Random Question #6

What does "writing cinematically" mean to you?

100th Post

Yesterday's post, "Temporal Paradox," was The Commune's 100th post. I'm a bit surprised that we arrived at this milestone so quickly.

Thank you, everyone, for making The Commune something worthwhile and something that I enjoy doing.

Temporal Paradox

Valentine's Day is over! That means it's time to write about back to school, Labor Day, and end of summer activities.

That's the type of temporal paradox writers live in. In the heat of summer, when the air is too hot to breathe and walking from one room to another leaves you soaked in sweat, it's time to submit work about winter, the deep cold, poinsettias, holiday crafts, gift-giving ideas, and Christmas activities. The best paying magazines, and the hardest to break into, want seasonal material six to nine months beforehand. The lesser paying publications still want seasonal material three to four months ahead of time. This is true whether you're talking about short fiction or magazine articles.

Given turn-around times for each publication, this also means that seasonal material can only be submitted to no more than four places before the window of opportunity expires and it must be laid aside until next year.

I have one piece of flash fiction based on Santa Claus that I have yet to place. It's a good little piece of fiction and it usually gets good comments on the rejections -- it's even helped me get invitations to submit additional work -- but I usually forget to start submitting it until September or October, which means I'm only able to submit it to two places -- three if I get lucky with a quick turnaround -- before the season ends and I have to lay it aside again until next year.

Then, when next year comes around, I have to start the market search again. Who have I already submitted it to? What new markets have emerged? Which markets that looked like they might be a good fit have closed?

Yet, I do understand the need to submit seasonal material so early; I know the reason the temporal paradox exists. Writers submitting material are only the beginning of the publication cycle. When I was working with Coyote Wild, I would be accepting and shepherding submissions received for the Fall issue (this was when it was still a quarterly publication), while MacAllister Stone was overseeing the copyediting of the Summer issue. At the same time, the Spring issue was being coded, given a final proofread, and being released. Each part of the process took time and those hours added up to days and the days to weeks and the weeks to months before an issue went live.

The time between accepting a submission and the issue it is slated for being published means writers must always be looking down the road, into the future, if the editorial staff is to have time to complete their tasks before something can be published. It is also why, when so many publications pay on publication, that there is a time delay between getting enough work accepted to make a living on and getting paid enough to make a living on.

As a result, we writers must live in between the then and the now. Living in the moment, seeking out things that are fresh and new, while planning for the future. It's a good habit to get into, regardless of what you are doing. Planning for possibilities and contingencies.

I do so even at The Commune, writing articles ahead of time and releasing them on a schedule. That way, if I get busy, I still have content for the blog and it still continues, rather than languishing in that sporadic-blogger purgatory that so many bloggers find themselves in. It's a good habit to get into regardless of what you're writing.

How do you plan for the future? How do you manage the temporal paradox that is writing?

Returning to the Beginning

I've noticed something. Many people start out writing for fun. For pleasure. Because it's something that they want to do. Sure, they come by it many different ways for many different reasons, but all in all, it's something that they do because they want to do it, not because they have to. It's about the art of creation, the fun of telling a story and sharing it with others. It's about writing for writing's sake. No more and no less.

Along the way, though, many of the For Pleasure writers arrive at a crossroads. They have a choice to make. They can keep doing this writing thing for pleasure, for fun, or they can get serious about it. They can try to make it their living and do it professionally. They can study it. Develop it. Train at writing like professional athletes train at sports. When that transition happens, writing becomes more than a hobby, more than a pleasure. It becomes work.

Professional writers are no longer free to write only when the muse moves them. They have to be able to write humor when the world is collapsing around them, write dry newsletters when the voices for their latest novel are whispering in their head, write magazine articles, greeting cards, puzzles, and short stories and do it all whether they want to or not because that's how they put food on the table and keep a roof over their head. It can be hard and grueling labor. Sometimes, they have to turn down projects they would love to participate in because they do not pay enough and accept work they loathe because it will pay next month's utility bill.

That's not to say that professional writers don't enjoy their craft -- because, really, who would go through everything a writer experiences didn't possess joy and passion for the craft of writing? -- but along the way, the joy may become muted as they plough forward, building their reputation, connecting with their audience, and building a market base. The business of writing cloaks some of the gleeful abandonment that young writers often feel.

