L’esprit d’escalier

In the comments on my rant about the Amazon/Wal-Mart/Target price war, my friend Eric and I digressed a bit into eBook pricing, and book prices in general.  Specifically, if you take the cost of printing and binding and shipping out of the equation, why shouldn’t eBooks be cheaper than dead tree books?

In today’s post, literary agent Nathan Bransford breaks down the costs associated with producing a book, including how much the publisher actually makes off of the cover price.  As he points out,

Unit costs (i.e. producing the actual book) also varies anywhere from $0.75 to $3.00 depending on the format, quantity of the print run, etc.

He figures in bookseller discounts and author royalties, and then gets into some expenses that are less obvious to readers:

But you have to deduct all marketing costs (ads, sending out copies for review, bound galleys/ARCs if any, co-op), other production costs (cover, seasonal catalog, etc.), and overhead (salaries, health insurance, rent, etc.) before you get to the profit.

How much does all the rest of that cost? I don’t know, I’m not a publisher. But my guess is that all adds up to a pretty good chunk. And let’s not forget that historically most books don’t earn a profit and those have to be paid for as well.

This is the part I want to touch on, both looking at the author’s side and at the publisher’s side.

First of all are the advantages to authors.  Commercial publishers market your book for you.  They put the titles in their seasonal catalogs, and sales reps go out and present those titles to book buyers all over the country.  Even if a book isn’t getting a full-page ad in the New York Times Book Review section, it’s still getting far more exposure than books put out by a vanity press.

Also included are the costs of galleys and ARCs.  Now, not every book will have these, but a lot of times, publishers will make them available, especially for debut authors.  Why?  Because the best advertising isn’t something you can fit into a newspaper ad.  Getting the book into readers’ hands is.  When booksellers are talking up a book before it’s released, that’s what we call buzz*.  This enthusiasm passes from bookseller to readers — the book’s pub date arrives and booksellers start handselling.  “Hi Mrs. Murphy.  Remember how much you loved The Case of the Pilfered Plotbunnies? We just got in this new book called The Plotbunny Detectives and I think you’ll like it.”

Galleys and ARCs are expensive to produce.  They tend to cost more to print than the final version of the book itself.  This is because the print runs are far smaller, so you don’t get as much of a bulk discount.  (Though, with several publishers launching e-galley programs, I’m hopeful that we’ll see even more books getting into booksellers’ hands early.)

Co-op is short for co-operative advertising.  It’s money publishers make available to booksellers for the purposes of advertising their titles.  This could be a mention in a store’s newsletter, a table display featuring certain titles, a newspaper ad highlighting certain books, or a spot on local radio stations.  It helps booksellers mitigate the cost of advertising, and it’s win-win on both sides:  the bookstore gets people to come in and shop, and the publisher sells some books.

Somewhere in that publisher’s cost are the salaries of the editorial staff, and the people designing the cover art, and the people setting up the book’s layout.

Which segues nicely into the publisher’s side.

Something to consider: the only way a publisher makes money is to sell books.  I know it seems kind of obvious, but there are so many costs associated with actually making a book a success that we rarely take into account.

There are all the positions at a publisher that the average reader might never come into contact with:  the customer service reps, the finance department, the sales force, the people working in the warehouse who put the books in boxes and ship ‘em out to bookstores.  Their salaries have to be factored into the cost of the books.

Then there’s the last line that I quoted from Mr. Bransford: “And let’s not forget that historically most books don’t earn a profit and those have to be paid for as well.”

Which means that the books that don’t earn a profit get paid for by the books that do.

Is that fair?

Hell.  Yes.

It’s part of what gives debut authors a chance to shine.  The money made by the bestsellers lets editors take a chance on an unknown and lets the marketing and publicity departments get the word out, the buzz started.  Maybe it lets them give that midlist author whose books they love another solid push.

There’s a lot of talk about how commercial publishing is an old, creaky, clunky model.  There’s days it feels like shiny new gadgets and technologies are coming so fast, publishers can barely keep up.  They start figuring out how they’re going to deal with today’s invention knowing that in a week or a month, it might be obsolete.  But for now, it’s the model we have, and it still gets books into readers’ hands.  It still gets writers paid.  Money flows towards the writer, remember?

That’s not to say that we should turn up the stereo so we don’t have to hear the creaking and clunking.  There are brilliant people out there, taking a good look at changes that can be made, at new ways of selling books.  I think we’re going to see some very cool and unconventional things coming that will work, and will challenge the way we think about publishing and distribution (or continue to challenge, might be more accurate).  But neither do I think we should just scrap the old way of doing things.  It’s so hard to get rid of because it works.  It’s imperfect, yes, but publishers and booksellers are going to be looking for ways to merge the old and the new to make something that works even better.

It’s going to be interesting as hell to see what they (we?) come up with.

*Funny thing, I’ve never liked the word.  It probably has something to do with my inexplicable fear of bees.  I see a bee flying around and it’s all oh god get away run oh god HALP. So I hear it referring to stirrings about a book and I cringe.  Hey, some people hate the word “moist.”  Language is awesome.

