Listening versus Reading?

I haven’t done a piece on my writing journey for a while, but after something that happened last week, it brought to the surface an instance that annoyed me greatly from way back in 2011 when a ‘so-called’ reviewer – and I mean an unqualified person who advertised themselves as such in exchange for free books – 'reviewed' one of my books based on only having listened to it as opposed to actually having read it in the traditional sense; having her e-reader’s unemotional voice relay it, while, I imagine, she did her vacuuming or something. Don't get me wrong; I know audio books are popular; I just don't write them, but if I did I can imagine I'd need to bear that in mind during the writing process; make it listener friendly. How do I know she listened to it?  Part of her review made mention of how funny it was to hear the e-reader speak in Scottish vernacular where I'd used that.  Granted that would be funny, but to say so in a review as one of the things she enjoyed most?  Huh.  Perhaps I could have had a wheel going round and round for her amusement instead of the clever interaction of the characters that I did.

I said nothing about it at the time because I’ve learned from the writer’s site that I used to participate in through the early years of my journey, not to engage in conflict over the Internet – usually nothing good coming from that – but the situation from last week pushed me over the edge a little, and so I do have to vent at least a little – I mean, after such good behaviour online for years, I feel I’m entitled to a minor rant every now and then; gives me character (or at least displays more of its true nature.)  Lol.

But really, I do find that pouring out my occasional woe into the vastness of the blogosphere is like a tourist in Mexico pissing into the ocean; the acidity of a day drinking cuervo dissipates into nothingness almost instantly there as you go back to basking comfortably in the sun.  And talking of oceans, certainly this person’s ‘review’ from all that time ago has clung like a barnacle to the debris from Japan washing up on British Columbia’s shores right now.  Time to clean it up, air it out, power wash the crap away like they did from that Harley Davidson motorcycle.

Don’t get me wrong, her review was actually quite good, she enjoyed the story overall and even said that a certain demographic would love it, the content just wasn’t for her; calling it ‘man humour’ and slagging off ‘the so-called ladies’ in that book for having the odd audacious thought – which was, largely, the entire point I made in its synopsis (back then). She gave it three stars, which isn’t bad, and in fact balances the five and four stars there.  Yet, shortly after, I saw her rave about Fifty Shades of Grey; giving it a resounding five stars whereas the majority of readers have slagged it off for the poor writing, and where, rather ironically, I thought, she loves that the female MC gets up to all sorts of crude and lewd activity – from what I understand; the sample chapter being quite enough for this discerning reader.  What… because the book is more geared towards the female interest in sex?  But I can totally see why one could ‘listen’ to such a book; there is, apparently, nothing literary in it to get any juices flowing other than the obvious ones.

My point is, I’m more literary than most, I have come to realise that I need to simplify my stories for a more laid back kind of reading experience, and I can understand why many people these days are actually able to ‘listen’ to a book - from what I’ve seen emerging as the new norm – in that most indies are written in an amateur first person style such as Fifty Shades is: ‘I did this, I did that, I blinked… etc.’ Fine, easy to listen to, perhaps the only way to ‘read’ such stories, but when a writer implements deeper meaning, creates sentences perhaps intended for the reader to sit and contemplate, even re-read, then it has to be digested by the eyes to be absorbed into the soul; these are intended to put the reader into the story.  I mean, listening to your girlfriend’s description of some hunk that came by to take care of her dripping pipe wouldn’t be as satisfying as actually standing over that plumber while he was on the job now, would it?  Admit it.  Same thing.  But I don't mind; after all, I take solace and pride in the fact that my writing has been mentioned by notable people in the industry, a Poet Laureate, international best selling author over decades of the books 'Princess' and 'Growing up Bin Laden' among many others, Jean Sasson, to mention but two.  Why, I even passed with flying colours, the entry tests set by a company in San Francisco - Hyperink.

But back to the point of all this, recently I answered a call for submissions; writing 10,000 words in 24hrs because I only saw it the day before, I could have written 5000 but went full steam ahead, and long story short, the publisher loved it and is going to use it as the title/cover story for one of the anthologies.  The story was as perfect as I could make it in that short time frame, albeit in my traditional style, a tad complex, and one that many don’t, or yes, can’t, use, but the writings of H G Wells were given as an example of what was actually wanted for these intended books.  Fine, that’s right up my alley.  Usually I’d take weeks, months even, to pour over anything, but it was alright; the rubric said that first drafts were entirely acceptable as they’d be going through the editing process anyway.

