Category Archives: Writing

30 Days of Balance #3: Biting My Nails vs. Writing

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Some days my biggest adversary is not getting words into the story, obeying timelines or the organization of the almanac, but the wanton destruction I deliver to my own fingernails. See, finger tips are used to type, and unsightly fingernails can often tarnish said tips. A furious amount of carving disguised as cleaning will ruin these functioning appendages to the point of creating ten hyper-sensitive, throbbing extremities – digits no longer capable of pressing keys without exacting an unfair amount of pain. Equally as nasty, the distraction of having a hand up at my mouth keeps me from typing, lending my mind to long gaps in focus where my subconscious is instead hell bent on straightening some calcium deposit.

It does not bode well for an author. A quick Google search reveals few to no hits correlating the two premises and I find this odd. When I had this problem writing essays in university I used to minimize and load up a hockey video game. It took twenty minutes to play and required both hands firmly on the keyboard. The result was twenty minutes without touching my nails. Biting one’s nails is a strange thing to do – but once you start, it is the sensitivity of the area that drives you back without thinking. Fade that sensation and you are set free.

Alas, this tactic is insufficient. I no longer have twenty minutes to so freely spare.

My solution? I may be one of the only authors to wear a pair of gloves while writing. I am all style in a pair of black gloves so tight they almost cut off my wrist circulation – the kind as ideal for snowballs as they are unsatisfactory at keeping wetness at bay. While this is simply happenstance, it serves the tips of my fingers well because I can still type through the material. Despite their overt benefits, I don’t always choose to wear the gloves, usually resulting in stinging regret. Stubbornness? Discomfort? Assumed control over my vice. Whatever the reason, they are a necessity. They may look a little silly, but if I know I’m in for the long haul I make them my first priority. No one requires their authors to look good during.

As of the writing of this post, the mitts are sitting in a clump beside. I assumed I would have no fingernail problems, but my right index and pinky are sore. I don’t really remember causing the damage. Blog posts are one thing – their style is you and quick to fire off. Imbalance is quite another.

If you’re a writer and have the same problem, I’d love to hear from you.

30 Days of Balance #2: 200,000 Words + One From Joe Abercrombie

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Being new is hard.

Being an author is hard, too.

Being a new author with a book breaching 200,000 words is doomed to failure.

Being doomed to failure is hard.

My debut Purge of Ashes clocks in at around 204,000 words, about double what ‘they’ say a newly minted author should attempt. Everywhere I looked my word count was not just implausible or foolish, it was impudent and rude. A sure sign of an upstart university kid who thinks piling words from his engorged lexicon comprises prose fiction. The gall of it, going a book’s length into the sextupal digits. And yet here I am writing with both a publishing deal and the guile to work the word ‘sex’ into a post sans smut. University was a long time ago.

The word count was one of the most daunting aspects of completing Purge of Ashes. Attracting an agent or publisher would be based on their opinion of whether or not I would make money for the company. At first there would be no bearing on quality. The gatekeepers were therefore math types who were hedging their bets to calculate the odds of your book being a success – a risk worth taking. At 204,000 words all the algebra in the world would never fit the right numbers into the right variables for me. The cost of the excess paper required to print the novel outdid my potential, especially if the measure of that potential was 250 words on a single query letter.

I could never simply lop a chunk of the book. The ramifications were either too vast to consider or too damaging to the atmosphere or pacing. Nor could I split the book in two. You don’t set out on a mass exodus only to have the story end mid-jaunt when people’s feet are starting to get sore. One option seemed ideal: print as is and cuff the norms.

The thing is, they say write what you know for a reason. If there was one thing I was comfortable with in my knowledge, besides the TV show Futurama, it was my understanding of why my favourite fantasy series were so great. The Wheel of Time, A Song of Ice and Fire and then later Malazan Book of the Fallen and First Law. None of these were small books. None of them squirmed into the presentation britches of the so-called rules of publishing. If these were what I knew, then an 80,000 page one-off to get my feet wet was not for me. Not grand enough by half.

