Tag Archives: writing

Feeling Old Today


Feeling a little worn out. Maybe the stress of the house post-fire is getting to me, the grind of listing every possession we owned and trying to figure out what it was worth; or perhaps it’s the slight,-pleasant-but-still-present pressure of getting the novel ready to sell that’s pushing me that little too far. 

I have not slept well since the house fire. Not well at all. I am not normally a bad sleeper, just a night-owl who burns the candle at both ends. But these days I have to be completely exhausted in order to sleep. And I’m a little snappier and grumpier than normal. I’m usually a laid back, meditative guy, so I weirds me out to be angry at all.

Still, it is an exciting adventure, too. The house fire has wiped our family’s life clean of accumulated junk, and the insurance has bent over backwards to help us, so we expect that we will have our house back soon, just a little newer and with a better floorplan than it had before.  And I’m learning things about how to sell a book I’ve never known much about before. 

Overall, I’m a little unsteady, a little unsure of myself. Inching along with all the insurance work and plans for my next novels. But hopefully soon I’ll be back to full throttle. 

Agents and House Fires and Such

As a general update, Tuesday, December 10, 2013 was a freaking crazy day:

At 11:00am, I receive an email from Jennifer Jackson at the Donald Maass agency offering to represent my novel. My first agent! This is something I’ve worked for years (decades) toward, a major milestone in my writing career. And she’s a great agent and a great person too. So exciting!

And then, at 5:00pm, my house burns down.

Everyone is fine, even the cats, and doing well. We have insurance, and likely will be fine. And we are holding up really well. The fire was so incredibly hungry and swift, 5 minutes either way on the timing of the fire (or, worse, if it had happened overnight) someone would be dead. From first smoke to inferno was just a couple of minutes. Six fire trucks worked for an hour to put it out, and two ambulances and just about every cop in the city were on site. We are very lucky.

The rest of it is just stuff: furniture, clothing, books, DVDs. It’s hard to get upset about that when things could’ve gone so wrong. 

Jennifer Jackson, who now represents me literarily, has a post about it here. 

Yes, we are sad about a lot of things: pictures, letters, and keepsakes, mostly. We also had my  mom’s collectibles (a vast collections of collections, uncountable reams of autographs from any science fiction movie or TV show you can imagine, rare science fiction memorabilia, records, stamps, boots, etc.), and the insurance will not come close to reimbursing us for that.

But, really, we’re looking at it as a new beginning, a chance to rise from the ashes (see what I did there?) better and stronger than ever.  

It’s strange, we’ve both had problems with depression in the past, but as long as we keep smiling and marching forward and looking for the positives in the situation, it doesn’t seem to drag us down.

Maybe that’s the real secret to happiness, huh? It couldn’t be THAT easy, could it?

Still, there are a lot of things up in the air. We’ve never been through this process before (and hopefully we never will go through it again!), so the sheer weight of the unknown is a stressor, a weight on the back, all by itself. But we are filled with hope rather than fear, and that is the important thing!

A lot of people out there feel compelled to help us because it’s such a terrifying story. Because death was close at hand. We think we will be fine, and we are not asking for help, but if you feel compelled to aid us for some reason, don’t buy us blankets or crackers or juice (please don’t!).

If we end up needing help, it will be for unexpected things, housing overruns, or build overruns near the end of the recovery process, months and months from now. 

Our YouCaring site is the best way to chip in.

And since I know everyone is curious to see what fire damage looks like, here is my shelf full of esoteric books on Kung Fu, Taiji, Qigong, and Languages (everything from Sumerian to Chinese to Sanskrit to Lakota Sioux Sign Language to Latin to Cherokee, and many in between).



Deliberate Practice Writing Drill: Practicing Compressed Description

Deliberate Practice is the path to mastery: breaking down an art, sport, or craft into individual skills and training each of those skills independently.

Continuing on my Deliberate Practice Drills for Fiction Writing series, I present a drill designed to help focus descriptive powers.

Set a five minute timer (or if you’re really fast, two minutes). Look around, pick and object, describe it:

  1. Capture the look of it as fast as you can
  2. If you have to, instead of describing the whole object, focus on one detail
  3. Stories are emotional journeys; every object in fiction should have some emotional impact on the reader, so try to realize some emotional truth, shade the description with an emotive tone, or even personify the object.
  4. Keep it short, one sentence to one paragraph, and definitely no more than three paragraphs even for the most complex scene.
  5. Repeat this at least 3-5 times in one session.


