Category Archives: The Writing Life

Posts about writing for fun and profit.

Writer’s Block: An Update

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More book reviews and a possible solution to my problem.

Back in February, I reported again on a case of writer’s block I’ve been suffering with and what I’d been doing about it. (Refer to “Writer’s Block Still Sucks” in the “Writing for Pleasure” category.) That entry reads more like a series of book reviews than anything else. Here’s an update to that entry.

I finished Noah Lukeman’s The First Five Pages and The Plot Thickens. I enjoyed both of them; they provided some valuable insight to fiction writing and publication process. Not everything in the books was new to me, but enough was new or expressed in a new way to make them good reads. And keepers. (These days, when I read a book I don’t really care for, I donate it to my local library.)

Another recent read that I didn’t even bother to finish before dropping it off at the library was Norman Mailer’s book about writing. I can’t remember its name. It started off interestingly enough, but then got weird. The play by play review of Last Tango in Paris was probably what put me off the most.

I never returned Pen on Fire. I can’t find it. It has been con-Celiaed. (That’s a double pun. Celia is our Mexican cleaning woman who likes to put things away for us. Trouble is, she doesn’t know where things go. So she puts them where she thinks they go, thus concealing (or con-Celiaing) them. It’s a double pun because con means with in Spanish. I can’t take credit for this pun — Mike’s mother came up with it. I’m not sure if she realized it was double, though.) When I find the book, I’ll take it to the library.

I started, but did not finish, Writing Down the Bones. Natalie Goldberg is a poet. I am not. I don’t care much for poetry and don’t want to write like a poet. I want to tell a story, one that makes readers keep turning pages. Not one that makes readers sigh about my perfect choice of words, remarkable rhythm, or incredible imagery. Besides, one big piece of advice Ms. Goldberg offers is to keep a journal and force yourself to write in it every single day, even when you don’t have anything to write. Stream of consciousness stuff and all that. I believe that kind of exercise belongs in a high school writing class. I think I’m a bit beyond that. The book hasn’t made it to the library yet, but I’m sure it will.

On the flip side is Robert’s Rules of Writing: 101 Unconventional Lessons Every Writer Needs to Know by Robert Masello. The book delivers 101 numbered rules, each explained in 2-3 pages. Rule #1 is probably what sold me on the book: Burn Your Journal. Rule #2, Get a Pen Pal, offered some relief for writers who need to jot their thoughts down somewhere after their journal has been turned to ashes. I realized when I read it that these blog entries are a kind of cross between a journal and letters to a pen pal. (You, dear reader, are the recipient of these letters.) I’m not saying the book is perfect — anyone who reads my critiques should know that I’ve seldom found perfection anywhere — but it’s got some useful information in it. I’m about 1/3 finished right now and read a few rules before bed each night.

One piece of advice I’ve read several places (including Mailer’s book and Robert’s Rules of Writing) is to stop reading fiction when you’re ready to write it. So I’m going cold turkey. That’s okay, at least for now. I just finished reading a ton of mystery novels and can use a break.

What have I been reading? Hillerman, for one. My local library numbers an author’s books in the order in which they were published. I started with 1 and got to 16. I can whip through a Hillerman in 2-3 days. Light reading, interesting locations, and the Navajo culture, which is quickly fading away, is/was fascinating. The main thing that bugs me about Hillerman’s work is the way he handles the love interests in his main characters’ lives. One character is completely wrapped up in a string of women who are wrong for him. The other character can’t get past the memory of his dead wife. I feel like slapping each of them on the side of the head.

I subscribed to a magazine called Bookmarks and go through each bimonthly issue for new authors. Not necessarily new authors, you understand. Authors who are new to me. That’s how I discovered John Dunning. The only unfortunate part about his mystery novels featuring bookman/detective Cliff Janeway is that he only wrote four of them. (Maybe five; I’m still looking.) And he’s old, so I can’t expect many more. The first and second were definitely better than the third. The fourth is still out on loan at my local library; it appears that someone else in Wickenburg is worse than me when it comes to returning books on time. I’ll pick it up in the fall.

(I don’t get fines for late books anymore. I’ve donated so many books to the library that I think they’re preparing a separate wing for me. I try to give them money when I’m late and they just won’t take it. I wish they would. It would make me feel better about bringing them back late.)

Megg Morin, my editor from Osborne, has recommended Nevada Barr. I picked book number 1 up at the library but never got a chance to read it, so I brought it back before it would be late. I’ll try again in the fall.