I had this book when I was little, called This Farm is a Mess! (Okay, yes, I had a lot of books when I was little.  This was one of many.)  Anyway, in the book, Farmer Woods was notoriously bad at cleaning up around the farm.  As you turned each page, the mess piled up — dirty dishes everywhere, towers of clutter leaning more and more precariously as the book went on.  Finally the farm animals got fed up with it (even the pigs, if I remember right!), and took it upon themselves to clean.  I remember an illustration with all the dishes stacked in the back of the tractor or a pickup truck, getting washed clean in the rain.

It’s probably out of print now, though there seem to be a bunch of copies available on alibris.  What I remember most about the book was the way my mother would read the signature phrase:  This faaaarm is a mess! (Only, with her Boston accent, it’s probably more accurate to say she said, This faaaahm is a mess!)  It sent me into giggles every time, and of course the phrase lived outside the pages of the book.

When my room a disaster area and my grandparents were coming over, she’d stand in the doorway, hands on hips, and declare, “This faaaarm is a mess!”  It was my hint to get cleaning.  Was the house in need of tidying the day after a party?  “This faaaarm is a mess!”

I don’t even remember the last time I thought about that book, but looking around at my cluttered desk just now, eyeballing all the filing I really ought to get done, I had to fight a sudden urge to declare aloud that this particular farm is a mess.  Only, my coworkers probably wouldn’t know what to do with me if I broke into the inevitable giggles, so I refrained.

Goal for this afternoon: stuff put away and organized so I can come back to neatness on Monday.

Less-tangible goals that are still housekeeping:

• Get back to the NaNoing, noreallyImeanit.
• Take those red pens I bought and get started on the edits to the Nin manuscript so Hill and I can be one step closer to shopping this bad cat around.
• Also, we need to give the poor book a title already.
• Suck it up and revise “Kate.” I think I know how to fix it.  Then figure out a home for it.
• Suck it up and send “Pomegranate” out again.  I stopped after three rejections, which is silly.
• /eyes the poor story about Lil, still running from that demon.  /sighs
• No less than three posts for WoW stuff that I owe, probably more. (Annalea post-Wrathgate, Bittertongue plots, Lyr-and-Yva scheming)
• I have a ficly story sitting in draft-form that I’d really like to finish.

I think that’s quite enough of a laundry list for this weekend.  I’ll be happy to check off even half of it.  Sadly, I don’t have a bunch of helpful farm animals to help me knock it out, so it’s all me on this one.  (No, my cats are lazy, they wouldn’t lift a paw.)

(Apologies to Judith Viorst and the Alexander books for the title.)

I’m seeing some new traffic because someone on the Smart Bitches comment thread linked to my “Repent, Harlequin?” post, so, um, hi there, new people!  Pull up a chair, because (drumrolllllll)…

Finally, the number-crunching post!

However, before I start throwing math at you (I know, I’m such a tease), I want to go over a few terms regarding the different kinds of publishing out there.  I’ve seen a lot of people equating self-publishing with vanity publishing, and while sometimes vanity presses try to sell their services as self-publishing, they’re unfortunately smearing their bad reputations all over the people who have truly self-published.

SFWA has an excellent page devoted to it, and the Writer Beware team puts it far better than I ever could, so first I’m going to point you here.

You might have noticed here that I try very hard not to use the term “traditional publishers” when I’m referring to what SFWA correctly defines as “commercial” publishers, as “traditional publishing” is a phrase coined by a scam publisher who I’m not going to link to here.  So, Random House, Tor, Little, Brown & Company, HarperCollins, and, yes, even the advance-paying, editorial-having, books-on-bookstore-shelves part of Harlequin, those are all commercial publishers. So, SFWA’s defintion of commercial publishers:

A commercial publisher purchases the right to publish a manuscript (usually together with other rights, known as subsidiary rights), and pays the author a royalty on sales. Most also pay an advance on royalties. Commercial publishers are highly selective, publishing only a tiny percentage of manuscripts submitted. They handle every aspect of editing, publication, distribution, and marketing. There are no costs to the author.

Next, let’s look at self-publishing — true self-publishing, that is.  SFWA again:

Self-publishing, like vanity publishing, requires the author to bear the entire cost of publication, and also to handle all marketing, distribution, storage, etc. However, rather than paying for a pre-set package of services, the author puts those services together himself. Because every aspect of the process can be out to bid, self-publishing can be much more cost effective than vanity publishing; it can also result in a higher-quality product. All rights, the ISBN, and completed books are owned by the author, who keeps all proceeds from sales.

Is self-publishing easy?  No.  It requires a whole lot of work from the author that chooses to go that route, and I’d venture that the more successful self-published titles are put out there by people with an idea of how the industry works.  Author Teri Woods went the self-publishing route, selling books out of the trunk of her car.  Brunonia Barry, author of The Lace Reader, self-published and sold her book in and around Salem, MA, where it takes place.  Both Woods and Barry sold enough of their books to make major commercial houses take notice and offer them book deals, but neither success story happened overnight.

Also, they self-published.

Still Alice author Lisa Genova (who commented here once omg /fangirl /squee), published through iUniverse knowing she’d have to do all the marketing and publicity legwork herself.  She used their services for printing and shipping the books, period, the end. The rest, she did on her own, with an eye towards being picked up by a commercial publisher:

It’s important to know that a self-published book was not my goal. I self-published because I couldn’t make any headway on the conventional road to a book deal. My self-publishing goal was to demonstrate that Still Alice had an enthusiastic and sizeable audience. I wanted to give my book a chance to wave its arms in the air and yell at the top of its lungs, to create a buzz loud enough for the literary agents and publishing houses to hear. And at the end of my self-published day, I still wanted a book deal from a traditional publishing house.

