Ink-Stained Scribe

Changing the Trigger

Lee Min-ho is working diligently.
WHY AREN'T YOU?

This week, I did a guest post on the Magical Words blog where I talked about different ways to get Hands On Keyboard -- Words On Page (HOKWOP). One of the tips/techniques I mentioned was establishing a trigger.

This is not trigger in the sense of topics, images, or events that trigger a resurgence of emotions from a traumatic experience. This is trigger in the sense that productivity gurus use it. Here's an excerpt from that blog post, Eight Ways to HOKWOP.


A trigger, in the lingo of productivity gurus, is an action you take that impels you to work. Some writers sharpen pencils, others open a blank page, others do yoga. Part of establishing a habit is establishing a trigger for that habit. 
At the moment, when I sit down at my computer to write, my habit is to click on Google Chrome. This begins a series of events that leads to a low-productivity morning, until guilt eventually drags me away from the internet and shoves me lead-footed onto the page. I’m currently in the process of breaking that habit and establishing a routine that includes a new trigger, which will get me writing. 
First, I have to break the old habit of surfing the net in the mornings. My trigger for that is the automatic desire to open Google Chrome when I open my computer. It’s muscle memory at this point–I hardly notice I’m doing it until it’s done. While I’m breaking this habit, I’m trying to establish a new one, which is opening the document for my work-in-progress. 
To remind myself of that trigger, I’ve established a schedule where I wake up, do morning pages, go for a walk, eat breakfast, do some yoga, and sit down to write. I recognize that everyone doesn’t have the luxury of such an open morning. I’m getting up at 6:30 to do this, and I start writing at 9:00 – I have alarms set for each. When I was in college, or working, my trigger was often sitting down at a coffee shop, taking a sip, taking a deep breath, and opening my notebook. 
Figure out the triggers for your negative habits, then find or establish a positive trigger.

So. I'm working on this. As I mentioned above, I've got a schedule. Have I been keeping to that schedule? Uhhh, no. Not really. But I'm trying to. I've always had trouble falling asleep, so I'm trying to make myself work out in the evenings to tire me out. I'm forcing myself to work out by restricting my podcast-listening time to workouts-only. No workout? No podcast.

I'm also not doing yoga in the mornings yet, because I haven't been waking up early enough to do my morning pages before my walk, so I do them after. It's currently 10:05 and I'm planning to go to bed as soon as I finish this post. I've set my alarm, which is across the room, for 6:30. Hopefully, I will get up out of bed and not just go right back to sleep, as is my wont.

I'm still sitting down at 9:00 to work. Problem is, it's also release week for my book, so I'm wanting to check my stats. Hnng. So I've made an exception. Also, I've been finishing up my most recent audiobook, HAVEN: A STRANGER MAGIC, by D.C. Akers. ACX is giving me hell with the uploading, so I'm still spending a good amount of time getting all that done.

Which means I'm still not on the schedule I'd hoped to be on at this time. Now, honestly, all of the above are excuses, and it's not like I have any issue writing when I sit down to write. It's that I have other things that are more URGENT, if less IMPORTANT.

...and that has just sparked a memory.

Image from wikipedia article
A few months ago, Skrybbi was telling me about a time-management system she learned about at a seminar. I just looked it up and discovered it's the late Stephen Covey's four-quadrant matrix for importance and urgency, from his book First Thing's First (which I must now try not to impulse-buy).

Quadrant 1: Things that are both important and urgent. In other words, GRANDPA'S ON FIRE.

Quadrant 2: Things that are important, but not urgent. No one will die if I don't finish Song of the Heretic by mid-December, but it's important to me (and my career) that I keep producing new writing.

Quadrant 3: It's urgent, but not important. Most emails and text messages and chats on Facebook.

Quadrant 4: It's neither urgent nor important. Tumblr, Pinterest, TV shows, etc. Of course, some of these things can be considered important in terms of providing a dialog (I am an English major, after all. I see significance in communication through art.)

Covey postulates that we most often ignore Quadrant 2, but in order to lead more productive and fulfilling lives, we have to do more of it. That's sort of why I quit my job in March. No time for Quadrant 2.

So Here's What I've Been Doing (wrong)

Most of the stuff I've been up to in the past few days is in Quadrant 1, 3, or 4. Not because I've necessarily been ignoring Quadrant 2--just the opposite, I'm scheduling and planning for it and writing this blog post right now. The problem is, I've overestimated my abilities with audio editing and got to the point where IT'S ALL ON FIRE. ALL OF IT. I MUST FINISH ALL THE THINGS.

