Category Archives: editing

What is an info dump?!

What is an info dump anyway?

A story certainly contains a great deal of information. A writer must tell readers all about the world, the people, the technology, the magic, the murder, the mystery, the history, after all.

More often than not, there is a need to set the stage, so to speak, and normally, writers provide a prologue with all accounts deemed pertinent to the story’s setting, pace, and advancement, so how can such a thing possibly be a problem?

Prologue or no, many books today start off in the exact same way- dumping a ton of information, hence info dump.

Let’s look at an example of a story starting with the dumping of information. This is an original example, as they all are here on out, I wrote specifically for this post:

Lieutenant Commander Albert Swain was a career Navy man. He was tall, at six feet and nine inches, towering over his crew, and he was also a very big and strong man, as strong as a bull with seventeen inch arms, but what do you expect of a special forces leader who weighs in at nearly three hundred pounds? Apart from numerous commendations, he had a breast full of ribbons opposite his bright and shiny name tag, which read only: Swain.

Everyone looked up to Swain, and not just because he was tall; Swain had earned the respect of his superiors as well. In the previous war against the Cojul, a race of aliens with scales, long, sharp teeth, three mouths, and two anuses—one on each side of their heads—they were extremely aggressive and had staked a claim to quadrant delta for the last fifty years, but Swain and his crew fought against them for nearly six months straight, and after he watched his crew get slaughtered, he single-handedly commandeered an enemy vessel and took back the quadrant.

Vapid info dump; any reader of any genre has already given up on this tale.

Another info dump right at the beginning of a tale can look like this:

Ilteriel was a magical land created by the Gods for all races to live harmoniously. There were elves, who had long, pointed ears, beautifully faint features, and silky hair. There were gnomes, who were short people with bushy beards and sharp minds. There were also orcs, big, scary, greenish people, who although lacked the brains of the other races, they were very hardy; they could work for days and days without rest, and they never got ill, and then there were humans, too, who were a bit average, but they had the strongest hearts of all the races created by the Gods.

For seven thousand years, all of the races lived amongst each other happily. They shared land, and food, and culture, and customs, but then a demon came. The demon was a brutish creature, and his name was Malath, and in his world, he was a general of darkness. Malath came and found a sad human named Gunther, and he promised to make Gunther rich, and powerful, and happy. Gunther accepted, and for the next three thousand years a war raged over the land of Ilteriel.

Drivel, yet I defy you; go look at just about any novel released within the past three years—mainstream or indie—and you’ll find most of them start off in a similar fashion, but the beginning of a story isn’t the only place you’ll find an info dump.

Quite as often, there will be an info dump right before a scene, during the scene, or just after.

The dump before the scene usually dives into a great, descriptive block of text, something like you find in a textbook, except it’s about the setting of the upcoming event, a historical piece of information preceding the event, or even the feelings of everyone present before the event.

Let’s look:

While Mr. Ruiz ran chunky fingers through his thick, black, curly hair, he eyed John with a steely gaze. John felt uncomfortable, and he tugged at the collar of his white, collared blouse. Huge drops of perspiration dribbled down the side of his head as he tried to convince himself that everyone deserved a chance, especially since so much money was on the line. Besides, John’s wife, Celia, was pregnant with twins, and he needed to think about his family, but what about the families endangered by Ruiz’s activities, who was sticking up for them?

Terrible. That is one messy, convoluted, info dump. Readers want the meat, and they want action and dialogue, and dialogue is a great way to dump info without making it an info dump, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

Another kind of info dump happens after an event. The writer makes an attempt at making sure that the reader understands every, single, little, tiny detail regarding whatever transpired. Let’s look at the following:

Since Jessica had broken up with Tom, she called her mother. The wise woman explained that breaking off an engagement was better than a prospective divorce. Divorces had major ramifications, especially if children were involved.

Jessica knew her mother was right. That was why she had tested Tom by sending her friend to hit on him. She knew he was going to fail, but she had hoped blindly that somewhere, deep, down inside, he did love her. When Tom came home from work late, Jessica knew it was because he had been out with Sherrie, there was no lying about it, after all, she was the one who put Sherrie up to it.

Yes! We get it! Presumably, we just read the event. It doesn’t need to be recapped seven ways from Sunday.

So, now we know what an info dump is, and we have some insight as to why they’re bad; they either prevent a story from getting started, they provide information such as that of a textbook, which no reader wants to commit to memory as though studying for a quiz, or they provide a ridiculous recap of an event we all just experienced, when what we really want is the next portion of the story.

This begs the question, how do we fix them?

When it comes to the introductory, info dumping—if we’re dealing with novels and not short stories—I suggest using a prologue, but the prologue must be a mood setter; it must be a very brief account and should rightfully be a mini story in and of itself, and I’ll discuss prologues in further detail in my next post, but the prologue must not be a dry account of facts to be memorized.

The facts, if germane, must be introduced throughout the story and only when they are absolutely required. If we’re dealing with short stories or novellas, I don’t suggest using a prologue, but a simple paragraph or two—something clever or dark—can certainly set the scene and give just the scant, few, necessary details before jumping into the story.

If there’s no prologue whatsoever, and the novel just starts, that’s great, too, but it needs to start without a massive info dump.

But how?!

Let’s reexamine that first chunk of filth I wrote.

Okay, how about a little setting instead, huh?

Boots clanked over steel grating as Lieutenant Commander Albert Swain—a bear of a man—marched for crew quarters. The men and women aboard the USS Albatross nodded as he swished on by. He was so tall and broad they practically had to hug the corridors. Finally, the special forces leader reached the door. A sign next to it read: _Captain Decker_. Before knocking, the L.T. adjusted the ribbons proudly displayed over his pristine Navy uniform.

After knocking, Swain relaxed at parade rest. “Enter,” a gruff voice bled through the steel door. When the L.T. pushed his way inside, he gave the captain a salute. Decker returned it, saying, “It was a hell of a thing you did, commandeering that damned Cojul ship. Now, I know you’re still upset over the loss of those brave men and women, but, dammit, son, you single-handedly took back quadrant delta!”

“Thank you, Sir,” Swain grunted. “If I may, Sir?”

“Of course, of course,” the grizzled captain said before easing into his leather desk chair.

“I still see ‘em, the Cojul; teeth like sharks, their blue scales covered in Jones’s blood. The anuses, man, they got anuses on the sides of their heads. What kind of God allows such a thing?”

“It takes time, Swain….”

Now, which story do you want to read? Do you see the difference? Even without a prologue, the stage is set, and the actors are playing.

Every detail can be provided in an entertaining manner, and that’s what stories are supposed to be; a medium for entertainment. Whatever accounts there are to be listed should be ensconced within the story, and not the other way around.

The readers shouldn’t even realize they’re memorizing facts about the story; they shouldn’t even be aware that there are words on pages.