I got wrapped up in Holy Blood, Holy Grail. Now normally, I’m a very fast reader. I can get through most novels in less than 12 hours — which is why I don’t usually buy them. (Hard to spend $8 on a paperback I’ll get through so quickly and probably never read again.) But HBHG is a completely different animal. The book is excruciatingly detailed, with more history than the average person can swallow in casual reading. I’d been interested in the book since I read Dan Brown’s bestseller, The DaVinci Code. I didn’t think the book was well written, but it had a very good story, based on the second half of HBHG. The premise of HBHG is that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalen and fathered at least one child who escaped with Mary to France. The bloodline is the Holy Grail that the Templars and Priory of Sion were in charge of protecting. All this was in The DaVinci Code, but HBHG goes way further, producing evidence that Jesus may not have died on the cross and lots of other stuff that would really tweak religious folks. The book has dense type, no dialog (of course) and few headings. As a result, it was a slow read. I just finished it yesterday. Very interesting, but I wouldn’t want to debate it with a “born again” Christian.

Which reminds me of State of Fear, which I comments on in February. The book was blasted by a reviewer in Technology Today magazine (which I also recently subscribed to). And he wasn’t picking on Crichton’s poorly developed characters or loose ends. He basically said that the premise on which the book was built — primarily that global warming is a sham pushed on the public by environmentalists — is an outright lie. He produces several instances of Crichton distorting facts and misquoting sources. Now I wonder. Did he mean to do that? Or was he trying, like Dan Brown, to promote a radical theory through the use of popular fiction?

Now for the solution.

If you recall, when I wrote in February, I’d pretty much realized that my writer’s block problem was centered around plot. I hadn’t thought it out all the way and had no firm direction to go when I finally got rolling. I was also losing focus — a fact I realized when reading The First Five Pages. Finally, I had far too many distractions at home for me to get any work done.

The solution was threefold.

First, I went through what I’d written and ruthlessly cut out scenes and parts of scenes. I chopped 1/3 of the work’s length — 10,000 words — right out of the book. If it didn’t move the plot forward, it went bye-bye. (Bye-bye is an Edits file I use to store stuff I chop out that might be used another time.) I gave what was left a read-through and decided on a few more scenes that needed revision rather than cutting. I highlighted those in yellow so I wouldn’t forget them.

Second, I forced myself to sit down and write a list of scenes. It’s like an outline, but not very detailed. It laid the plot out in a way that made it clear how I needed to get from point A to point Z, by listing all the points in between, in order. Along the way, I cut my timeline down so things would happen quicker. Then, knowing that my outline would be an ever-changing thing that I’d add notes to all the time, I created a card file with large index cards, in an organized box. I have scene/plot cards, character cards, clue cards, and note cards. With this system in place, the computer-created outline is now dead and I’ll rely on the cards for all my notes and organization.

Third, I cleared my plate, made a hole in my computer book writing schedule, and left town. I’m writing this on the picnic table of our place at Howard Mesa, with the cool wind in my hair and nothing but my animals to distract me. I’m here for 6 to 8 weeks, working by day on a shed we’re converting into a temporary cabin and by afternoon/evening on this mystery novel.

If I discipline myself enough, I should be able to get both jobs done.

Flex Time

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I finish another book and prepare to take the summer off.

One of the best things about being a relatively successful writer is the flexibility of my time. Sure, when I’m working on a book with a tight deadline, I’m working 10-hour days, sometimes 7 days a week. But when there’s nothing pressing on my plate, my time is flexible.

Last Friday, I finished a revision to one of my Windows books. (I’m not at liberty to say which one.) Although this is usually one of my least favorite book projects, this year things went very smoothly. I think it’s because of the way I “attacked” the project. Instead of starting early, using an early beta that was bound to change, requiring all kinds of rewrites, I waited until a more finalized beta was available. This, of course, forced me to produce very quickly. The 500-page book has 20 chapters and 2 appendixes; the deadline gave me 10 days (including one weekend) to get it all done. I wound up taking that weekend off, due to a nasty cough and cold, but still finished in the 10 days I originally planned, just two days past the deadline. The project went by in a blur, not giving me any time for frustration. By the time I was starting to feel really burned out, I was finished.

The book is in editing and production now. The copy editor sends me, via e-mail, 2 to 4 chapters a day with her changes marked using Word’s revision feature. I go through her edits, reject the ones I don’t like (which are very few of them), add any requested text (normally section titles for cross references), and answer questions. Then I send them back to her. She cleans them up and sends them to the layout people. I get 2-3 page proof chapters a day via DHL and I go through those, checking for illustration cross-references and other glaring problems. I use e-mail to send back my comments to the copy editor. She (I assume) passes the info on to the production folks, who fix the problems.

