Category: On Writing

Spring Update

If you’re into Twitter, I broke down and finally created an account.  You can find me at http://www.twitter.com/scottwcarter.  With my crazy life, I’m not sure how much I’ll be on there, but I figured I should at least try it.  I also found a nifty WordPress tool (the open source software I use to update my website and my blog) that I can use in conjunction with with Ping.fm that will automatically send my blog posts (truncated appropriately) to all the social networking sites, including Facebook, Twitter, and Myspace.  So if you want up-to-the-minute news on my writing, or you want occasional musing from my over-caffeinated mind, now you have your choice.

My website and blog:  http://www.scottwilliamcarter.com

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/people/Scott-William-Carter/600351984

Myspace:  http://www.myspace.com/scottwilliamcarter

I’ve been experimenting with posting a little more, though I’ll never be one of those people who blogs about what he had for breakfast.  The key, for me, is to do it in a way where the cost doesn’t outweigh the benefit.  I find the Internet in general very addictive, and since I have so little time for my fiction what with the day job, two kids, and everything else, I have to go to great pains to make sure I don’t spend an excessive amount of time sitting in front of a computer not writing fiction.  That said, I find the social networking sites to be a fun way to connect with both good friends and casual acquaintances, as well as to network with people in which you have a common interest — like writing!

Speaking of writing, my productivity is back where I want it to be, which took me a long time to achieve after my son was born.  Most of this had more to do with me finding the right approach, since the “write in the evening” method was no longer working.  Now I just squeeze it in whenever I can, withholding all those guilty pleasures I love so much (like the Internet) until I’ve met my daily word count.  It’s not ideal, but it’s getting me to write (translate:  practice) as much I as I need to, and that’s what matters.

About two-thirds the way through a mystery, with a character I wouldn’t mind writing a while slew of novels about.  After that, I have to finish the YA book that would be a good follow-up to Water Balloon Boys; I’d already written the first 50 pages and a proposal, so that one’s well on its way.  I just mailed off another short story featuring a character that’s appearing in Analog next month — a sort of Travis McGee in space named Dexter Duff.  It’s the first time I’ve written a short story with the same character and I really enjoyed it.  I’ve also committed to writing one short story a month.  I’d been focusing a lot more on novels the last two years, writing only a handful of short stories, thinking this was necessary because of the demands on my time, but I was cranky from not writing them.  Plus I can experiment and stretch in ways that are easier.  There are lots of benefits; I just have to maintain the balance between the two.

And, on the personal front, our house remodel is nearly finished.  It’s been a crazy couple of months living with my mother (I never thought that would happen again), but we’re a week away from moving back in, and it’s going to be a great house to raise our family in.  There’s a long list of projects waiting for us even after we move in, but that’s all right.  It’ll be nice sleeping in our own beds again.

What else?  Kat just turned six.  Can you believe?  She’s almost in first grade.  Calvin’s three and growing up fast.  Me, I realized I’m now twice the age of the kids graduating from high school.  Ouch.

Facebook, Blogs, and Other Forms of Digital Self-Promotion

If you haven’t been reading Seth Godin’s blog, you really should.  He’s got some great thoughts on marketing, and in particular I like his idea that the only real marketing you need in the modern world is to find ten people who love your product.  Ten people, who tell ten other people, who tell . . . well, you get the idea.

It’s also a topic that’s come up a lot among writers I know lately, mostly focusing on digital forms of self-promotion.  Should I be blogging?  Should I be Facebooking?  Is Twittering useful or just a waste of time?

Here’s the thing, and it’s just my opinion:  The key to any self-promotion is making it work for you.  Some of the most successful writers don’t do any self-promotion at all.  Audrey Niffenegger just got a five million dollar advance for her second book, and her website hasn’t been updated since 2004.  I think a lot of people make a lot about very little, honestly.  I’m not saying blogging, Facebooking, Twittering, etc. can’t be useful to a writer, but it’s only as useful as the writer makes it.  Most people don’t make it that useful.  Most people just waste a lot of time blogging, Facebooking, and Twittering about trivial things.  Hey, I waste a lot of time, too.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t waste time.  If it’s an enjoyable waste of time, then it’s not a waste at all.  There’s lots of benefits to trivial things.  

But don’t work yourself into a lather because you’re not Twittering if it’s only to help your career.   If you’re just doing it because everyone else is doing it, then it won’t matter at all.  Find a way to self-promote that works for you, and if you don’t like self-promotion, then focus on writing more and writing better.  Do a blog now and then if you like it, but don’t stress if you don’t.  If you’re good enough, other people will promote for you.  And if you don’t believe me, just think of Audrey Niffenegger‘s last advance.

In the end, quality wins out.  As Seth Godin says, all you need is ten people.  The nice thing is, even if you’re not blogging, Facebooking, and Twittering, it’s a good bet that some of those ten people are — and if they like your book, they’ll tell their friends.

The Day I Got the Call

With the release date of The Last Great Getaway of the Water Balloon Boys now, as of this week, a year away, I thought I’d post some things from time to time related to the book or my experience writing it.  First up, the day I got THE CALL. 

What’s THE CALL? 

Among writers, the day you get a call from an editor (or, by proxy, your agent) saying there’s an offer on the table to buy your first book is one of those near-religious moments that most writers never forget.  I know exactly where I was.  I was here: 

It’s a study carrel at the local small town library.  Most weekdays, I spend my lunch hour in this spot, squeezing out a couple pages in the middle of the day.  I didn’t used to do this, preferring to spend my lunch hour doing, oh, other things, but after my second child was born and the free time in the evenings became harder to come by, I needed to squeeze in writing wherever I could manage it.  It often seems silly to go from working in front of a computer at my day job to just setting up another computer at the library, but the nature of my day job requires me to be available for interruptions at any moment, so even if I’m eating lunch at my desk, it’s a tough place to write.  The sojourn to the local public library guarantees that I get at least a few moments of uninterrupted writing time.  It’s not enough by itself, but it helps.  Instead of turning on my computer a nine o’clock, kids finally in bed, staving off exhaustion for another hour if possible, knowing I’ve got four pages to write, maybe I only have two.  That helps.  Because, you know, some days the writing pulls you along for the ride, but other days you have to push it. 

