Writing A Book

I'm in San Diego at Comic Con, so no posting from me this week. Instead I'm going to offer a post from Rands in Repose about writing books.

Along with his experience writing Managing Humans and Being Geek, he offers practical and philosophical advice on taking that book inside you from a dream to a manuscript. The comments are pretty useful too, as many writers share their results from using programs like WriteRoom, Lyx and Dropbox.

Check it out.

Rands in Repose

To niche or not to niche

Do you have a niche? I've been hearing that I need to have one since I got started in freelancing. That defining my niche would boost my fees and help focus my career, my time and my market. And I keep meaning to get around to it. Someday.

I like writing public relations materials and have done so quite a bit. I decided a long time ago to claim this as my niche. But, being the lazy marketer that I am, I tend not to bother seeking out PR jobs when I already have a random assortment of clients who fall in my lap. There has been a steady stream of them lately, all in areas I don't normally work: grants, white papers, academia, translation. While these aren't my favorite projects, the ease with which they arrive provides the sweet feeling that I'm "done" with marketing - that I can just coast on word of mouth and networking. Logically I know this is ludicrous but oh, what a soothing illusion. Especially when it's been a hot, laborious summer and I don't feel like hustling for new clients.

The whole point of a niche, of course, is that after a certain amount of work therein, you get that same word of mouth in your desired field.  But what are the other benefits? One of them would be working in an area where you feel confident and comfortable. There's a smaller learning curve in some ways, allowing you to dive deeper into the project facets that are new to you. Depending on your niche, you can develop stronger relationships with the leaders in your target industry. You can also distinguish yourself from other freelancers in your area by offering a unique service. Sometimes in selecting your niche, it's more about coming to terms with your limitations and letting go of projects you simply aren't good at.

What's stopped me from niching myself too rigidly is my ever-present restlessness. I like to learn, I like to change, I like to grow. If I ever devoted my life to turning out one press release after another, I'd quit within six months. I like being challenged and I love the feeling of a nailing an assignment in what was foreign territory. So I'll probably always have my hat in multiple rings. The trick is balancing versatility with expertise - and balancing my dislike of marketing with the volition to go after the work I want.

Can you do me a favor?

And proofread my dissertation? Just clean it up a little? And can you help me with my web site, you know, just the words and all? Oh, and I have a great idea for a book, so I was thinking that like, you could help me with it? Like you'll write it and I'll do all the other stuff?

Anyone in a creative profession gets asked for "favors" on occasion. They range from the simple to the egregious. Most of these people have no idea what writing and editing actually costs, so they don't realize they're asking for a service that would actually cost them, say, twelve hundred dollars in the marketplace. Most of these people also have no realistic concept of the time involved, perhaps because they don't see writing as labor. It would be nice if all our friends who worked as lawyers, mechanics, handymen, nurses and IT staff came over to provide their services for free but most of us wouldn't even dream of asking.

I've been asked for all of the above favors this year - and by people I consider friends. That's what makes it so awkward to decline. I genuinely like helping people but I have legitimate work of my own to do that's financially or creatively rewarding. Accepting a steady stream of pro bono projects from everyone in my social circle is neither. So it's always somewhat dicey, handling these requests for "favors" that come my way far more often than I like.

Hence I laughed hard and long today when I read Why never to ask favours from designers by David Thorne.  It's from a designer's perspective, not a writer's, but the feeling is the same. Read it. (And it's a joke, there is no real Shannon or missing cat.... otherwise it would be a bit cruel.) I'm pretty sure we've all been there at some point, am I right?

Why never to ask favours from the designers

Grammar and Spelling Pet Peeves: Part I

I've been working with academic clients lately and you know what I've learned? It is amazing how far you can go in your graduate work without have your spelling and grammar corrected. This is something I just don't understand. I realize someone getting a doctorate in psychology or an MBA isn't entering the life of letters, so to speak, but every professional person needs basic writing skills; and it bothers me that someone can sail through college and graduate school without being held accountable for screwing up something as remedial as your and you're.