Next, let’s check out that fantasy world:

It’s so trite. There’s some back story, sure, but no story, am I right?

The Gods created Ilteriel, a world for many races, and among the races deigned to grace Ilteriel in harmony and accord were the elves, the gnomes, the orcs, and the humans. It was said that each race, though equal, had both blessings and shortcomings; the elves were certainly beautiful and magically gifted, yet they were conceited. The short people, the gnomes with their bushy beards, were an ingenious race, always tinkering with their machines, yet they were obsessed. Orcs, the hardiest of the races, toiled without rest, not that they possessed the brains to notice such a thing. Then, there were the humans, an average people, but their hearts; their hearts were pure…until one day….

It was said that seven thousands years passed on Ilteriel without incident, but a dark day came when the demon general, Malath wormed his way into the world of the Gods. He skulked, and he crept, and he hid until he found fruit ripe for the picking. There was a sad human shedding tears beneath the shade of a tree. Malath approached, a crooked smile upon his black visage, and he asked of the human his tribulations.

The man called Gunther recounted his sorrows; his wife had been accidentally killed by a machine devised by the gnomes, and so Malath showed the human how he was wronged, and how to right such a wrong; he taught the human cunning, and he instructed Gunther on how to trick the orcs in to killing the gnomes. Thusly, Malath began his dark rule through Gunther; it was a reign of terror that lasted for three thousand years.

That is a story, yet it lays the groundwork for whatever is going to happen in the actual book. There’s no dumping of information, but everything has been provided, and in an entertaining fashion, no?

Before grumbling, I am aware that I left out that the elves had pointy ears, but since the reader has yet to meet an elf, such a thing needs not be revealed, but let’s move on.

Next, let’s take a look at the set up preceding an event, and reexamine the bit about the lawyer:

John had practiced law for nearly ten years. He had been fortunate enough to represent people who were actually innocent, but this time, his new client, Juan Ruiz, was certainly guilty. Mr. Ruiz was known to traffic drugs in from Caracas, Venezuela to the United States through Mexico. He had been arrested in Nogales, Arizona along with half his cadre. While Mr. Ruiz ran chunky fingers through his thick, black, curly hair, he eyed John with a steely gaze. John felt uncomfortable, and he tugged at the collar of his white, collared blouse.

Huge drops of perspiration dribbled down the side of his head as he tried to convince himself that everyone deserved a chance, especially since so much money was on the line. Besides, John’s wife, Celia, was pregnant with twins, and he needed to think about his family, but what about the families endangered by Ruiz’s activities, who was sticking up for them?

A writer or editor must first know what event they’re setting up. In this case, I just want to organize the meeting between John and Ruiz.

Ten years was a long time to practice law. John counted his blessings that, to date, his clients were actually innocent men and women, but that day, he sat across the shiny, mahogany table from Juan Ruiz, Caracas drug runner. With an exhale, John tugged the collar of his white blouse.

“Ahem, so…Mr. Ruiz, the report says Nogales P.D. picked you and your associates up at two thirty on the morning of December ninth. Is that correct?”

The swarthy, Latino wasn’t even paying attention. He sat there in his black suit, staring out the window, but then he licked his greasy lips, let out a chortle of derision, and turned his steely, dark eyes onto the lawyer. A shiver ran down John’s spine; before him there sat a man who had killed on more than one occasion.

“Yeah, das’ right, so?” Ruiz barked.

“Um,” John faltered. He thought about the money Ruiz offered. He thought about it long and hard, and the fact that he had already accepted; he and his wife were expecting twins. What about other families…what about their kids? Am I really doing the right thing, here? It’s like the lines are blurred. “We just need to get our facts straight, Mr. Ruiz….”

Much smoother than the info dumpy version, right? We add a little flair, we throw in a couple of lines of dialogue, a few inner thoughts, and bingo; all the same information is present, at least the salient points, the rest is story, which is what readers like.

Finally, let’s view the last example. We had a recap of previous events:

Well, here’s the deal, readers feel like writers assume that their fans are dumb when they see this kind of stuff. Readers have been reading the story, so it isn’t likely they need a verbose recapitulation of events.

There are certainly times in thrillers and mysteries or later portions of a series when a recap is paramount, but one must be careful in the execution of the recap. Regardless, we’re dealing with the subject of info dumping more so than recapping, which I’ll discuss in a future post.

Let’s assume that this segment, this recap dump, takes place in the sequel, the second book of a story, wherein the would-be bride, Jessica, breaks off the engagement at the end of the first book. Recapping such a thing is a wonderful idea, but it certainly can be better executed.

Two months wasn’t a long time to be alone, not since Jessica broke off her engagement with Tom, a man to whom she was promised for over six months, and they had dated for a year prior. With a shaky hand, she pushed the contact labeled Mom.

“Jessie, honey, feeling any better?” the old gal sounded lively on the other end.

“Hey, Mom,” Jessica sighed, choking back newly forming tears. “Um, I just, I just think I need some advice.”

“Well…you remember what I told you; it’s better to break off an engagement than marry someone you don’t love.”

“I do love Tom,” Jessica interrupted. “I don’t trust him; that’s the issue.”

“Yeah,” her mom sighed. “It’s a shame he lied about parading around with Sherrie.”

Nodding and listening to the old woman’s wisdom, Jessica thought back to her plan. Neither she nor Sherrie thought Tom trustworthy, so they devised a way to find out once and for all; they agreed Sherrie was going to seduce him, and no sooner had they devised their ploy that he fell for it.

There was no denying it, when he came home late from work, Jessica already knew he had gone out with her friend.

It’s all about the story, the story, the art of providing an experience; writers and editors alike need to find ways to provide their story without dumping dry, sequential, accounts of events, and I can only hope I’m helping.

Why am I trying so hard to help, to advise? Because I enjoy writing, and I enjoy reading, and I love fans of literature, and I want them to buy books, which bestow a living essence unto their momentary escape from reality.

I edit and try to advise on editing for the sake of readers, but in my next post, I’m going to discuss the prologue, and I will be showcasing some of my prologues, so you’ll all have an opportunity to judge and criticize me as a writer more so than an editor, but I will be discussing why and how I edited the prologues, so I look forwards to that discussion.

For now, thank you for reading, and as always, please comment; tell me if you agree or disagree. I’m all for the sharing of ideas and their subsequent discussion.

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Structure

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Welcome back, everyone. Last time we touched a little bit on the words would and could, and how they make writing sound weak.

This time, I want to touch on something a little bit different, yet it is still correlated to weak writing. I want to talk about the overall structure of sentences and paragraphs.