  • This is not about writing a story. You do not need characters, setting, pr any sort of plot… Unless you WANT them ;) Be true to the paragraph. Don’t hold yourself back.
  • If you get done in time, feel free to go back and tweak it a little. Play with the words. But move on when the timer goes off.
  • It doesn’t have to be good. This is about practice, about learning. About developing skill. My example below I am torn about: Is it good? I don’t know. It is as good as I can get it within the confines of the time limit, but that is all.


He sits at his desk and stares hopelessly at the mousepad. The mousepad is him. Worn, faded, bulging in the middle. He remembers it once bore a Picasso sketch of a bull charging, but every trace of it is gone, worn away by time and stress like the man’s hair.

Advanced Tip

Instead of just doing objects, try doing the whole room or a person.

More to come!

Finding Your Voice in Writing (or How to Develop 2 or 3 Voices of Your Own)

“…and remember to believe in magic or I’ll kill you!” – The Magic Bunny

One thing I’ve seen endless posts on is “Finding Your Voice”, as if there is a magical voice that is yours — and one day you’ll just run into your voice and BOOM you’ll be a real writer with a real style.

First I need to be clear here. I’m not sure if this is a revolutionary view, but it is certainly MY view and I haven’t seen it anywhere else:

I do NOT believe that if you keep writing you’ll just accidentally run into “Your Voice” and then you’re done and the quest is over. In fact, I don’t believe that a writer has a single voice at all. No, indeed, I believe a writer has as many voices as he/she decides to DEVELOP, and each of those voices will be unique to the writer. 

You see, VOICE is a TOOL. Each voice is slightly different, sure, and each one has different strengths. That’s why having multiple voices at hand is extremely useful — each voice can be employed in a different story or even in a different chapter in the same novel in order to heighten certain effects.

Voices can be short. Brutal. Rhythmic. Human skin stretched tight on drums.

Other voices twist and writhe about and keep diving into different holes until you can’t see where they’re going in the dark tunnels of mind and then in one heartbeat they leap out at you and grab you like you’re a rabbit and shake you once, twice, thrice and leave you bleeding and twitching in the mud.

They can be anything you want. Quick, sassy, velvety, violent, whatever.

But all voices have two elements in common:
1) They are composed of words
2) In order to use one, you have to DEVELOP it first

There’s that word again. Develop. Why do I keep saying “develop” when everyone else says “find”? Well, first let’s discuss how most writers develop a voice.

We are all, to some extent, built in with a certain voice and a certain style. It is an amalgam of what we have read and enjoyed, mashed together with whatever you remember from English classes, plastered over with yours or someone else’s opinions on Grammar (Strunk and White, anyone?). The problem is this style we start out with (usually anyway) just isn’t good. Go back and look at your last failed short story, or — if you’re established now and none of your stories fail — go back and look at one of your early short stories from high school or junior high. See those stilted lines. Why are they stilted? What’s going on? Why does that high-school/college/whatever prose seem impossible to disentangle even though you’ve rewritten entire BOOKs now?

Why? Because the style/voice in that piece is in conflict with itself. It wants to be the way you talk and think. It wants to be the way Hemingway talks and thinks. And don’t forget your Composition teacher or your favorite SF writer or Strunk and White either. It’s a vast CACOPHANY of OTHER voices, all struggling to be heard. All drowning each other out.

Why does it take people 1, 3, 10, or even 15 trunk novels to finally find a winning voice? Because it’s a lot of work to overcome those voices, especially when you don’t know that you’re trying to write like other people and follow all these built-in rules. Struggling blindly like this, it’s amazing anyone develops one voice much less two or three or more. No wonder it feels more like you “find” your vioce than a conscious decision to “develop one”.

Sure this process works. Eventually. If you don’t give up. Plenty of writers have gone through the process and ended up writing well or even dazzlingly. The problem is, this is the hard way of doing it. “Writing Like Other People” is exactly the process of DEVELOPING voice, yes, but you can speed the process up.

Let me show you how.

Say you really like Cormac McCarthy. You’d like to write a bit more like him, adopt a few of his flourishes. Good on you, he’s a great writer. A Pulitzer and a National Book Award are hard to argue with.

But how do you do it?

Step 1) This is the obvious step. You’ll need to READ him.

Sadly, this is where most writers’ plans on developing a voice END. You read “The Road”, “Blood Meridian”, and “All the Pretty Horses”, and think “Well, I hope that rubbed off.” But strangely, it doesn’t seem to work. So maybe you read again and again (pleasant but not strictly necessary). This is similar to brute-forcing your way into a password-protected computer. Hard, brutal, and it may eventually work, but it will take time.

