Category Archives: Guest Posts

A guest post by Guy Anthony De Marco

Every so often, I travel out to a new convention with my talented and lovely wife, Tonya. We normally drive our commercial van so we can transport our stock, shelving, banners, and boxes of books for authorly friends who are flying out. Tonya and I discuss plots, books, business, and have a grand time.

The first “new” con this year was RadCon in Pasco, Washington. This trip featured me singing 1980’s hits in my Arnold Schwarzenegger accent. You haven’t really experienced Culture Club’s “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” until you’ve heard Arnie belting it out. I drove the 16-hour trip straight through with a couple of stops for fuel (body and vehicle), and to torture my poor wife’s eardrums.

Radcon supports a local project that has some of their guests traveling to local schools to talk to students. Elizabeth Vann-Clark, the con-chair, asked me to speak to the children at Chief Joseph Middle School in Richmond because of my technology background. Since I used to teach information technology at a couple of colleges, I agreed without hesitation. Elizabeth noted that many students don’t have an opportunity to discuss technology-based careers, which is why she started the program.

I met with the technology teacher, who introduced me and a fellow Radcon author to his classes. Most of the questions dealt with technology, but about a quarter were questions concerning writing genre fiction. The most popular question, with several follow-ups, was “How much money do you make?” and “How much money do you have?” I was a little more forthcoming about what I earned, noting the technology field was supporting my family while I worked on my novels and stories. I also noted that I travel around the country, going to conventions and talking with new or potential authors.

The experience was a positive one, and should I be invited back, I would be quite happy to visit the school again.

Writing is usually a solitary endeavor, but it doesn’t have to be. Commiserating a rejection with fellow authors or answering questions for folks just getting into writing at a convention can be a very rewarding experience. Don’t shut yourself out by locking yourself in your office space. Interacting can not only help others, but it can help you when you’re working on a new project. Some questions may actually jog your brain into gear, firing up the virtual muse in your head.

One of the best stories I tell along this line came from an experience at OSFest. A group of Denver-based authors, including Fictorian contributor Quincy J. Allen, traveled to Omaha for the first time. The author track was a new addition, and there were a group of attendees who were just starting the path to publication. One of them was Sarah Whittaker, who showed up to almost all of our panels. We also chatted with her outside of panels during the con, and Quincy and I told her she should have something published by the next OSFest convention.

The following year, we saw Sarah with her new novel, The Raggedyman, available in print and ebook. I have to admit, I was quite proud that she followed through. I made sure to buy a signed print copy from her. Watching someone you helped succeed, no matter how small you think your contribution was, will always give you a smile.

I’m sure there were folks who encouraged or mentored you, formally or otherwise. It’s time you paid that gift forward.

About the Author:

Guy Anthony De Marco is a speculative fiction author; a Graphic Novel Bram Stoker Award^®; winner of the HWA Silver Hammer Award; a prolific short story and flash fiction crafter; a novelist; an invisible man with superhero powers; a game writer (Sojourner Tales modules, Interface Zero 2.0 core team, D&D modules); and a coffee addict. One of these is false.

A writer since 1977, Guy is a member of the following organizations: SFWA, WWA, SFPA, IAMTW, ASCAP, RMFW, NCW, HWA. He hopes to collect the rest of the letters of the alphabet one day. Additional information can be found at Wikipedia, GuyAndTonya.com, and GuyAnthonyDeMarco.com.

Just a Moment

July 10, 2014

fictorians

Character Guest Posts Interacting With Fans Reflection No Comments

A guest post by Rob Riddell.

There is a crystalline moment that keeps me writing. At a wonderful production of one of my plays, a talented director and cast came together on a gorgeous set. I sat on opening night in the dark, anticipating. My emotions roiled as if I was about to ask someone out on a first date. The lights were about to come up.

The play was about the change in relationship that occurs between couples, and a bit about rebranding oneself. The setting was in the time of Robin Hood and Maid Marion, but with some current sensibilities. There were seven main couples, all at a different point in their relationship. From the “failed to launch” couple to the “why am I still married to you” couple, the actors had brought the couples to life. Almost.

