In Which I Make Important Decisions

As the title of the blog post says, I have made a decision! My first book I self publish will be Queen of Broken Hearts. Okay, so it's a novella, not a full length novel. I figured it would be a good way to dip my toe in the water before I go full out with Junk Squad.

So Queen of Broken Hearts will be coming out in early February. I've set my official launch date as February 12, but with self publishing there are lag times before things go live, so this is more a date for me than for when the book will be completely available.

Why QoBH? Well, it's already written. So there's that. It really just needs some revising and fixing up, which means I can launch it on a faster time line than anything I need to start writing from scratch. Secondly, it really is a book I love and I'd be disappointed if no one ever got to read it. Thirdly, it needs a lot less work than Tidal Wave, which is the other book I was thinking of launching. So I'm saving Tidal Wave for the summer, which is more appropriate for it, anyway.

In the time leading up to the launch I'll do a series of tutorial walk throughs on how I flounder about and figure out how to do things. Whee, lots of things to write about! Right now I've sent a message to a potential cover artist *crosses fingers* and am working on a blurb. Oh, and that one thing that's far less important. You know, working on the actual book? I guess I'm doing that too.

How to Start a Newsletter

I just started a newsletter! Go me and doing things that may or may not help my pretend writing career! Anyway, I’m going to walk you through how you can do the same for your writing career, pretend or not.

Okay, so I’m not the expertest expert ever, okay? But I can still explain this. And I’ll do it… with numbered steps!*

1. Go to mailchimp.com There’s other newsletter sites out there, but this seems to be the most     common one, and I found it pretty easy to use.

2. Create an account. Simple dimple. Just fill in the info things they ask for, confirm your email address and what not and voila! You’re ready to start.

3. Okay, now you’re going to want to create a list. Don’t worry if you have no idea what you’re doing yet, it’ll get clearer. Name your list whatever you want to use it for, like “Book News.” 

4. Fill out the thingummies they ask for, then next step!

5. Design your sign up form. They make this pretty easy to do. They let you make it super fancyfied, but I’d advise against it. Keep it simple. Make it quick and easy for people to sign up. 

6. It’ll give you a link to your sign up form. Go ahead and link to it wherever you want it linked to. Your website is a good idea. 

7. Sign up for your own list. This way you can make sure everything is working like it should be. 

8. Send out a test email. Obviously, don’t do this if there’s anyone other than you on this list. Play with the newsletter formats to see what you like, figure out how all the features work. Mail chimp tells you how many people opened your emails and clicked on things and what not.

9

             Anyway, just generally sort out what you’re doing while your only subscriber is yourself and make sure you know how it all works for when there’s someone actually watching.

And that’s it! Just a few sidenotes:

sidenote the first: do not add anyone’s email to this list without their express permission. Do I need to say this again? Do. Not. Add. Emails. Of. People. Who. Do. Not. Opt. In. Got it? Good.

sidenote the second: I would suggest just using the free version of the newsletter for now. The paid ones are really for people with thousands of subscribers. Don’t pay for something you don’t need.

Now that you’ve created your newsletter, you can even send out legit emails! I would suggest not doing this more than once a month, or you could start annoying your subscribers. And don’t send it out once a month just because, make sure you actually have something to say that your subscribers will consider useful information. I decided I’ll send mine out whenever I release a book, that way it’ll do exactly what I want (tell people there’s a book to go get) without getting spammy.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Tutorial’d. 

*I will never use numbered steps ever again until tomorrow. They're really hard to make, okay? Appreciate this effort I put in for you.

In Which I Pretend to be a Productivity Guru

Sit down, my procrastinating friend. Welcome. *blows bubbles from plastic pipe* If you are here it must be because you are seeking the Answer. The Answer to the ultimate question. How do I become more productive?

Well, you don’t.

Now, now, don’t get angry. Be patient. I am here to teach you something. An important lesson you must learn right down to your bone marrow.

You are human. Forgive yourself for it.

Don’t roll your eyes, this is important.

You are human. You can only work so many hours in a day before you burn out. Know this. Accept it.

It’s okay if you spend Saturday wandering around the park instead of tackling that to do list. It’s okay to be exhausted after work.