Again, someone with an idea of how the publishing industry works, making the model work for her.  While normally I’d put iUniverse squarely in the vanity publisher category — their “editorial services” echo Harlequin Horizons’ in a lot of ways, and surprise, they’re owned by Author Solutions, too — Ms. Genova used them as a self-publisher.  As she said in her reply to my previous post (/re-squee!):  “I fully realized that I was not going to make a living off of the self-published version of Still Alice.”

So what is a vanity press, precisely?  What differentiates them from honest-to-god self-publishers?  Back to SFWA’s definitions:

A vanity publisher relies on its authors as its main source of income–whether by charging fees for publication or other services, or requiring authors to buy or pre-sell their own books. It often presents itself as a publisher (sometimes claiming to be a “traditional” publisher and concealing its fees) rather than a self-publishing service, claiming to be selective despite employing little meaningful quality screening. Adjunct services (editing, marketing, and/or distribution) are generally minimal or of dubious value. A vanity publisher claims various rights by contract, and owns the ISBN and the completed books, which remain in the publisher’s possession until sold. Payment to the author is in the form of a royalty.

See that bit about claiming to be a “traditional” publisher?  From Harlequin Horizons’ “Our Advantages” page:

Harlequin Horizons is a division of Harlequin Enterprises Limited, a global leader in romance and women’s fiction. The intent behind creating Harlequin Horizons is to give more aspiring romance writers and women’s fiction writers the opportunity to publish their books and achieve their dreams without going through the submission process with a traditional publishing house.

However, we understand you may aspire to be published with a traditional house – a noble aspiration. While there is no guarantee that if you publish with Harlequin Horizons you will picked up for traditional publishing, Harlequin will monitor sales of books published through Harlequin Horizons for possible pick-up by its traditional imprints.

Bolding mine.  Four counts of “traditional publishing” in two paragraphs.  Awesome. Though, I do have to concede that Horizons isn’t claiming to be the traditional publisher here — they’re using the term to describe commercial publishers.  It’s still frustrating that they’re perpetuating a phrase coined by a scam publisher, though.

Where they do hit the vanity-press criteria, though, is just about everywhere else.

Relies on authors as its main source of income?  Check.

Presents itself as a publisher?  Check — they have a page dedicated to “The Five Chapters of Publishing” and while they call their business “Assisted Self-Publishing,” they tout the ability to “retain more control over the editing and artistic process” as a perk.  Guys, it’s not.  If you’re the average first-time author, chances are you know precisely jack and shit about the editorial and artistic processes.

Adjunct services of minimal or dubious value?  Big gorram check.  Minimal in the packages, dubious in the add-ons.

They don’t seem to be claiming rights (though I haven’t seen the “non-exclusive contract” they offer, so that’s still up for interpretation).  However, I’m uncomfortable with the way they spin it:

When you self-publish with Harlequin Horizons you only pay for the services and packages you need and you retain all the rights to your book. Retaining the rights to your book is a big difference between self-publishing and traditional publishing. With traditional publishing, a publisher will buy the rights to your book up front and then print your book. With self-publishing you, the author, remain in control through the whole publishing process. You can also continue to market your book to other publishers and outlets at your own pace.

There’s that “traditional publishing” thing again.  Yes, a commercial publisher buys the rights to your book, but sweet flying spaghetti monster, that’s not a bad thing!  When a publisher buys the rights to publish your book, you get paid. And if someone wants to buy the rights to produce it as an audio book, you get paid again. And if a publisher in Spain wants to translate it and publish it there?  You get paid again. Also, let’s look at the weasel-wording here:  the author retains the copyright, always, always, always.  If anyone asks you to sign over your copyright, run the fuck away.

What commercial publishers buy is the right to print and sell your book.  So you can get paid.  Go to your bookshelf and pick up a book published by a commercial publisher.  Turn to the title page.  See the copyright line?  Does it say “Copyright <author’s name here>” and the year?  It should.  Why?  Because authors retain their copyrights. I can’t help but feel that Harlequin Horizons is counting on new writers not knowing that, and intentionally helping them to confuse copyright with rights to print and sell.

Okay, I’m done digressing. Last couple of checkpoints:  It’s not clear whether or not Harlequin Horizons owns the ISBN that you “buy” with your package.  I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume the author owns it at that point, but there’s a big ol’ question mark beside it in place of a check mark.

And, since they only print on demand, they’re not housing the completed books. They are, however, largely controlling how information about the books gets sent out to online stores.

Lastly, of course, payment to the author is in the form of a royalty.  Check!  This royalty is, of course, based on net sales, not off of the retail price, as it would be at a commercial publisher.

So, after a very long way to get to it, let’s talk about what those royalties might actually look like, shall we?

I’m going to put the math behind a clicky here, because I know I’m already looking at my own scrollbar and cringing.  So, go refresh your coffee, grab a snack, and click on through for fun with math!

Continue Reading »

In yesterday’s post, I got my rant on about Harlequin Horizons, the new vanity press arm of one of the largest romance publishers in the world.

