IT'S ALL IN A DAY'S WORK...

WARNING: This is a no-edit zone...


Every writer goes through periods of it, and I’m neck-deep in one such period now. That is, periods where the professional To-Do list is several pages long and for every item that finally gets ticked off, two more go on--and one of the additions is typically needed ASAP. What that means down at the bottom line is that it’s a struggle during such times to get to the actual writing.

If someone came to me with this challenge, I’d tell them to prioritize. To put the actual writing first and let everything else follow when the writing goal for the day had been met. But in this situation, my advice wouldn’t work. Why? Because I’m in the middle of launching three major projects at once and chairing a contest committee that requires constant monitoring.

Now, I can hear you say that it’s my own fault--that I should have properly planned and then I wouldn’t have three major projects launching at once, and ordinarily I’d agree with you. But in this case, two of the three major projects fell into my lap and were terrific opportunities. I had to make a choice: seize them or forget them. I chose to seize.

So what’s my point?

Sometimes things happen that aren’t bad but good things. And we have to work through the discomforts they cause to reap the benefits. While we’re going through them, it’s not a lot of fun and we do grow weary. (No doubt my darling husband would describe that “weary” a little differently; with far more colorful a description.) But if we stay focused and remember that these seeds we’re planting will enjoy a harvest, and then we’ll be glad we endured the discomfort during its season.

So I’m enduring discomfort, sleeping less, putting a lot of extra time in the office and looking forward to harvest time. Seriously looking forward to it--and to the reunion with my characters and stories. And I’m seriously working at keeping a constructive mindset and positive attitude.

Because the simple truth is that when you write for a living, you do get to do less writing. You have to share your time with all the other writing-related endeavors that go with it. And there are more of those endeavors all the time.

Writers love the writing. But not many love the related endeavors. If there’s any advice for someone new to this, it would be to find a way to love the related endeavors. Because they’re a large part of the big picture, you’ll be doing a lot of them, and it’s all in a day’s work.

Blessings,

Vicki
I need a clone.

I’m missing the days of being a writer who writes!

When do writers have time to write?

Attitude is everything!

IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN...

Been swamped lately, but I wanted to let those interested know that it’s time to enter the International Thriller Writers annual awards. You can find all the info on their website: thrillerwriters.org.

Good luck!

Blessings,

Vicki

Yes! SUCCESS!: Part 2: If You Please

"I cannot give you the formula for success,
but I can give you the formula for failure—
try to please everybody."
--Herbert Bayard Swope




I spent the morning with a writer who was feeling torn and troubled. She had this three-book contract with a publisher. I remember the day she negotiated it; she was very happy that day. The first book went well, but during the time she was writing the second book, her editor received a good offer that included a promotion at a different publishing house and left. While happy for the editor, the author was worried about the departure’s impact on her and her books. The author was what we call orphaned.

Her worry was unfortunately justified. While those who make editorial assignments attempt to pair authors with editors who will love their work, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. When it doesn’t, it can be a real nightmare for everyone involved.

The author and editor both can really put forth effort to mesh their visions, but there are times when no matter how hard one tries, or how many times one revises, the visions are just in different worlds. Sooner or later, usually after much teeth-gnashing and many attempts to please, one or the other realizes this just isn’t going to work out, and cries uncle.

That’s a painful time. Admitting defeat is never painless, but when you’ve made so many attempts to satisfy and please and still failed, it can be devastating. It can convince an author that she can’t write. It doesn’t seem to matter how many awards she’s won or great reviews she’s gotten or how many fan letters she’s received. Those things are in the past and this is now, and now, she can’t please her editor and somehow in her mind that equates to her not being able to write.

It’s easy to get mired down in negativity in these circumstances. It’s easy to feel that same doubt about your skills and abilities and gifts that you had when you first started writing. And it’s humbling, to say the least, to be told that the work isn’t acceptable.

But here’s a couple things we should remember and often forget in this situation:

1. Every match isn’t made in heaven. Some author/editor matches are never going to be productive. The two people involved see what is being done from totally different perspectives and they don’t (or can’t) appreciate the view from the other’s perspective. That’s not a flaw, it’s just the way it works because people are different. And even though it’s hard to remember that’s a plus, it really is a plus.