A big part of me blames the Internet, because I think it's the primary source of reading material for a lot of people. Certain errors are repeated so often they come to look like standard English. With that in mind, below are my pet peeves.

You're and your

The bane of my reading pleasure. What's amazing is that you'd think without knowing the difference, people would get it right at least half the time. Yet I swear they get it wrong quite consistently.

You’re is a contraction for you are. "You’re not jumping high enough."

Your is possessive. "Your stereo is broken."


Loose and lose

This one seems fed by the Internet, as I don't remember seeing it nearly as much ten years ago. Now I'm constantly reading about people "loosing the game." 

Loose is an adjective. "Your shirt is loose."

Lose is a verb. "Don’t lose your keys at the bar again." Think of "loser" if it helps: someone who loses.


Of and have

This one bothers me deeply, because I see even scholars and writers mess it up so frequently that I fear for its future.

Have in this sense is a speculative verb. "I could have gone to the movies. I should have known."

Of is a preposition. "I live north of Vermont." "Of that, I have no doubt."

Unfortunately when people sound it out in their minds, it sounds like "I could of gone to the movies" and that's what they write down.


Here and hear

Hear is how we listen. "Can you hear that song?" You can remember this because it contains the word “ear.”

Here refers to a location. "We don't come here much anymore."

I do think most people understand the difference except in one instance, and unfortunately I see it online a lot. So for the record, it’s “hear, hear!” not “here, here!” The latter sounds like an overzealous kid waving his hand for attention in class. Perhaps that’s why so many people will express their enthusiasm for an idea or a statement by writing it. But the correct form is “hear, hear!” and it derives from “hear ye, hear ye!”

In other words: hear what this person just said.


Weather and Whether

This is another one I don't recall seeing much until the last few years. I find it really distracting to read, "Weather he wins or not, we're leaving." It jolts me right out of comprehension.

Weather relates to our environment and refers to rain, snow and heat. "The weather is horrible this time of year."

Whether is a conjunction.  "Whether or not I get the job, I'll be okay."


So there's my persnickety contribution for the day. To anyone who's reading this and thinking, "Who cares? Everyone knows what I mean," I say this: even if you get your point across, you do so while looking ignorant and uneducated. Why not make your point and look intelligent at the same time? It's amazing how much more readily people accept your ideas when your writing is smooth and clean.

2010 Bulwer-Lytton winner announced

And it's a good one.

If you don't know the Bulwer-Lytton contest, it's a competition that awards prizes to horrible writing. (People enter it voluntarily so it's not mean-spirited, in case you were worried.) San Jose State has sponsored it since 1982 in honor of 19th century novelist Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton. His great contribution to English literature? The infamous opening line to his novel Paul Clifford:  "It was a dark and stormy night."

Entrants submitted the worst opening sentences to imaginary novels they could write. There were winners in several categories but the top prize went to a real stunner, penned by a Molly Ringle of Seattle.

Are you ready? Here is the official worst writing of 2010:

"For the first month of Ricardo and Felicity's affair, they greeted one another at every stolen rendezvous with a kiss — a lengthy, ravenous kiss, Ricardo lapping and sucking at Felicity's mouth as if she were a giant cage-mounted water bottle and he were the world's thirstiest gerbil."


Giant predatory gerbils will haunt my dreams tonight, Molly Ringle. You are truly a master.
 
LA Times

The Writer's Sabbatical

I'm back from New York. Sorry for the long silence!

Saturday night a friend of mine told me he had decided to become a writer. Or that he already is one and just realized it, I'm not sure how the "coming out" process works for late blooming scribes. He was in a brutal car accident last winter that took away his speech for a while; in his ensuing flood of letters and journals, he found his calling.

I asked what he wanted to write. "I don't know, stuff like David Sedaris." It all sounded good until he told me he was quitting his job to write for six months.