At that time, Romance Writers of America had made a bold move, declaring that because of this, Harlequin was no longer eligible for the resources granted to publishers at their conventions — if they wanted to participate, they’d have to pay for floor space and signing space, and other kinds of facilities access that helps connect publishers to authors.

Kristin Nelson at Pub Rants posted the response from Harlequin’s CEO last night.  It was, uh.  A wee bit condescending:

It is disappointing that the RWA has not recognized that publishing models have and will continue to change. As a leading publisher of women’s fiction in a rapidly changing environment, Harlequin’s intention is to provide authors access to all publishing opportunities, traditional or otherwise.

That, after a list of ways that Harlequin has financially supported the RWA conferences (sending editors and participating in panels, throwing a party).  As John Scalzi puts it: “you are nothing without us!!!!”  (Go read Scalzi’s post on it.  I’ll wait.

The RWA wasn’t the only group to voice their disapproval of Harlequin’s practices and (here’s the important part, cats n kittens) act upon it.  Mystery Writers of America released a statement yesterday afternoon, objecting to Harlequin Horizons and the eHarlequin Manuscript Critique Service (which is heavily promoted on their forums and website, encouraging aspiring authors to pay someone to edit their manuscript.  Someone, presumably, at Harlequin.)  From the MWA statement:

Mystery Writers of America (MWA) is deeply concerned about the troubling conflict-of-interest issues created by these ventures, particularly the potentially misleading way they are marketed to aspiring writers on the Harlequin website.

It is common for disreputable publishers to try to profit from aspiring writers by steering them to their own for-pay editorial, marketing, and publishing services. The implication is that by paying for those services, the writer is more likely to sell his manuscript to the publisher. Harlequin recommends the “eHarlequin Manuscript Critique Service” in the text of its manuscript submission guidelines for all of its imprints and include a link to “Harlequin Horizons,” its new self-publishing arm, without any indication that these are advertisements.

That, coupled with the fact that these businesses share the Harlequin name, may mislead writers into believing they can enhance their chances of being published by Harlequin by paying for these services. Offering these services violates long-standing MWA rules for inclusion on our Approved Publishers List.

In other words, “Hey, Harlequin, you’re acting like a scam publisher.  Cut it out.”  They’re giving them until December 15th to respond and change the practices.  At that point, if changes aren’t made, books published by Harlequin will not count for writers seeking active membership in the MWA.

Also stepping in: Science Fiction Writers of America.  SFWA didn’t give Harlequin the deadline that MWA did; as of 11/19/09, Harlequin is no longer an approved publisher for authors seeking active memberships in SFWA.

SFWA calls on Harlequin to openly acknowledge that Harlequin Horizon titles will not be distributed to brick-and-mortar bookstores, thus ensuring that the titles will not be breaking into the real fiction market. SFWA also asks that Harlequin acknowledge that the imprint does not represent a genuine opportunity for aspiring authors to hone their skills, as no editor will be vetting or working on the manuscripts. Further, SFWA believes that work published with Harlequin Horizons may injure writing careers by associating authors’ names with small sales levels reflected by the imprint’s lack of distribution, as well as its emphasis upon income received from writers and not readers. SFWA supports the fundamental principle that writers should be paid for their work, and even those who aspire to professional status and payment ought not to be charged for the privilege of having those aspirations.

Their statement is the most blunt of them all so far.  The bolding is mine.  In one paragraph, SFWA states clearly the things that Harlequin Horizons obfuscates in all of their rah-rah-ing.

And, SFWA ups the ante a bit more:

Further, Harlequin should be on notice that while the rules of our annual Nebula Award do not expressly prohibit self-published titles from winning, it is highly unlikely that our membership would ever nominate or vote for a work that was published in this manner.

While the statement refers to the “self-published” Harlequin Horizons titles, I’m pretty sure it’s also saying that regular Harlequin titles are looking like long shots for the Nebula Awards while this is ongoing.

Now, here’s the thing — at the end of their initial chiding response to the RWA, Harlequin makes a tiny concession (again, via Pub Rants):

Most importantly, however, we have heard the concerns that you, our authors, have expressed regarding the potential confusion between this venture and our traditional business. As such, we are changing the name of the self-publishing company from Harlequin Horizons to a designation that will not refer to Harlequin in any way. We will initiate this process immediately. We hope this allays the fears many of you have communicated to us.

Part of the objection — but only part of it — to Harlequin Horizons was the misleading way they were using the Harlequin brand to lure authors in.  See, these writers forking over their money were under the impression that Harlequin was letting them into its exclusive club.  I mean, if you publish through a company called “Harlequin Horizons,” you’d think that’s what it would say on the spine, right?

Wrong.  What they fail to mention is that, once the books are published, Harlequin would distance itself from them.  The books might get the logo on the spine (take a look at it here, while it’s up), but the word Harlequin wouldn’t appear.  But, if you take a look at the cover templates they have, well, gosh-golly, those still look an awful lot like the standard Harlequin series titles. (.pdf link)  I’m pretty sure that cover template #3 there very closely resembles the style of one of the monthly series we carried back in my bookstore days — Harlequin Presents, maybe.

Adding insult to injury if you go read the letter Harlequin sent to its authors over at Jackie Kessler’s blog (read her whole post, it’s brilliant), it reads a lot like, I don’t know, like they’re winking conspiratorially at their authors, saying, “well, you and I know they’re not good enough, but no one has to tell them that.”