Luckily, I've enlisted help to get it under control and am looking forward to the slave-driver of guilt not keeping me constantly scuttling, head-bowed, to garage band or screaming at the server that doesn't want me to upload files.

I will probably end up drawing my own version of this quadrant and hanging it next to my desk as a reminder to ask myself what quadrant a particular topic falls into.

Reading and writing blog-posts is something that I actually consider to be part of my vocation. Part of being a writer, especially a writer with independently-published work, is staying in contact with my audience (I still can't quite make the word "fans" work in my brain. It feels too pretentious). That's part of why I got back to it, and now I'm glad I did--it's reminded me of something I think will be helpful in changing my trigger.

SO. Tomorrow morning, I pledge to you: I will get up at 6:30 for my morning pages. I will go on my walk with mom at 7:00. I will be in my chair with the laptop open and scrivener opened to Song of the Heretic. At 9:00, I will write.

I may check my sales on my phone during my walk, but other than that, I will not be looking at them until I've written at least 1000 words.

Do you have a trigger for writing? Do you have a negative trigger? Do you have a plan to break it? How? Have you broken bad habits and established good ones? How did you do it?

EAN RELEASE DAY and Contest Winners!

A few weeks ago, I posted the first chapter of EXORCISING AARON NGUYEN online and offered a free copy to two commenters. Today's the day!

It's my brother's wedding reception!

Haha, and it's RELEASE DAY for EAN! In honor of new family, I had my new sister-in-law randomly pick the names from a pool and it has been decided: the winners are....

free glitter text and family website at FamilyLobby.com

Congratulations! Keep an eye on your inboxes for your free copy.

Even if you didn't win this time, there are a number of opportunities to win a free copy during my blog tour. Check out the tour schedule!

If you'd rather not wait, you can get a copy of the novella for $2.99 at Amazon & Smashwords.

Quick Fic Friday - Selene

Photo by llorias of flickr (her stuff is fantastic!)
Here's a quick fic sample - something I wrote because I was inspired. A story opening! Be sure to share yours on your blog and leave it in the comments.

Adryn and I came up with a new set of characters the other day. The story is one for the back-burner (or possibly something to be serialized).

This is probably one of the better openings I've written, and I did it by studying openings of a few YA books I like. I'm rather excited it worked out so well. Let me know what you think!

***

The morning before Kevin found me, I woke up face down beneath a rosebush with a pair of pruning shears in my hand. My first thought after the where-the-hell-am-I’s had been answered was whether Mark could get back any of the money he'd spent on my therapy, since the psychiatrist had declared me “over” both the brainwashing of my mother’s insanity and, by the power of puberty, my somnambulant ways. He probably couldn’t. I had a feeling this relapse was less indicative of my therapist’s failure to exorcise the crazy and more a sign of post-exam week stress.

That was it. The weird tingle between my shoulder blades was nothing. It was just the muscles in my back, tense from too long bent over a textbook, trying to wrap my brain around physics the way that thorny vine of numbness now twined around my spine. I always got the tingle before one of my nocturnal jaunts. It was how my body responded to stress—by tensing up, cutting off circulation. And by getting up at 4 a.m. and staggering out into the back garden to take it out on the rosebush my adopted mother had planted. Woops.

Several small rips marred the cuff of my pajamas where thorns had snagged it, and it had been those sharp stabs that brought me back to consciousness. I stared in resignation at the constellation of red spots blossoming on the light green polyester. Blood stains were hard to get out.

It was still dark morning, and dew-soaked dirt pressed against my stomach and breasts, setting a spreading stain of moisture creeping up the front of my clothes. Another set of birthday pajamas, sacrificed to whatever sadistic sandman giggled above my bed at night. It was my own fault, really; I should have known by now that nice pajamas weren’t compatible with my lifestyle.

The rich scents of earth and flowers filled my nose, cut by the sharp, sweet perfume of the corn field beyond our picket fence. Yes, a picket fence. This is the midwest. We're like that.

I groaned and sucked in my bottom lip, pushing up onto my hands and easing my head and shoulders from the spiked grasp of the rosebush. I shoved myself back onto my knees and sat up to assess the damage. My straight black hair had escaped its bun in clumps and my hands and knees were streaked with dirt. I looked around, noting that my brain had, for some reason, spared my clematis and morning glories. My hydrangeas were safe, my pear tree looked perky, and the herb garden was lush and sparkling with dew. The one thing in the back garden that wasn’t mine—Janie’s 40th anniversary rosebush—was the one thing my subconscious had seen fit to destroy. Damn, my subconscious was a bitch.

