Oh, no. On the contrary, we can step it up.

Where games like Mass Effect fall short is in the depth of the stories and arcs it can tell. If I’m romancing Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, as awesome as that is, it’s going to consist of 15, 20 minutes worth of dialogue and interaction. As I played through Star Wars: The Old Republic, an MMORPG also produced by BioWare, the story arcs for companions are longer–30 to 40 minutes.

Give her a hunk of scrap metal, a circuit board, and some element zero, and she’ll have it making precision jumps.

I still wanted more–more detail, more interaction, more backstory. Cultivating that sort of desire is good for a retention mechanism, but bad for customer glee.

When I wrote Antigone’s Fall, it was a test of my ability to tell a story within a confined space. However, as an introspective writer dude, I can admit that I wish I’d written more relationship stuff into the novel. I wish I’d played up a love triangle, particularly as there were several options for that. I wish I’d put more conflict and tension into the interpersonal stuff because that’s damned interesting. Obviously, I’m learning still, but as work continues on Stormcaller, I’m putting tons of focus on those kinds of details.

I want the reader’s trip through my world to be as immersive and intriguing as I can make it. I want them to feel like the know the characters, can relate to them–even develop feelings for them.

If writers working on video games can distill that kind of emotional power into 15 to 30 minutes of dialogue, why can’t I? More importantly, if I can concentrate that sort of narrative goodness, but increase the duration (95,000 words for the win!) and complexity, I’ve got a real shot at hooking people and building a series.

I hope.

As National We Hate Singletons Day is over, there’s nothing standing between me and the epilogue.

Except, you know, actually writing.

For myself, this is where actual discipline is necessary. Just get the words out, just finish it. Does it make sense? Don’t care. Does it resonate? Care even less. Does it tug at heartstrings? Can’t hear you, writing.

The magic comes in subsequent drafts. This is just the first draft. It’s supposed to look like a flock of seagulls shit dictionary pages onto my laptop screen.

Must…keep…writing.

However, I returned to  my current work in progress after ignoring it since December. Got 8,000 words written this week, including the much-dreaded sex scene. The current word count is 71,000 and the end is in sight.

I opened up the original outline I made for this novel, more out of curiosity than anything else. I never referred to it, but since I usually write by the seat of my pants (which is really tough on keyboards), I thought I should at least try out this whole “Have a plan” thing that my colleagues rave about.

Saw some interesting things. The short story teaser I wrote became the introduction, but otherwise it’s pretty close to what I started with. The ending scene won’t be what I’d planned because this urban fantasy story evolved into a dark urban fantasy. The original ending read far too saccharine. Most everything else stayed on track, however. Even the changes that spontaneously combusted on my keyboard didn’t deviate too far from the plan.

Intriguing.

I think there’s 20, maybe 25 thousand words to go before I can get my five free ARCs and send them out for feedback. There’s lots of revisions to do. Interestingly, for the first time in my life, I’m already seeing things I can–even SHOULD–cut.

I’m not going to cry. I promised I wouldn’t cry. *sniff*

I’m not Shakespeare, thankfully. For one thing, he’s dead and I still have a lot of exploring left to do in this life. My current WIP features a fairly small cast, roughly on par with Antigone’s Fall, but it feels like there’s a lot more death. Okay, so the WIP is dark urban fantasy, with a heavy emphasis on dark, but too much exposure to anything is a sure way to diminish its impact.

Therein lies the problem.

I know there’s some dark jujumagumbo coming towards the end. I endured a revelatory moment this weekend as I tried to set up the climax. The question is not whether there’s too much death, but whether it isn’t meaningful. Does it actually make sense for the story or am I just killing characters willy-nilly because I want to write about others?

Do these deaths matter? If not, why not? Perhaps it comes down to the core themes. I’ve got a protagonist–rather remarkable, if I do say so myself–and she has great gifts, a few flaws, and a lot of suffering. Even in a world with magic, I want it to be clear that magic is something no sane person would pursue, not if they knew the awful price they’d have to pay. Still, does that price mean megadeath all around her? Is her lost innocence in the deaths or what she loses in those deaths?

I’d love to hear from you. How do you determine the necessity of character deaths? How much is too much?

How close do you tread to that line?

It’s absurd just how awesome this feels. The first step in a long plan comes together and I can see the actual results. I don’t think I’d have been any less happy if it’d been a single dollar–it’s the beginning.