The key to productivity is this: don’t guilt trip. Don’t get angry because you didn’t use every one of your twenty four hours today to further your life goals. Let it go. Take a deep breath. Take some time to learn who you are and what works for you. Maybe you get more done when you wake up early, or when you stay up late. Experiment. Maybe you get more done when you eat too much candy and feel a little sugar high.

This takes time. Let it. Move forward sluggishly because there are more important things then your destination.

It’s not about a plateau. There is no plateau. Love your life for what it is and fight to make it better. Not because it’s not good enough. Never because you’re not good enough.

Remember that you're human and flawed and perfectly yourself.

Accept contradictions because you’re human and by definition a contradiction. Be productive because you love yourself and you love what you do. Tell yourself you’ll quit when it hurts too much, then come back for more because being without it hurts even worse.

Don't wake up in the morning because you have to. Wake up in the morning because there’s something spectacular waiting for you. 

Move forward. Be lazy a lot. Be productive sometimes. And most importantly

Love, Love, Love

In Which I Indulge in Boring Things

So I started writing this really involved blog post about choosing self publishing but then realized it was all extremely boring. Okay, so how about I lay out my feelings in one list that way if you don’t care you can just skip over the boring bits because it’ll all be in a list. SO. THE LIST.

            Why I’m choosing self publishing (a list)

1.     Because I had a good hard think and decided that my goal isn’t simply to get validated by experts and wait forever then not make anything. I want to make a living off my writing, which means making money, and when it comes down to it, self publishing gives me better royalties and I can publish more often, meaning I can make more money, giving me a better chance to make a living. There’s still the occasional million dollar book deal, but it’s far more likely that I’ll just get a couple bucks and a thanks for playing postcard. If that.

2.     Because the only opinions that really matter to me are the ones of the readers. Do I want to write books that are generally considered to not suck? Of course! But, again, I’d rather be Stephenie Meyer than broke and respected. Wait, is that bad?

3.     I like to write precisely what I like to write and precisely what I like to write has no real market. Therefore it’s highly dubious that a publisher would pick it up anyway. But other readers like me who enjoy silly, contrary things might find it and enjoy it, and that’s what really matters.

4.     I can still pursue traditional publication later if I really want to. While some traditional publishing peeps might reject me out of hand for having self published, those aren’t the ones I’d want to work with anyway. (Why did I use the word peeps? I don’t know, it sounded good at the time. Also, peeps are delicious.)

Anyway, boring list number one is complete! Now I must torture you with some boring NUMBERS. See, I have a plan. I would make a chart and everything, but it turns out I don’t know how to put a chart into a blog post unless I turn it into an image and paste it in or something and I feel like that would look really bad? I don’t know. I guess I could code it but that would take really long and I’ve already wasted too much time with this paragraph.

----BORING NUMBERS BEGIN HERE----

In order to accomplish my goal of living off my writing, I need to make at least as much as I do off my job, which is 1-1.2k a month. So if I sell books for $2.99, making two bucks a book, I need to sell five hundred books in a month.

That sounds like a lot. But if I, say, write four books in a year than by the end of the year I’ll only need to sell 125 copies of each book a month! That sounds entirely reasonable and within the parameters that Self Printed talked about. (Yes, I’m aware that book selling is not a steady paycheck and sales will fluctuate. I’m assuming that is being budgeted for and this will be the monthly average. Ksies? Ksies.)

Anyway, I figure building up by selling ten copies in the first month and then ten more in every month after that sounds like a good plan to getting there. Most importantly, these numbers give me concrete, achievable sounding goals. I have no idea if any of this will turn out to be actually achievable, but this is my plan. If it works out I will be making my living off writing after a year. Unrealistic dreams for the win! High fives everyone!

----BORING NUMBERS END HERE---

Anyway, this blog post is already way too long and you’ve skipped over most of it because it turned out to all be boring stuff. DON’T WORRY. I haven’t forgotten about you, people who enjoy less boring things! I’m totally going to do a tutorial post where I show you how I created my book cover! Won’t that be exciting? If you said no then I may need to reevaluate.

Soooo…. Nano updates! I haven’t been writing much. The end.

Just kidding! About the the end part, not about the not writing part. That totally happened.