(I got to meet the DHL guy the other day for the first time. What a nice guy! Reminds me a little of Larry, our old FedEx guy, who retired last year. Friendly and a real pleasure to talk to.)

All this finishing up stuff takes about 1-2 hours a day. I normally go over the proofs at breakfast, while I’m having my coffee. And since I can pick up e-mail with my laptop at home, I don’t even need to go into the office. But I usually do, for a few hours a day, because I prefer working on my G5 desktop machine when I’m working. I like to keep the laptop for personal stuff.

So after two weeks of long days in the office, I now have an extremely flexible schedule that allows me to…well, goof off. I’ve been doing helicopter flights (had to say No to an extremely lucrative one down in Scottsdale while I was working), hanging out at Stan’s Latte Cafe, and — if you can believe this — taking naps in the middle of the day. (The naps seem to be required these days, since the rather oppressive heat is sucking the life out of me every day.)

Although I have a few articles lined up for the next few weeks, there are no books on my plate until October. I did that on purpose, setting myself up for a summer off. Financially, I can handle it; the second installment of the advance on my Quicken book should take me right through the summer and I’m expecting a Peachpit royalty check any day now which should help things out. And payment for four articles is in the pipeline. So I’ll have enough money to pay my bills — including the rather large ones related to the helicopter — and cover my living expenses without working through the summer.

The plan, of course, is to go up to Howard Mesa. I’m flying up on Saturday. Mike will be coming up with the bird and the dog and the horses. We’ll do some work on our shed over the weekend and then I’ll fly Mike back. I’ll return to Howard Mesa to continue work on the shed during the day and work on a novel I’ve been wanting to write during the afternoons. I’m looking forward to spending a summer up there that doesn’t require me to be away all day long, flying at the Grand Canyon. I’ll actually get to enjoy my place during daylight hours and I’ll have Alex the Bird and the rest of the menagerie up there to keep me company.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be working at all. As I get article ideas, I’ll bounce them off my editor at Informit and, if she bites, I’ll write them. And I’ll try to write more regularly in these blogs. Of course, since there’s no Internet connection on Howard Mesa, it may take some time to get the entries on the Web. I was told that the Williams library is a wireless hotspot, so I’ll probably go down there two times a week to scoop up e-mail and publish blogs.

I’m looking forward to this summer off. If everything works well, I hope to do it every year.

Fifteen Years as a Freelancer

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I realize (belatedly) that my fifteenth anniversary of being my own boss has just gone by.

May 29, 1990. That’s the day I left my last “real job” and began my life as a freelancer.

The job was at Automatic Data Processing (ADP) and I worked in the Corporate Headquarters in Roseland, NJ. I was a senior financial analyst, moved into that position after doing my required 2-year sentence as an internal auditor. I hated being an auditor, despite the fact that I was very good at it. No one likes a job where people are constantly trying to avoid you. Hell, men used to run into the men’s room when they saw me coming, just because they knew I couldn’t follow them there.

I’d been doing the 9 to 5 (well, actually 8 to 4 whenever possible) thing since graduating from college in May 1982. The ADP position was a good one, with benefits, a good paycheck, and a clear upward path in the corporate hierarchy. If I stayed and continued to play the corporate game — pretending, of course, that it wasn’t a game and that I liked it — I’d probably be some kind of vice president by now. I’ve seen the annual report — I still have 282 shares of ADP stock from the employee stock purchase program — and have recognized one or two co-workers in those coveted top-floor office positions.

But that’s not what I wanted. Heck, I didn’t want the corporate thing at all. I never did. I wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. My family pushed me into a career I showed some interest in, just because it would come with a big paycheck. Accounting was (and still is) something I enjoyed, but I wound up as an auditor and got burned out before I could escape. By the time I’d finally achieved the financial analyst position and spent my days crunching numbers with Lotus 1-2-3, I was sick of the whole 9 to 5 joke and tired of playing the games I was expected to play to move up. I wanted out.

My ticket to leave came in the form of a contract to write a 4-1/2 day course for the Institute of Internal Auditors (IIA). Ironic, isn’t it, that auditing got me into the corporate world and auditing got me out. There was a $10,000 paycheck attached to the contract, enough to keep me for a few months. I asked for a leave of absence, was told I couldn’t have it, and resigned. No hard feelings, just get me out of this place.

My mother freaked. How could I give up my career to be a writer? Watch me.

To help make ends meet, I got a job as a per diem computer applications instructor with a New Jersey-based computer company. The rate was $250 per day — not too shabby — and, at times, I would work as many as four days in a week. I averaged about 10 days a month and that really helped to pay the bills. They called me when they needed me, preferring their full-time employees because they were cheaper. They tried about four times to make me an employee and I kept turning them down.