So, anyhoo... after all of this, now in the actual process of it all, despite me putting the publisher in touch with a professional editor who’s agreed to work with one of the anthologies, what do I get?  A wannabe editor who’s taken some classes and whom immediately I worried would not be able to get my style after looking at her own website, and, let's just say, less than stellar writing in the samples of her own works there.  However, fine, I will go with it and see what happens; easygoing for the most part about such things; one is usually better with other people's stuff than their own work after all.  In the meantime the publisher sends her all of the stories he wanted her to content edit, mentioning that one of them was a story that another editor refused to work with.  She assumed, when she came to mine, that was the one he was talking about, no doubt because I didn’t use a ‘cat on the mat’ style of writing, and the way she referred to it and to me was highly insulting in emails that were probably never intended for my eyes; assuming that I have never written anything in my life before, and referring to my piece as my ‘little darling that I probably wouldn’t want touched,’ also saying that it was too old fashioned; that I needed to write for a modern reader – and by that I can only assume she means YA, or the lesser educated – which I don’t generally do - but anything more literary, out of her realm - and most certainly wouldn't want touched by her.

Although, in those emails she admitted that she'd only had her machine read it to her – bear in mind that this is a highly complex story, containing actual physics, backstory, deep meaning about the future of humanity and all kinds of other sophisticated stuff that was, quite simply, obviously beyond her comprehension; the notes she did make, even from the simplicity of the first paragraph, making it clear that she hadn’t actually ‘listened’ to it at all, saying that it was 'all telling' – something I do not do; well versed in various forms of exposition thank you very much, but misinterpreting the fact that it was written in omniscient voice and not the first person voice she no doubt expects or is used to.  I get it, they're on a tight budget; but the cost of having my work messed around with by a person like this, is far too high for me to pay.

The two thing she got right, was in saying, ‘she wouldn’t have a clue where to start,’ and that 'this could be a much larger book.'  The publisher wrote back to her telling her that he loved the story, which was why it was to be the title story, the style being what attracted him to it in the first place; that he completely connected with everything, the character especially, that she mentioned had no substance.  Hah!  Characterization is what I'm (semi) famous for.  As a result, the subsequent emails from her changed their tune even if they were now trying to save face; willing to work on it all of a sudden.  Hah!  No chance!  If he sent me her emails, then no doubt she received my choice words in response too; no way could she ever look at my story objectively now, not even by actually reading it, for that’s the impression she gave me about who she was – the quintessential mean girl who slags people off behind their backs and retains resentment, despite the initial sugary sweet and, apparently, helpful email she sent to introduce herself.  But further, while I am always open to critique and suggestion, completely welcome it; part of the never ending writer’s journey after all, I have come too far to have it thrown into the hands of someone less qualified than me who simply want to exercise their community college course training in their first editing job ever.  Overzealous, not to mention not trusting her own opinion; backtracking on realizing this was not the questionable story mentioned by the publisher.  But then, the point of this little rant is just that; I can’t help but feel many people who advertise themselves as reviewers and editors are no more qualified to do so than many writers out there are who have never taken even a writing class to learn the fundamentals yet blatantly advertise themselves as successful authors - and the mood I'm in I so wish I could name names right now, but will exercise decorum.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I really don’t feel an editor or reviewer should simply switch on a robotic voice to read a writer’s work to them while they go about their other business… doing the dishes… whatever.  .. when it is not in fact intended as an audio book - and maybe not even then.  And in the case of reviewers, such as the one I mentioned earlier, if the genre of the story is not one to your taste, then perhaps discern that from the synopsis, or at least comment on the level of writing as well, don’t just concentrate on the negative, the aspects of someone’s hard work that you personally don’t like to read; take the time to learn what a real review should be; earn your free lifetime supply of books if you're going to call yourself a reviewer.  In this case though, I really don’t mind; anyone who thought Fifty Shades of Grey was the best thing ever really doesn’t belong in the same circles as me; I can see why my writing wouldn’t appeal to her, and so have removed myself from her social media - and since, systematically doing the same with others as I come to see posts and statuses that have no bearing on who, or where, I am on my own personal journey, and, using the ocean analogy, avoiding that tsunami of irrelevant to me information that you see daily and have to cling to a tree trunk to survive.

Getting back to my 10,000 word story; I have told the publisher that I will not work with this person and that I remain indifferent about having my piece in the anthology if he has a problem with that; I will withdraw it.  My first hissy fit actually, and making me rather uncomfortably seem like a prima donna, because I’m not... truly I’m not; can look at my own work objectively, know what’s good and throw out what’s crap; I do it all the time; I love people more trained than myself to offer pointers and to critique honestly.