Trying to shove myself back into writing after I ground to a halt has been challenging. This is why it’s important not to skip days, even if all you write is a couple words. Because it’s so much harder to pick back up after you’ve completely stalled. JUMPER CABLES.

I’m not making sense anymore. I should go write more words. I can’t decide whether I love this story or want to toss it in a blender and repeatedly hit the mix button while laughing maniacally. Oh well. 

In Which I Have No Time Management Skills

Oooh, was I supposed to write a blog post?

…. Oops

Can I change the time zone or something and pretend I got this done before midnight? No? Sigh.

OKAY. So now it’s time for a completely relevant blog post that is terribly informative and useful. *nodnod*

…

….

Argh, I’m too tired to think of anything. What time am I working tomorrow (err, today), anyway? Double sigh.

I’ll write it later. Before midnight hits again. Double pinky promise.

Focus

I have a BRILLIANT NEW IDEA! I know, I get those a lot. But this one is really cool. Maybe.

Anyway, so I've been reading Catherine, Caffeinated's book Self Printed (gosh, that felt like a long descriptor) and she said your blog content should be what you want to read but haven't found on the internets yet. This made a lot of sense to me, and seeing how as I never actually got around to focusing what I'm writing about here, I decided it should be that.

I thought about how while there's a ton of advice about writing and publishing things, there's very little advice on actually making a career out of writing. Most writers are reluctant to share how much they really make, which does make sense, seeing as how most people don't wander around blurting out how much money they make. But most careers DO have those nice little graphs with how much money you can expect to make and write ups in books on how to go about doing that career.

There isn't really anything like this for writing. And that has frustrated me for a long time. The best resource I've found is The Business Rusch, and as unbelievably helpful as that is, it's really slanted towards people who have been at this for a while.

So what's a beginner like me to do?

So. From now on I am writing the blog that I wish existed. The blog about how to work your way into a writing career. Which I guess means I'll talk about what works and doesn't work for me as I try to build a career in writing and quit my day job. And there will be MATH. Because, honestly, I love math. And charts! Lots of charts! I love this idea already!

(Disclaimer: There are probably other blogs somewhere on this topic, considering I don't really believe in original ideas, only original execution, so feel free to list out what I'm copying, especially if it's a nice new resource for me to read.)

Nano Day Eight

I misplanned my outline. I badly, badly, badly misplanned my outline (also, apparently misplanned isn't really a word. whatever).

Sigh.

So my reworking of the first part is sort of working out and I think it'll work, but the problem is I had to pull in stuff that was supposed to be in the second part and now I have no idea what's going to happen in the next part. Do I move everything up? But I can't do that, it would create a terrible mess. So do I make more stuff up for the second part? But will that feel like filler?

Oh, I hate writing sometimes (psych. if it didn't go terribly wrong it wouldn't be half as exciting. but also debilitatingly stressful. why do i want to be a writer again?).

(Anyway, I think I'm going to write everything in parenthesis now (because it feels kind of like a secret? (or maybe bonus material? (BONUS! More parenthesis! (Why are you still reading this?)))))

The point of this post was absolutely nothing. I should REALLY work on my post planning at some point. And maybe write useful things. I don't know. Maybe.

Things I Believe (Otherwise known as incoherent late night rambling)

Life is full of annoying necessities. Going to work, cleaning, grocery shopping. But we do them because we're ADULTS and they need to be done because our dog wants to eat and our landlord wants rent and we just want to watch a freaking MOVIE but we need those annoying. necessities.

And so we live.

We live because we can't live on dreams and air and wants. We dream because we can't live without them. And we fight because we know, in that deep dark part of our hearts, that if we ever stop it's      over.

And so we fight.

And the world tells us no. It tells us no because it's jealous, it's confused, it doesn't like us very much and thinks we're too fat for those jeans. And we look at everyone else and get jealous and confused because we think they're gliding (and they aren't (because we're all fighting)).

And these are the things I believe.

That we need to fight. To fight with our fingers, with our feet. To fight as the world shoves us down and steals our lunch money. To fight to believe that there's something left to believe in. To fight to matter in a universe that doesn't. To fight to make sense to make sense to make sense

And this is why I am bad at giving advice. Because I have nothing to arm you with. Because I can hardly see past the mud in my own eyes. Because if I could gather the breath to tell you how brilliant you are just for dreaming of a beautiful world I would but you wouldn't believe me anyway.