The dreams are back. The thought rolled across my mind like a sudden, chill breeze, and I shivered. No. I was wet and mud-covered, wearing dew-damp polyester in the wee hours of a chilly Michigan morning. That’s why I was shivering. In June.

I chafed my arms and climbed to my feet. Shit. I’d begun to hope my transition to the dormitories would be relatively free of awkward explanations. Not so much, I guess, considering I was zombie-crawling through the mud in my back yard a week from high school graduation. What was I going to say when I woke up in an iced-over dorm parking lot in nothing but panties and a big tee shirt? How was I going to get back in the building at 4 a.m. with no key card and no cell phone? It was bound to happen.

“A lot of kids sleepwalk,” Jamie had said when she and Mark agreed to take me in for those first few weeks. The social worker—I think her name was Kelly—had been standing behind me. She’d put both hands on my shoulders and leaned forward, pitching her voice low, as if the adult-like seriousness of her tone would render the words incomprehensible to my nine-year-old ears.

“Not like Selene.”

Adults had always done that around me—saying things I understood in that “adult” voice, acting like I couldn’t understand them because I just wasn’t supposed to. That tone meant I should conveniently forget English and let the adults have their private conversation about me, in front of me, without listening. I did understand it, though, and I was angry at the social worker for treating me like some abused animal with bad habits that might just be too much trouble to train out.

“Not like Selene.” The words stuck with me, cutting me off from any sense that I was normal, echoing in the back of my head every time I made a friend or started to have fun with regular kids. I was different. I was damaged. I was dangerous.

Fed up, I’d rolled my eyes, thrust out both hands, and said it. “She means when I sleepwalk, I do magic.”

I still remember the look on their faces, the nervous laughter from the social worker and the sad, understanding smile from Jamie. I’d known they told her about mom, and what mom had taught us, and what we didn’t know any better than to believe.

“She draws on things,” the social worker corrected, pulling my shoulders back agains her as a reminder that I was supposed to be temporarily deaf. “Sometimes she hurts herself or breaks things or talks about her dreams like they’re real.”

“They are real, though! They always happen.”

“Hush, Selene. The grown-ups are talking.”

“Ask Kevin, he’ll tell you!”

Another knowing look.

Kevin was, of course, my brother. He was three years older than me, too old—by the standards of People Who Apparently Know—to fully recover from the teachings of my parents’ cult, or the trauma of what had happened with mom. We’d moved around a lot with our parents, before dad died and mom got worse, and Kevin had always been my best friend, my supporter, my collaborator. He was the one that saved me from mom.

They’d promised to do their best to keep us together, but that was bullshit. It didn’t take a month for them to send me to a “temporary” home with Jamie and Mark and ship my brother off to the first, worst foster home for kids with no hope of assimilating into the real world. They’d promised I could see him on holidays, but that was bullshit too. After I went home with Jamie and Mark, I never left, and I never saw my brother again, except in dreams. Then, one night when I was 12, I saw him die.

By then, I’d come to accept that my vivid nightmares were reactions to the fantasies my parents had put in my head—inventions of a mind poisoned by fear, sickness, and torture. My brother was not dead. He certainly hadn’t drowned tangled up in fishing nets, dragged down by some monstrous construct. My dream had been another reaction. A few months before, I’d gotten the news that he’d run away from his 6th foster home. They’d said they were looking, but I don’t think the system tried that hard to find him. The drowning bit, naturally, was a lingering fear of my own. Of course I’d project it onto my worry over my missing brother.

Sometimes I still saw that image, though, the stark silhouette of his body, his floating limbs trapped by nets that etched out mosaic bits of ocean, the whole scene illuminated in lambent flashes of green.
If he was dead, it hadn’t happened like that. And it didn’t really matter anyway: he was good as dead, lost to me forever, gone. The story of my life had turned past chapters with him in it.

At least, I thought it had.

Blog Tour Schedule


My first ebook novella, EXORCISING AARON NGUYEN, comes out at the end of this week. To put it mildly, I'm nervous. Like, really nervous, y'all. I'm not even going to list the things I'm worried about, because 1) I don't want to think about them in detail, and 2) you can probably guess what they are. 

Instead, here's something I'm really excited about: THE EXORCISING AARON NGUYEN VIRTUAL BLOG TOUR! Woohoo!