He looked so pleased with himself that I didn't want to rain my cynicism all over his literary parade. The writer's sabbatical is an impulse most of us have at some point: throw ourselves into a period of pure creation uninterrupted by day jobs or monetary concerns. The expectation is that lightning will strike, a beautiful book will be born, and all the practical details like car payments and career tracks will take care of themselves.

In reality, a book may or may not come and it may be beautiful or mediocre if it does. Practical details can go ugly when neglected, and squandering your savings on a possibly unmarketable manuscript is quite a gamble. Hence most writers crank out their work, including their masterpieces, between juggling kids and day jobs and the flu.

But I didn't say any of this. A writing sabbatical is spectacular when you've got the creative juice. If your imagination is on fire and the words are flowing, nothing feels better than shutting out the world and letting it rip. I did it once and not only did I quit my day job, I moved a thousand miles away to write in a beachfront cottage with no phone in the dead of winter. It was rewarding in ways I could never have foreseen. So I held my tongue with my friend and wished him well and told him to keep me updated. Because while he may or may not deliver a book, or find an actual calling, he will definitely experience something valuable.

Have you ever taken a writing sabbatical? Was it worth it? Would you take one if you could?

On trust, kittens and getting graded by clients

Trust is a funny thing. It's considered smart not to be too trusting, especially in business, yet we're often offended when we realize someone doesn't trust us. It feels so personal, being viewed with suspicion.

Shortly before I graduated from college, I met with an advisor who seemed incredulous that I had completed my degree in three years - magna cum laude, no less. She even looked through my records to find evidence that I had skipped or failed something, sometime. Looking back, I suspect it was my pink hair that offended her academic sensibilities but at the time, I just felt like she was calling me dumb. The executives at my first job were also quite dismissive (and my hair was a normal color by then); they treated me like a kid who couldn't possibly have the chops to write their marketing materials.

Back then I couldn't wait to be older. Ha ha.

These past two weeks I've had to earn someone's trust on two fronts. The first was a client who hired me to rewrite a white paper written by someone in the company. Structurally, it was a mess and the sentences all had the robotic brevity of See Jane Run. So I worked my mojo and handed it back. The client called me and questioned almost every change I had made. I tried not to feel insulted but - well, I did, a little. Onto the next paper. This time I thought we could skip the post-mortem since I had proved myself, but no. Same routine. Yet then he called me again and congratulated me on writing a "perfect" paper. Why was it perfect? Because he had fed it through one of those online grade-your-writing programs and it came back a 10. That was what it took to earn his trust - passing muster with a software program.

Okay then. I've never had a client do this and I was a little unnerved. (I wasn't especially flattered, because according to him, the program had graded the original caveman version an 8.) I pointed out to him that the program didn't know his marketing research or objectives, but it didn't matter. In his mind, this was the ultimate test and I had passed.

Honestly, it sort of rankled at first that this program outranked me in credibilty. Which brings me to my second trust battle. I'm fostering two homeless kittens at the moment and while the boy kitten purrs and melts right into me, the girl kitten was terrified of me at first. It's taken her almost two weeks just to let me pet her.

I know, of course, that her timidity is not about me. It's no doubt due to a scary event in the previous six weeks of her kitten life. Which made me realize that my client probably didn't lack confidence in me as much as he lacked it in himself. He did not feel secure about his ability to assess anyone's writing, so he needed validation from an outside source. Is this always the case with clients? No, but I think it is more than we realize. If writing is foreign terrain to them, it makes sense that they would question choices that seems natural to us. It's a lesson I'll try to keep in mind the next time a client dissects my work - although I sincerely hope none of them use those programs to "grade" me in the future. That was just undignified.

On generating ideas

Where do our ideas come from? Why is that sometimes we're overflowing with inspiration and paragraphs that write themselves in our head (for me, this often happens inconveniently as I'm driving) but other times we sit down at our computer screen and can't think of a thing?