Harlequin reassures:

Horizons books will not be distributed by Harlequin. They will not appear in stores next to your book. Self-published books are generally distributed through large online catalogs.

Um, which online catalogs, precisely?  What, a link to a Harlequin Horizons store?  This is not the same as the seasonal catalogs that publishers send out to bookstore buyers.

Horizons books will not have Harlequin branding. Horizons is a separate brand and will carry the double-H Horizons logo on the spine only, NOT the Harlequin brand.

and

Readers will not be confused. Harlequin is the gold standard for romance. Readers purchase Harlequin because they trust Harlequin to provide a great story. There will be no ‘dilution’ of quality. Horizons is a separate imprint with no Harlequin branding.

What’s that about protesting too much?  As Ms. Kessler says:

See the subtle dig here? Harlequin offers top-notch stories…and Horizons isn’t that. So if you choose to go the Horizons route, Harlequin has already said your story isn’t up to par. Despite the “Harlequin” name in Harlequin Horizons, you would not be a Harlequin author. And what’s more, Harlequin itself is saying that if you choose to print your book with Horizons, your story **isn’t good enough to be published by Harlequin.** So rather than encouraging authors to sharpen their skills and become better writers, they’re instead offering a way for aspiring authors to pay to print a story that isn’t ready for prime time. Yes, this is pay to play.

A-frickin’-men.  Harlequin knows exactly what they’re doing here, and they don’t. care.

Even worse, Harlequin’s rejection letters to people who submit manuscripts in hopes of being, y’know, paid for their work and getting a real publishing contract will point those people to Harlequin Horizons.

See how this just gets worse and worse?  Also, they offer the false hope that they’ll actually be watching the sales from Horizons authors.  From the “Our Advantages” page:

However, we understand you may aspire to be published with a traditional house – a noble aspiration. While there is no guarantee that if you publish with Harlequin Horizons you will picked up for traditional publishing, Harlequin will monitor sales of books published through Harlequin Horizons for possible pick-up by its traditional imprints.

Yeah. Sure. Most titles from vanity presses sell less than 200 copies. Most sell less than fifty.

There’s a lot of frilly talk about making dreams and visions and aspirations come true over on the Horizons page.  It turns my stomach.  It’s preying on the hopes of writers who probably don’t know better, and reels ‘em right in.  Harlequin Horizons sounds just like the scam publishers and scam agents out there, and honestly, I can’t see any difference right now.  Even their responses to the criticism read a lot like the weasel-wording you can find when the scammers show up trying to defend themselves on the Absolute Write Bewares and Background Checks forums.

The sheer abuse of trust is what has me the most infuriated here.  Harlequin is a well-known — probably the best known — name in romance publishing, and it’s using that reputation to lure writers into a terrible, terrible deal.  It’s using writers’ hopes and dreams to line its own pockets.

Now, is the information out there for savvy writers to give Harlequin Horizons a wide berth?  Absolutely.  The unfortunate thing is, though, not everyone knows where to look for the information they need to make better decisions for their careers.  It’s very easy, when searching for “how to get published,” to stumble onto the page of a scammer.  And they sound so very, very trustworthy.  I’ve seen two people from Chris’ boards get taken in or nearly so.  Last week my dad called me on behalf of a friend of his, asking if I’d ever heard of a certain publisher that had the friend thinking he’d be stocked in every B&N in the country.  It was a vanity press; I warned him off.

These three people are all pretty smart.  Problem is, they didn’t know the right questions to ask, and even when I said “OH GOD NO RUN AWAY,” they liked what they were being told.  Because it sounds easy.  Because it sounds like you’re going to get all kinds of exposure and help from these places, but when you look at it up close, you’re not getting anything near what they let you think they’re offering.

Have you seen the commercial for Ally Bank with the little girl on the bike?  Here, go peek.  Poor kid, thinks she’s going to go for a spin around the room, but really, she can’t go out of the red lines.  That’s what Harlequin Horizons is doing to people who sign up for their program.

By the by, I know I promised a breakdown of Harlequin Horizon’s  “services,” and you’re still going to get one.  It’s going to be in its own post, though, since I spent this one trying to recap the last 24-hours or so.

Word Count: slacktastic

I mentioned I bought Under the Dome, right?

I have done nothing with my free time since Sunday night but read.

I know, NaNo means shutting yourself off from all distractions — including new books from one of your favorite authors — but y’know?  To hell with that.  The last book that had me this hooked was A Madness of Angels.  I’ll get a review up here when I’ve finished it, but for now, it’s safe to say I’m loving the hell out of this book.

Interesting things happening in the world o’publishing this week.  Harlequin announced Harlequin Horizons, which is essentially their own shiny new vanity press line. There’s a huge caveat emptor here, cats n kittens.  Settle in while I go exploring!

Also, for the record, I think it’s very interesting that they’re launching this during NaNoWriMo.  How many people with books that are nowhere near ready for publication are going to get hooked in by this?