However… And this is important… Once they have achieved a measure of success, once food is assured on the table and the roof over their heads is more than paid for… writers who genuinely love the craft start writing for pleasure again. They begin accepting projects just for the fun of it. They create works that, on the surface, have no market feasibility, that are done for the pure love the art. Sometimes, those become their best works, the works that more than stand the test of time, the works that represent a culmination of learning and studying.

It's a completion of the circle. A return to the beginning.

We should all experience such homecomings in our own lives.

In Today's News

Why not be a writer? If the question sounds familiar, it's because it probably is. An organisation called The Writers Bureau has been posing it in national newspaper adverts for years. You know the ones, they begin with the claim that “as a writer, you can earn very good money”, continue with the offer of a full refund of fees if you don't get published and conclude with a picture of “Christina Jones from Oxfordshire”, an apparently satisfied customer, gurning above the quotation: “So far, I have had 16 novels published!”

A novel idea may not be a lucrative one (Sathnam Sangera, The Times 16FEB08)


[What I find most interesting about this article are the comments that follow it.]

The Value of Books

When I was a tiny child, just learning how to write my name, I wrote it in the front of a book. Not just once to mark the book as mine, mind you, but over and over again. The inside cover was decorated with elephants, hooked trunk-to-tail, snaking back and forth across the inside cover and facing page. I allowed my name to follow those elephants, sometimes writing it backwards, curving around, coming back the right way again. When my mother saw it, I got into more trouble than I had been in before in my young life, which is saying something. That was the moment I learned books were sacred objects, to be valued, treasured, protected, and never, ever defaced.

I learned that writing in books, just for the sake of writing in books, was bad. Evil. Wrong. A sin. Okay, I probably didn't get in quite that much trouble, but it definitely made an impression on my young mind. That's one of the reasons I was aghast when I finally made it to college and discovered that it was standard, and considered wise and a good way to study, to actually write in your books. That struck me as just wrong, like a priest telling you to have sex before marriage. It took forever for me to overcome that belief that writing in books was inherently bad. I still have a hard time writing in hardcover books, especially when it's something big and hefty like the complete works of Shakespeare. In those cases, I sometimes purchase a cheap paperback to use when I know I need to make extensive notes in addition to the really nice hardcover.

This is probably what led, in part, to the conversation with my not-quite-stepfather's sister-in-law the other day. We were celebrating the not-quite-stepfather's birthday at a restaurant when the sister-in-law, who is basically a nice woman, looked at my mother and said, "If you have any old books, ones with green or red covers, that you pick up at auction, will you give them to me?"

I turned to her, without thinking or hesitating, and said, "If she has any old books that she's giving away, I'd have dibs."

The sister-in-law looked at me in surprise. "I'm not planning on reading them," she said. "I just want to use them as decorations."

I stared at her. Images of home improvement shows where they cut off the spines of old books to decorate furniture or drilled through stacks of books to make lamp bases running through my head. "I would have dibs," I repeated.

She continued to stare at me. I could see the wheels turning. Why on earth, I could almost see her thinking, would I want some old books? She knew I didn't have a home to decorate. What use would they be to me?

"She's right," my mother said. "If I were getting rid of any books, she would have first choice."

The sister-in-law returned to her food, but I could sense that she did not get the import of what she had asked. She, in her mind, did not seem to think she had asked for anything valuable. If there were some old books in a box that my mother or my not-quite-stepfather happened to pick up at auction, why would they want them? What good would they be to them? It's not like they were valuable.

And that's the thing. To me, to my mother, to our family, books are valuable. They have an innate value not as objects but for the knowledge and information and stories that are contained inside them. We freely borrow books with one another, but even amongst our own family, we do not ask for books to just be given to us. To do so would be to rob our own bloodline of something priceless. And that's just not right.

How do you and your family value books?

The Dusty Bookshelf

When I was an undergraduate at Kansas State University, I found the love of my life, a love that, to this day, is unequaled anywhere. But it wasn't a who. It was a what. A place.

Near the edge of Aggieville, the college town section of the city, were two independent bookstores. The first, Varney's, specialized in new books, in particular textbooks. It was clean and well-ordered -- and as cold and impartial as some of the books required for my classwork. But the second… Oh. That was a sight to behold. A mecca to rival Mecca: The Dusty Bookshelf.