All writers are somewhat creative, whether we're writing a short story, a legal brief or a radio spot for a car dealership. Even when the assignment seems drier than dry, we still need to select the perfect words and create a specific tone in our work. We might write for fun or money, but we all depend on a certain well of mental fecundity to keep the words coming. Sometimes we're blocked entirely but other times we just sense that our writing has become a bit stale and would like to unleash something fresh and powerful from our depths. But how?

Kelly Link wrote a great article on just that topic today for io9. Link is famous for writing fiction that manages to encompass literary, sci fi, horror and fantasy elements in a highly distinctive way; her short stories remind me of a weird hybrid of David Lynch and Ray Bradbury. So if she has something to say on coming up with innovative ideas, I'm going to listen.

She goes through a few interesting exercises, but the one that struck me the most was mining our obsessions, whether they seem relevant to the task at hand or not. I know I often hit on the solution to a writing problem when I'm thinking about something completely unrelated. I also have a trick where if I schedule finding a solution - as in, I write it on my daily To Do list for 2:00 - the solution actually does present itself on schedule, be it a copy tagline or a character issue. (Apparently my subconscious is quite punctual as long as I give it advance notice.) But if I try to just think-force my way through something, my mind balks like a stubborn horse.

How do you come up with ideas for your work? Do you have tricks or routines to cajole your brain into giving up the goods?

io9

Guess what? You're not your brand after all.

Sometimes you read a blog that goes right to the heart of your secret pent-up grumblings. For me, that would be Maureen Johnson's post "Manifesto," a rant about people who over-brand themselves on the Internet. Yes, yes, I know we've all heard "you are your brand" a hundred times and being "on brand" is now a requirement for even high school kids working a retail job after school. I honestly am getting as sick of branding as I am of getting left off party invites because I'm not on Facebook. Technology is nice - you could say I've "friended" it - but it has never replaced the three-dimensional world for me.


Johnson's post, which is worth reading for anyone who works in marketing or the arts, examines the aggressive promotion authors are encouraged to do online these days. Anyone who's published a book knows about this promotion. It is epic. It is solely the writer's responsibility. The days of the cross-country book tour are over except for superstars; instead writers are expected to launch and brand themselves online in a multifaceted and ceaseless marketing campaign.

While this initially sounds easy - something you can do from a comfortable chair - it is in fact even more time-consuming because it never ends. Conventional PR wisdom will tell you that you must participate actively on Twitter, tend a compelling Facebook page, manage an always-evolving web site, post frequently on your own blog, guest blog elsewhere, and offer free and engaging content like short stories and contests to hold your readers' attention. You must, you must, you must. Does that sound exhausting? It's practically a full time job, in addition to the actual writing you do, in addition to the day job you probably have. And there's no guarantee that any of it will pay off - especially because all your competition is doing the exact same thing. (And with the advent of self-publishing and e-publishing, that's a lot of competition.)

It's not just writers, of course; everyone's selling themselves these days, from executives to college interns to the guy who cuts my hair. Sometimes it serves an obvious purpose and other times it just seems .... well, rather pushy and self-centered. Johnson puts it perfectly: "Some people don’t get it. They don’t get that the internet is a conversation. They think the message only goes one way—out. Things must be shouted. Things must be thrust in your face. Things must be sold."

I thought a lot about this today, about what bothers me when people devote themselves so assiduously to embodying a brand. We freelancers and entrepreneurs all have to hustle somewhat and there's no shame in letting people know what you have to offer, after all. I think partly it's a matter of balance; when your desire to sell yourself wildly outweighs your interest in dialogues with other people, it becomes obvious pretty quickly. But I think what really bothers me is the lack of sincerity - my perception that the person has concealed all of their quirks and idiosyncrasies in favor of presenting a carefully crafted appeal. When someone deliberately brands their company, I understand and applaud their marketing strategy. But when someone tries to brand themselves, I feel like they've jettisoned the most engaging part of their personality. And I don't really relate to brands. I usually relate best to people.

Maureen Johnson Books