about them, and the thought of them spurs me to write faster. And hopefully better. When I’m sitting on the couch watching TV, the thought invariably occurs: I should be writing. These people are waiting for me, and I shouldn’t make them wait a moment longer than necessary.

Just two nights ago, all of my marketing efforts culminated in my actual launch. It was held about forty-five minutes away from the small town where I live, at a big bookstore. I had worked hard to ensure an exciting turnout. My fans, too, were exerting a lot of pull to draw people in. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that they were willing to do all this legwork for me, but nonetheless, the work got done, and I could sense that the launch was going to be a big success.

When I woke up on Wednesday morning, all ready to do my final preparations—practice my reading, gather my notes, decide what to wear, etc.—I heard the sound of a keening wind outside my bedroom window. My heart began to race as I ran to the front door and looked outside. Snow, snow, everywhere snow. There was a storm advisory. More than a foot of snow had already accumulated on my driveway, and I knew it would be hopeless to try backing out of the garage through it. Worse: I knew it might be hopeless to drive forty-five minutes through open countryside to get to my launch. Even worse: Assuming I could get there, would anybody else brave the trip?

Over the day, the emails and Facebook messages poured in: “So sorry, Evan. I was planning to come, but I’m snowed in! Good luck this evening!” After about a dozen of those, I was good and truly discouraged. I wanted to hide in a dark corner and just forget the whole thing. How embarrassing it was going to be to venture into this big venue and sit in an empty room after months of preparation.

But I practiced my reading, anyway. I gathered my notes. I decided what to wear. And I made the drive, though it took a bit longer than usual. Certainly, the turnout would be down from what I had anticipated. I feared being alone. I feared being a complete failure.

Well, the turnout was down from my original expectations. Down by two-thirds. Maybe more. But something wonderful also happened. As the minutes ticked by and I waited nervously, people started to arrive. First just a handful, then a dozen, then two dozen. Three dozen. Four. On an evening when I didn’t think anyone would care enough to brave some of the harshest winter conditions imaginable, more than fifty people came. And among them were so many members of that fan club—not to mention many new members, who will surely be invited to my next pre-launch soiree. A few feet of snow, high winds, and barely navigable roads weren’t enough to stop them from having to wait even one more day to read my book.

Talk about humbling!

I’ve often said that writing is reward enough. If need be, I would write for the sole purpose of entertaining myself. I’ve said those things and I will continue to say them. But as of today, I can say a new thing: from now on, I don’t have to write just for myself. I’ve got a fan club—and they have my back.