I was introduced to it by friends. The first trip, they made me leave my checkbook and credit card behind and take no more than $10 in cash. I was skeptical at first. What could anyone, especially a devout bibliophile, hope to purchase at any bookstore for $10? But my friends were far wiser than I, for The Dusty Bookshelf was that marvel among marvels, a sanctuary for lovers of books, all books, not just certain books. It was a pilgrimage that everyone in our group of friends had to make eventually. It was a used bookstore.

And what a used bookstore!

No matter what was going on outside, the interior was library quiet, making me feel like it was just me and the books. The floor was carpeted and comfortable to sit on while I studied the shelves. Volume after volume. Text after text. Even with other shoppers nearby -- who rarely spoke as they engaged in their own devotionals -- I never felt crowded or jostled. I was not in anyone's way.

I'm not certain how they created that quiet, comfortable feel, but when I design my own library in my head, I reflect back on that ambiance and the store's physical layout. Chairs were nestled in little nooks. Two cats made the place their own, lounging in the sun-filled window, or staring down at shoppers from the top of tall shelves or from atop stacks of books next to the cash register.

Since I graduated and moved away from Aggieville, I've searched everywhere for The Dusty Bookshelf's like. I haven't found anything to compare to it. The other used bookstores that I've encountered have been small and cramped, without any order among the books, or else they've been like warehouses, cavernous and impersonal.

One of these days, I'll return for a visit, make another pilgrimage, and reconnect with my lost love. Until then, I have my memories.

WGA Strike Update

The writers' strike has ended.

Giving It Away

What does free get you?

I suspect that most of the individuals reading this have heard of Baen's Free Library, an experiment turned institution whereby Baen's authors post electronic versions of their books which the public can download, read, and enjoy. For free. That's right. No cost to the consumer.

These are not books that are no longer in print, either, but book that are still available to purchase in bound, print copies. The idea behind Baen's Free Library is that it's no different than individuals lending books to friends or readers checking books out at their local library. Free books, Baen contends, help them make money through word of mouth advertising because, readers who like the books will

1. Buy other books by the same author,
2. Tell their friends about the book and author,
3. Buy the print version of the e-book for their own, personal library.

The theory is the number of additional sales will out number any lost sales. It must be working. Nearly seven and a half years after Baen initiated the program, it's still going strong. If Baen had noticed a dramatic decrease in their profit margins, rather than an increase, one would think they would have long since discontinued the practice. Baen is, after all, in the business of making money for both themselves and their authors. They do not survive by making their writers and staff members starve.

Individual authors have done similar things with their own books. Cory Doctorow of Boing Boing makes all of his books freely available as e-books, even though they are commercially published with Tor and Avalon Books. His reasoning conforms with Baen's. He looks at it not in terms of sales lost but as audience members gained. Doctorow does this publicly under a Creative Commons License.

In contrast to Doctorow, literary author Paul Coelho's online activities were unknown to his publisher, HarperCollins. For the last several years, he has quietly directed readers to websites where they can download his books for free. He lists places where his books are available online on his unofficial blog. In a February 6, 2008, issue of Newsweek, he is quoted as saying, "I always thought that when, at the beginning of your career, you strive to be read, you can't change your mind later and become greedy about it."

The really interesting part about Coelho's situation is that HarperCollins has just announced they will begin offering select titles free online in a trial program. Coelho is among the authors they will feature as they test the feasibility of making e-books available free to readers. Neil Gaiman is another. On his blog, Gaiman is permitting readers to select which of his books will be offered first. He is asking readers to not select the book they want available, but the book they would like to loan their friends or that they would recommend to someone who has never read Gaiman.

Meanwhile, Random House is following the example of the music industry and launching a trial program where readers can select chapters of individual books and purchase them for a minimal fee. Somehow, I don't think Random House's program is going to be as successful as HarperCollins'.

Of course, all of this is just symptomatic of the publishing industry's attempt to adapt to the online habits of so many consumers. Individuals are accustomed to receiving information and entertainment online, instantaneously, and for free or minimal cost. Novels are one of the last mediums to adapt to the internet and online culture. Like so many things, it does make me think.

It was not too long ago that I encouraged Kristine to place some of her old writings on her blog. I did this for largely selfish reasons

1. I wanted to read what she wrote,
2. I did not want to be obligated to critique them,
3. I wanted them available to read at my leisure and convenience.

