Tuesday, 27 June 2017

DIY Book Cover

There is nothing funnier on the internet than bad independent book covers. Here's an example:
Really? NYT Best-selling author?
 The prevailing advice for anyone going the self-publishing route is to get a professional to do it for you. I don't necessarily plan on doing that and I'm a long way away from even being at that point. However, I thought I'd try my hand at making a cover, just for fun. This is the result.

It's not great,there are definitely flaws, but it's also not terrible, hopefully not worthy of being in one of those fail galleries. I think it's ok for a couple hours of messing around on canva.com, an excellent web program for quick and easy graphic design.

FYI, the painting used is public domain, which I found on wikimedia commons.

Anyway, that's all I've got to say about that. It's good to be blogging again, though.

Saturday, 25 June 2016

Thinking About Writing

Writing is hard.

Ordering your thoughts into coherent and effective wording, with well-paced and enjoyable clarity is not an easy thing. There are those for whom it comes to more naturally, of course, but I'm not sure if I'm one of those people. I edit a lot, and do it as I go. It can take me hours to write a few hundred words. I wish I could write profusely and at length without so much time spent agonizing over each sentence. You will never know how many times these sentences that you are now reading have been reworded, how many times the backspace, delete, cut and paste keys have been used. You will never know how much time I've spent staring at the screen, re-reading what I have written. The amount of time I put into this is much longer than the time it will take someone to read it, and the amount of effort I put in is likely exponentially larger than any possible payoff for the reader or myself. I don't know how true this is for other writers.

Many believe that you should just write, that you must give yourself permission to get the first draft wrong, and then come back to do revisions. This is an almost alien concept to me, as I can't quite comprehend how
you can continue writing if you are not building off of something which is already somewhat coherent. One sentence follows another, and each takes meaning, importance and significance from what has come before. I don't see how the process of writing can be linear. Everything is connected and often moving forward means going back and having to reshape what is already there. Free writing just doesn't make sense to me. I understand and accept that some people do it this way, but I can't. I know that my prose will never be perfect and that I should not get hung up on trying to make it so, but I can't work in a straight line.

Writing is hard.

Mostly, I spend a lot of time thinking about writing rather than actually doing it. I spend a lot of time brainstorming ideas, discarding the bad ones (there are a lot), combining and refining good ones (so few), and filing many away for another time (it's quite possible that I make bad decisions in this process and use bad ideas and throw out good ones.) The amount of thought, the number of ideas bounced around is astronomical in comparison to the final result.

It often strikes me that I am wasting my time, and that I need to be focused on getting the words down instead of thinking about them. I should be doing, not dreaming. But there is value in daydreaming and my own creativity requires that I work in short bursts in between long periods of thinking. The screenwriter Aaron Sorkin says that writer's block is his default position and I certainly understand that. Perhaps all this thinking, however, is like taking the time to sharpen your axe before you use it. I wonder, however, if I spend too much time sharpening my axe?

Writing is hard.

It requires a lot of self-discipline to get from that dreaming stage into a productive writing mode and then to maintain that. So much of the advice out there for writers is just about finding the time and the will to actually do it.

If it is this hard to write one little blog post, then how hard is it to write a novel? On top of just being able to get words out you have to worry about the craft: characterization, plotting, consistency, pacing, voice, style, not to mention grammar and punctuation. I think a lot of people, those who have never tried, don't quite appreciate what an undertaking it is. The tortured author is almost a comedic stereotype, and to tell people that you are writing a novel can evoke a lot of different responses, but it's usually along the lines of " Oh, that's interesting, what's it about?" rather than, "Wow! That is a big task." We don't really see thinking and writing as actual work. It does take a lot of time and effort, however, especially when you have real life obligations to attend to, including family and a full-time day job.

I'm about two-thirds to three-quarters through the first draft on my novel and that has taken just over three years (I have written other things in that time, a lot of short stories, I'm not that slow!) and I know that I will, despite all my frantic editing on the fly, still have to come back and revise.

The challenge of writing is what makes it enjoyable, but it is hard work and I have a lot of respect for those who do it and do it well.

*Full disclosure - this post took me two to three hours to write. Am I hopeless?