I’m grateful to everyone who purchased Antigone’s Fall  (And would like to point out that Kindle delivers on Christmas Day, so if you’re looking for an inexpensive last-minute gift…). I’ve gotten great feedback from it and learned an enormous amount from the experience alone. It’d be tempting to blow this wad o’ money on something amusing, but I think I’ll do something different with it and put it away. My plans for the future require a spot of discipline.

Besides, it is fun to look at that and say, “There it is! My first royalties!”

I hope everyone, regardless of your beliefs and perspectives, enjoys the end of this year. It’s not about the loot, it’s not about the lights (epic as they may be), but it is about family, friends, and compassion. Cheers!

For another, no writer can wait for the perfect words, or rather, they can’t afford to wait. I wrote my first novel in three months. It was horrid, unpublishable, and an entertainment lawyer’s dream come true, but while it didn’t land me a date with the girl I wrote it for, it did earn some professional criticism and critiquing from Jack Cady, who dragged me down into his basement office at PLU and taught me more in an hour than I learned in all of my English courses. That book, and that meeting, set me on the course I am today.

I thought my first draft of that novel was gold. I realize now, of course, that it was really just a shitty mustard brown, but because I was able to learn from it, it served its purpose. My next novel, while equally unpublishable at 270,000 words, was a much better example of my writing. A forensic colleague of mine once paid me the compliment of calling it “professional.”

I’ve been working on a short story project for six weeks. To write 9,000 words in six weeks seems a little crazy considering I cranked out 50,000 words in 10 days for NaNoWriMo, but short fiction is the hardest task I’ve tackled as a writer. I finished the first draft on Friday—a week ahead of my deadline. Is it perfect? Not at all. I know for a fact that it’s lacking in a few areas—but that knowledge is intuitive. I can’t look at it and say “Weak here, no tension there” and so forth. That’s okay. The first draft is done.

It’s all right that the first draft is crap. The difference between amateur writing and professional writing isn’t brilliance, intellect, or imagination—it’s refinement. This first draft won’t do anything other than convey my basic ideas, get the snappy dialogue out of my head, and provide a framework to build upon. I’m going to ask my editor to give it a quick once-over and tell me what’s missing—or what’s too much. Fresh eyes often see things I can’t. Time apart can do the same thing—I often return to a manuscript and start laughing/weeping when I read a draft. That’s all right. You make the improvements and move on.

Michaelangelo didn’t just knock out a humanoid shape and call it David. It took time, refinement, a deft touch on the most minor of flaws—and the result is a masterpiece. Getting work done on-time (preferably early) means I have time to get the feedback I need to make the revisions I want so that my “first” draft isn’t a steaming pile of prose. So keep writing. Don’t worry about making things perfect—just get the concept out there. You’ll have time to reshape or polish the work, and hitting your deadline will impress the editor.

I'm gonna make that editor's deadline. Editors love deadlines.

Editors love deadlines.

Point taken. As things stand right now, I have the following on my word plate:

• Antigone’s Fall - Sure, it’s published and out there, but I’m always trying to find reviewers and ways to get the word out. Plus I’d like to finish getting the print-on-demand version done before the end of the year.
• The Praetorian Agenda - The sequel to Antigone’s Fall, I’m waiting on the pullout from Iraq and to see where things go in Pakistan.
• Untitled Short Story – I’m actually planning on finishing this by Friday. At least the first draft. Must not anger the editor!
• Eldritch Blood/Stormcaller - Can’t decide which title I’m going to use. This novel can’t be finished until the short story’s first draft is done.
• Sea Legs - My first piece of non-fiction. This won’t come out until March 2013, but I’m already starting some of the earlier chapters.

My goal is to have content to work on at any point in time. I’ve got 2 hours on the ferry each work day during my commute. An hour (conservatively) translates into 500 words. Assuming I did no other work on a project, just writing one hour a day during the work week would be ~130,000 words in a year. Some days I’ll be on fire for a topic and write tons. Sometimes I won’t want to have anything to do with a project. Having multiple irons in the proverbial fire lets me stay busy, but not burn out. I can work on one story in the morning, a different one in the evening. As an added bonus, I still have time for a life when I get home!

Just kidding! I have no life.

“Why are they all so expensive?”

My stepfather didn’t appreciate the fact that various Kindle books were ten dollars, fifteen dollars, and so on.