At least two of these reasons explain why books made available online might do better than books which are not available for online in the near future. The thing is, I've spent many years trying to convince young writers that their words had value and that they should not just hand it over to the public without compensation. When MacAllister Stone and I started Coyote Wild, one of the stipulations I had was the writers must be paid, if only a minimal amount. Mac, of course, agreed completely. If Kristine had not previously offered her books online for free, I never would have suggested that she do so now.

And now, it seems that we might be heading to the day where the norm is to release a book in both print and e-form, with only the print version providing monetary compensation for the author. I can see a day in the not too distant future where a hardcover will be released followed by the simultaneous release of the paperback and e-book six months to a year later. While the subsequent audience building created by the e-book will be good for writers, one has to ask how that will change the value of writing? On The Technium, Kevin Kelly suggests that when everything is available to be copied, only those things that cannot be copied, such as trust, will be valued.

Somehow, I don't quite subscribe to his utopian worldview, but I do agree that as publishers adapt to online demand, the world of publishing is undergoing some changes. Only time will tell what changes will be most viable and how they will impact writers, but as you move forward in your own careers, watch for them, be aware of them, and be prepared to adapt your delivery to meet your readers' needs and expectations.

WGA Strike Update

The union representing striking Hollywood writers said Saturday it had reached a "tentative deal" with the studios after a three-month walkout that has crippled television production, hurt the local economy and overshadowed the awards season.

"While this agreement is neither perfect nor perhaps all that we deserve for the countless hours of hard work and sacrifice, our strike has been a success," the Writers Guild of America said in a memo emailed to members.

Tentative Deal Reached in Writers' Strike (Reuters, 09FEB08)

Time Keeps Slipping Into the Future

I'm losing time again.

The other day, one of my aikido practice partners called to make certain I was coming to the dojo. I told him yes, that I was on campus, but I planned to leave there at 7:00.

"If you're leaving at 7:00," he told me, "you're late."

"Practice doesn't start until 8:00 tonight," I said. Sometimes, it starts at 7:30. I thought he might have his nights mixed up.

"If you're leaving at 7:00," he said again, "you're late."

He put more emphasis on what he was saying this time. He spoke slowly. Was insistent. I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Under the worst conditions, driving from the university to the dojo doesn't take more than a half hour. Leaving at 7:00 gave me plenty of time to pack up my stuff, baby step shuffle across the icy sidewalks to my car, and still arrive at the dojo well before practice began.

I glanced at the clock on my computer. It said 7:03. How did that happen? The last time I checked the time, no more than a minute before the phone rang, it had said 6:42.

But I wasn't surprised. A little exasperated with myself, but not surprised. This always happens when I'm focused fully on a big project. The rest of the world, the outside stimulus that lets me know time is passing around me, disappears. One moment, it's midnight and I find myself thinking, I'll just finish this page, this scene, this chapter, this whatever, and I'll go to bed. The next moment, the sun is starting to come up over the horizon, the one more thing that I was going to finish is long since completed and I'm well past the point where I had said I was going to lay everything aside for the evening.

I have a love-hate relationship with this phenomenon. I hate losing track of my surroundings. I hate that I can't keep track of time, a relatively simple task that so many individuals seem to do effortlessly. I love the cocooned feeling I get when a project takes on a life of its own and I'm so absorbed by it I can see the individual components and how they flow and fit together, what works and what doesn't. I love when literature becomes more than words, when it becomes real, tangible. I love when I'm part of making that happen. I love my work.

The latest big project to capture my attention so completely is The Alchemist Review. It must go to the printer by the end of the month. Or so my assistant editor tells me. The actual drop dead date is in early March. My assistant editor knows what it is, but he won't tell me. I think it's his defense mechanism against my lack of time sense. He's a very good assistant editor. Next year, he'll be a very good editor.

Right now, we're in the middle of making the final selections. I'm absorbed by the selections that have made it this far. Reading them. Critiquing them. Corresponding with the writers. Looking at them in terms of the space we have available and how they flow together. Trying to find artwork that complements them. Convincing myself that a few of the submissions, no matter how well written they are and how much I like them, are going to have to be rejected because they don't work with the theme that is developing for this year's journal. They just don't complement the other pieces that I'm publishing.