During the weeks of long rehearsals, the actors worked through the characters and action and the play came together. The big sword fight enacted by a couple of guys with martial arts training looked fantastic! The comedy and drama seemed to come through as hoped—for the most part. But the couple that represented a relationship like my grandparents struggled to find the comedy. Somehow, they could find the pathos, yet missed the joy. Out of all the parts of the play, no matter what they tried, their scenes missed the magic everyone else could create.

The director and I worried, because we both wanted to deliver to the audience the best performance possible. This seemed to be the one point everyone had doubts about. People feared that whenever that couple was onstage, they slowed down the energy of the play. Also, I noticed that during rehearsals, when that particular couple performed, the director would smile, but even he never laughed. I offered to rewrite, but we couldn’t come up with alternatives that would get us a better result. Finally, after the dress rehearsal, the director shrugged and said, “Have faith in the actors and material.”

So I did.

Sitting in the dark theatre beside the director and the sound tech, I waited to see what would happen. The play began, and the audience responded well to the parts we hoped would work, and early in scene one, the lights came up on the couple. The guy stood onstage, within his character, as usual. Then he delivered his first tentative line to his onstage wife. From out of the darkness behind us, a lady laughed. Not just the titter of a young schoolgirl, but a good honest laugh. The reaction onstage was electric. The wife looked up at her husband with a new light in her eye. The wonderful actress absorbed that lady’s laugh. When she now looked up at her husband, under the lights of the stage, her look told everyone that she had been married to this guy for a long time, that she could deal with whatever he was about to come up with. She started delivering her lines as a wise married woman, and the lady hidden behind us loved it. The husband fed from this and his character grew to match his wife. As the scene progressed, that singular laugh grew to the fully committed laugh of someone who really knew those characters. She just knew. Her laugh carried the whole audience along. The couple onstage blossomed. They performed.

Throughout the rest of the night, each time that couple came onstage, everyone in the audience began to anticipate their antics. What was feared to be the weak point of the night became the lynchpin. The rest of the actors took that fantastic energy and made their scenes truly glow. The magic they had worked so hard to achieve hung that night in the space between the cast and the audience. I sat anonymously in wonder and amazement, humbled at their tangible yet insubstantial creation.

When the lights came up, I searched the crowd to see if I could identify the owner of that laugh. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to identify myself as the playwright and tell her I was grateful. But I couldn’t immediately find her, and then my courage left like a will-o’-the-wisp in the dark, so my thank you went unsaid forever.

I write so that someday I can feel that wonder again, the electric moment when words come alive and snap into focus, to create the play between the characters and their audience, which is held in accord between the two, right up until the very end of the story.

Guest Writer Bio:
Rob Riddell has been hooked on playwriting ever since Grade Five. He wrote his first play about Edward Teach, so he and his buddies could have swordfights on stage. Currently, he joyously writes plays and acts with the CandleWick Players in southern Manitoba.

I May Not Be Annie Oakley

July 8, 2014

fictorians

Author's Perspective Guest Posts Motivation Reflection Self-Awareness The Writing Life No Comments

A guest post by Brenda Sawatzky.

It’s called the gift of gab. Something I just don’t have. I suppose, to some degree, it can be learned. Hence the success of Toastmasters around the world.

When I was a child I marvelled at the class clown, quick witted one-liners sliding unconstrained from his tongue at just the right moment. The sharp-shooting Annie Oakley of the spoken word, never at a loss, firing off rounds as the targets were set. I sat among the perpetually mute, humbled by the rapid-fire workings of this adroit-thinking machine who stood fearless even in the face of the teacher.

Mute was actually my first language. I spent the first ten years of my life working out the specifics of how few words were required to get by. To avoid the unnecessary cordialities of the aunties and uncles who came to call, I’d hide in a closet. Perhaps they’d forget that my mom and dad had had a little girl after three boys. When it came time for Kindergarten, I hid behind the cloak of my gregarious cousin. She was capable of formulating enough words in one afternoon to cover the entire class of six-year-olds, plus a few strays.

I often imagine what my teacher interviews must have sounded like to my parents. “Brenda? Is she the little blond with the mismatched socks? Yes, I think she’s been here. Doesn’t say much, does she? Have you thought about having her, you know, tested? For mental dexterity? No, no. I’m not suggesting she’s… sir, please take a seat… sir, there’s no need for violence. Sir?”