“But, that’s more than the paperback price! Why would the author do that?”

True. In many cases, the paperback (and the hardcover in one instance) was less expensive than the ebook, but I assured him that Michael Connelly did not set the price for his books. Neither did John Grisham. It took some doing to convince him that Robert Parker wasn’t inflating his ebook prices from beyond the grave, but I think I managed it.

“Why was your book so much less?”

Welcome to indie publications. Unlike a traditional publisher, I’m not trying to subsidize tanking mass market print runs with ebook sales. Similarly, I’m not trying to get rich in one print run. Indie books (and ebooks in particular) and not a short game. You’ve got to be in this for the long haul (I really believe this!). It’s going to take time to raise awareness, get your name out there, and really sell your novel(s). Since I don’t have a marketing team using oodles of contacts, my book isn’t flying off the shelves, but it is selling.

Part of setting my price point is attractiveness. Some people argue that selling a zillion books at 99 cents is preferable to selling fewer books at a high price point. John Locke, in particular, advocates this, but John has multiple titles out (Something I’d do well to emulate) and that helps. While I can’t argue with his numbers, I’m not convinced that 99 cents is a fair price for a novel. If I sold a million copies of Antigone’s Fall, sure, but I put a lot of hard work into that novel. I’m not sure I want it competing in the same category of purchase as Twix. I don’t think $3 is gouging someone’s wallet. On the other hand, I’ve read accounts from authors who said that their sales went UP after they bumped their books from 99 cents to $4.99–attributing this to the higher price lending the book an air of credibility or worth.

In the end, it’s about perceived value and what the customer thinks is worth paying for. My stepfather eventually found the cheapest Parker ebook he hadn’t read and bought that ($6.71). He just couldn’t justify spending $10 or $15 for a data file. I hope he’ll take chances on other indie authors. I hope everyone will.

Authors, my stepfather’s a voracious reader with the impulse control of a billionaire heiress. He likes mysteries and thrillers…so long as they’re not too realistic.

“A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.” -Richard Bach

Whether this is your first novel or not, whether you hit the NaNoWriMo deadline or not, I’d encourage everyone to keep going. Don’t stop. By all means, enjoy that celebratory drink! Take a break if you must (I did!), but keep working on your novel. Don’t let it languish. Finish it, review and revise it (Again, I heartily recommend The 10% Solution by Ken Rand), and send it out to others for feedback, then revise it again. If you “won” NaNoWriMo, Createspace is giving away five copies of your book, which can make getting quality feedback easier. Use them!

Hell, if nothing else, they make good gifts.

Books aren’t like brownies. You don’t throw it all in the pan and pull it out when the buzzer goes off. They’re more akin to sculpture. Reshaping, chipping away to smooth out the rough spots, and endless polishing is what separates a first draft from a publishable story.

Take those extra steps, go that extra mile–even if it hurts. You’ve already seen that you can get those words out. Now see if you can finish your story. I promise, there’s absolutely no downside to this.

Numquam cerrises!

Anne R. Allen wrote a terrific blog about the importance of Amazon reviews. It’s definitely worth your time to read and it got me thinking. For better or worse, book reviews are like graduate school, anything below 4/5 is a failing grade–intentional or not. If someone thought it was a good read, but rates it 3/5, it’s a passing grade the same way a D is. For me, finding outlets and reviewers has been an education and frustration. Booked Up posted a delightful and flattering review of Antigone’s Fall–which isn’t to say the reviewer didn’t point out a few negatives, but that feedback is useful to me as a writer and, thankfully, didn’t detract from the reviewer’s score. I’m grateful for the review–someone took the time out of their life to read my book.

It’s a humbling feeling.

I heard from one of my team mates from Iraq and he said nice things about it as well. That meant a lot to me–in many ways, Antigone’s Fall is sort of my love note to the mass graves team I shared my life with. I’d never have written it without them.

As I’ve written in the past, indie publishing isn’t about free word love, but rather letting the readers decide what they like or don’t. It doesn’t free the writer from the burdens of prepping the manuscript, proofing the living hell out of the ebook files, and marketing the bloody book. On the contrary, it falls to the writer to carry the entire load. As I try to finish the first draft of my NaNoWriMo novel (I won already) and work on a short story, I realize how much even a few words from others means to me.

I can only hope my words carry equal weight.