2. Purpose. If an author writes with purpose, then this type of challenge creates far less havoc for the writer, insofar as ability is concerned. Yes, a terminated contract can cause financial challenges and other kinds of havoc, but those types of challenges are easier to deal with if your writer’s esteem and worth isn’t trampled. You’re in a far better place mentally to accept that this is not personal. It isn’t a reflection on you but on the marketability of this work, at this time, by this publisher. No more than that.

You see, each publisher has a vision of what it wants its company to be. Each editor has a vision of what she wants her body of work to be and a vision of how that body of work fits into the publisher’s vision of itself. And then every writer has a vision of her career and how she fits in with the editor and the publisher and their visions--and a vision of each work within her body of work and how it fits in with her career and how that fits in with the editor and publishers’ visions. See my point?

It isn’t just about the book. Or the author. Or the editor. Or the publisher. Or the bookseller, for that matter. It’s about all of them, and more.

So when an author lets her writer’s esteem nosedive on an issue like this, it’s not really a fair thing to do. It’s taking everything onto herself and ignoring all the other spokes in the wheel. A wheel doesn’t have just one spoke. It requires more support and balance than that.

3. Terminating a contract can be a painful thing. You work hard to get one and then to lose it... well, it’s frustrating, and it can be financially crippling--if you’ve allowed yourself to be reliant on that which is not yet actually yours.

Many years ago, a then bestselling writer gave a piece of advice I’ve never forgotten. Never count on any money that isn’t in your hand--and only count on it if all terms and conditions for losing it have been met. In other words, remember that an advance is an advance against royalties. It isn’t royalties that you’ve already earned until the book has been accepted.

That advice sounded smart to me, so I don’t even include advance money in my budgeting. I get it. It’s there in the account. But I don’t rely on that money until such time as the manuscript is accepted and it’s mine. I pass this along because there have been times when that practice has proven its worth.

It’s not easy for most writers to survive financially. Yes, some are extremely well paid, but the majority don’t earn a decent living. Last I checked through Author’s Guild, the average income from writing was about $5K a year. But for those who are attempting to earn a living at it, it requires discipline and sound fiscal practices. Not spending what isn’t totally yours is a sound practice. And that includes reliance on projected income when there is no assurance that the projected income will be met.

Many contracts contain a clause that if the contract is terminated and conditions are such that the author must repay advance payments, that repayment is made from the first resell of the work or within a certain time. I’ve seen contracts with six months or a year and some with five years. This gives the author time to market the project elsewhere and another opportunity not to fall into financial havoc. But some contracts don’t have this provision and having to repay sums advanced immediately can cause financial hardships. The moral of that story is to know what you sign and plan accordingly.

It’s heartbreaking to see an author torn up about something like the termination of a contract. Losing an editor is always a difficult thing. You seek and seek the perfect one for you. Someone who sees the vision inside your head and gets your humor and trusts you to make things work logically and to pull things together in a way that makes sense. That’s a tall order, but we do manage to do it.

And then through no fault of anyone, that relationship is gone and the author and the new editor have to find their feet with each other and develop a new relationship. I’ve had this happen several times. Often it worked out great. Really great. On a couple of occasions it didn’t.

On those occasions, like this author, I tried to make it work. But the simple truth s, if it requires enormous effort, it’s not right. That’s a signal I learned to watch for, and one that’s proven valuable to me. When it’s not right, it’s no one’s fault. It’s just not a great match. A “not great” match can sometimes work, with time and trust and learned respect. But it does take the effort of both parties. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a good match grow into a great one, but I have seen some good matches be extremely productive ones.

I came to recognize these times and places in my life as turning points. And I have to say--looking back with the clarity you only get from hindsight--that those turns were good ones. I went into new directions, did new things that I came to love. I tried new ventures I wouldn’t have tried. Let’s face it. We all like comfort. And so long as we’re rocking along and we’re comfortable, we’re less apt to adventure. It’s human nature--and proof that it really is necessity that breeds invention.