And this is the thing I believe you must believe: yourself.

The rest you can sort out later.

Nano Day Five

What's this? Another blog post a day after the other one? *gasp* What mythical forces combined to create this level of blogging productivity?

Yeah, I'm totally procrastinating on my nano.

So I've transitioned again. At the beginning of nano I was in 'blah this story is stupid' phase. Then I switched to 'OMG LOVE SO MUCH' phase and I milked it for all it was worth and got many words. Now I'm in the terrified 'why did I ever think I could write a book I'm not talented enough and there are so many words and days left I'll never make it' phase.

This phase mostly consists of sheer terror and avoidance. I'm not worried, it'll pass. How can I be calm and terrified at the same time you don't ask? Simple. The emotional bits of my brain are enmeshed in these ups and downs, but there's a logical part that is fully aware that I've gone through this before: last time I wrote a novel. And the time before that. And the time before that.

This is old burrito to Logic Voice. Unfortunately, Emotional Voice doesn't listen to Logic Voice and is still running in circles screaming story murder.

And so. I am both. And I make grammar nazis cry. It's a talent.

Let's see, my advice for getting through the crazed process of writing a novel? Write. Put aside the doubts and confusions and just write. The story will get you there. It knows what it's doing. Trust in that, when you lose faith in yourself. Stories are smarter than people.

Now I'm going to quit pretending to be deep and go take my own advice.

Nano Day Four

Remember that thing? Where I was going to write a blog post every day? Yeah, that totally didn't happen.

Anyway.

I've fallen back in love with my story! Yay! Let's see how long this lasts. Hopefully for twenty-six more days, at least.

Advice: To fall in love with your story again, keep writing it. If you ever loved it, writing it will remind you why.

 Enjoying my characters again is making the words come easier, which is nice. There was an outline rearrangement that happened tonight when I realized my first plot point wasn't a plot point at all, so I shifted some things back a chapter or two then moved up an event that was supposed to happen later. What's going to happen later now? Hell if I know.

Advice: Don't be afraid to change your outline. You might have gotten it wrong the first time (actually, you almost probably did).

I feel like I'm being boring. So in order to entertain you I will give you....

...


...

(pause because I'm trying to think of something and pass it off as dramatic effect)

....

THE BEGINNING OF JUNK SQUAD. (Not that I'm writing Junk Squad anymore right now, but I still think the beginning is kind of cool.)

This is what happens when they flip your switch the first time: you wake up. There’s air in your mouth and colors in your eyes. The people around you are celebrating. They drink wine and toast to each other.

You don’t remember what you were before. You’re not sure there is a before. You wonder: am I real? am I human?

You don’t know.

You know that there are seven people in the room and five hundred and thirteen rooms in the compound. They programmed that into your head. You know nothing outside of the compound.

This is what happens when they flip your switch the second time: you die. The end.

My muscles burn against the pressure of my brain pushing them faster, faster.

“Flash?” Genona stands beside the treadmill, her white lab coat mostly covering a #CC0000 red dress. The muscles of her mouth stretch into a smile, but it’s only the voluntary ones. It isn’t a real smile. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“There are fourteen hours and forty-seven minutes left in the day,” I say. “I’ve been running for forty-two minutes and sixteen seconds. If I run for five more minutes there’ll be fourteen hours and forty-two minutes left in the day.”

Genona’s mouth turns down. “Aren’t you tired? Don’t you have anything you’d like to do? You’re wasting the daylight.”

“There are nine hundred and seventeen lights in the compound and zero windows.”

“I’m getting Patrick.” Her heels click on the concrete as she walks away. I focus on the wall in front of me. Stat likes to watch a screen while she runs, but I prefer this blankness. My legs keep running. I wait for Patrick. 

I hear Genona whispering to Patrick as they walk in. “Might be a programming loop.” She casts a furtive glance at me.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Patrick steps in front of me. I don’t look at him. “Flash, how are you feeling today?”

I know he’s smiling a voluntary muscle smile. I know this because they all smile that way. “I’m ninety-eight point seven degrees and my body is in working order.”

“Good, good.” Patrick tilts his head to try and meet my eyes. I look down at the treadmill. The thin sheet of rubber loops under my feet, making me dizzy. “Don’t you want to join your friends at lunch?”