Worldbuilder's Disease

Mitch Hedberg once said, "Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only one you can get yelled at for having." Well, there's also Worldbuilder's Disease and I'm going to yell at you right now for having it - the simple truth is NO ONE CARES!

Worldbuilder's disease is what beginning writers get when they feel that they must flesh out their setting in extreme detail before they can start to write a story. I'm telling you that you don't need to do this.

What people care about is an interesting story with interesting characters in an interesting setting. Plot, character, setting. Not necessarily in that order, but if you don't have the first two, the last one is definitely not going to cut it on its own. A story can survive on engaging characters, who perhaps don't do very much in a fairly humdrum or nondescript place (think Waiting for Godot,) or it could survive as an exciting plot populated only with stock characters (think James Bond,). However, if it is just a setting, you don't have a story and if you don't have a story, NO ONE CARES!

Now, don't get me wrong, I think setting is very important. Getting a sense of depth, of complexity, a sense that world exists beyond the story is essential, especially in secondary world fantasy stories. Readers of fantasy want not only to be transported to strange new worlds but also to feel that the world is plausible. Tastes vary on the degree of strangeness vs realism, what level of suspension of disbelief one is willing to maintain. Nevertheless, a certain amount of consistency and structure in the setting are required to keep most readers engaged.

And so, most beginning fantasy writers feel they need to create their world in depth: the history, the religion, the myths, the races, the languages, the economics, the politics, the geography, the climate, the flora and fauna, the cycle of seasons, the astrological bodies, the pseudo-scientific nature of magic. So this is what they do instead of writing a story. They create a store of information, an intricate web of made-up facts. These facts may be very creative but lacking an engaging narrative they are static like a stage devoid of action and  actors. No one is going to pay to go to the theatre just to look at the set. Worldbuilding is a procrastination tool, a disease that keeps writers from actually writing.

Tolkien's annotated map of Middle Earth
Worldbuilder's Disease is an affliction that makes fantasy writers think they are the next JRR Tolkien. Tolkien wrote the Silmarillion, which many liken to a kind of bible, filled with stories of the creation, the mythology and history of Middle Earth. He created his own languages and had those beautiful maps. His world is intricate and immersive. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are for many what first sparked our love of fantasy. His stories were rich with detail, and they would not be the same without the amount of work he put into creating his world. But at the same time, no one would care about Middle Earth if it were not for a couple of plucky hobbits and their adventures. Tolkien did something monumental, but it's not necessary to follow his example in order to be a fantasy writer. The story is ultimately what readers care about.

If you aspire to be the next Tolkien, fine, but just realize that until you give us a good story, NO ONE CARES about your creation myths, your gods, your lineages of kings and queens. If you think the history of your world is so exciting then maybe that's where your story lies.

This is not to say that worldbuilding is completely unnecessary. Of course it is needed, but the important thing to remember is that it does not all have to be done up front. A world can be built as you tell stories about it. You don't need to have explanations for everything, especially if those explanations have no bearing on the story. Is there an explanation behind the weird cycle of seasons in GRR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire? Whether it has to do with planetary tilt or orbit or magic or whatever doesn't really matter. Even if there is no structure, no actual explanation, there is implied structure. Readers are told that winter is coming, assume there is a logical reason behind the seasons being so long and carry on with their suspension of disbelief intact.

As a writer you do want to allow your reader glimpses into the world beyond the story as though through a window. You want to remain consistent, so that when they look out another window they don't see something that confuses them or contradicts what they saw out another window. But as long as you do this, you as the writer control where the reader looks.

I admit that I had a touch of Worldbuilder's Disease before I started writing. The thought crossed my mind that I would write a collection of histories and essays about my world. I did a lot of thinking about my world, and I'm, glad I did, but I'm also glad I never committed myself to actually doing all that work. Once I had a good idea of my setting, I decided I could leave a lot of it blank, or as undecided grey areas, which would allow me room to manoeuvre as I wrote, freedom to build my world as I wrote my story.

Building worlds is a lot of fun. It is also a time sink. It is a heck of a lot easier than writing memorable characters and exciting narratives in prose that is engaging. This is the difficult part of the craft. This is what beginning writers should be focused on, not supplemental material. Fantasy fiction does not require supporting documentation. Stop wasting your time.