So, I teamed up with Roxanne of Bewitching Book Tours and she put together this tour (just check out my awesome banners!), supplemented by the tour stops I gathered on my own. There are giveaways, guest blogs, interviews, and reviews, so be sure to take a look. I'll be giving away some pretty sweet stuff (jewelry, bookmarks, free books, mp3s), so make sure to check out all the giveaways. :)

TOUR SCHEDULE



Want to be on this list? Sign up here

WEEK I


August 26

Spotlight
Roxanne’s Realm

August 27th

Guest Blog
Magical Words Blog

Promotional Stop/ Interview
If My Thought-Dreams Could Be Seen

Promotional Stop
Loves All Things Books

Guest blog
Rose & Beps Blog

August 28

Interview
The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom

August 29

Guest blog
Fang-tastic Books

August 30

Interview
Pembroke Sinclair  

Guest Blog
The Waking Dreams Blog

Review/Interview
The Treward Pen

Giveaway/Promotional Stop
The Daily Harrell


WEEK II


September 2

Spotlight
Lisa’s World of Books

Review/Giveaway
Scott's Thoughts

September 3

Guest blog
Reading In Twilight

September 4

Spotlight and review
Faerie Tale Books

September 5

Spotlight and Review
The Writerly Exploits of Mara Valderran

Review
Swimming Cat Studios

September 6

Spotlight
Dalene’s Book Reviews

September 9

Spotlight
Let’s Start Saving Now 

Spotlight
Book Worm & More

COVER REVEAL: Ministry Protocol: Thrilling Tales from the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences


It's time for a cover reveal!
This is more than just a cover reveal for me. This is the cover reveal of the anthology that holds my first published short story. Sit tight. We're going into...

The Department of Backstory


I met Tee Morris and Pip Ballantine through podcasting, and for various reasons, they're some of the coolest people ever.

Last year at Dragon*Con, they invited me to write a story for the companion podcast to their Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series, which, if you haven't read it, is like a London-based steampunk version of the X-Files. The podcast, called Tales from the Archives, featured the cases of different ministry agents as told by authors from around the podcasting and writing circles.

I squeed. I came up with two characters and figured out what a steampunk Bakumatsu Japan would look like. Then I started writing. It was one of those fugue states where you hear birds chirping outside, then look up to find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed in your underwear, legs burned from the bottom of your overheated laptop, and for some reason you still have shoes on. I mean, you know that feel, right? That could just be me. Nevermind.

I turned in my story, which is titled The Incident of the Clockwork Mikoshi, simultaneously terrified and excited because, well, it was a long short story, almost 8k, and I wasn't sure it was short enough to be included. By the time Tee got back to me, I was sure it was too long and the steampunk tribute to the Shinsengumi, Shinto pantheon, and mobile suits had been overkill.

Then they offered me a spot in the anthology, pending a few revisions and the success of the kickstarter. And I was like, 'anthology means, like, published and stuff. Which means they liked it. They like-liked it.' And then I was like:



Ministry Protocol Cover Reveal!

The Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences novels are a multi-award winning steampunk series, which tells the story of the government agency committed to keeping citizens safe from the strange, the unusual, and the bizarre.  
In a very successful Kickstarter in July, the Ministry Initiative was funded, allowing the creation of both a roleplaying game and a brand new anthology. 
Ministry Protocol: Thrilling Tales from the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences is a collection of short stories that will take readers across the Empire and all over the world, revealing new facets of familiar characters and introducing new agents, allies, and enemies from the Ministry’s colourful history. 
The authors of this globe-spanning anthology include Delilah S. Dawson, Leanna Renee Hieber, Alex White, Jared Axelrod, Tiffany Trent, Peter Woodworth, Jack Mangan, JR Blackwell, Dan Rabarts, Lauren Harris, Karina Cooper, and Glenn Freund from The League of S.T.E.A.M. 
And one of the Ministry’s creators, Tee Morris, presents the origin story of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences itself.  
Look for the ebook coming in August, with signed print editions to follow.  
Feast your eyes on the cover art from the Ministry renaissance man, Alex White, and spread the word about the anthology by entering the giveaway.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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You like? Did you enter the giveaway? GO ENTER ^

Givaway & Preview of Exorcising Aaron Nguyen

Hey folks! Sorry about the spotty blogging schedule - I'm working hard to get audiobooks out of the studio and words on the page, as well as brainstorming and writing guest blogs for the EXORCISING AARON NGUYEN blog tour next month. So, I figure, why not give y'all a sneak peak of the book?

Also, two random commenters will receive a coupon for a free copy of the novella on its release day, August 24th!