I’m equally absorbed figuring out all of the details we need to include in The Alchemist Review's design. My assistant editor and I have been tasked with taking it to the next level. The Alchemist Review has been around for about thirty years. It's a very small journal with a limited circulation. In year's past -- I don't know if it's always been this way, but it's been this way for awhile -- the editor from the current year had had no connection with the editor from the past year. There was no continuity. Each year, the editor had to relearn what needed to be done and they did the journal the way they felt it should be completed, as an independent, standalone volume, rather than as something with a legacy.

This year, that changes. This year, I'm the editor. Next year, my assistant editor will be editor. The year after that, his assistant editor will be editor. Each one learning and growing from their predecessor. So, the design elements are important. The look and feel of The Alchemist Review is important. These are decisions that will impact The Alchemist Review for years to come, because they're going to have to remain largely consistent from this point forward.

I'm very pleased to be a part of that, to be able to make that impact and leave that statement behind.

The other great part about working on The Alchemist Review is how many new writers I get to work with. I've discovered that I really do enjoy teaching craft to people, helping them grow and learn how to write. Since The Alchemist Review is a small journal, most of the individuals submitting are first-time writers. This is the first time they have submitted anything, the first time they have received feedback from an outside source. It's been both an enlightening and a heartwarming experience.

In other, personal writing-related news, I've received three rejections on my first novel, Long Way From Tomorrow. One was a form rejection in response to my query. Two were based on partials, one from JABberwocky and one from the Nelson Literary Agency. I've also received rejections on two poems and two short stories. One of the short stories has been temporarily trunked. It's a seasonal piece and its window of opportunity has expired for the moment. It gets favorable rejections, though, so I'll start submitting it again later in the year. I also have been following up on some outstanding submissions. I have a few more I need to check on. I also need to talk to my advisor about my thesis, work on it, and write and submit a few non-fiction articles that have been pending in my head for far too long.

What about you? What's going on in your world?

WGA Strike Update

Striking writers have reached interim contract agreements with four New York-based independent filmmakers, ending their 12-week walkout, the two sides said yesterday in a joint announcement.

Deal May Signal End of Writers' Dispute [in Independent.ie, 04FEB08]


Even though most of Hollywood is acting as if the strike is already over, as if the ink just needs to dry on the dotted "i"s and crossed "t"s, the Writers Guild of America's leadership doesn't want its membership to exhale just yet.

WGA Says Strike Continuing (For Now) [by John Scott Lewinski in Wired Blog News, 03FEB08]

Book Review: Tuxes

When a caveman in the Paleolithic era dares to assert ownership over a patch of land in what would become Texas, he inadvertently begins a dynasty that stretches forward into the modern-day, money-grubbing, dog-eat-dog, corporate era. When that same caveman miraculously reappears among his 21st (or possibly 20th) century billionaire descendants, everything the family has worked for is put on the line.

Tuxes is a satirical novel about winners and losers, haves and have nots, love, revenge, and comeuppance.With tongue in cheek (pay close attention to the character names), Scott Fivelson pokes fun at modern-America's obsession with wealth and fame.

While the humor could have been larger and it's somewhat easy to guess who the real villains are, Tuxes is good for several chuckles as it plays with America's fascination with the lifestyles of the wealthy and American society's fascination with power and greed. It gets a little bit confusing if you try to figure out the timeline, especially since characters from different eras simultaneously share the stage, but if the reader just relaxes and accepts that it's just a story and all told in good fun, it is a fast, enjoyable read.

Title: Tuxes
Author: Scott Fivelson
Publisher: Beachside Press
Cover Design: Jessica Garrison
ISBN(s): 978-0-9789822-1-8
Format: 170 Pages; Paperback
Publication Date: January 2008
Cover Price: $14.95

A New Twist on Identity Theft

Robert Fisk is a British journalist and Middle East correspondent for The Independent. Much to his own amazement, he has also, apparently, authored a biography about Saddam Hussein. I say 'to his own amazement,' because he did not write the biography that has his name on the cover.

Coincidentally, I was scanning the forums I mod at Absolute Write this morning and came across a thread asking how to register a pseudonym. Of course, one does not have to register a pseudonym before using it to write. I do know that it is possible to register a pen name as a DBA (Doing Business As) or other, similar, business registration, and there are writers who have done such things for very specific reasons, but that doesn't prevent someone else from using it also.

For the most part, having the same, or similar name, isn't that big of deal in this writing business, but to be a writer, you must also protect your reputation, which is inherently tied into your name or, for the more famous writers, their brand.

How would you go about protecting both your name and your reputation in this writing game we're all playing?