Sunday, 6 March 2016

The Lonely Life of the Writer in the Age of Social Media

Hello, blogosphere. I've been absent for some time but I've recently been reminded that this is a bit of sin. I need to maintain my web presence if I ever hope to be a published or successful author. Agents and publishers want to authors who are active on social media, who are adept at self-promotion, who are capable of marketing themselves, of building and maintaining a following. At the very least, these are things that can give you a leg up, things a writer must now consider.
Image result for writer

When we think of a writer, we often summon up the image of a harried intellectual banging away at the keyboard or scribbling in a notebook, struggling to put thoughts into words, toiling in isolation. Like many creative endeavors, writing a story is a solitary act, the effort of a single imagination. There are some examples of collaborative writing, but most novels have just one author. It is also a safe bet that most writers, not all, but most, would tend toward introversion. There are numerous examples of writers who were famous for their reclusiveness, such as Emily Dickinson, Marcel Proust, William Faulkner, JD Salinger, Thomas Pynchon, Harper Lee and Cormac Mcarthy.

Image result for mind full of ideasThe life of the writer can be a lonely one, much of it life spent alone with only imagined characters for company. The writer may keep odd hours, waiting for everyone to go to bed, or waking up at unreasonable hours, so that they can go to the world of their story. The writer probably doesn't go out all that much in the real world anymore, and may often seem tired or preoccupied. Victor Hugo famously wrote that "a writer is a world trapped in a person." This is quite true and it is exhausting and difficult. 

I often feel like a bit of an imposter calling myself a writer. In fact, I don't, except for here and with an online writing group (if you are reading this blog, you are likely a member of that online group!) It is certainly not something I will talk about in social situations. Writers write, a truism among those who do, but in the eyes of those who don't, a writer is one who makes money writing, something which very few beginners have any familiarity with. So if I have nothing to show for it, can I really call myself a writer?

Of course I do have something to show for it - words: my stories, my half-finished novel, my blog. The common advice, though, is to not solicit feedback from family and friends. They are likely to be unhelpful - uncritical at best, discouraging at worst. No, at worst, they will want to analyze you and your work, making real life correlations with characters, relationships and situations. (Please, if someone you love shows you their writing, do not do this!) And so, I do not show my work to those closest to me and I haven't even shared the fact with them that I have this blog. I am a closet writer.

So the question is, how do I self-promote? How do I come out to my friends and family as a writer? I feel that by coming out I am inviting so much scrutiny and criticism from those who know me. I suppose it is not that difficult and that I am just being shy, putting too much stock in what other people think. Still, I think I should have at least one sale under my belt before I start declaring that I am a writer.  For now, I have taken a baby step away from anonymity, though, and put my real name and my actual likeness on this blog.

Monday, 6 April 2015


I write fantasy. I imagine that if I am ever published, my books will appear in the fantasy/science fiction section of the bookstore. Is that a bad thing? Is it something to be ashamed of? Is fantasy only childish, escapist make-believe? I think the answer to these questions is obvious - a resounding "No."

Genre does not determine the quality or merit of a book. It only describes certain conventions used in the storytelling and helps booksellers decide where to shelve particular books. It is a loose term with ill-defined boundaries. For example, one would probably find Salman Rushdie's Luka and the Fire of Life, a fantasy novel, shelved with literary fiction (which some argue is a genre in itself, with its own sets of conventions and expectations.) On the other hand, China Mieville's The City and the City, though it centers around a mind-bending premise, does not involve supernatural or science fictional elements, and is more of a crime thriller, is found amongst the science fiction and fantasy. And this has mostly to do with how the previous works of these authors have been marketed.

Fantasy is an integral part of our literary canon, from the earliest stories like the Odyssey, Beowulf, and The Arabian Nights to The Tempest, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Gulliver's Travels, Frankenstein, The Time Machine, Brave New World, 1984, Slaughterhouse Five, A Handmaid's Tale, The Life of Pi and so many, many more It could be said that all fiction is in some sense fantasy, since it is the imagining of things which have not happened. To include heroes, magic, monsters, aliens, strange worlds and technology, imagined futures, does not preclude a work from being literary.