Cover has been touched up and is
ready to go! Woohoo!

Chapter One
What's a Little Murder Between Friends?


Exactly one week after Aaron Nguyen’s body appeared on the soccer field with his head smashed in, I found my best friend, Hiroki Satou, leafing through an exorcism manual behind the chapel. The 9 a.m. sun punched the silhouette of our school’s new steeple into the brick courtyard, as if to remind students in the shadow of that looming crucifix that Jesus was always watching, even if the teachers usually weren’t. The acrid scent of cigarette smoke cut through the air, which was already dense with the grass and magnolia perfume of a late North Carolina summer.

As usual, Hiroki was smoking, posed in a languid slump against the brick wall. The manual, though—he usually didn’t bring that sort of thing out of his room. I slid into the shade next to him, and he shook the book at me without looking up.

"Ghosts are bad enough," he said around his cigarette, careless of ash falling on the lapel of his school blazer. "Asian ghosts are fucking terrifying."

I rolled my eyes. Hiroki had spoken English of some variety since he was a kid, but he’d only been in the states for six years. There were a few things he still didn't get right all the time—prepositions, articles, idioms like "you can't have your cake and eat it too" (which, if I thought too hard about it, didn't make any goddamn sense to me either)—but I took personal pride in the fact that, by the end of sophomore year, he'd perfected the vast and varied usage of the word "fuck". Sure, he'd done all the memorizing and mistake-making, but I wiped a lot of spit off our desks teaching him how to pronounce the "f".

He flipped the page in a book filled with low-res “paranormal” crime scene photographs, and blew a stream of smoke away from me. The brick courtyard separating us from the soccer field still trailed the remains of last week’s flimsy caution tape, like morbid party streamers no one had bothered to take down. Half the nuns clustered at the edge of the grass, clutching their rosaries and shaking their heads. Sister Joseph Ann wept quietly into her wrinkled hands. I glanced past them to the field, waving away smoke that drifted toward me despite Hiroki’s efforts.

School activities had been cancelled for the past week, allowing the students extra time to deal with the trauma of a murder no one understood. There’d been lots of loud crying by people who’d never spoken to Aaron, and I guess I couldn’t blame them. Maybe they were distressed at the thought of murder so close, or maybe they saw it as an opportunity to get attention. Personally, I wanted to blog about it, but it seemed disrespectful to report hearsay and my blog wasn’t a gossip rag, no matter what people said - I never report anything I can’t back up. To be honest, I didn’t feel qualified to talk about murder.

Aaron’s ghost showing up, though, was a twist I might have an inside scoop on. Hiroki was saddled with the unfortunate talent of spectral sight, which made him something of an expert on ghosts. Just before morning Mass, he’d spotted Aaron’s spirit sulking translucently at the top of the stairwell to the science lab and alerted one of the nuns.

“Did you talk to the police already?” I asked.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “An officer came by, but I haven’t talked to Aaron’s spirit. I just saw him. I don’t have anything they can use to look for evidence.” He tapped his heel against the brick, avoiding my gaze. Though the ghost hadn’t caused any trouble beyond a couple floating beakers and a spontaneously-lit bunsen burner, Hiroki was jumpy, and his unease made me nervous. He wasn’t usually afraid of them.

"So what's Aaron Nguyen's vengeful spirit going to do?” I asked. “Strangle students with computer cables? Program a continuous loop of Justin Beiber into the PA system?"

Hiroki smirked, glancing up. I tried not to notice the cutwork pattern of light stealing through the courtyard trees and lighting his irises to eerie amber. I'd given up on him in sophomore year, when I realized personality would never matter as much as the fact that I was three inches taller and about seventy pounds heavier. But he was too goddamn pretty for his own good sometimes.

I'd been in love with him since sixth grade, when he'd transferred from his school in Arashiyama, Japan to Millroad Catholic Academy—a grades 6-10 boarding school built in bumfuck middle-of-nowhere North Carolina. It was like one of those schools you read about in old British novels, except there was no lake for Clandestine Rowboats of Boy-on-Boy Snuggling (unfortunately) and the field across from our winding front drive sported twenty seven rusting cars and a deer stand.

He flipped a few more pages in the book and leaned away from the chapel’s brick wall, peering around my shoulder at the be-habited faculty. “They’re going to drench the place in holy water, say some Our Fathers, and expect Aaron to pack up and go like a good little Catholic ghost.”

I raised my eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s how exorcisms work. Omnis immunde spiritus and all that shit.”