Once again, I’ve delved into the works of a “Best Selling Author”. I put it in quotations because this is an excerpt of the first few lines of Gary Lindberg’s The Shekinah Legacy. This is another author who simply says he’s a best seller, and he even goes so far as to photoshop a best selling award label onto the cover of his books, but if you check his books’ rankings, he’s far from best seller status.

That said, if he chose to misrepresent his books, he may have achieved Amazon Best Seller; it isn’t difficult to do. All you need is to choose an obscure set of labels for your book, like Free Masonry and Christian Murder. Then, you sell three copies, and your book is a “best seller”, for two or three hours, but long enough to snap a screen shot of your rank, and then you can show everyone how amazing you are, calling yourself a “Best Selling Author”.

Readers, however, see right through it. Readers take a look at the first pages of a book, and they know right away if the author has the makings of a best seller.

Best selling authors have great editors to translate the author’s dry account into a wonderful experience. This book either lacked an editor, or Lindberg used an incompetent editor.

As always, I have provided the original, published work—just a couple of lines, which any lookie-loo can scrutinize by taking advantage of Amazon’s look inside feature—followed by my inspection and rewrite, and the reason behind it.

Let’s take a look.

Some day you will read this, my dear, and see more clearly how things came to be. I pray to God that you will forgive me for not having had the wisdom or foresight to prevent the tragedies that befell our little family, though the great sweep of history was against us, as you know.

Alright, that’s not a terrible opener. It’s only two sentences, and paragraphs are normally a minimum of three sentences, but this is somewhat appealing; we know that someone has left someone else a note. We know there was some tragedy, but what is this business of a great sweep? The metaphor has eluded me. Furthermore, it is my belief that this should have been in italics; style matters as structure is more than the just the order of words, it is also the punctuation we see, as that punctuation changes the voice and tone in a reader’s head.

You may remember that I have always been a compulsive note taker; perhaps that’s why I was drawn to broadcast journalism where my notepad and digital voice recorder were my most faithful companions. My notes are serving me well now.

Okay, the monologue was originally referring to their little family, right? Tragedies befell them and all that; but now we see something strange. It reads You may remember that…. which begs the question; how can such a tight family forget? Obviously, they won’t, which makes that first sentence a little awkward, plus it goes on to say that perhaps, that was why he was drawn to journalism. People usually know why they enter a career field, especially one so complex and demanding as broadcast journalism, which requires years of schooling and internships. Moreover, I don’t really know what note taking has to do with broadcast journalism; they aren’t really note takers; they’re investigators, who might take notes.

I have never had trouble finding the start of a story except for this one. The real story, I’m sure, began thousands of years ago, but it seems now that the best lead-in to our story was in Iraq, so I will begin there. Every good news story starts with a teaser to grab the audience, and this one certainly got my attention.

Wait a minute! Wait! Wait! Wait! Wait! We just read a moment ago that his notes were serving him well. What happened? Also, the word our, which is italicized, was underlined in the original work. On top of that, we’re getting so many mixed messages that none of this makes any sense.

His notes are serving him well, but he can’t find the beginning of the story, yet he’s sure it began thousands of years ago. It’s all over the place and confusing. Let’s push forwards.

I remember that it was impossibly hot and dry on that Tuesday morning in Baghdad. The wind had stirred up a dust storm so thick that you could stare directly at the sun without hurting your eyes. Everything around us was eerily tinted orange. It was like being stuck in a block of amber looking out. I turned to my cameraman, Curt.

Hold the phone, Sally. Just a moment ago, we were told that every news story starts with a teaser to grab the audience, and that this one certainly got his attention. What’s the teaser? What’s happening? Has the internal monologue—the note—ended? Are we in the story now, or is this still the note that the person is supposedly reading? If it is, why is the weather important? What is it like to be stuck inside a block of amber? Doesn’t that cause death? Looking through a block of amber, perhaps, but this is just bad writing, bad story telling.

This is not best selling material…but it can be turned into best selling material by a real editor. I’m not questioning the appeal, ingenuity, or entertainment value of the story hidden between the poor structure; I’m questioning the value of the poor structure, but I think I can patch it up.

My rewrite:

My Dear, I hope that you read this one day and understand how things came to be. I pray to God that you will forgive my lack of wisdom, my lack of foresight, the very causes of the tragedy that befell our family. The great sweep of history, however, is against us.

(My notes: I still don’t know what a great sweep is, but I’ll leave it as it may be the author’s personal touch. You’ll noticed I italicized it all, which I’ll bet makes it sound like it’s echoing in your head now, right? It is also three sentences long.)

You know I’ve always been a compulsive note taker—it’s why I was drawn into broadcast journalism—my notepad and digital voice recorder, my eternal companions. My notes are certainly serving me well, or they were…now I find myself unable to pinpoint the beginning of a story, a story I’m sure began thousands of years ago, yet all the details point to Iraq, so I’ll begin there.

Look at that change. We know they know he was a compulsive note taker. He isn’t wondering what pulled him to journalism, his devices aren’t faithful, as that doesn’t make sense, but eternal companions, and we see that his notes were serving well, but now, there is trouble. Suspense has been built. We can practically hear the deliberation in his voice. We have been pulled in.

I cut the line about the teaser. That sentence bugged me to no end because the teaser is never provided, and I’m not going to come up with one. A real editor tells his writer to provide at least one or two lines if he’s going to mention the teaser at all. Also, I added a scene break between the previous set of lines and these following lines as I believe the note he left behind has ended, and now we are in the story.

That first Tuesday morning in Baghdad was brutally hot and dry. Such a dust storm whirled through the air; the sun was shrouded by an orange haze. It was amidst a coughing fit that I turned to my cameraman, Curt.

We still have the orange haze, we know it’s hot, we know it’s dry, and it’s so hot, dry, and dusty, that he has a coughing fit. Now, this is real. Now, this is a story, and no longer a dry account of things. This is the difference between showing and telling.

Below, read the original. Then, let’s read the rewrite and see how it feels.

Versus

There’s a blatant difference in the quality of the two works, although they both insinuate similar ideas, the second version of the story reads far better. It is strong, assertive, and it leaves the reader no wiggle room to envision something else.

Thanks for reading. Comment if you agree or disagree. Share if you want.

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Woulda, Coulda, Shoulda

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I would go to the store if it wasn’t raining.

I could leave the house, but there are zombies outside.

I should fix the car, but I’m saving up for a boat.

Would, could, and should are what I consider if words; they imply, they insinuate, and they excuse or absolve one from the action at hand. Generally, they make for weak writing when they’re used in prose, and for all of you who often read self published, or independently published, books, you’ll notice that every writer uses one of those words in every other sentence, on every single page.

Sometimes, would, could, and should are great words. People do use them in dialogue. At times, would, could, and should work well in prose, too, but this is a difficult maneuver.