Step 2) Define WHAT YOU LIKE about him.

In this step you are defining to yourself EXACTLY what you like about the author. This equates almost precisely with WHAT YOU WANT TO LEARN from the author.

Me, I like the lack of commas and apostrophes and quotation marks. To me, the streamlined prose falls straight into my brain faster and with less effort without all the noise. You may HATE this, though. If you do, don’t put it on your list. Me, I also like his use of “and” to connect long lists of very simple sentences in All the Pretty Horse. I love his vast vistas that yank directly at your soul in Blood Meridian. I like his short, terse, chopped up prose in The Road. I like his images that burn like fire in your mind.

Your list might be COMPLETELY DIFFERENT than mine. That’s okay. We might like him for different reasons, but that’s why you do this:

So you can figure out what you need to focus on.

Step 3) Figure out HOW your author does the things you like.

This is the hard part. Sometimes you have to call in friends or relatives or even other writers to look at a passage and help you noodle HOW or WHY this unexpected sentence works or how he crafts this particular list of images. Where are the roots of them? How does he marry the words syntactically?

Like I said, this can be pretty hard, but all you need is one to three bullet points to keep in mind about any stylistic element.

Step 4) Write an inspired piece. Preferably three. And then try it on a novel or a novella to let it really sink in. (This is, like step 1, is something that many writers do, but without steps 2 and 3 it usually falls apart or reverts to your previous voice.)

Sounds simple, right? I’ve been reading McCarthy, so I should write a Western. Actually — no. I don’t recommend that at all. I actually recommend taking elements from TWO DIFFERENT WRITERS and doing your best to mash them up. That way you don’t get too trapped in one author’s vein. That way YOU can take the elements and make them YOURS.

An example, my short story “Teddy Bears and Tea Parties” ( http://www.amazon.com/Teddy-Bears-Tea-Parties-Horror-ebook/dp/B005H5AI5U ) was my second attempt at mixing McCarthy’s style from The Road with Paul Jessup’s blend of surrealism and postmodernism. It sold to ChiZine. I did three stories in this vein, each in a different setting and working on different elements of voice and theme, and of them #1 sucks and is trunked and #3 is still making the rounds and seems to get me more personalized rejections and “please-submit-again”s than any other story. Still, it may never get published. But that’s okay. All three of these were experiments, and I learned staggering amounts from each of them.

Step 5) Do it again if you want to. There is always something to learn out there. Melville’s ability to send shuddering meaning into even the whizz and smoke of a rope. Chabon’s ability to express the entire history of a tenement building that has nothing to do with the plot and still keep you hooked.

After all, these are your saws and your lathes. Keep them sharp!

Novels, Old and New – and Doubts

I’ve been plugging away at my novels, up to 16k words on the new novel, a Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon-style adventure that uses Tai Chi Chu’an (Taijiquan) as a central element.

I’ve also been getting a reader to plow through my Great Depression-Era Range War/Western novel; when feedback is in from that, I will send it to an agent.

Writing-wise I am consistently, if slowly, scrimshawing out words. Submission- and agent-wise I am in the doldrums, drifting about the ocean sails-up with no wind in sight.

I don’t think there’s such a thing as a writer without self-doubt gnawing at his/her bones. The current, devouring ones for me:

1) If I sell both books, can I really get away with jumping genres so wildly?

2) I don’t seem to write as cleanly or as muscularly as I used to. Will I ever be as skilled again with words?

3) The current novel looks like it will be huge, and the themes are very scattered. Am I skilled enough to pull it off? Will I have to go back and do a rewrite, mid-draft, to keep making forward progress?

4) Will I ever successfully write a sequel to anything?

On: Seeing a Field For the First Time

When you look at a field, what do you see? Do you see “green” or “grass” or even just “field”? If so, you’re not really looking.

I am looking at one now, and I see at least five to ten different shades of green, at least 3 different shades of tan and brown, and everything bit of grass, living or dead, at a different length. Even grasses of the same species look unique. They clump together, run in strips or curves, and the leave huge open spaces. Fate and randomness has textured like the rind of an orange.

This field was once a building, a vast warehouse, and the foundation of it is still there underneath, and there are tiny bits of rubble just beyond sight, The bulldozers scraped the whole surface clean once, long ago, and so the field always looks like it has been plowed for crops and then overgrown even though it has never been plowed before.