So what could I do? I had done it my way like a cool dude, but now my way had petered from a paved highway into a lapideous streambed.

An offhand comment from @Grimdark himself, Joe Abercrombie, did the trick. I was beside myself at how impossible maintaining my 204,000 words seemed in a day and age where the internet could tell me ahead of time the many reasons I would fail. No one was going to care to represent my work and my craft was going to be for nothing but a few loyal friends. Then, halfway down the comment section on a thread purporting to tally ‘caps’ for word count by genre, I came upon an old post of Abercrombie’s calling the results into question – and you’re welcome to read it here. (A search for ‘Abercrombie’ will find it for you quickly.) He basically implied that a great number of impressive debuts in the preceding years, including The Blade Itself at 190,000 words, were closer to 200,000 than anything else… so why imply limitations? The successes belied the restrictions.

This prompted in me a steely resolve to ensure Purge of Ashes failed or thrived as conceived. If other excellent books could skip the line then so could I. Even the most famous authors started out timid over their capability. Let April 5th be the judge of the company it will keep.

JM

1st Page Critiques & Mark Lawrence

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So author Mark Lawrence has made a little collection of critiques for amateur authors and I read through the lot of them after being forwarded the link. I thought I would post it below because I found it to be an interesting concept. Maybe I was in a funny mood this day, because the idea got its hooks in me. It is no doubt a brave and noble endeavor on his part.

At first the idea horrified me – to be judged on your first page alone sounds even worse than submitting to agents. At least your query letter is especially constructed to meet their needs. A good opening can definitely grab readers (for an example, I found a copy of Brandon Sanderson’s Steelheart sitting next to the microwave at a private school I was teaching in recently. Apparently no one on staff knew who he was. I flipped it open and the first line was: “I’ve seen Steelheart bleed.” Amazing! Seems like a paradox and I’ve only read four words) but at the same time an excellent novel does not need a thrilling opening if it proves itself excellent. I completely forget the first paragraph of Crime and Punishment, but that is in no way indicative of the quality of the book.

Then I found it interesting and horrifying. As an author who is serious about getting noticed for my epic fantasy debut, where would I stack if I had the balls to submit (which I don’t)? Purge of Ashes has an excellent pace to it, this I trust. It developed from a script serving the story beats of an action movie and a compliment of this ilk was the first response I got from Realmwalker. But the first page? The book ramps up the action pretty quickly, but page 1 of the Prologue is less ‘exciting’ and more ‘critical detail’ necessary to appreciate much of what is to follow (how is clear come the 2nd or 3rd chapter). If I don’t start with a robbery, a murder, a chase or a hunt, are readers going to put my novel down?

I relaxed once I read a few of the first pages. Not enough to submit, mind you, but enough. While Lawrence describes himself as viscous and not pulling any punches, he comes off gentle enough in my estimation. Certainly on #5, despite questioning the author’s language of origin. These are worlds apart – and what’s more his preamble explains that the point is not to prove what works and what doesn’t – it is to provide assistance to anyone who faces similar challenges in writing. A one-man Dragon’s Den (or Shark Tank if you get American TV). Mostly right all the time.

What I realized from my fear and recovery was was that in importance hardened fans defeat the first few pages. Gain hardened fans and hardened fans will spread your wares. They will urge others on no matter what section of your novel they may struggle with. I have no doubt that Lawrence would be incredibly popular regardless of how hair-raising the first pages of Prince of Thorns are. My chief inspiration is the Malazan Book of the Fallen and if there is one thing that ought to be gleaned from the increasing fandom of this superb series it is that rabid fans can badger the most baffled and un-hooked readers into anything if there is gold buried beneath.

So I say bury the gold. If it shines bright enough, it will be found.

Anyway, here is a link to all of the critiques.

JM