Since they’re weak words, or implications rather than assertions, they’re great words for either a weaker character, or they can be used to show deliberation. I’ll provide examples of everything in a moment, but first I want to portray, I mean, really get across, how different prose can be with and without those words.

I always like to take a look at the works of writers who claim to be best sellers. I often check their work, their rankings, and find that they are far from best sellers. Then, I look at the reviews, and often they have 500, glowing, five star reviews, but they have about a dozen one star reviews, and when I check them out, I can see that the one star reviews are given by angered readers, and the five star reviews are given by other authors.

Why are authors doing this? They think that giving each other great reviews in exchange for great reviews sells more books, and they think that reviews are for authors, and they think that they can trick people into buying a bad book, and sometimes it works, and that’s why the readers are angry when they buy a poorly written book.

Reviews are for readers, though; a reader decides that a book was or wasn’t worth their money, their time, and they want to let others know. Readers and authors aren’t reviewing Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher to help him sell more copies.

Generally, when it comes to reviews of indie books, there’s one chief complaint- lack of editing, sometimes called clunky writing, or poor flow, or they say it reads like a draft. Why? Why does this happen to every indie writer, and why are no indie authors spotting this?

Editors spot this kind of stuff. I say it all the time: Editing is not the same as proof reading, editing software cannot make your account of events more palatable to readers; you must hire a competent editor. Editors aren’t working for authors; they’re working for readers. Readers deserve to spend their money on a well written story, regardless of whether or not they enjoyed the plot, characters, etc.; you’ll never please everyone, but an editor goes a long way.

So, I have a short excerpt from Lola Silverman’s, Escorting the Wrong Billionaire.

Excerpts can be used in reviews and discussion, so I just grabbed the first few lines from the book by using Amazon’s look inside feature, a feature that readers need to use before they buy.

Kaylee opened the window of her apartment and took a deep breath. Perching her butt on the sill, she slung her legs out onto the fire escape. She hated heights. Thank God her unit was only on the second floor. Any farther up and she would have fainted dead away before plummeting to the concrete. (Aaron’s mental note: I thought there was a fire escape.)

Someone pounded on her front door. “Kaylee! I know you’re in there. I’ve given you three weeks on the rent and I can’t give you any more. Pay up or I’m going to have you evicted!” (Aaron’s mental note. Front door? This is a second story apartment. Is there more than one door?)

Yeah, hitting her head might actually be a positive thing. (Aaron’s mental note: Not sure from where this thought came. Who gave the idea of hitting her head?) If she had a concussion, maybe Mrs. Tobolovsky would feel sorry for her and give her another week to pay her rent. Except a concussion would mean a trip to the hospital—and that Kaylee could not afford.

Let’s see…five sentences in, would. Eleven in, would. Twelve, would and could. That’s four uses in two paragraphs, but what other way is there to write out this scenario? Do readers really care about would and could or weak writing?

Aaron’s rewrite:

Kaylee opened her studio apartment’s window. There, she sat, peeking out into the monotony of the world. Her feet dangled carelessly. While she didn’t like heights—the mere thought churned her stomach—she was on the second floor and protected by the fire escape. A sudden pounding drew her attention.

“Kaylee, I know you’re in there! You’re three weeks late on the rent! How many times we gotta’ go through this?” Mrs. Tobolovsky made her regular effort to collect, yelling and pounding, in the hopes of avoiding an eviction. “Hey!” She screamed, and followed up with another set of fists to the door. “I’m tellin’ you, you get your head straight, or you’re outta’ here!”

Yeah, my head straight, Kaylee thought. Rather than paying, she felt sorry for herself, her situation, and figured she was better off with a concussion than having her head straight. Unfortunately, a concussion came with more than a headache, it came with bills, and if she didn’t have rent money, she didn’t have hospital money.

See? The original phrasing was just awkward, and it didn’t tell us what we needed to know- Kaylee is in a jam, and she doesn’t have her life together. Instead, the original prose took us into and out of different perspectives and tenses, and with a weaker voice.

Let’s see, step-by-step, what changes were made and why.

Kaylee opened the window of her apartment and took a deep breath.

Nothing wrong there. It’s a great opener.

Perching her butt on the sill, she slung her legs out onto the fire escape.

Still moving along, but that’s weird. She slung her legs onto the fire escape? How are the window and escape built? Shouldn’t her feet be on the escape? Perching her butt…we normally sit on our butt and perch on our toes, like squatting. We know Kaylee is at home, sitting on the window sill, and with her feet over the fire escape…right?

She hated heights.

If she hates heights, why is she doing this? How far up is she? Well, we get a partial answer in the next sentence.

Thank God her unit was only on the second floor.

Okay, so she hates heights, but being nearly twenty feet up in the air is okay? Besides, she’s over the fire escape, which has a platform, right? Then, we get a weird addition in the next sentence.

Any farther up and she would have fainted dead away before plummeting to the concrete.

So, what do we have? What do we know? What is this paragraph trying to tell me, the reader? It tells me Kaylee is dangling her legs out from her window, and that she’s okay doing so because she’s not up very high, but I’m also told there’s a fire escape, and then I’m told she would otherwise faint and plummet to the concrete. It’s conflicting and confusing information. As a reader, do I want to learn more? I’m so plagued with questions.

Next, we have the following:

Someone pounded on her front door.

Alright, simple enough.

“Kaylee! I know you’re in there. I’ve given you three weeks on the rent and I can’t give you any more. Pay up or I’m going to have you evicted!”

Here, we have some dialogue, and now we get an idea of what’s going on. As a reader, now I’m assuming that Kaylee is a derelict, or that, perhaps, Tobolovsky is a horrible person. It is implied that Kaylee doesn’t pay her rent, and judging from the tone, this is a regular occurrence. Now, I’m expecting something to happen; there’s an opening for a discussion, or action, or some event.

Yeah, hitting her head might actually be a positive thing.

Okay, this is Kaylee’s internal dialogue, right? She’s having a rather strange thought from out of the blue. Who mentioned anything about hitting the head? Why is that a positive thing?

If she had a concussion, maybe Mrs. Tobolovsky would feel sorry for her and give her another week to pay her rent.

Well, that’s a strange a take on the story. Am I supposed to think that this character, Kaylee, is actually considering giving herself a concussion to avoid some rent? Why is that her first go to thought when the rent is overdue, assuming it’s overdue? I’m not really even sure that’s the case.

Except a concussion would mean a trip to the hospital—and that Kaylee could not afford.

Seems fairly obvious, but why is that sentence written that way? Why is there a dash? A comma is required. Furthermore, it’s evident, for those who live in America, that healthcare costs can outweigh the cost of an apartment, but if I’m not American, this is really confusing, and it’s confusing anyway because Kaylee must have access to all this information, which means her thoughts just don’t make sense, and why does she think, or expect us to think, or tell us to think that Tobolovsky might feel sorry and give her a break? If she’s injured, she surely won’t be able to pay the rent for that month or likely the next. It’s just baffling.