But what really amazes me are the bushes. You don’t even see them when you look at this place at first — you look and you see “field” and that’s all, and all the bushes disappear from your eyes because you see a category, a shape, an abstract object instead of the thing itself. It is cruel and heartless dominance of the abstract over the real.

Really, it’s like Plato and Aristotle had it all backward, that the abstract, perfect world of “forms” is not a thing beyond or behind reality, but an instinctive creation of the mind, a simplification that the brain resorts to in order to be able to process all of the data and sort it and organize it in a useful way. The “shadows on the wall of a cave” are not the physical world at all, but the cognitive system of grouping, classification, and ordering that our mind uses to construct meaning.

Reality is always complex, textured, nuanced, with layers of history right there, visible under the surface, between the bushes and the blades of grass, but the mind cannot handle all of this information at once. It is too much. It is not useful, not relevant to survival or thriving, and it is discarded. And that is the way it should be. Usually. But sometimes you need to turn that filter off, and you need to see what is actually in front of your eyes. In detail.

Because sometimes the “perfect form” is not enough.
Because sometimes you need the truth, with all its various shades.
Because… sometimes… the world is beautiful.

Building a Kickass Story Premise: A Checklist

I discussed recently that an outline isn’t enough — an outline is a plot, sure, but you need a kickass PREMISE for the story to be good.

You make your premise before or after you start your plot outline. Really, it’s all about your personal style. I kind of waffle — I have a general idea of what I want to right about.

Before I plot, I have a loose idea of setting, some very rough ideas of characters, and a controlling image, but nothing solid. Sometimes I have a scene or two that came out of nowhere as a seed. But I’m not “married” to any of it — none of its locked down.

Everything can change.

Once I have a very skeletal plot that makes sense, I start fleshing it out an analyzing it.

(Disclaimer: Remember, this is a new process to me, so it is not finely honed, and, since I haven’t sold a book yet, there’s no evidence that it works. HOWEVER, I *do* know that it sure does FEEL a lot easier, and I feel like the book — and even an entire trilogy — is a manageable enterprise with no real fear of spinning out of control, and I’ve never felt that way before.)

Section I: Analyze the idea

1) Is the plot solid, interesting?

a) Does it FEEL right?

b) Is it the story you wanted to tell? (This is your gut. I’m sorry. I can’t fix your instincts, that’s up to you.)

c) Does it seem to hold together?

2) Now look at the Setting:

a) Is it unique, charming, terrifying, or at least somewhat interesting? We don’t need pages of description here, or even paragraphs of it, but we definitely do NOT want the world to be have white walls or be a vacuum with no detail.

b) Is the setting just way too far out there/silly for anyone to believe? If so, it’s not going to work.

c) Is there something familiar enough about the setting for people to sink their teeth into, or your risk kicking them out. Is it familiar?

d) Is it original? It better have something unique, or at least flavorful to it.

3) Who are these characters anyway? Start building them — this is character work, guys, if you can’t do this, then look up some articles or books on it, I don’t have room to discuss it here. Characters are a topic that can go on forever, but here’s a basic checklist:

a) Figure out what your Villain and Protagonist REALLY WANT

b) Figure out what they REALLY DON’T WANT

4) Conflict — see 3a and 3b above? Where those collide, you have conflict.

a) Check your conflicts and make sure your story is about your conflicts. If not, something is way off.

b) Look for extra conflicts to use as subplots or additional items.

Section II: Make it stronger. Increase the stakes!

1) What’s on the line for the main character:

a) Physically (physical stakes ain’t enough!)

b) Emotionally (what does she love? What does she hate? How can you use this to threaten or push around your character?)

c) Morally (yes, MORALLY – moral stakes are important, please refer to Donald Maas’ “Writing the Brekout Novel” for a more detailed explanation)

You don’t need all of these stakes, but having multiple things at stake sure does ratchet up the tension.

2) Now think:

a) How do I make the stakes HIGHER?

c) How do I make them hurt more?

c) How do I twist the knife?

Yes, it’s about being cruel to the characters. Areas to mine for increased stakes: Relationships, personal respect/reputation, the welfare of innocents that depend on the character, etc.

3) Remember, there must be HOPE too! Some people go too far down the road of torturing their characters. There must always be hope in a story as well, especially in a tragedy. It’s the hope that keeps us reading, that keeps the reader engaged.

The BIG IDEA is really all about narrowing down your idea, focusing in on what’s at stake for the characters, and then making those stakes higher.