Where am I left?  He really wants the story, and has invited me to take the time, given the 24hrs in which I wrote this draft (thankfully now with the privilege of a few thousand extra words that will help me to simplify it, and which I know really needs done for easier reading in general as I can be convoluted, I fully realize that – but then, the very reason my work should be read and not ‘listened’ to - grammatically correct as it stands or not).  He suggests that I work with someone on my own if I want, that if we can get it to a publishable state then it won’t need to go through another editor – but even if it does… I welcome it; just make sure they’re qualified more than I am to judge/wanna change it; I don’t write half-heartedly; to coin a cliché, I put my heart and soul into everything I do write (and don't orate).  It would be nice to have that reciprocated by so called professional reviewer/editors - their resulting opinions, good or bad - but then, the people I mention here are hardly professional, are they?  I suppose we have to get used to that.

E-books too cheap?

I found myself writing a response to another blog that posed the question 'are e-books too cheap?'  As usual my reply ended up being longer than their article and so I’m posting it here instead.  But the simple answer would be 'yes, yes they are.'

There is of course a lot of ranting about this subject matter in my world - indeed done so myself here in the past - something, actually, that I can scare myself with, ranting, in terms of just how well I can do that.  But that kind of honesty isn't received very well in general in a largely passive aggressive society; does nothing for my online presence, so I refrain from it for the most part these days.  With that in mind, I won't go on too much.

There's varying reasons as to why books are so under-priced but it never fails to astound me that the level of work that goes into creating a (well written) book is so undervalued - and not least of which by the author themselves. 

What other profession where such high level of skill is demanded can be paid for by the consumer with only pennies?  It's offensive to me that people think nothing of paying $5.00 or higher for a cup of coffee that's been generically percolated in minutes - oftentimes more than once a day - and yet balk at paying $2.99 for a book that's been months, or even years, in the making, a product that can provide days or weeks of pure reading pleasure that can induce a better high than caffeine, or even accompany that if you're like me and totally addicted to the stuff - but something definitely wrong with that picture - the book thing, not the coffee; nothing wrong with that at all.

Even if you have written an amazing book that should sell at a comparatively decent price, unless you have the art of marketing down, and even then, you probably won't sell any more even if you do completely under-price - that's one mistake authors make all too often, I feel.  Make it free, in general, for whatever reason (and there may be some validity to doing this for promotional purposes) and many won't value it at all - in fact whole forums dedicated to listing freebies on a daily basis are filled with people 'over-frothing' their e-readers for the sake of it - are they really going to even look at a book priced at the outrageous sum of 99c when they have so many freebies readily available in the hopes that they'll find the odd gem?   Frankly, I'm amazed that books are even allowed to be free on an on-going basis by the distributors.  What else in this life is?... well... outside of all that insightful enlightenment you hear about.  And if some people are so unimaginative that they can't manage to find any of that for themselves... well then... they should have to pay for gleaning it from others who work extremely hard at depositing their insights and inventiveness in the form of stories.  Just sayin'.

Unfortunately one reason is because of the slush pile available publicly; authors feel pressured into lowering their prices, trying, and usually failing, to get noticed.  Why should the reader have to pay for your work when they can get something else for nothing, or next to it?  Yes, outrageous to have to pay for the months of very real slogging that a true writer undertakes to bring you a story.  Indeed, I hope the comic books are separated from the encyclopaedias sooner rather than later - perhaps when untrained writers come to realize that it might be easy enough to publish a book, but not so easy to create a product that's actually worth the time they spend doing that, that they're simply bogging the rest of us down, those of us who are serious about it; striving to be the best writers we can be, not just for our benefit, but the reader's too.  Surely to God that's worth the pennies lying around in your car's coffee cup holder?

Did I say I wasn't going to go on too much...?  Ah well.

Did you know writing can be a real addiction?

Wednesday 10.00am

My…. acquaintances… shall we say… for I no longer have friends, per se… can call me obsessive compulsive.  I’m not.  Just dedicated.  Usually finish what I started.   That’s supposed to be a good thing.  Right?  Granted they do try to counteract what is really intended as an insult by adding ‘…but in a good way.’  However, as I look around me, at my life, how it’s turning out since I started my writing journey about seven years ago, I think they might be spot on; I’ve let everything else slip… and not least of which, my physical self.  This is an addiction, no joke about it anymore like I used to say; I'm being entirely serious; the effects as potentially damaging as many other, frowned upon, addictions.

If I have a resolution - which I don’t normally make simply because it’s a new year - for 2013, it’s that I have to balance my love of writing with what pays the bills, what inspires me… what keeps the weight of my erstwhile slim waistline – which is kind of funny because I don’t really eat, never have… but the old metabolism, that used to beat any amount of calories into submission singlehandedly, has started to turn traitor.