There is something here, though; we have the idea that Kaylee is a self-pitying, underachiever, who likes to make excuses for herself and not take responsibility, which has the makings of a great character if she’s made to overcome obstacles. That’s why I provided my version.

Kaylee opened her studio apartment’s window.

Okay, that’s the same opener, basically.

There, she sat, peeking out into the monotony of the world.

Ah, see, I gave her a reason to open the window and sit rather than perch; she’s looking out at the monotony of the world. Now, she sounds like a tortured soul. Besides, we know how people sit; there’s no real reason to go into it, and while there is a time for perch, now is not that time.

Her feet dangled carelessly.

That sentence further implies her angst.

While she didn’t like heights—the mere thought churned her stomach—she was on the second floor and protected by the fire escape.

I kept the fact that she didn’t like heights, and kept that confusing feeling of her odd behavior along with the fact that she doesn’t like heights; angst plus strife makes for a great read. Furthermore, the structure of the sentence flows much more naturally. We also know how she feels physically when she’s up too high, but we also know she’s fine due to the fire escape, and not the senseless idea of not being too high; if you’re afraid of heights, sitting on the second story window sill is terrifying!

A sudden pounding drew her attention.

I wrote this in this fashion to slap the reader from a rather tranquil, if confusing, scene to something alarming. You have the mental image that she spun her head to face the door in surprise, right?

I changed this whole dialogue block because the original was stock and somehow confusing. We were told Kaylee had been given three weeks on the rent, but not that she was overdue. Also, the reader knows Tobolovsky doesn’t want to evict. Now, I made the distinction. Furthermore, I didn’t leave it up to the reader to assume this happened before, I straight said it, and, on top of all that, tenants can’t usually get evicted for being three weeks late on the rent, and it takes a month’s notice to evict, so I changed the dialogue for a realistic feel, not to mention that the intermittent pounding sounds far more menacing than the original version of this dialogue.

Yeah, my head straight, Kaylee thought.

In keeping with the idea of giving oneself a concussions, I actually gave a reasonable lead in to this idea with Tobolovsky’s dialogue.

Rather than paying, she felt sorry for herself, her situation, and figured she was better off with a concussion than having her head straight.

Here, I explained it all. We still don’t know why Kaylee doesn’t pay, which adds a touch of mystery. Is she a broke student? Has she recently been laid off? Does she have a kid? We don’t know, but we are curious, and especially because she’s considering knocking herself out rather than forking over the dough.

Unfortunately, a concussion came with more than a headache, it came with bills, and if she didn’t have rent money, she didn’t have hospital money.

Again, explained, and all without implications. The reader now knows by way of an assertion: Kaylee has no money and while getting knocked out sounds worthwhile, she does know it isn’t useful.

When comparing the two versions, it becomes quite clear that the original version doesn’t even know where it’s going; the writer doesn’t know what she wants her readers to think, feel, or know. That’s okay, though, most writers are like this; writers provide a sequential account of events. Editors turn those accounts into a story.

Now, I want to provide some original examples of when would, could, and should are great.

“Hey, Bill, you busy,” John asked.

“Nope. What’s up, John?”

“Well,” John hesitated, rubbing his chin. “I need to go to the hardware store and pick up a new ladder, so I was hoping you would like to come along.”

Bill smiled and looked away. “I would love to help you out, bud, but my pick up truck’s in the shop. Otherwise, I could help you.”

This is a very real conversation. Now, in a more lively context, the words I would are usually written as I’d, but I didn’t want to pull focus from the use of would. At any rate, two friends discussing a project can certainly come across like that, and one friend certainly wants to help the other, and one friend certainly doesn’t want to pressure the other, so the words would show deliberation, and they are followed up by an excuse or a reason, so it isn’t weak writing in this case; it’s a real situation, however, we also know that neither John nor Bill are jerks; jerks don’t give a reason or excuse, so they won’t use would or could in dialogue, or at least, not this dialogue.

Let’s take a look in prose.

John would’ve gone outside, but the hordes of zombies were still shuffling around the neighborhood.

What do we know? There are zombies. John is scared of them. He wants to go out, but he won’t. He has an excuse not to go out; there are zombies.

This is a perfect way to convey to the reader that John wants something, but he doesn’t have what it takes to get the job done, and it’s very relatable, but we also expect, if John is the protagonist, he will get over his fear in order to grow as a character, and get the job done, and therein lies the problem; if would, could, and should keep following John around, we’re always going to feel that he’s deliberating!

Let’s see what happens when we play with words.

John didn’t want to go outside. Hordes of zombies were still shuffling around the neighborhood.

In this case, there’s nothing implied. We don’t think John wants to go out at all, zombies or no zombies; we know John doesn’t want to go out. We’re then shown that there are zombies still roaming around, but we have a totally different John. The first John wanted to go out, but was scared. This second John just doesn’t want to go out, then we find out why; he’s so scared, he isn’t even considering going outside.

Would changed absolutely everything, so there is a time to use it, but the writer/editor has to know what they want to portray.

Let’s look at one more example.

John didn’t go outside. Hordes of zombies were still shuffling around the neighborhood.

In this case, it is implied that John wants to go outside, and then we find out why he doesn’t go, but we’re led to believe that he will venture outdoors at some point, so we’re expecting something to happen, but what? We don’t know, so this creates a degree of tension, expectation.

In the end, I won’t say that there’s a right or wrong way to do something; I’ll leave that conclusion up to you, but I will say that there is a time and a place to use certain words, that every word has a special impact on storytelling, and that it is extremely important for a writer/editor to read the work as a reader, because the reader is not in our mind, and we must convey to them what to think, feel, and know.

Thank you.

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A single sentence

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Like a word, a single sentence can make or break a book. Books come in all forms; fiction, non-fiction, entertainment, information, third person omniscient, first person narrative, but the structure is basically the same.

A writer uses words to form a sentence, and the sentence is presented in order to define and clarify an idea, but there are some sentences that do the job better than others.

Last time, I made my point by showing how changing a single word in a sentence can elicit different imagery. This time, I want to show the first few sentences from an actual, published book.

I went to Amazon, and by utilizing the look inside feature, I was able to look at the following sentences from the introduction of Marion Gropen’s The Profitable Publisher: Making the Right Decisions.

The following are the first sentences:

Most publishing folks would rather have their teeth pulled than wade into their “numbers.” But, if you want to survive and thrive as a small press, you can’t afford to avoid the math. My aim here is to get you past any difficulties, painlessly. I’ve never found anyone who couldn’t learn this material. Nor have they ever needed anesthesia! You can do this. You may even enjoy it.

Where do I begin?