My dad got me. I knew that. He was a man of few words, too. What he lacked in words, though, he made up for in bravado. Like the antediluvian antics of a young boy, throwing the baseball at the other kid’s head is decidedly more effective than asking him to play fair.

As an adult, I’m still surrounded by the Foghorn Leghorns, the mouthpieces of the world. I have a daughter-in-law who can respond to an interview with words collected, collated, and masterfully delivered without once referencing a script. She could, and perhaps should, be a presidential spokesperson.

I have a friend who steals the show at every fireside or dinner party, keeping us collectively laughing for hours on end. The words “Donn, please stop, I’m about to rupture a spleen” are fodder for his lunacy and only serve to heighten his comedic aptitude. Another friend is a storyteller, waxing poetic every detail, fashioning something riveting out of the mundane. He’s the Emmett Brown of the narrative. “The way I see it, Marty, if you’re gonna build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?”

In most settings where verbal prowess is revered, I’m still the one who forgets the punchline at the pinnacle of a great joke or stalls for time when looking for just the right word, only to lose my place in the conversational pecking order.

The propensity for knee-jerk repartee may not be my thing, but written prose can be equally sharp and reactive. This is the bag of tricks I can pull from, and this is where I find my home. The chatterbox has no backspace button, no quick-reference thesaurus, and can’t copy and paste the punchline in a more structurally pleasing way.

I still covet the gift of gab. But the sheer joy I can derive from putting the finishing touches on a finely crafted story—written, rewritten, edited, and delivered from the smelting pot—is worth more to me than the momentary chuckle produced around the fireside. It’s more valuable than the moment in the spotlight that quickly fades after the colloquialism ends and the dinner party wraps up. It can be read and reread, stored with a collection on a bookshelf, and pulled out for generations to enjoy. This is the joy of writing, and this I can own.

Guest Writer Bio:
Brenda Sawatzky is a relatively new, unpublished writer hailing from the wide-open prairie spaces of southeast Manitoba. She and her husband of thirty-one years are self-employed and parents to five kids (two ushered in by marriage). She is presently working toward fiction and non-fiction writing for magazines and manages a personal blog.

Consistency

June 27, 2014

fictorians

Craft & Skills Goals Guest Posts Self-Awareness The Writing Life No Comments

A guest post by John D. Payne

I chose to write about consistency because it’s something that I myself need to work on. So I’m going to keep this in first person and talk about some of the ways I want to be more consistent.

1. Consistent writing
A professional writing at a decent clip produces about a thousand words in an hour. At that pace, you’ll have the first draft of a nice fat novel in one year even if you only write 15 minutes a day, as a number of successful pros have observed. That’s a lot of result for not much effort.

So, two summers ago I made a goal to write every day, even if only for a few minutes. I have months where I pretty much pull this off, and months where I’m not terribly close. But even with this spotty record, the last two years have been my best in terms of output.

Output matters. Lots of writers have been quoted as saying that the first million words anyone writes are just practice. This really is just a variant of the ten thousand hour rule, that it takes lots of time to become successful at anything.

And not only will churning out lots of stories help me develop my skills as a writer, but it will help me feel more confident and comfortable with my voice. Rather than expecting that everything I write has to be perfectly polished before I can move on, I can be a little more forgiving of myself and have fun as I go. It’s like playing with legos. I pour out a bunch of ideas, grab my favorites, and then assemble them in whatever way strikes my fancy. I’m just having a good time making a bunch of cool stuff.

I’ve tried inspiring myself to produce more in different ways. The desire to finish my first novel was a powerful motivation. Weekly submissions to my writing group make good mini-deadlines. And of course deadlines written in contracts and attached to paychecks are the best of all.

It also feels good just to keep a streak alive. That’s the secret to Tony Pisculli’s online writing tracker, The Magic Cricket. There are lots of others out there. The thing that has worked best for me so far is a calendar with stickers. It feels good to see all those gold stars.