I've been 'binge-writing' recently, been obsessed, had one of those bouts that last a few weeks where everything else goes to hell and time has no meaning.  The result... even though I have an ergonomic chair and desk, all the poise in the world, what feels like some kind of a hip displacement!  That's new!  I've found that kind of writing really is detrimental to my health: headaches, eye strain, tennis elbow, stiff joints, nodules in my right arm where it leans on the desk, weight gain (yes, despite the fact I don't eat) hair loss, baggy skin...  sore ribs... or somethin'... I could go on.  But that's all going to change; yes, this year I'm getting back into jogging and other stuff that will balance what should be my real life with my writing one much more fairly, much more healthily.

Today I have to do my taxes – an infinitely hated task that despite the relative simplicity of when I do get around to them, are seven months overdue - as reminded by Revenue Canada last week - a letter I’ve long since expected - insisting I file a return – and which I’ve resolved to do right now, today, but in my obsessive compulsiveness, well-versed in the art of procrastination with everything else these days other than writing - and especially when it comes to facts and figures - I’ve found myself compiling this article instead.  Yes, indeed, a true addict.

But I will do them; I don’t want to get up in the morning anymore and dread having to, because that’s the first thing that pops into my mind, and I am, believe it or not, a responsible citizen… or at least I used to be... when I was part of society.

My taxes are filed in plastic bags, the odd liquor store and Safeway ones, garbage bags, even - perhaps the writer in me; a metaphor for what I really think of taxes - and, in ink, the year scribbled less than eloquently on the outside before being tossed into a little office in my workplace that I don’t use except to hide things I don’t want to see.  If I’m ever audited, that’s what they’ll get; garbage bags and less than well-kept records that are, actually, probably to my detriment.  Yes, I am a CRAP businessman.  Hate that side of anything, even in writing… hate promoting myself, my books, hate having to do the marketing… all of that stuff.   But there comes a time you have to bite the bullet.  Today’s that day, and for all my love of sitting and writing, still trying to procrastinate even now, I'm glad I'm the kind of person that can kick myself up the arse before it's too late.

However, it’s struck me, if I were to put as much effort into my real life, my real relationships, my real business, as I do with writing, I’d probably be a highly successful, popular guy - at least in that weird way people used to be enamoured... or somethin'... by me.  I’d be slimmer, able to wear the fitted designer shirts in 'medium' from Italy that've been abandoned to the darkest recesses of my closets, the pair of jeans I've never worn, all of which, in lucid, occasional moments in the real world, have become but a pipe dream; remnants of a surreal memory of a more dynamic me that would go out of my way to do photobombs.  Not anymore; swiping away anyone's camera like Naomi Campbell to the paparazzi as soon as they come anywhere near me.

But that’s all going to change.  Yes, cha-nge, I tells ya.   I’m going to start eating again too, proper food.  Maybe I’ll lose some weight; 20Ibs and climbing over what I should be; shocked to see too (as someone who didn’t lose or put on a single pound my entire life regardless of my habits) that even a ‘large’ won't tell the lie effectively.  And yes, it may not be much, but I watch The Biggest Loser, that’s how they all start.

And so I feel I have been a bit obsessive, and, no; not in a good way at all - save your political correctness for social media - I see what writing is doing to me, how it's affecting me, snared me, literally, into its den, how my puppy looks at me, to say ‘oh, please, not again for fuck sake’ when I sit at my desk.  Don’t get me wrong; I know what’s important; he gets his exercise, and plenty of it, lovin’ too, but going to the park is becoming more of a chore than quality time for me, if I’m being honest, and even then, my mind teeming with clever anecdotes that makes me wish I'd brought a pen.  But that is the one thing that does make me sit and think about how much time I am spending writing, perhaps the catalyst that makes me come to this realization; for not only do I need to focus more on my lovely little dog, but on me, my old friends, my health, my business – which perhaps is in danger of being run so far into the ground that there’s an entrance into it from Australia, because I'm simply neglecting it in some ways.  After all, it is life, people, and the very art of living that inspire my stories; staying indoors writing for years on end, even as a highly imaginative person, is like never maintaining your car (which I also let go for two years until recently, used to do that every winter and every summer).  No, your mind needs ‘lubed’ as well, and perhaps parts of you too (get yours out the gutter) I mean like... aromatherapy... or somethin'... whatever, total relaxation, anyway.  A mental vacation.