First and foremost, I want to point out the use of would and could. Both of these words make for weak writing. I can expound upon this for hours on end, and perhaps, for my next post, I will, but for now, let’s look at the core idea.

A single paragraph is designed to present a single idea, and the sentences within the paragraph are there to explain the idea in the most concise and cogent terms.

So, what’s the key idea, and how do these sentences make or break this book?

The idea is that with Gropen’s information, a small press can thrive. The insinuation is that a small, publishing press can’t survive without doing the math. Great, but let’s look at the first sentence.

Most publishing folks would rather have their teeth pulled than wade into their “numbers.”

First of all, this is a wild assumption. Second of all, using would signifies an if situation; this is not an assertion but a guess.

If people find themselves wading through numbers, they would rather have their teeth pulled.

Again, this is an assumption.

A better way to write this is:

No publisher enjoys wading through the numbers.

Then, why is numbers in quotations? It isn’t a quote. There’s no dialogue. I understand this is written as a first person narrative, so the author is talking to me, the reader, but then the whole thing requires quotations, and we just don’t do that. Furthermore, numbers isn’t slang, which benefits from an italicized font and not quotations anyway, but I’m deviating from my point, sort of; a sentence is more than what we hear, it’s also what we see, and the punctuation and grammar we use is used to provide the most direct information, especially in regards to an informative book.

This first sentence also dives right into the second sentence:

But, if you want to survive and thrive as a small press, you can’t afford to avoid the math.

I guess no one taught this author not to start a sentence with a conjunction. Did they forget FANBOYS?

A conjunction ties two ideas together, so, more appropriately, the first two sentences are a single, complex sentence:

Most publishing folks would rather have their teeth pulled than wade into their “numbers”, but if you want to survive and thrive as a small press, you can’t afford to avoid the math.

That’s the correct way to write this single sentence. The reason the first comma belongs outside the quotation marks is because what’s quoted isn’t dialogue, and needs to not be in quotations anyway. Secondly, you don’t put a comma after but. The comma goes before the conjunction. Now, I want to add that when we deal with dialogue, many of the rules go out the window, but I’ll deal with that in a later post.

So, we have instead:

Most publishing folks would rather have their teeth pulled than wade into their numbers, but if you want to survive and thrive as a small press, you can’t afford to avoid the math.

Now, that’s a big, bulky, clunky sentence. What’s it saying? It’s saying that publishers don’t want to deal with numbers because it’s unpleasant. Is it unpleasant? Maybe; let’s assume it is.

How does the following sentence sound?

No publisher enjoys wading through the numbers.

That says it all. It’s concise, it’s direct, it gives the reader no wiggle room; they know beyond a doubt, just by reading that first sentence, that working through numbers sucks.

So, let’s tackle the next sentence:

My aim here is to get you past any difficulties, painlessly.

I don’t know that here is required. Obviously, if reading this book, the aim is provided in here.

My aim is to get you past any difficulties, painlessly.

It works, but again, it sounds clunky.

How about:

Unfortunately, the math is crucial to a small press, but don’t fret; I’m going to show you what to do.

This complex sentence accompanies my first sentence, and it provides reassurance to the reader while reinforcing the original premise; doing the numbers sucks.

Next, the writer has the following:

I’ve never found anyone who couldn’t learn this material.

This raises questions; how many people have they taught, how many people have had trouble trying to get over the trouble of dealing with numbers, and if there’s no trouble involved in learning how to get over the difficulties of dealing with the numbers, why is there a whole book devoted to it?

Moreover, this sentence deals with something superfluous. The introduction originally stated that publishers don’t enjoy working through the numbers, and that the premise of the book was going to be about how to get past that difficulty, but this new sentence addresses the ease with which one can get past the difficulty of how difficult it can be to get past working with numbers. Did you get all that? Confusing, right?

Let’s just cut this sentence completely and move on to the next one:

Nor have they ever needed anesthesia!

Well, crapola; now we start a new sentence with another conjunction, which ties back into the premise that people would rather have teeth pulled than wade through numbers. There’s no need to reinforce a would be scenario, and since this is a fragment, we’ll just cut it, too.

Next, we have:

You can do this.

Okay, its’ a little positive reinforcement. That’s good, but why on earth is canboth italicized and bold?

Finally, we have:

You may even enjoy it.

Aha, but I may not enjoy it, eh? That just negated the previous, positive reinforcement, so we’ll cut that.

What do we have left then?

No publisher enjoys wading through the numbers. Unfortunately, the math is crucial to a small press, but don’t fret; I’m going to show you what to do. You can do this.

In this version, the final sentence breaks the flow of the paragraph, so you see how important a sequence of properly written sentences is.

A better way to write this is:

No publisher enjoys wading through the numbers. Unfortunately, the math is crucial to a small press, but don’t fret; I’m going to show you what to do. The following pages are filled with simple rules to follow, which will lead you and your small press to success. You can do this, and I’m going to help you.

Now, let’s be honest; which book are you more likely to read? Do you have a better understanding of the importance of proper sentences and how seemingly similar sentences can evoke totally different mindsets?

Thank you.

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A Word

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Most of the questions I’m personally asked are about specific details regarding the editing process of a novel or story during or after the writing process.

Today, I will cover the word.

A single word can make or break a story. How? Well, let’s see….

What if you read the word lanky? What image comes to mind? What if you read the word thin or wiry? Do different images come to mind?

Let’s look at a single sentence now.

The lanky man walked down the street.

What do you see?

How about: The thin man walked down the street.

Or: The wiry man walked down the street.

Different imagery comes to mind, right?

Generally, my advice to writers of all levels of expertise is to just get the story down, get it all down, get it all out of your mind and onto paper, or a screen, or whatever. Once everything is done then it’s time to edit, and this is where it gets complicated.

Writing the story is the easy part. Writing is really just getting out the sequential account of events, which transpire, but editing is turning those sequential accounts into an enjoyable story for people, and I assure you, readers read differently than writers, and this is why editors are a great go between; they read as both writers and readers; they understand what a writer is trying to say, and they turn it into something that readers understand.

So, let’s take a quick look at those words again. Thin, lanky, and wiry can all mean something similar, but a lanky person isn’t generally thought of as strong or tough. A thin person is usually thought of as attractive; TV tells us we should be thin. Wiry tends to connote strength; a wiry person is thin and maybe lanky, but they’re usually also a tad muscular, or tough, or stringy, and so all in all, each of those words brings unto a reader a different image, a different meaning.

Now, let’s try something a bit different.

The lanky man shuffled down the street.

This is different from a lanky man walking. Shuffling connotes a different meaning even though walking and shuffling are synonyms. Suddenly, a reader is locked into a new image; a man is shuffling, why?