Back to the moment.  So I’m sitting there, typing away, and my agent calls on the cell phone.  “Simon and Schuster Children’s,” she said, “has made an offer for your book.” 

An exhilarating moment, right?  Yep, it was.  However, I was in a library, so no whooping or hollering for fear the dreaded librarians would shush me into submission. Plus we knew S&S was interested in the book for six weeks, but as is the nature of publishing, the book had to make its way through the various committees before the offer was eventually made.  So we knew it was likely coming.  Not definitely coming, but likely, so my excitement (and nerves) was spread out over six weeks rather than concentrated in one supernova of a moment. 

I don’t remember if I went back to writing.  I do remember that when I was in the car, I called the wife.  Called the parents.  Called a couple close friends.    Lots of congratulations.  But as is my nature, I was pretty even keel about it.  I was so even keel about it that Heidi wondered why I wasn’t more excited.  In fact, you could say I was a lot more excited about my first couple short story sales than selling a novel.  You might also say the primary emotion I felt wasn’t excitement so much as . . . relief. 

It may seem strange, but I think it’s because after selling a couple dozen short stories to highly competitive, professional markets, stories that were different in style and genre, I knew I could write a sell-able novel.  I didn’t know when I might do it — it might take me four or five of them, maybe more (it turned out to be three) — but I didn’t doubt I would sell one.  It was just a matter of trying different things, just as I had with my short stories.  

So when it finally happened, I felt mostly relief, relief that I’d crossed that milestone, but also tempered with the knowledge that I had a long way to go still.  I guess it’s because my goal has never been to sell a novel.  Or a story.  Or win an award.  Or make a million dollars.  It’s none of those things.  It’s becoming a master storyteller.  Those other things are milestones along the path, but the road to mastery is long.  In fact, it’s a road that never ends.  That’s the only reason I do it, actually.  If I knew it ended, I might stop.

A Blog Post Fifteen Years in the Making

A week ago, I went out to the Oregon coast and spoke to a writer’s workshop about how I sold my first book.  It was a week-long workshop focused on how to sell your fiction — writing queries, crafting proposals, targeting editors and agents, and generally getting a better understanding of the publishing business.  Since my story had a few interesting twists and turns, including switching literary agents at one point, the teachers thought it might serve as a good example.  And for these particular teachers, I was more than happy to do anything I could to help pay it forward.  

That’s because I’ve known these teachers — both prolific, longterm professional fiction writers — for fifteen years.  I realized this driving back from the coast.  I met Kristine Kathryn Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith when I was a green nineteen-year-old college student when I wandered into the open weekly writing workshop they were running down in Eugene, Oregon, brought there by my friend Michael Totten, whose now become a notable writer in his own right.  The funny thing is, I went to the University of Oregon because I thought that’s where I would learn how to be a writer, but I ended up learning far more about writing by attending the workshop for the next three years.  At least half the people in that workshop were reguarly selling books and short stories. 

Why am I telling you this?  Because if you live anywhere in the vicinity of Lincoln City, Oregon — and for my part, because of how valuable I feel their teaching is, I define vicinityas anywhere on planet Earth — you, too, have the opportunity to benefit from Kris and Dean’s teaching.  At two distinct points in my life, I was able to benefit from their knoweledge and experience.  I would never say I’m a writer because of them, but I would say I’m incredibly grateful to them for their willingness to share what they’ve learned, and I’m pretty confident in saying they helped me cut years off my development as a writer.  Sure, they’re charging for their workshops to cover their time, but trust me, they could make more money with that same time writing fiction.  They do this to pay it forward.  

Every few years, they do a series of workshops, some for a weekend, some as long as two weeks, whose sole purpose is to help writers learn to write better and sell more frequently.  These are workshops specifically targeted at professional fiction writers. If you want to learn how to do something professionally, the best way is to learn from folks who have walked the path.  

Kris and Dean have walked the path.  Both have published dozens upon dozens of novels, in many genres, in many names, hitting bestseller lists and winning awards.  They’re ordinarily pretty selective about who they take as students, but right now they’re offering a workshop targeted at any writer who’s even thought about the possibility of writing publishable fiction.  They call it the Kris and Dean show.  It’s a weekend out of your life, on the lovely Oregon coast.  If you have any thought of writing for publication, then you should take this workshop.  

It’s interesting:  Michael Totten told me he brought along a dozen or so writers over the years to that Eugene workshop, all of them supposedly serious writers.  But I was the only one who came back.  Part of the reason for this, I think, is purely human psychology.  Those writers were paying good money for their English or Journalism or MFA degrees, and the weekly workshop was free, so how could the free workshop be worth more?  How could it be worth anything?  You pay for what you get, right? 

Sure, but when it comes to achieving success in writing, or really anything, the primary payment is not in money.  It’s in time and effort.  If you find good teachers, the ones who have walked the path, and you’re willing to put in the time and effort, you will get what you paid for in blood, sweat, and tears. 

The key is knowing a good thing when you see it.  It still boggles my mind how many writers don’t understand what a rare thing Kris and Dean’s workshops are.  But I suppose that’s fitting.  A real professional fiction writer is a rarity, too, right?