I finished the course, wrote another one based on it, and got another job as an assistant trainer for a Macintosh troubleshooting course. That one had a nicer paycheck — $700 a day for two-day courses — and I got to travel all over the country. One year, in June, I did six courses in six different cities. I remember riding in the Club car of an Amtrack train on my birthday, admiring a rainbow as we approached the Delaware River from Washington, DC to Newark, NJ. Although I was allowed to fly to Washington, I preferred the train and took it whenever I could. It’s far more relaxing and comfortable.

Somewhere along the line, I started to write. First some articles for little or no money. Then a few chapters of a book as a ghostwriter. Then half a book as a coauthor. Then a whole book at an author. That first book with just my name on the cover came out in 1992 and I haven’t looked back since.

I did some FileMaker Pro consulting work for a while, too. I built a custom solution for Union Carbide. Not a big deal, but they needed me to update it each year and didn’t balk at $85/hour, so who am I to complain? I also did consulting work for Letraset at the same nice hourly rate. That was good because they were only 15 minutes from my house.

The trick to freelancing successfully is to not put all your eggs in one basket. I never — not once in 15 years — had only one source of income. I’d be training for two companies and writing articles. Or training for one company and writing books and articles. Or consulting and training. You get the idea. There was always more than one client, more than one editor, and more than one project in the works. Before I finished one book, I was negotiating a contract for the next. I remember one day not long after coming to Wickenburg when I signed four book contracts. Four, in one day. That was guaranteed income of $32K within the next six to eight months. And that didn’t count the other income producing tasks I was doing.

For some people, it’s difficult to stop getting a regular paycheck. I don’t recall it ever being difficult for me. I do remember the second year after leaving ADP having a dismal year and only making $19,500. That was a far cry from the $45K/year I pulled in that last year at ADP. But things improved quickly, I got out of that slump, and have since brought in considerably more every year. I’ve been pulling in six digits for the past seven years, a fact I’m rather proud of. I’m certain that I’m earning more now as a freelancer than I would have earned if I’d stayed at ADP to climb that corporate ladder. And I don’t have to wear a business suit or pantyhose to do it.

But no matter how you slice it, it’s not as smooth and easy as a weekly or biweekly paycheck. Advances come four to eight weeks after they’re due, royalties normally come quarterly, consulting clients pay a month after you bill them, magazines pay when they get around to it. You learn to earn first and collect later. You learn to avoid clients who don’t pay promptly, no matter how hard you need the work. If you’re good, you’ll find someone else who will pay on time.

The freelance life is not the easy life. Not only are you constantly on the prowl for paying assignments, but when you get them, you’re working your butt off to get them done on time in a way that’s satisfactory to the client. Anyone who thinks they can succeed as a technical writer — which is what I guess I am — without meeting deadlines and keeping editors happy is sadly mistaken. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people out there who want the same job and all it takes is one who can do it a little better to get his foot in your editor’s door. I succeeded as a technical writer because I gave my editors what they wanted quicker than anyone else could, with a format and writing style that required very little editing or modification. My editors love me and, when they treat me with the respect I think I’ve earned, I love them right back.

By comparison, the cushy corporate job is the lazy way to earn a living. Show up, do what they tell you, collect a paycheck. No looking for work, selling yourself, and collecting.

Don’t get me wrong — being a freelancer gives me benefits that far outweigh those I’d have in a corporate job. No one is counting my days off. They’re not watching a clock, noting when I arrive late or leave early. I typically take one to two weeks off between books — if not more — just to clear my head. During that time, I goof off, fly, write blog entries, or go on road trips. Or all of the above.

But when I’m working on a project, I’m working long days, working hard in my solitary office. There’s no chat at the water cooler, no long lunches with friends, no personal telephone calls. Just work. I start at 6:30 AM and quit after 4:00 PM. Every weekday and more than a few weekends.

It’s a trade-off, but I don’t mind. I love it and couldn’t think of any other way to earn a living.

Last summer, I had the first real job I’d had since 1990. I was a pilot on a 7 on/7 off schedule at the Grand Canyon. I had to be at work at 6:55 AM and I worked until about 6:30 PM. Seven days in a row, with seven days off after that. It didn’t matter how busy we were or how much I was needed. I had to come to work and be there, all day long, even if there wasn’t a damn thing for me to do. Sometimes it drove me batty. I’d much rather sit in a cockpit and fly all day long than sit in a chair in front of a television. Some people liked being paid to sit around and wait. I didn’t. I hated it. But what bothered me the most was having to come to work on a schedule, even if I wasn’t needed. Such a waste of time. I don’t do that as a freelancer. I go to work when there’s work to do. When there isn’t, I don’t.