It’s a common mistake that writers make; they choose a synonym only because they used another word of similar meaning on too many previous occasions. They think that because someone else walked earlier, they must use a similar but different word on the next passage, but this can be a mistake as it will make the reader wonder why someone was shuffling when there seems to be no cause for shuffling, which means that everything before and everything after the shuffling must be tied together, which is why it’s important to make these changes during the editing process and not the writing process; the author can then have a better idea of the imagery they’ve already introduced.

So, let’s take a look at a more complicated situation.

It was a hot day, and John decided to stay inside until it subsided. From his living room, he caught sight of a lanky man walking down the street. Whoever the person was, John didn’t recognize him.

Nothing wrong with the above paragraph; it provides the reader everything they need to know; it’s hot, which is why John is indoors, and that’s why he saw someone, who is lanky.

Now, a writer must consider many things; what happened before? What happens next? Why is any of this important? Is this a novel? Is this a short story? What is the genre?

Now, you’re asking, “What does this have to do with changing a single word, and how does it make or break a story?”

Well, buckle up.

If the preceding paragraph has already tackled the weather, John’s setting, or the man then it’s important to avoid being redundant, and changing a single word can have that effect.

If the following paragraph follows up on the man rather than John, the setting, or the weather then it becomes important to choose the right words in order to lead into the next idea, and again, a single word can make all the difference.

If this is a novel then a reader will want to know as much as possible about anything germane to the story, but if this is a short story then there are probably a great many things, which require no explanation. In other words, if this is a novel, the writer should probably focus on creating a more complex paragraph, but this also depends on the scene; will it be an action scene, or is it a form a foreshadowing, or this just a framing device to set up another chain of events?

What genre is this? Is this horror? Is this a fantasy? Is it scifi?

Let’s play with the paragraph.

It was a blistering day….

By changing hot to blistering, the reader has a different notion of how hot it is, but that word is also different from hot in another way; we can no longer continue the sentence as it was originally provided.

It doesn’t make sense to say: It was a blistering day, and John decided to stay inside until it subsided.

Until what subsided? The day? No, the heat, which we knew as readers when we read the original paragraph, so by changing a single word, if we don’t change another word later in the same sentence, we break the story.

We have to write instead: It was a blistering day, and John decided to stay inside until the heat subsided.

This first sentence has now taken on a whole new life. Yes, we still know that John is inside because it was hot, but now we know how hot; we’ve all experienced summer days so hot, we had to stay inside until the heat subsided. Changing a single word, which forced us to change another, has now made this sentence far more relatable and meaningful.

Now, let’s play around some more. What if this is a horror short story about zombies?

It was a hot day, and John decided to stay inside until it subsided. From his living room, he caught sight of a lanky zombie walking down the street. Whoever the person was, John didn’t recognize him.

Obviously, I changed man to zombie, but that’s not important because everything else is exactly the same, however, since the reader will know it’s a horror short about zombies, they expect to read a horror about zombies, so let’s change a word.

From his living room, he caught sight of an emaciated zombie walking down the street.

Whoa, emaciated is way better than lanky. Now, you say, “Lanky and emaciated don’t mean the same thing; they aren’t synonyms.”

You’re right, sort of; emaciated is a synonym for thin or skinny, which are synonyms for lanky, but since this is a horror, it’s important to use a more terrifying word that elicits a fearful image, and lanky doesn’t scare anyone, but is emaciated the right word?

How about: From his living room, he caught sight of a cadaverous zombie walking down the street.

Now, we’re on to something; cadaverous makes us think of something already dead, but doesn’t cadaverous zombie sound redundant? We know it’s dead, kind of, I mean, it’s a zombie….

Here, we have another case of a single word breaking the story, whereas emaciated made the story better, but it doesn’t end there.

If a writer really wants to tune up that sentence, they might try: From his living room, he caught sight of a cadaverous creature shuffling down the street.

Yes, a total of three words have been changed, but it’s a chained effect caused by changing that one word, lanky, and following it up to make a sentence more palatable for an audience, and more appropriate for the genre in question. It cannot be denied that the later sentence is far and away more horrifying than the previous one.

If all this sounds complicated, it is; editing is no picnic, and a competent editor has to do a lot of work to make a story worth reading, and it’s also why editors aren’t hired until after a story is completely written; we can’t edit without knowing what happened before, during, and after a set of events, and neither can the author choose the correct words, neither can the audience understand the writer’s meaning, but taking some time to understand the art of writing rather than just jotting down a sequential account of events will really help to make a story a far better read to the audience.

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Be leery of millionaires- a tip to indie writers

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You’ve written a book! Congratulations, you’ve just accomplished the biggest step towards a successful indie writing career, but wait; you’ve been published for six months, and you’ve only sold two copies of your e-book. You joined all the prominent communities on Google + and a plethora of groups on Linkedin. All the people you speak to say they’re best sellers; they sell several copies of their books everyday; they’re rich and only work day jobs because they want to. They make hundreds of thousands of dollars off their one book, and you want to as well, but no one gives you a straight answer on how to do that. None of those rich indie writers can tell you anything more than “I do signings at my local book store”, or “I sell dozens of copies every time I do a signing”, or “I just Tweet about my book, and everyone buys it”, yet there you are with your two sold copies.

What went wrong? Nothing. Those other people are lying to you.

Here’s the truth; you’re doing just as well as everyone else, maybe even better. Take a look at the math.

You publish one e-book to Amazon’s KDP select at $.99, which yields about $.35. If you sell one copy, yes, just one copy, every day that’s 365 x $.35 = $127.75 per year supposing you do sell an e-book everyday, which would put you in Amazon’s top 100 easy, and if you follow up on those other writers, you’ll see their book–or books–is somewhere in the millions range. That means they aren’t selling one copy every day, much less enough copies to hit 5,000 a year to be a real best seller.

Certainly, they may have 400 5 star reviews, but they get those by trading their e-book with another author, and each author gives the book a 5 star review for a 5 star review, an abhorrent practice as it makes readers think they’re buying a quality product when in fact it’s barely mediocre (always read the couple of 2 star reviews the authors have for a real look into how good the book is. Those are real reviews by real readers).

Well, gee, that does sound awful, but I don’t care about that. I want to know how I can make a living off $127.75 a year. You can’t. You have to write more books, yet to even break $10,000 a year, on which you still cannot earn a living, you must sell about 80 e-books every day, so if you have written 80 e-books, and you sell one of each of them every day, you can make $10,200 every year.

But those rich, best-selling, indie authors don’t have 80 books. No, they don’t, further evidence that they’re not telling the truth, and it’s this that leads me to question Amanda Hocking’s success, but I’ve written about her before; she has several traditional print contracts with imprints from larger companies. Even James Crouch has a literary agent.

I don’t have contracts or an agent. Why do people become indie writers if they can’t make a living, and why do they lie?