“Yeah, well, I can tell you one thing—a Catholic exorcism isn’t going to work on a Buddhist ghost.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear Aaron had been Buddhist. A number of kids at our school weren’t Catholic, including Hiroki and me, but we attended because it was the only school around with a decent college acceptance rate. Parents who wanted their kids to go to university bought uniforms, made checks out to Jesus, and packed their bewildered kids off to Mass.

“I didn’t realize it mattered what religion the ghost was. Is. Whatever.”

“It does if it’s the kind of ghost that can be exorcised.”

Hiroki avoided my gaze as he took another long drag of his cigarette and watched the nuns file somberly back into the school for assembly. There was something in that statement he didn’t want me dwelling on.

He exhaled smoke through his nose in a long sigh. “We might as well poke around.” He shoved the book into his messenger bag and slung it around behind him.

“What does that mean?” I asked, glancing at the door to the chapel. The cool stone interior beckoned me, promising a nap-length assembly followed by an iced vanilla latte, and I really didn’t want to play the Watson to his Sherlock unless he was willing to reenact some pretty specific fanfiction. “I am not going to the morgue to touch his body.”

“Ew,” Hiroki said, a little skipping-shudder in his step. “No. I mean his murder. I’m not going near a dead body—gross.”

I guess there was Seeing Dead People, and there was seeing dead people. I wasn’t in a hurry to do either.

“How are you planning to just ‘poke around’ his murder case? The police are all up in here twice a day.”

“No idea yet. I’ll have a plan by lunchtime.”

I power walked after him. “You know I’m all for investigative journalism,” I said, “but don’t you think snooping through crime scenes and threatening possible witnesses is sort of a bad idea?”


He shrugged, reaching for the door to the chapel and heaving it open. A gust of cool air reached out, snagging us both. “Probably.” He stepped into the relative darkness of the hallway and glanced back at me. “When has that ever stopped you?”

*****

So what do y'all think? Love, hate, ambivalence, apathy? Let me know in the comments! Make sure to include your email or twitter handle so I can contact the winners. :)

Guest Post - Succeeding Through Failure - by Doc Coleman

Failure is something that all creative types are familiar with, but how do you come back from the bottom of the roller-coaster and turn that failure into a success? I met Doc two years ago at BaltiCon, when I stepped in for Tee Morris as a panelist on the live recording of Doc's Shrinking Man podcast, which is a podcast that not only document's Doc's weight-loss journey but also encourages others to do the same. Doc is a fellow writer, voice actor, and podcaster, and like all of us, he is no stranger to failure.

But if you've ever seen the belt he wears to conventions--a belt that once barely buckled, but now wraps halfway again around his waist--it's clear he is also familiar with success.

Doc has kindly allowed me to share his thoughts on succeeding through failure with you today.

(Note* Font-size increases are my own.)

..*..

Does this exchange sound familiar to you?

“Well, I finished my story.”

“Oh, can I read it?”
“It’s not really good enough.”
“But you can fix it, right?”
“It’s probably not worth it. But the next story will be better. I’m sure it will.”

One of the worst judges of a given work is the author of that work. Either he will have an inflated opinion of the quality of the work, or more likely he will remain convinced that it will never be good enough. Many talented authors never manage to move their careers forward because they’re too afraid to show anyone their work. They’re so afraid of failing that they’re unwilling to take a chance at success.

No matter how bad you might think your work is, you should be willing to let people see it. A group of beta readers can be an author’s most valuable resource. We are too close to our stories. We know all the back story, all the details that never made it into the actual words. Beta readers come at a story cold. This is the test to see if you’ve managed to convey on paper (or paper analogue) just how awesome a scene was when you imagined it in your head. The beta reader’s job is to tell you what you’ve got right, and what doesn’t ring true to them. But they can’t do that job if they never get to read it.

Of course, just because a reader doesn’t like something doesn’t mean you should change it. You should consider their feedback and determine for yourself if their points are valid, or if your story really needs to be written the way you originally wrote it. Your readers let you polish your story for your eventual audience. Eventually you’ll have to find your way to put your story in front of your readers. That means either publishing your story yourself, or dealing with editors.

So now you’re looking to put your story in front of an audience, and you’re thinking about self-publishing. Scary stuff, right? Not really. The internet gives us plenty of tools that make it relatively easy to distribute your story in text or audio form. But you don’t know anything about marketing on the internet? Guess what? The big publishers don’t really know anything about it either! Try anyway. What is the worst that can happen? You fail?