“My stomach is at capacity.”

“Genona says you never ate breakfast.”

Genona is a tattle tale. I don’t say that out loud. “What you don’t see might still exist.”

Patrick hits the manual override on the front of the treadmill. I slow to a stop, my lungs aching with the loss of movement. “Pettiness is unbecoming, Flash.”

“Bossiness is unbecoming, Patrick.” I grab my towel and water bottle from the machine. 

“Be more appreciative,” Genona says, “You wouldn’t have an exercise room if it wasn’t for Patrick.”

“I know.” He gave me a treadmill, some running shoes, and my own room in the compound, all for the low, low price of my mind.

My ‘friends’ are gathered loosely around our table in the otherwise empty cafeteria. For as close as they study us you’d think they’d know better than to loosely apply such words to us. The only thing we all have in common is them. 

Stat is slightly off to the side, doing her nails. “The prodigal daughter returns,” she says as I slide into my seat beside Ware. 

“I was never gone,” I say.

She snorts. 

Card sits on the other side of the table with his tool attachment fingers, fixing a jammed screw in Tera’s hand. Knowing Tera, there was probably a boxing accident. “Are you functioning?” He asks me. He flips a look at me through his shaggy blond hair. 

“Yes,” I say. 

Card is in charge of keeping all of us in working order. The normal technicians couldn’t keep up with the job, so they made Card.

Ware doesn’t say anything, but he never does. The plates in his arms gleam in the cafeteria fluorescents. Ware was the first of us, and the most human. They only altered him into being physically superior. He still remembers what he was before this. Not that he talks about it, but you can tell. It’s in the way his eyes look, like he’s lost something.

I pick at my meal. Turnip soup with a side of turnips.

I know where I fit into this medley. I’m the youngest, the most advanced. They scooped out half my brain and replaced it with chips, wires, hard-drives. I’m a walking, talking database for every secret they want stored away. I remember nothing from before they did this to me, and everything from after. 

Genona asked me once what it feels like to have a mind so clear and sharp. I told her it feels like I can never escape myself. She told me she wished she could program maturity into me. 

“Ow.” Tera yanks her hand away from Card. Her metal nails clack together. “Be more careful, geez.”

Card shrugs and reattaches his fingers. “Are we going anywhere tonight?”

“Nothing from the tops yet,” Stat says. “I think they’re holding us in until they’re sure poor baby Flash doesn’t have another breakdown.”

I stab a turnip. “I never had a breakdown.”

“Do you have another word to describe vomiting all over yourself in the middle of a mission?”

I don’t look up. Stat is only trying to provoke me. I’ll never win if I get into it with her. 

“Leave off, Stat,” Tera says. “You weren’t so hot on your first mission, either.”

Stat opens her mouth to retort, but whatever she meant to say is blown away by sirens. The lights above us turn red. Tera jumps to her feet.

“It could be a malfunction,” Card yells above the sirens. 

Stat must think so, because she doesn’t even pause doing her nails. I notice her hands shaking a little, though.

There are two doors that lead outside the compound. The doors are reinforced steel with nine different locking mechanisms, three of which are manual. Each door is guarded by four rotating guards, not that they’ve ever had to do anything. Nothing breaks into the compound. Ever. 

The door to the cafeteria bangs open. I can hear men shouting outside in Russian. I know this because I know thirty-eight different languages.

One of the guard stumbles in, his #990000 blood staining his #3300FF blue shirt. “To the safe room!” he gasp/yells at us. 

Stat’s face goes white. Ware calmly pushes to his feet. 

“But no one can break in here,” Card says. 

A muscle jumps in the guard's cheek. 

He’s dying. It’s in the glaze of his eyes, the skittering of his hand. That’s proof enough that someone can, indeed, break in here. 

“We should go,” I say.

“We don’t need to follow you,” Stat says. 

I walk to the door. The guard blinks at me. “The safe room,” he says. “The general said to get the kids to the safe room.”

Now that we’re in mortal danger we’re kids. Brilliant.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You did your job.” He slides down the doorframe. I check the hall. Empty.

----

And that's all!

Wait, was that actually really mean because if you actually read it all it's sort of like a cliffhanger?

Oh well.