Well, crazy people do crazy things, and I’d like to believe that an indie writer can make it big. I’ve talked to some writers that seem successful, and I stay positive and force myself to believe that it can be done because I need to believe that a self made person can be successful, but if you’re writing in the hopes of getting rich, you better pander to the masses, hire a team of professional editors, and write the next big book-to-movie product or you’re outta gas. Indie writers write for themselves and for the fans, which means you need to release a perfect product all on your own and abstain from trading 5 star reviews with other authors for 5 star reviews. You need to get real reviews from professional reviewers, so readers won’t be disappointed in your product and write a revenge review- an evil review to deter everyone else from even taking a chance on you.

But that will cost upwards of a $100 or more! Yes, it will, so write for the sake of telling the story!

Now, I’ve read Linkedin posts about authors who travel the country and sell print copies of their books. Let’s take a look at the math again.

A print copy of a full length book–300 pages of a 9 by 6 copy–can be priced about as low as $10 from which you’ll only make about $3 after someone makes a purchase via Amazon, so selling those at one copy per day for a year gets you $1,095, which means you need to sell about 10 copies per day, or have 10 print books available and sell one of each every day for $10,950 per year. These authors, who are supposedly showing up at places across the country, talk about buying their own copies, traveling, booking a venue, and selling their books to people. The cost of buying your own books and traveling can be astronomical.

One author purchase of a print book is half of the price, so $5 per book if it’s priced at $10, which you then sell at $10, unless you jack up the price because its signed, so we’ll even say $15 per book. How many books would you have to sell to make up your losses; that is, the cost of buying the books, traveling, and booking the venue? While you’re doing this, you can’t work your day job, either, so how much are you losing there? If you buy 1,000 print copies, that’s $5,000 dollars! Then, you have to travel the country, book hotel stays, book a venue through which you can sell and hope that people show. If you sell all your books, which won’t happen until after you’ve spent years amassing a fan base, at $15 per book that’s only $15,000 minus the $5,000 of the books purchased, which is only $10,000 minus the travelling expenses!

Don’t buy into the guff! Please, please, please don’t buy into the guff. The cold truth is that most indie writers, ones who have been on the market for less than 5 years, are probably selling one book a month, maybe less. It takes a great deal of time, effort, and money to promote your book.

This isn’t meant to be discouraging, on the contrary, it should be uplifting to know that you aren’t doing any worse than anyone else. The trick is to keep at it.

Also, get away from promotions with KDP select, which prevents you from publishing elsewhere. In fact, you may want to rid yourself of Amazon altogether; check your sales and payments, and double check your Kindle Pages Read. I promise you, Amazon is stealing from you.

Buy 5 or so print copies and do giveaways on Goodreads, blog about your books, your writing, your life. Learn the intricacies of editing and sell your services to others, but for the sake of the readers, make certain that if you do do that (heh, do do) you understand what editing is.

You can learn more about editing here.

So, to answer your question; how can I make it big? The truth is that without an agent or a big contract from a major publisher, you’re looking at peanuts, but still, writing 80 books and selling each of them every day isn’t that daunting…well maybe it is….

Write because you love it, write because you have a story to tell, write because you want readers to enjoy a mental vacation, and all the while, hone your art. You should want to break into the mainstream world; there’s nothing wrong with that.

Stephen King is a big time writer, yet he also self-publishes his own books, and he writes from a small indie press, too. Do it all. Stay positive. Keep looking for new and inventive ways to market your writing. Do what others haven’t, but don’t listen to the guff, don’t get discouraged, and if you do find someone who says they’re doing phenomenally well, have them prove it then ask them what they did.

I wanted to copy Amanda Hocking’s meteoric rise to indie stardom, and that’s how I learned a lot of this information.

So far, everyone I’ve looked into, every indie writer that is, has not become successful on their own; they have had help from editors, publishers, agents, professional marketers, etc.

Today, everyone and their mum writes books and publishes to Amazon, and some people even publish through an indie press like Del Ray, but even then, even with a renown indie press, you’re still not going to see a book sale everyday, so it takes a gargantuan effort to be a youngish, quit-your-day-job, indie author, and if you are one, or you know one, talk to me. I’d like to see some real proof and hopefully a marketing plan because I want to make it big, too.

But wait, don’t some authors get advances?

They certainly do, but the advances from an indie press are somewhere between $100 and $5,000 dollars, and that’s cash that they have to earn back before you start getting royalties, so if you do get the advance, but fail to sell enough copies to recoup that advance, you don’t get squat after the advance!

As a final note, if you are an indie writer, please do your best to release a perfect product; don’t help flood the market with mediocrity. It’s bad for business, it’s bad for the indie writing name, and it’s bad for the readers. It’s these bad practices that send people running when they see the word indie before the word writer, and then they end up buying the mainstream crap that’s peddled today, and worst of all for you, when an agent or publisher sees that you’re an indie writer, they won’t touch you unless you can prove thousands of sales.

Be honest, be positive, and do your best. Thanks.

Amanda Hocking

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Ever get the feeling that something might be fishy?

Amanda Hocking is supposed to be the girl who made it big by self publishing on Amazon. You can see here she’s worth quite a bit.

Maybe she is. I don’t know, and I’m not trying to play down anyone’s success. I certainly hope she has made it big all on her own because that means there’s hope for all of us, but if you click the image above you’ll see her book is ranked pretty low…very low, and although she has 800 some odd ratings, there are no reviews on her book. Isn’t that a little weird?

James Crouch is another one of these “self made” individuals, and there’s no doubt his writing is amazing, but he’s not really self published. He has an agent and is published through Thomas and Mercer, which is Amazon’s actual publishing branch.

Yes, their books appear to be self published, but I have to call into question just what is going on. If anyone has any information to clear this up, I’d certainly like to see it.

I actually did some more research in the middle of writing this, and see that Hocking is published by Dynamite Entertainment. She’s also published by St. Martin’s press. This means that crap that she’d be losing money if she accepted a traditional publishing contract is fake.

I’m really sick of this kind of misinformation. I take it to heart, obviously, because I am self published and indie published, and people out there make it seem like these other big shots are, too, and everyone falls on their knees in amazement, but the stories about these people are as fictional as their novels. How about we all just be honest, huh?

Oh, and don’t get me started on J.K. By her own admission she was never living in her car, and no publisher will ever read a book handwritten on napkins–not taking away from her well-deserved success, I’m just pointing out that the stories that people believe are outrageous.

I bring this up because self publishing continues to get a bad rap, and I get it; all too often, a self published title isn’t properly edited, but then again, just as often, the mainstream titles aren’t properly edited either. You can see that in Lee Child’s writing.

If you’re a self published author, or an aspiring author, or even someone who wants to publish through a mainstream company, you obviously need a competent editor. Checkout these Editing Services.

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