Failure really isn’t that bad after all. Embrace failure. We learn much more from our failures than from studying and trying to reproduce past successes. Expect your first attempt to fail, but do it anyway, because you are going to learn a heck of a lot along the way! Sure, you will make mistakes, but you’ll learn from those and correct your course. Maybe that will be enough to save your venue and let you share your stories and build an audience, and maybe you’ll find that you’ve worked yourself into a corner and you’re not doing the kind of writing you want to. The process of finding all this out will take you time and effort, but knowing it will make your next project that much better.

But maybe you don’t want to deal with all the work of self-publishing, even on the internet. That means you’ve got to learn to deal with editors, whether you're submitting to an online publisher, such as Flying Island Press, or submitting to one of the big print on paper publishers. To do that you’ve got to find out their submission guidelines and follow them. Editors have a name for people who try to get noticed by not bothering to pay attention to submissions guidelines. They call them rejected.

OK. So you’ve found a venue that you think your story will fit into, they’re taking submissions, and you’ve followed their submission guidelines. You submit the story… and it still gets rejected. Now what?

If you don’t sell a particular story, that doesn’t mean that you’ll never sell a story. It doesn’t even mean that you’ll never sell that particular story. Every setback is an opportunity to learn. About yourself, about your audience, about your stories, and about publishing. 

Just because one editor doesn’t like a story doesn’t mean the story is bad. The next editor may buy it. Or the one after that. But even if that particular story never finds a market, the experience of submitting a story tells you invaluable things. Each submission tells you more about presenting a story to an editor. Each rejection tells you more about that particular editor and that venue. The best editors will not only tell you that they won’t be using your story, they’ll tell you why, and that will help you better place your future works.

Each rejection is an opportunity to hone your work and improve your craft. Remember, somewhere out there are 17 or so editors who rejected the first Harry Potter book. Odds are your first sale probably won’t have as big a return as that particular book, but you won't find out if you never put it out there.

Doc Coleman

..*..

And with that, I leave you with some final thoughts on failure from one amazing author who, as Doc mentioned, has seen her share of rejection and failure.


Got it Covered

Presenting the cover of EXORCISING AARON NGUYEN! This cover is a combination of efforts from three of my amazing friends: Brittany "Chiki" Fischer of Chiki Photography, Sarah Moore (model), and Elyse Revelle of Art by JezebelAssassinated.

Also, I've received permission from The Ethnographers to use their song "Looking Eyes, Holding Hearts" as the opening/ending music of the audiobook, which is really exciting! So many NC artists working with me on this.

My only non-Carolinian is the editor, Alice M. (@notveryalice on twitter), who has sent me the first round of notes. She made some really great points that I think will help me improve the story. Luckily, there's minimal rewriting involved.

Things are coming together, and I hope to be releasing the ebook version of this story in August or September, depending on how my projects for ACX go.


The Continuing Shift

This is me with Nobilis Reed. I'm 5'3". He's 6'8".
Just got back from Balticon, where I got to hang out with some of my favorite people in the world, met even more awesome people, and missed a couple folks who had other obligations. Then I drove seven hours on no sleep to make sure Rosemary didn't miss her plane. I ended up screaming out lyrics to fast-paced songs so I didn't fall asleep at the wheel. Now my voice sounds like Ke$ha. I did not wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy.

With the exception of ConTemporal, which I will be attending with the North Carolina D20 girls as part of the convention staff, this is my last con of the year. I would love to go to more, but it's just not in the cards.

If you've been reading the blog, you know I quit my day-job back in March, and things have gone about like you'd expect:
  • I thought about going back to school, but decided against it.
  • I got a part-time job scooping ice cream but it wasn't enough to pay the bills.
  • I'm moving back in with my parents, and I am very lucky to be able to do that but scared of returning to the same isolation I had when I came back from Japan.
My parents have told me not to worry about getting a job for three months. This is insanely generous of them, and I am so thankful and fortunate not only to have the ability to move back in with them, but to have their support and belief that I can actually do both voice acting and writing and make what I love into my day job.

This coming month, I'm narrating two books on ACX/Audible and have been asked to audition for another, which I may decide to accept pending audition and direct offer, because it's sold quite well on Amazon given it's recent release and the story would give me the opportunity to do some accents I rarely get to exercise...as well as read something other than romance.

But that will be after I move. Seriously, the guy downstairs moved out and they're fixing up the apartment so the new folks can move in.

Here is an example of the drilling noises I hear every day while I'm trying to record...and my voice post-Balticon.