I think I’ve come far enough in this never ending writing journey, for it will be never-ending, apparently, that I can afford to calm it a bit now, stop obsessing, take time out every now and then, because I think I’ve become quite good at it, yes; I should really focus on doing that – however ‘taxing’ it might be.

Wednesday 5pm

So, in the process of going through every drawer, every bag, every room at both work and home, I not only got my 2011 taxes organised, but my 2012 ones too - six months earlier than I need to, which should make up for the six months I’m late with the 2011 return, don't ya think?  But I did have a moment of panic, starting to absolutely freak out when I saw the piles of receipts and invoices before me, but then, with my newfound attitude, nothing else to do, methodically went through it all, and surprisingly, rather enjoyed it.  I’ll file the return electronically tomorrow, for I most definitely have had enough now.  However, in the process, I found two un-cashed cheques, one from my 2010 taxes from the government for $179,26, which thankfully I can still cash over a year later, and one for just under $30.00 from another company which is only a few months old.  And if that wasn’t surprising enough, two of a number of old lottery tickets bringing me another $40.00 when I checked them - so I'm richer by $250.00 just by getting myself organized... the universe rewarding me for making the effort to come out of the dark shadows of my writer's mindset?  Don't be ridiculous; merely coincidental, shows just what a CRAP businessman I am.

Now I’m off to have pizza and beer and watch the premiere of American Idol - the diet and exercise will begin after the taxes are filed; too much all at one time.  Yes, too much, I deserve a bloody break.

Here is an article on the very serious matter of writing addiction.

E L James

You know, I actually felt a little bit of empathy for E L James when I saw Katie Couric interview her about her Fifty Shades series in front of a live audience; what struck me was, that here was a woman overwhelmed by the ‘relative’ success of her book.

Love it or hate it, and I have to admit the sample chapter was more than I could get through because of the writing, but it was kind of painful to watch her try to be interested in talking about her book at all, in fact she spent most of the interview squirming, hardly did any of the speaking; guests and members of the audience, as well as Katie herself, doing it all for her while she swung her foot constantly, scratched her head and looked completely mortified while unable to answer anything she was being asked, trying to come up with clever automaton answers that were obviously feigned… like, 'Oh… I wouldn’t be able to say that on national television’, while Katie pushed for specifics about what her favourite sexual fantasy, and the like, might be, to which she finally responded she couldn’t come up with anything off the top of her head.

The truth of the matter is, as perhaps, most writers will know, the worlds created in our books are separate from our real one, we expose our inner selves through our writing, cater to our imagination.  Mostly we’re shy and don’t take our stories quite as literally as our readership can, and with all the work involved, can even become sick to death of talking about them without a sort of used up enthusiasm.  There were spurts of E L trying to find a comfort level; joking around here and there with Katie in that English way that she would do more authentically with her best mates up the pub; 'Oh come on Katie...' she cajoled about something a tad risqué that seemed to be over Katie's pristine head despite her wearing a leather dress for the occasion - which actually she looked great in.  And I don’t blame her; questions from the audience including asking her advice on what sex toys to buy and what shops are best to get them from, plus talking about her characters as if they were real people, like, 'How could he be so rich being so young?' & 'How could she orgasm, as a virgin in a way that women haven’t been able to do after years?', her response, evidently annoyed, perhaps having been asked a million times; simply, that it's only a story, she’s not a sex therapist, only wrote the book for her own enjoyment, jotting down her own fantasies, and then she said, 'I would just buy a tie' - which was perhaps the one good response she did give.  Come on now... it’s fiction, people... learn to discern it from reality; after all, all those writers who have their characters hacked to pieces don't go around doing that, others not actually travelling to alternate fantasy worlds where people have names that could be across between Welsh and Klingon.  Do they?  She even said at one point that she really didn’t understand why there was so much hype surrounding this book; that it only started out as fan fiction after all... but that's mainstream publishing for you; people do get carried away because everyone else and their dog is; the art of brainwashing marketing techniques obviously still rife.  Still effective.

  But I think what is evident, the hype, the thing that has come from this series, is a liberation of sorts for women to say its alright to speak about these kinds of bedroom activities openly now, the book simply a portal to that; E L James just happened along the way; acceptable to like something other than vampires now... and for many who weren't already doing it, the opportunity to write about their sexual fantasies freely for, from what I've seen, erotica, and or porn, huge amid writers currently.

Small price to pay though, I would think, for this kind of success, to have to do the interviews, and so, while I do feel some sympathy for her, at least she can reap and enjoy the benefits when it's all over, even have a platform to jump from now to promote her future works.  I think most writers would envy that.