I suspect that I’ll never be able to work at a “real job” again.

But hell, I’m a freelancer. Who needs a real job?

More About Writing Software

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I can’t believe people can use this kind of stuff.

While on the topic of software for writers (see “Software Isn’t Always the Answer“), a long time ago, I was given a copy of Dramatica Pro, “The Ultimate Writing Partner.” I think I was supposed to try it out and say nice things about it in a column somewhere. But since I couldn’t come up with anything nice to say about it, I didn’t say anything. That was nearly 10 years ago. I don’t mind breaking my silence now.

Dramatica Pro is software designed to help you write. Oddly enough, it comes with three manuals, one of which is a whopping 400 pages long, to explain the software and the writing theory on which it is based. (To be fair, one of them is a book of perforated worksheets, which seems a bit silly to me, since you’re supposed to be doing all your character development, plotting, etc. with the software.) It also comes with a fold-out Table of Story Elements, which presents the database fields and options you fill in while working in the software. For example, in the Universe class, Past and Progress are two types; in the Progress type, Fact, Security, Threat, and Fantasy are variations; in the Security variation, Effect, Result, Process, and Cause are elements. Confused yet? I was (and still am). No wonder there’s a 400-page book to explain this stuff.

I never got any farther than installing the software. I know because I have no recollection of using it beyond a quick peek at its interface. And it isn’t as if I didn’t try. I just pulled the software out of my closet to refresh my memory (before filing it permanently in the circular file) and I found a plane ticket receipt in it. I obviously took this heavy box all the way to Kansas City with me on a business trip back in 1997. Kansas City isn’t exactly a hot spot. I’m sure I had plenty of time to play around with the software after work in my hotel room. Yet I know for a fact that I didn’t use it.

Why do you think that is? Probably because I don’t believe that I need software to help me think. And I don’t think writing should be so complex that you need a piece of software supported by 400+ pages of theory to get the job done. 400+ pages with subheadings like “The Obstacle Character Throughline” — oddly enough, my spelling checker doesn’t recognize the word throughline any better than I do — and “Psychology as Obstacle Character Domain.” Hey people using this software are writing a novel or short story, not a doctoral thesis. Whatever happened to developing characters, formulating plot, and writing? Do you know how much time it must take to use software like this to plan out a novel? Especially after deciphering the theory manual and learning how to use the software? And what struggling writer has $250+ to plunk down on a piece of software that can’t even be used as a word processor?

Does it surprise you that the folks at Writer’s Digest rated this software as “excellent”? (I have my own theories about Writer’s Digest, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good to present them here.)

Guess what? I just did a Google search and found that they’re still making Dramatica Pro. And guess what’s on the home page of the Dramatica Web site? “February Tip: Separating the Story Throughlines.” (I’m starting to get curious about just what a throughline is.)

What’s my point? Damned if I know.

Oh yes. It’s this: all of the classics of literature and fiction were written without the assistance of a piece of writing software based on a complex writing theory. If those authors didn’t need software help, does anyone?

Heck, we have word processors. They had typewriters. Or pens and pencils. Or — dare I say it? — fountain pens. Isn’t that enough of a technological edge for you?

It certainly is for me.

Software Isn’t Always the Answer

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I explain to a fellow computer geek that software isn’t a substitute for good writing.

The other day, I got an e-mail message from a computer consultant who writes for one of the magazines I write for. (Or used to write for; I haven’t written anything for them for so long I’m surprised they remember me at all.) He’d written a book about databases and he wanted to know what book proposal software he should buy to write a perfect book proposal.

Software to write a book proposal? Is this a trick question? Isn’t the answer Microsoft Word or some other word processing software? Is there such a thing as book proposal software?

I explained patiently that a writer didn’t need special software to write a book proposal. All he needed was (1) to know the components of a book proposal and (2) to be able to put those components into an acceptable format. If he could write a book, he could write a book proposal. With the same software.

I told him that there were literally dozens of books and articles about how to write a book proposal — including the eBook I’d written for David Lawrence’s 10 Quick Steps series last year. Don’t waste money on special software. Don’t waste time looking for special software that probably didn’t even exist. Just pick up a book proposal guide, read it, and follow its advice.

He e-mailed me back a day or two later to thank me and tell me he’d bought my book. How nice!

I wonder what he’ll say to himself when he gets to the part that urges nonfiction authors to propose and sell a book before writing it.