I'm getting enough decent offers from ACX, that I really hope I will be able to support myself, at least in part, on recording. If I could just make enough to pay off my debts, I would be happy.

So I've decided my goal is to support myself through writing and voice acting.

Which brings me to another point. I am still pursuing traditional publishing, but in talking to Abbie and a few other folks, I've decided not to limit myself only to that anymore. If I can afford to put the money into my book that I would be relying on publishers for (for in-depth editing, cover art, and the marketing I would want to do) I think I have a good chance with it. However, until the market settles down and I have the capital to actually give my books the attention I want to give them, I will still be pursuing traditional publishing with my longer works. I have a lot of confidence in my writing, but I know there's room to improve - enough that I don't want to short-change my chances.

So, I'm using the Millroad Academy Exorcists series to teach myself how to do this e-publishing thing. Exorcising Aaron Nguyen is coming together well, and through the crazy chance networking opportunity generator that is Twitter, I did end up winning a free in-depth edit... which is awesome, because I never could have afforded it! I also did a reading from the second draft at BaltiCon and feel really excited about doing the audiobook version myself. I may put up the audio from that reading a bit later.

This post's shout outs include awesome new people I met:
  • Benjamin Charles Press Esq (our paths would have crossed eventually. Glad it was here.)
  • Myke Cole (who appeared on Pendragon's live panel, then gave the best 3AM pep talk ever)
  • Hugh O'Donnell (who I finally got to hang out with some)
  • Katie Bryski (a fellow author, podcaster, nerdfighter, and Disney/Musical enthusiast)
Awesome people I got to hang out with again:
  • Veronica Giguere
  • Starla Huchton
  • Nobilis Reed
  • Norm Sherman
  • Renee Chamblis
  • Doc Coleman
Friends at con who feel more like family:
  • Abigail Hilton
  • Bryan Lincoln
  • Rosemary Tizledoun
And friends I missed seeing:
  • Justin Macumber
  • Tee Morris
  • Pip Ballantine
  • John Mireau
This post brought to you by Cards Against Humanity, the best drunken pep talks ever, and staying up until 4:30 because you can't stop talking and don't want the con to end.

MAVEN, by Starla Huchton - Cover Reveal!


My fellow podcasting writer, Starla Huchton, will soon be releasing her New Adult Sci-Fi Romance story, Maven, and she has let ME share her cover with you!
How far would you go for love? 
Since losing her parents at 14, young prodigy Dr. Lydia Ashley has focused on one thing: an appointment on the Deep Water Research Command Endure. Now 21, she's about to realize that dream, but nothing is how she imagined it would be. Her transitional sponsor forgets her, her new lab is in complete chaos, and, as if that weren't enough, she's about to discover something so horrific it could potentially destroy all life on the planet.  
Daniel Brewer, a noted playboy and genius in his own right, may be exactly what she needs... Or he may make everything worse. 
Has she finally found a puzzle she can't solve?


Maven (The Endure Series, book 1), by S.A. Huchton
Genre: Science Fiction Romance (New Adult)
Release Date: June 3rd, 2013

About Starla

(Left to right: Bryan Lincoln, me, Starla Huchton)
Starla Huchton released her first novel, The Dreamer’s Thread, as a full cast podcast production beginning in August 2009. Her first foray went on to become a double-nominee and finalist for the 2010 Parsec Awards. Since her debut, Starla’s voice has appeared in other podcasts including The Dunesteef Audio Fiction Magazine, The Drabblecast, and Erotica a la Carte.

She is also a voice talent for Darkfire Productions, and narrates several of their projects, including The Emperor’s Edge series, This Path We Share, and others. Her writing has appeared in the Erotica a la Carte podcast, a short story for The Gearheart, and an episode of the Tales from the Archives podcast (the companion to Tee Morris and Philippa Balantine’s Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences series), which garnered her a second finalist badge from the 2012 Parsec Awards.

Her second novel, a Steampunk adventure entitled Master of Myth, was the first place winner in the Fantasy/Science Fiction category of The Sandy Writing Contest held annually by the Crested Butte Writers Conference. Maven is her third completed novel and the first in a planned series of four.

After completing her degree in Graphic Arts at Monterey Peninsula College, Starla opened up shop as a freelance graphic designer focusing on creating beautiful book covers for independent authors publishers. She currently lives in Virginia where she trains her three Minions and military husband.

  
Links:
Twitter: @riznphnx

Be sure to follow her on all the Social Media so you can get the latest information about Maven and the rest of the Endure series.