There’s been plenty of discussion amongst romance writers and on romance blogs.  Check out Smart Bitches, Dear Author, and Writer Beware.  Romance Writers of America has declared that with the advent of Harlequin Horizons, Harlequin itself (as in, its “traditional” publishing arm), “no longer meets the requirements to be eligible for RWA-provided conference resources.”  Which means that sure, they can attend RWA conventions, but now they have to pay for rooms for their authors to use for signings, and will not be able to use the resources the RWA provides to eligible publishers to promote their company.

What does this mean?  In short, that adding a vanity/subsidy arm to their business is not good for the brand or its authors, and that it’s not the sweet deal it seems to be at first glance.

Go get a cup of coffee.  This picking-apart may take a while.  Continue Reading »

Total word count: 11,187*

I’m not one for signs and portents.  Were I to apply for a job as an oracle, I’d never get the gig.  That didn’t stop me from being fairly certain my flight was doomed last night.

On the flight out to Chicago last Wednesday, I was napping quite peacefully when we hit a little bump.  Nothing that bothered me, really just enough to wake me from my doze.

Then the plane dropped.

Then it teetered.

It was done in a few seconds, really, not even enough time to really register what was going on.  I don’t know what causes that sort of thing, but the pilot came on, said they’d known there was going to be some turbulence, but he was taking us down a little lower to smooth us out.  The rest of the flight was fine.  My fellow travelers and I regrouped at the gate (we weren’t seated together), and shared some shaky smiles.

I didn’t think too much about it the rest of the week, except for providing a brief summary when asked “how was your flight?”

Two and a half days of work, then two awesome days rambling about Chicago with Marty and Shannon (with guest appearances by Vonnie and Dan), and the bad flight out was mostly out of my head.

Until, of course, we started out for O’Hare last night.  Now, the thing to understand is, I’ve shared bad flight horror stories before getting on a plane plenty of times before.  It doesn’t faze me.  So, Shannon and I swap a few.  I think I’m fine.

Then, standing at the check-in kiosk, I start dwelling.  I have the option of upgrading to an exit row seat.  I start to pass on it (I don’t think I can expense a $25 seat upgrade), then I go back and do it after all.  If you’re looking for a rational explanation, I don’t have one.  It was a feeling, and I followed it, telling myself it was for the extra leg room, since my laptop bag is so frickin’ huge, I can’t stretch my legs out under the seats in front of me.

In the security line, I start shaking.  Can’t stop it.  Maybe a bit of it is because I’m hungry, but I’d had a huge breakfast and don’t feel hungry.

So I buy food once I’m on the other side.  And I pick up a copy of Under the Dome, since my terminal had a Barbara’s Booksellers (yay indies in airports!).  I figure I’ll read my way through the flight and be distracted.  Any of you picked up Under the Dome yet, even to flip through the first few pages?  It starts with a woman taking flying lessons.  She crashes by page ten.  Granted, it’s pretty unlikely that my Jet Blue flight’s going to encounter a mysterious dome anywhere on the way to Boston, but god damn it.

Then the girl sitting next to me at the gate is yattering away on her cell phone, telling someone on the other end about some misgivings she has about the flight.  I think it’s because it was a smaller plane, but somehow I managed to block her out before she could add to my own fears.

We board.  The captain tells us there’s going to be some turbulence until we’re over Michigan.

Turbulence never bothers me.  Little jostles and bumps don’t even startle me, most flights.

Now, though, every jiggle of the plane has me gritting my teeth.

Looking back on it, I think the upgrade to the exit row was a good move.  I’m not claustrophobic at all, but there was something comforting about having the extra room that I can’t put my finger on.  Maybe it was feeling like I had at least some semblance of control — if anything happened that required people to do their exit-row duties, I’d be the one acting, not relying on someone else to do them.

Once we landed, once wheels touched ground, I started breathing again.  While we were in the air, I don’t think I realized how tense I was, or how shallow my breathing must have been.  Once I got off the plane, though, I felt it.  Greg met me at the baggage claim.  I was just kind of staring into space waiting for my suitcase to appear, and was pretty zombie-like all the way to the car.  Somewhere about halfway home I started coming out of it, but by that point I was pretty drained.

So, hopefully I’ll be over it by January, when not only do I have to board another plane, this time I have to cross an ocean on it.

Anyway.  Home again.  Back at it.

*Yes, that’s right, I’ve written nothing in the last week.  Tuesday night was for some amazing RP; I had a feeling nothing else was getting done.  Then I was a-travellin’, and only just got home last night.  Work travel and visiting friends doesn’t leave me much time for scribbling, so I didn’t.  I forgive myself.

Word count for 11/9: 1476
Total word count: 11,187

So, somewhere in there, I broke the 10K mark last night.  Nice!  I’m still behind, and still okay with that.

Pushed through the “Oops, I forgot someone” bit.  Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. I know right now a lot of it feels horribly cliche, but that’ll shake out in future drafts.

A couple of things to share, via the great internet phenomenon that is Twitter:

Last week, Anna linked to this hilarious and spot-on video from Nerdfighter and author John Green, in which he lays out a few very good points about NaNoWriMo.  Go watch and giggle.

Then today, via @GalleyCat, there’s this article from the WSJ, in which writers talk about not only how they write their books, but also — and here’s the part that’s got me linking this — about how sometimes their drafts never get finished, or get completely reworked, or end up as a completely different story than the one they originally wanted to tell.