How many times have you heard authors say that they tried this or wrote that as a last ditch effort? One to save their career, to allow them to keep writing? Or that an author switched genres because xyz happened and they had to take drastic measures?

Even with the benefit of others’ experiences in that vein, it’s hard to remember that turning points are good things when we’re the writer who is displaced or unsettled and we can’t see the path in front of us clearly. But knowing those times and challenges exist for others and that many others have successfully navigated them should offer us solace and hope and reassurance that strengthens us to lick our warriors’ wounds and cocoons that writer’s esteem. The truth is that the sooner we do recognize we’re at a turning point and we get going on locating and then walking that new path, the sooner we settle in again.

The thing is, we’re not ever going to really settle in. Not indefinitely and not if we’re lucky. Life doesn’t work that way. It always tosses new challenges into our paths. Maybe that’s a good thing. We stay interested, invested; we don’t stagnate or stop growing. We do get past the upset and get focused on the new adventure. And let’s face it. That can be exciting. Wonderful. Intriguing. Elevating and liberating.

Change isn’t a bad thing. Yes, it can create havoc, but mixing it up rejuvenates and that’s valuable, too. Change can be a terrific thing, even if the transitions themselves suck. And more often than not, they honestly do.

We can gripe and moan and be devastated, or we can vent and get over it and press on to what comes next. Obviously the sooner we press on, the sooner the transition passes. And obviously if we remember that no one person can please all other people the easier we’ll be on us during these times.

I think that’s a key stroke in success. We don’t let transitions attack us, the human being and writer inside. We accept that we all have different visions and goals and purposes and we come together for a time and when that time is done, it’s done, and it’s time for the next leg of the journey.

Really. Life is in the journey. And after all, we aren’t just building a career. We’re also building a life.

Blessings,

Vicki

EMAIL CHAIN LETTERS

Email Chain Letters

We all get nine gazillion of them--those email chain letters that promise bad luck, bad tidings, financial crashes and everything you can think of--and we moan and groan and decide to delete them but then we get that tiny niggle of a doubt that maybe we will have bad luck and crash and burn and so we’re torn--and resentful--and then must decide whether or not to fall for it, knowing we shouldn’t.

This morning a friend sent a soap-box response. Bless her. It’s an email chain letter worth passing on...



http://info.org.il/irrelevant/may02-smilepop-soapbox4.swf

Blessings,

Vicki

YES! SUCCESS!: Part 1: WHAT DO WE WANT?

Today I’m starting a new series, Yes! Success! And I hope that whether or not you’re a writer, you’ll gain something of benefit from the posts. The ideology and methods are universal to whatever career you’ve chosen or whatever path you’ve decided to embrace and walk.

Yes! Success!: PART 1: WHAT DO WE WANT?

We all want something. It might be fame, fortune, validation of worth or to be assured that we’re not just taking up space but living. And at some point, we all realize that our entire lives last but a blink, that our great-grandchildren won’t know much about us or be aware of our struggles and accomplishments--in a few generations, we’ll be forgotten, and that inspires us with the desire to leave an immortal mark.

Many writers console themselves with the fact that they’ll leave behind their books. They will speak for us. They will let those who come after us know who we were, what mattered to us, how we thought and what we thought about. But while we are in our books, we are not our books, and so a time comes when we realize that this might or might not be the immortal mark we sought.

And that leads us to ask a defining question: What is success?

For some writers, it’s making the New York Times list. Earning a lot of money, having a lot of adoring fans, long lines in front of you at book-signings. It’s being treated with deference and respect by your publisher, your editor, your agent, your publicist, your writing peers, your fans, your family, strangers on the street.

For other writers, it’s selling your books consistently so that you have a stable income and can help out with the family financial responsibilities. Fame and fortune and adoration aren’t your cup of tea. Paying your bills is because it enables you to be at home, caring for your family.

For still other writers, success is hearing from one reader that something they wrote impacted that reader. Helped them through a hard time. Opened a window or door in the reader’s mind so that s/he saw something a little differently, understood something that before then s/he hadn’t understood.

For other writers, success is experienced not through the books written, or the sales, or the adoration of others, or even the recognition that the writer wrote. Success is in knowing that the writer made a difference in one other writer’s life.