General rules:

Amplify. Make it all bigger – the characters, the stakes, the setting. As long as it doesn’t get ridiculous, you’re okay. And if you’re writing comedy, a little “ridiculosity” can work too.

Be cruel to your characters, but always make sure there is hope as well.

The Quest for Plot, Part 4: My Current Plotting Solution

As I said, I am still in the middle of fixing my lack-of-plot, but I recently had a pretty convincing “light bulb turning on” moment. I watched a series of videos, and took copious notes, and, somewhere between listening and writing it all down, a connection was finally made in my head.

For the first time in my life, PLOTTING WITH AN OUTLINE MADE SENSE.

Now, you have to realize, it never had before. Even when I plotted my first novel before I wrote anything, it was slipshod plotting — I shot-gunned out every possible conflict based on the personalities of the different characters and sorted them out into some sort of logical order. (Yeah, I told you it was painful enough I would never do it again — now you know why.)

The thing about the system is it’s not even Dan’s. He lifted it from a Star Trek: The Role Playing Game Administrator’s Guide.

But it’s still really good.


Here it is below, but changed a little (I’ve modified his terminology to fit with ther terminology I was trained to use in Lit class — except for the word “pinch” — I really like his use of that word, and I’ll keep it):

1) Setup — introducing Protagonist and, usually, the problem

2) Turning Point 1 — Call to adventure, finding out Protagonist may be special (a jedi, a wizard), or other first steps down the Protagonist’s journey, whatever it is.

3) “Pinch” 1 — Something goes wrong/something bad happens to squeeze the Protagonist, forcing them to change.

4) Midpoint/Commitment of Protagonist — Protagonist finds out the truth about the Antagonist (this could even be nature or self, in other conflict types), swears to overcome Antagonist

5) “Pinch” 2 — Everything goes wrong, defeat looks inevitable

6) Turning Point 2 — Protagonist finds a way to overcome the problem. Sometimes this is ingenuity (MacGyver, Sherlock Holmes), sometimes this is finding the power within (Use the Force, Luke), sometimes this is the “power of true love” (Princess Bride, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone), etc.

7) Climax/Resolution — This is not your falling action. This is the end result of the big showdown where the Antagonist is defeated/world is saved (or in a tragedy, where the main character dies — whatever floats your boat). In simplest terms, does your Protagonist win or lose?

NOTE: The first thing you’ll see is I’ve only talked about happy endings, and kind of only about hero’s journey, adventure novels. That’s okay. Dan Wells uses the system to break down Romances and Horror and Tragedy as well, and it can also be applied to Mystery. Just watch his video for more examples (link at end of article).

“BAH!” I hear some of you say, this is just a streamlined plot system. It doesn’t help at all! AHH! That’s where you’re wrong.

The genius part of this system is that it’s not just a structure — it gives you an ORDER TO BUILD THINGS IN!!! This was the big jump for me. This, along with all of the examples of different movies and books Dan plotted with it, made the lights come on in my head (note: I’ve changed Dan Wells’ order a little bit, too, because it gave me chicken-and-egg problems; the order below works best for me):

Step 1) Define your Climax
Once you know where you’re heading, it’s sooo much easier to figure out the rest. Does your protag win or lose, is the easy question.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (HPSS): Harry Potter (in the Sorcerer’s Stone) defeats Voldemort.
Star Wars(SW): Luke becomes powerful with the force and blows up the Death Star.

Step 2) Define your Setup
This is usually the opposite of the Climax.
HPSS: Harry Potter is weak and disrespected.
SW: Luke is just a farm boy.

Step 3) Define your Midpont
This is the crux of the story, where the hero accepts his quest or starts to take action, halfway in character development between Setup and Climax. Usually at this point they swear to defeat the badguy or avenge a wrong or something like that.
HPSS: Harry learns the truth about the Sorcerer’s Stone and swears to defeat Voldemort.
SW: Luke learns about the Death Star, and swears to help the Rebel Alliance fight the Empire.

Step 4) Define your Turning Point #1
This is where the character is called to heroism/adventure, or first starts the process of change.
HPSS: Harry Potter finds out he is a wizard and goes to Hogwarts
SW: Luke meets Old Ben, learns about his father being a Jedi

Step 5) Define your Pinch #1
The pinch should hurt, it should squeeze your character into action
HPSS: The troll attacks Hogwarts. Without any adults around, Harry and his friends have to grow up and learn to be heroes.
SW: Luke’s aunt and uncle are killed by Storm Troopers, there’s nothing left for him. He has to grow up and find his own meaning.