If you’re stressing about getting your NaNo (or any!) project right on the first try… don’t. You’re not alone in needing to tweak things to make the story work.  Bestselling, award-winning authors go through it too.  Nothing is perfect on its first try.  Watch me push the bold button:

Nothing is perfect on its first try.

The point of this month is trying in the first place.

Pens to paper, cats ‘n’ kittens, fingers on keys.

Weekend word count: 1382
Total word count: 9711

I’m about 4,000 words behind.  I’m okay with this. Spent a chunk of Saturday with google maps, making sure the route the characters take in flight makes sense.  I ran into another problem, when I looked at an old outline I’d started. I left out a character in this draft, who really ought to be there. As in, if she’s not, someone’s going to say “Uh, where the hell was she?” So the dilemma becomes, do I go back and re-insert her, or do I introduce her in a different way?  Still mulling that one over.  I’ll let you know.

So, thing the first: go read Anna’s post about a particularly shitty E-bay commercial.  I’m thinking that, in addition to loving our indies for the holidays, we could do a pretty damned good thing by supporting the people who sell their work on Etsy.  I know a few of you know (and are!) some crafty people.  Toss me some links in the comments and I’ll do a round up post later in the week.

Thing the second:

Going on a message board whingeing about how haaaaard it is to write does not buy you my sympathy.

Let me explain this a bit, after a few deep breaths.

(Before I begin: this is not directed at those of you who do write and have occasional bouts of words not wanting to behave on the page, or who sit down some days and find yourself not getting anything done and post about it.  When that happens, do you come back the next day and write some more, or turn to a different project and work on that instead?  Do you plow through the part that isn’t working and decide to fix it later, then work on other parts that do flow better for you?  Also, when you put up a “writing is hard” post, chances are I’m going to learn something from you about your writing process, or will examine aspects of my own because of it.  I’m talking about the people who throw down their pens and walk away from all writing, forever, or who never pick up said pens in the first place.  Okay?  Okay.)

On a board I frequent, a couple of posters have a habit of tossing up all sorts of “tell me what I should write” topics.  They fish around for compliments on their ideas, looking for people to say “Oh my yes, you’re a genius!  Please write it so I can read it!”

And then they don’t do anything.  They’ll post a few days later wondering about whether they should take a class, or go to a workshop, or do all sorts of things related to writing except actually writing.

Yes, writing is hard.  Telling a good story is hard.  It’s work.  Writers don’t just sit down in their chairs and get up a few hours later with books that are ready for publication.  You write a draft.  It takes time.  It takes effort.  When it’s done, you clean it up.  Rinse-repeat until it’s ready, then you do the work to send it out and see if anyone wants to buy it.

And yet, there always seems to be a contingent of people who don’t want to actually, you know, write. They shout to the world that they’re thinking about writing, then spend their time lamenting the fact that they haven’t written anything.

My mouth, it is covered in froth.

It’s insulting to the people who spend their time actually writing.  Digging at it a bit, I think I even understand why my blood starts to boil:

If I posted about how I was thinking of flying an airplane –but flying is hard and there’s so much to learn and what if I suck at it?  But I really wanna do it, only I want to go right to the part where I take off and land smoothly every time.  And that maybe I’d take lessons, I dunno, but flying is so haaaard — then a real pilot, who’s logged hundreds of hours in the air, and who paid his or her way through classes in aviation and actually, you know, did all that stuff, is going to laugh at me, then tell me if I want to fly I’d better get off my ass and work at it, otherwise I’m never getting into the cockpit.

Writers write.  I wish I could remember which author I fangirl over said that, because it’s so very true.  Writers write. Notice I’m not saying “Writers get published” or “Writers make scads of money.”

Writers write.

I’m not published.  I’m hoping to be, yes, but it has yet to happen.  I’m still a writer.  Whether I’m a good one or not isn’t part of my argument right now, except to say this:  all writing is practice.  If I don’t keep writing, I’ll never get better at it.  I’ll never figure out what works and what doesn’t with regards to pacing and plot and character, and how to make my stories better once they’re finished.

Writers write.

I’m not going to walk into a pilot’s lounge and complain about the hard day I had wishing I knew how to fly with the people who actually do know how.  Likewise, don’t stand there bitching about how exhausted you are from the long day you had not writing.

Despite what the scam publishers would have you believe, writers support one another.  We’re always looking out for new things to read, and will stand up and shout about ‘em when we love them.  Likewise, when one of our own is having a rough time with a tangly bit of plot, we’re going to listen and help work it out if we can.  Hell, see that first paragraph? Welcome to Marty’s Sunday morning gtalk spam from me.

It’s a big gorram clubhouse that we writers hang out in.  Have you written something?  Are you actively trying to write something by putting real words on paper or screen?  Come on in!  Apple juice and graham crackers are over on the table, help yourself.

But if you’re only here to whine that you don’t know where to start, and you have no intention of ever doing so, don’t be surprised when I dump my juice box over your head.

Reminder:  Today is National Bookstore Day! Go show your local indies some love — I guarantee you, you’ll find far more interesting things to read there than the inward-looking blather that is to follow here.

Word count for 11/6: 695
Total word count: 8329

Slow writing night last night.