And for still other writers, success has nothing to do bestseller lists, or publishing, or fans or other people. Success has everything to do with writing a book. With gathering ideas and thoughts and having the wherewithal and the discipline to sit down and to keep sitting down and sticking with it, start to finish, until s/he can write “The End.”

Many of us buy into other’s visions of success without ever exploring our own. We don’t stop, drop the images of others’ definitions and think and assess and determine for ourselves our own definitions.

And that makes achieving success impossible. We will never be content nor satisfied nor fulfilled living someone else’s vision. We need--and deserve--our own.

There is no right or wrong definition, only different ones. Each is valid. Each is worthy. Each is significant.

The human being in us is often too concerned with what others think. How they’ll react. How they will treat us. What they will say--in front of us and behind our backs. But when we focus on these things, we’re assigning our personal power, our innermost selves to someone else. To someone who can and will do nothing to carve our immortal mark; they’re busy creating their own.

So while others might judge and find us lacking. Might advise us based on their definitions and not ours. We must not relinquish that personal power. They have their own. This power is ours. In it we discover and determine what we want. And holding fast to it, we ask, How do I define success?

And then, if we’re wise, we listen...

Blessings,

Vicki

©2007, Vicki Hinze


Yes! Success! PART 1:
WHAT DO WE WANT?
Friday, July 20, 2007

CONFERENCE: GOOD NEWS

We often hear about everything going wrong. Far less often, we hear what’s going right.

So I thought I’d share a few “good news” tidbits picked up at the conference, and ask all of you who attended to email me the good news you picked up there. When it comes in, I’ll compile it, and post it.

Maybe it’ll help off-set the post-conference blahs and help us feel better about spending gorgeous summer days indoors at our desks. :)

Good News. According to the book buyers for some of the major chains, independents, and several book distributors, the genre is experiencing growth. Also, used book sales, which are growing (thanks to the Internet) are not believed to be causing a decrease in sales--they’re up!

Good News. Historical novels are on the rise.

Good News. Borders is increasing its shelf space for the genre.

What good news did you hear at the conference?

If you’d like to share it, please email it to me at Aids4Writers@aol.com.

Blessings,

Vicki

YOU HAVE ENTERED A BACKUP ZONE...

You’ve written 250 pages of a 350 page book and something happens.

Your hard drive is highjacked or infested with a virus/worm.
Your hard drive crashes.

You think, no problem, I have a backup copy. But it won’t open, and when you finally do it get open, it’s gobbledy-goop corrupted.

Your jump drive fails. (This happens when you’re creating on a laptop and the battery runs low, and it’s lost. You get gobbledy-goop and can’t retrieve the work.)

Your tape backup fails. (This happened to me twice, which is why I no longer have a tape backup.)

Your disk is corrupted. (This has happened to everyone who uses a lot of them at some time or another.)

The worse case I’ve ever experienced was a few years ago. My hard drive (on a PC less than a month old) crashed. The backup failed. The backup disk was in the same mess as the backup: unreadable.

I lost everything on the computer and had to have a new hard drive installed.

I had run a hard copy of the current manuscript and used a scanner to put it back in. It took three days to scan and correct the errors (I think I could have typed it quicker.) Anyway, I faithfully backed up every day:

To the file.
To a 2nd file dated that day.
To a disk.

I alternated between two disks so that either would be at most a day out from current.

Six weeks later, while still working on this same book, the new hard drive crashed. I lost everything. Again.

Fortunately, I had emailed a copy of the manuscript to a reader for review. She kindly emailed a copy back to me or I’d have had to reenter it again or have it done.

I learned a lesson. Multiple copies are warranted. Ones on your computer and off it.

I created a new procedure for myself and learned of several others’ procedures after they’d lost work.


New Procedure:

1. Save the current file.

2. Save a dated copy of the current file.

3. Email a copy of the current file to myself.

4. Plant a copy of the current file in a private folder on the web.

5. Upload the file to a private group at Yahoo.


It sounds like a lot of repetitive effort, I know. But it is not nearly so much effort as rewriting a book or spending time frustrated at trying to open a corrupt file, jump drive, or disk. Or trying to recover from a hard drive corruption or crash.