Step 6) Define your Pinch #2
This is the point where “All is lost” in the book (or, in a tragedy, where “Everything’s going to be okay after all!”). Usually this means all friends are eliminated, and the hero is alone.
HPSS: Harry Potter is all alone with the mirror, facing Voldemort, helpless.
SW: No one else has been able to blow up the Death Star, time is running out, only Luke is left, his ship is damaged, and Darth Vader and two other tie fighters are right on his tail.

Step 7) Define you Turning Point #2
This is where the hero snatches victory from the Jaws of defeat! (Usually by finding a new, powerful weapon, “true love”, or a talent within — yes, it’s hokey, and there are better solutions, but it is everywhere)
HPSS: Harry Potter finds the Sorcerer’s Stone because his heart is pure, and he is protected from Voldemort’s touch by the power of his mother’s love.
SW: Han Solo knocks the Tie Fighters off Luke’s tail, and Luke hears Ben say, “Use the force, Luke!” and turns off the targeting computer and destroys the Death Star.

Wow! That’s easy, right? It can’t be that simple! Well — it is. It really is. And that’s why I feel so damned stupid that it took me years to figure it out.

You’ll notice of course that this is a little sketchy — yes it is. This is just the main plot line of the story you’re looking at. You need to add some more plots — one for the villain (so you know what he’s up to), one for any love interest there is, one for any other side plots or sub plots you may be thinking of. I usually do them by major characters.

Once you have all your plots done, you weave them together into something that makes sense. When you’re doing this, remember that you want your climax and your midpoint to have a lot of different plots converging on the same point — this will build emotinoal resonance.

And then you write a synopsis, so you can see if the story holds together in narrative form.

Man! We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? Yes we have. Now go plot something!
(BTW, there’s a lot more to Dan Wells’ system – Action Prologues, Try/Fail cycles, etc. Check out his video here:
Dan Well’s 7-Point Plotting System )

The Quest for Plot, Part 3: How to Make It as a Professional Author, By the Numbers

This article will discuss how much mid-list writers need to write and sell to publishing houses in order to leave their day job.


My dream is not to be a professional mid-list author, either — I want to be the next big, famous break out author — what writer doesn’t want to be Cormac McCarthy, JK Rowling, Steven King, Dan Brown, etc? — but I have to be realistic too.

Most of us, even the very talented poets and geniuses among us, will not make it to the top levels. That rarefied air, for a writer, is akin to winning the lottery. The odds are better than the lottery, of course, but they are still STEEP. For every superstar writer, there are tens of thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands) of one-book-wonders and solid midlisters.

So when I talk about being a professional author (especially from my island of ignorance, not being one), I am assuming that to make that jump from day-job-worker to author-with-a-relatively-reliable-stream-of-income will mean that you are mid-list, most likely upper-mid list. Most of us that end up “living the dream”, will be in the mid-list, and that’s great, it’s still the dream! We just need to know how much to produce to keep the bills paid!


Now since every writer gets paid differently, and since most of them don’t share their income statements with the public on a regular basis (except John Scalzi and Jim C. Hines — both AWESOME), I don’t know how much people make on their books. Also, even if I did, I don’t know what your living expenses are. I am therefore basing most of my opinions off of hearsay and tabletop at conventions — and that is not a reliable source, so take all of this with a grain of salt.

According to a certain book publisher who was kind enough to express her opinions about “making a living at writing”, based on the few professional mid-listers she’s worked with. Here’s her opinions:

The real key is to put out 2 books per year, and to hit a critical mass of about 10 books. After 10 books are out (and assuming you still have enough readership that your books aren’t being cancelled), the royalties and advances start adding up to the point that it’s reasonable to think about quitting the day job, if you want to.

Simple Math: This is about 5 years of work, and in the sixth year you should be able to think about making the jump (barring all-too-common disasters, like health issues, or your series is cancelled due to poor sales). At one novel per year, it could be a much longer road.


AT my current production rate, somewhere around 1 book every 1.5 to 2 years, I will not be able to hit the thresholds above. It’s just not going to work unless I’m a lottery winner. I’m just too darn slow.

The problem: I need to produce books faster by a factor of 4!

The issue here is that I do not want to write “crap”, either. Most writers say that it’s hard to crank out a book in a year and have it be good, much less two books in a year — but I do see some authors pulling it off.

Cat Valente does. Jeff Vandermeer does.

So there has to be a way.

My guess is that the solution is to plot in advance.