I kind of had a feeling it would be when I found myself doing dishes.  I hate doing dishes.  I’ll do anything else around the house if only it gets me out of dish duty.  The good thing is, Greg doesn’t mind doing them, since he forged his heat-proof hands in the fires of an industrial dishwasher at a catering company when he was in high school.  I’ve made the mistake many a time of turning on the cold-water tap after he’s walked away from the sink and getting a molten blast of ow on my hands. (My pleas of “Oh god, run the cold water for a minute after you’re done” have gone unheeded for nine years. But then again, you’d think after nine years I’d learn to give it a few seconds before sticking my hands under the faucet. I’m just as much at fault.)

Anyway.  I did dishes.  Then I made oatmeal raisin cookies, as he’s off to New Hampshire for the day to help his parents move and I was guilt-laden.  I need both days of the weekend to get ready for a business trip, so I’m here, at home, while he’s lugging stuff around.  Thus, cookies for the trip, and to bribe his mom not to hate me for staying home.

Except for the part where after they cooled, the cookies felt awfully hard as I put them in their tupperware. They were fine out of the oven, not burnt, just the right color.  So confused.  So now, not only am I a crappy daughter-in-law, they’re going to think I’m a shitty baker.  I knew I should’ve gone for chocolate chip instead.  Le sigh.

Then, of course, I sat and transcribed my prose-on-a-train into my gdoc while… while…

I’m so ashamed.

While I watched Chefs vs. City: New Orleans on the Food Network.

It’s New Orleans, cats ‘n’ kittens.  I am powerless to resist.  Even though they had to eat bugs at the Audubon Institute for one of their challenges.  They’re racing through the French Quarter, though, and I’m not even watching the show, I’m looking for places I’ve been.  I now also very much want to eat at the Acme Oyster House, where I have yet to go after three trips down there (I might be the only one among my friends willing to try oysters.  That could be why.)  They also ended up mixing drinks at Pat O’Brien’s, and, I sat there thinking, “We sat near that fountain.  I know that courtyard.  DUDE, that guy’s eating gator bites!”

Yes, my inner-monologue does contain the word dude.  I’m ashamed yet again.  I blame the 80s.

By the end of the night, the word count stayed at 695.  Part of it, I think, is I’ve never told the story from Electra’s point of view before.  It seems to want to be in the first person, where Clay’s is in third.  Not sure if that’s going to be too jarring to the reader, but I’m not going to fret over it until much later.

I think I learned something about Regina and Clay here, too.  Something I always knew, but had never really explored too much until I wrote this (Electra is mentioning that Clay wouldn’t let anyone else carry her, and that Regina would cling to him whenever someone offered):

Funny, I think maybe she loved him best from the very start.

I mean, I knew that.  It’s always been that way, even when they were NPCs in my game.  But Clay, whose last name is Gabriel, was always the herald to me — yes, his last name really is that blatant a reference.  I wonder sometimes if it’s too heavy-handed, especially when you consider the name Regina, but for now, it stays.

However, that line from Electra has me researching John the Apostle now, too.  And, of course, since there are so many other heroes rolled up into this little girl, that means looking into, well, Lancelot, probably, and Enkidu, and…

/sigh

Anyway, what are you doing here?  Shouldn’t you be out buying books?

Word count for 11/5: 1818
Total word count: 7634

First off, and most importantly, a break from the NaNo blather: Saturday, November 7th, is National Bookstore Day.

There’s a list of participating bookstores up at the Publishers Weekly link, but if you don’t see one near you on there, why not check out Indie Bound to find an independent bookstore in your area and show them a little love?

Coming either over the weekend or early next week: musing on the “here, have a hard copy of your NaNo” offers, and a ramble about book pricing and how it affects something that’s pretty important to me: paying writers for what they’ve written.

And now, back to NaNo stuff.

(I’m sorry. I know it looks like it’s shaping up to be a kind of narcissistic month here at L’esprit d’escalier.  I’m going to at least try to keep from faceplanting all the way into my own reflection by throwing out some writerly things to think about. If you’re a-NaNoing too, by the way, feel free to post in the comments with how you’re doing, your favorite lines from your own projects, bits of wisdom you’ve found along the way, whatever!)

I gathered up the courage to snag a table on the train last night. No snide comments from other passengers!

However, the group at the table across from me whiled away the trip by reading trivia out loud to one another.  Seems I have to choose between my wrist going ow ow fuck ow the whole way home or my brain going want to smite… want to smite… the answer’s twelve, you idiots… want to smite…

Also, having a table to lean on still didn’t solve the whole thing where the train’s still shaking and my handwriting takes a nosedive.  Which means of course, that the temptation to spend my recent mileage reimbursement on half the cost of a cheap netbook is getting harder to ignore.  Decisions, decisions.

A snippet that I don’t totally hate from yesterday’s writing session (needs work, kind of run-on-y, but I really like the gist of it):

…a month ago he’d believed clairvoyance was a sham.

Of course, he was hurtling along the streets of Boston with a little girl in his arms who might very well be the reincarnation of Christ and he believed in that just fine, so he was well aware of his own hypocrisy.

I think it’s safe to say I’ve found the right beginning at last, though I’m a bit concerned over the pacing in a few spots.

And so begins chapter two, in which I switch narrators for a while.  We’ll see how this works.  I’ve only recently started thinking about telling the story from multiple viewpoints, and I haven’t been in this character’s head in a long damned time, so we’ll see how it goes.