Been there, done that--several times. Creating multiple backups in various places is much more constructive--and on more than one occasion, it’s saved my hide.

Blessings,

Vicki

©2007, Vicki Hinze

VOICE: BREAK-THROUGH

I’ve been dividing my time, working on a lot of different projects lately. One project is a supernatural fantasy series. One is a suspense. One is an unrelated, quirky suspense series. One is a quirky romantic suspense. And one is a nonfiction spiritual book.

All of the fiction has common elements that are inherent to my work: suspense, a little mystery, a little romance. The tone changes to best suit the story. The voice remains the same.

It does in the nonfiction, too.

Which makes one think it’d be glaringly apparent that voice is our unique trait that we bring to the table in our writing. But that isn’t always so apparent to us. (Think can’t see the forest for the trees here.)

But voice is voice, and unless we write the way we talk--versus the way we think (before the censors kick in)--our voice comes through in the work whether or not we realize it.

This is significant to writers. Voice is the singular thing that separates us from every other writer and makes it impossible for anyone else to tell our exact same story. We make a lot of choices in writing. What goes in, what stays out, what motivates people to do what they do, the way they do it, when and how they do it. Voice is our salable commodity.

So our voice must be protected. We can’t allow others--including those very well-meaning and trying to help us--edit our voice out of our work. I see this happen a lot, especially with newer writers who haven’t yet found their writing feet.

But even experienced writers can be nipped by that trap. And even more dangerous to them, so far as being successful at selling what they write, they can fall victim to not matching their voice to what they’re writing.

This truth didn’t become glaringly apparent to me in my own work. I first noticed it by reading others’ work. Actually, I think I was judging a writing competition when it slapped me up side the head and said, “Notice this!”

But once I had noticed, it was easy to see the value of matching voice and content. Some of us drift naturally to it. Some don’t. Some haven’t yet discovered what is natural to them.

A writer has muscles in voice that s/he can flex. This is what enables some to write in several genres successfully. Or many eras of time and still sound true to each of them.

I write in many genres and voices. I have writer friends whose range starts at Young Adult novels and extends through suspense, through Chick Lit and into paranormal realms. This isn’t uncommon, particularly for writers who have been writing a while and have exercised those muscles so that they better control them.

Yet if you look at those writers’ bodies of work, you’ll notice that common threads exist. In my work, those threads are: suspense, mystery and romance. And you’ll notice that regardless of genre, the way I structure a novel remains constant. Not the story or the characters or setting but the bones--the structure.

So while the voice muscles stretch or contract and loom large or soft, the voice is intact.

The reason is I’ve overcome the censor and write the way I think. Bare-bones honest. Which means I can write in a way that comes natural to me and shift the focus (from suspense to mystery or to romance) to determine genre and tone.

And all of this is a means to make myself understood when I say that writers get into trouble is when they don’t write naturally, matching their voice to the targeted genre.

Often writers do gravitate toward writing books like those they enjoy reading. Often writers do gravitate toward writing books that are in harmony with their author theme (like I do with healing books. In all of them, regardless of genre, people heal.) And often writers gravitate toward writing their books in the manner other successful books in that genre have been written.

That’s all good. But if the writer does all that deliberately and makes sure that the voice in the novel matches the genre, then s/he has added additional tools to the writing arsenal.

As a writer, you don’t want to be exactly like another writer. You want to be unique because the world already has that other writer. It doesn’t have you. That said, you want your marketable commodity, your voice, to accurately reflect the work in its best light.

You can have a great book, but if you manipulate your voice to women’s fiction, then your content shouldn’t read like horror. Your content should read like women’s fiction. Or your voice should be manipulated to horror. The two should match.

I reviewed a short passage of work for a friend this morning, and this gem was crystal clear in it. A wonderful literary voice. Magical literary voice. But the content wasn’t literary. Such a shame. The piece was good. But if the content had matched the voice, it would have been great.

Reminders to us all to break-through!

Blessings,

Vicki

©2007, Vicki Hinze