This July, I’m going to use Camp Nanowrimo as another way to push myself to greater heights of accomplishment. Given my lack of consistency over the last few months, I fear that this will be like running a marathon without proper preparation. But even if I don’t make it to 50,000 words by the end of the month, every word I write will prepare me for what comes next. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from Dean Wesley Smith, it’s that every month is Nanowrimo if writing is your career.

2. Consistent finishing
When I was younger, I got bogged down trying to perfect and polish stories that weren’t even finished. Since then I’ve realized that finishing something is a better use of my time than trying to get the beginning of something perfect.

Everything I write is in some ways an experiment, and not all of it will be equally appealing to me, or to readers. That’s hard to accept, because of course I want everything I produce to be of the very finest quality. But as Clausewitz said, quantity has a quality all its own.

For one thing, every story I finish (and get out there where people can read it) helps me build an audience. I love both Pat Rothfuss as much as I love John Scalzi and Brandon Sanderson. But I have a lot more of John and Brandon’s work on my shelves (both digital and physical) because both of them consistently put out new books for me to buy.

In addition to daily wordcount goals, I also have goals to finish stories. At the Superstars Writing Seminar, Kevin J. Anderson (a very consistent producer) said that there’s no reason any new writer of genre fiction shouldn’t submit a new story to the Writers of the Future contest every quarter. I’m very glad to say that I’ve followed that advice, and I recommend that everyone who’s eligible do the same.

This year, I have two goals relating to finishing. I want to start and finish a new novel between this summer and next. And I want to finish a new story every month, even if it’s only flash fiction. After all, every story I finish is a story I can sell– which is good, because I also plan to continue submitting a story to a paying market every single week. I’ve done that for the last two years, and although I’ve only made one sale so far it has also taught me a ton about this business.

3. Consistent self-education
No matter how well-informed I am at this minute, no matter how perfect my business strategy is for today’s market, continuing to educate myself is just plain necessary. Of course, as with any other non-writing activity (social media, etc.), I need to always ask myself: Would I Be Better Off Writing? But without self-education, my career will not move forward.

I need to learn about every part of the industry– and the industry is constantly changing. Covers and interior design, blurbs and back cover copy, contracts, marketing, printing, etc. Fortunately, there are lots of people who are sharing their knowledge and teaching me how to do things myself: Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Joe Konrath, The Passive Voice, Hugh Howey, etc.

Even if I become the pampered darling of a big New York firm, or in some other way outsource everything but the actual writing, I need to know enough to protect myself. I hate taking my car to the shop and not knowing whether I really need to spend $700 to get that O2 sensor fixed. Educating myself means I don’t just have to hope that everyone else is being nice to me. Trust, but verify, as Reagan and Gorbachev agreed.

4. Consistent niceness

As with most any career, it’s a good idea for me to be nice. This means more than just handing my business card to big names in the industry (although I do that). First and foremost, I have an obligation to fans to be approachable and friendly. After all, it’s their good will, and of course their money, that ultimately fuels my career. And it’s important to be consistent about this, because even one bad moment might turn into a story that floats around the community for years to come.

Speaking of having a good reputation, I want to be someone that others want to work with. That means three things: doing good work, delivering on time, and not being a horrible, horrible jerk. Neil Gaiman rightly notes that you can get by on just two out of three. But if you want to maximize the chances that people will send work your way, shoot for all of the above.

So be a mensch. Mensches make the world go round, as my dissertation advisor told me many times. One way I practice meeting my professional obligations is by participating in a writing group. Every week, other people read my submissions and give me valuable feedback. The least I can do is return the favor.

There’s lots more to say, but (as usual), I’m over my word count. So I’ll just close by saying that writing this blog has helped me realize two things. First, there are lots of ways that consistency can help me as a writer. Second, I’m not bad at all of these.

So, as you’re revisiting your goals and thinking about what you’re going to do with the second half of this year, don’t be too hard on yourself. Give yourself credit for the things you’re doing well. After all, feeling good about how you’re doing makes it easier to maintain a consistent effort.

Good luck!

John D. Payne Bio:

JOHN D. PAYNE is a Houston-based writer of fantasy, science fiction, and literary fiction. His debut novel, The Crown and the Dragon is now a major motion picture.http://wordfirepress.com/authors/john-d-payne/