But what does it mean to be literary? Is it an important distinction? Does such a thing even exist, or is it just another manner of arbitrary categorization, a way for elites to feel superior? Can we truly hold up some works as being literary, artistic and meaningful, while relegating others to being pure entertainment? I would argue that you can, but it is certainly not a black and white issue. There is not a line where on one side you have literature and on the other you have pulp. Everything has a degree of literariness and a great deal of subjectivity is involved in making these judgements. But I do think there is a strong objective case to be made for why certain works are superior to others.

The Persistence of Memory - Salvador Dali
Perhaps the one true test of literariness is the test of time - some works persist in our culture and our imaginations and come to be generally accepted as classics or masterpieces. Certainly there are works which may have been considered frivolous entertainments in their time that seem profound and important to us now. Can we know what current works will resonate with future generations? I think we could make some good guesses. But based on what?

Floweriness of prose does not make a thing literary. I think there is a misconception that literariness is somehow tied up with long, convoluted sentence structure, big words, figures of speech and experimental style. I blame James Joyce for this. But one only has to look at Ernest Hemingway, one of the great American novelists, but also the poster-boy for sparse, straight-froward prose style. And you can see a spectrum of writing styles within the fantasy genre itself. Compare the long, multi-clause sentences of Fritz Leiber with tight economical prose of Cormac McCarthy's The Road, for example.

Being literary does not mean being difficult, obscure or inaccessible. But I do think it means being challenging. It means having a certain level of sophistication, complexity, nuance, or subtlety that makes the reader think about aspects of the human experience or question preconceived notions.

The notion of literariness was the principal concern of Russian formalist thinkers. Their answer to what makes a work literary was what they called defamiliarization (or ostranenie, 'making strange.') It is the process by which art and literature slows down our perception of  the familiar, those things that we automatically perceive, those things we take for granted, and thus makes them strange, casts them in a new light.

And here we find the essential difference between genre and literary writing. Genre writing, at the extreme end, aims to be pure entertainment, to be comfortable. It wants to take readers on a thrill ride but not jar them too much. It uses genre conventions as a tool for familiarity. Having the reader linger over a phrase, re-read or stop to think, having the reader "thrown out of the story," is not what the genre writer wants. It is all about momentum and keeping the readers attention (which these days tends to have a very short span) without necessarily connecting or communicating with them.

Now, there is nothing wrong with entertainment. And I believe we should judge books based on what they are, the intentions of the author and the expectations of the audience. But there is absolutely no reason why a book cannot be thought-provoking and entertaining at the same time. In fact, I am not entertained by things which do not engage me intellectually. And I find fantasy and science fiction to be the genre which most captivates my mind because it is so well positioned to make things strange.

Thursday, 18 December 2014

On Style

Be clear. Be concise. Omit needless words.
This is the prevailing advice on writing these days. Avoid long sentences and figures of speech. Beware of adverbs. Go light on the exposition. Use modifiers sparingly. Show, don't tell. It is the notion that the author must not intrude, that writing must be like a clear window looking in on the story without being muddied up by flowery language, because language that draws attention to itself draws the reader out of the story. All this advice, however, must be understood as a reaction to bad writing, an attempt to mitigate the textual atrocities committed by fledgling writers.These guidelines promote competent writing, but not great writing, not the impressive and memorable writing that many of us like to read.

Elmore Leonard
Joseph Conrad
Elmore Leonard, in his rules of writing, preaches this invisibility of the author, and famously says, "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it." I get his meaning but surely he understands the irony of what he was saying there. Leonard adds, "Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say." He can't even bother to give us the actual quote, but I'm guessing it is when Conrad said, "Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality." I think this phrase can be interpreted several ways and not necessarily in the way that Leonard does. But it is another staggering irony that he would pick Conrad, an eloquent wordsmith, to try and illustrate his point about authors being invisible. Take for example, this line, picked at random from Heart of Darkness: ""The moon had spread over everything a thin layer of silver -- over the rank grass, over the mud, upon the wall of matted vegetation standing higher than the wall of a temple, over the great river I could see through a sombre gap glittering, glittering, as it flowed broadly by without a murmur." This certainly sounds like writing to me - beautiful writing. Far be it from me, a lowly unpublished writer to disagree with Leonard who has enjoyed such great success, but I do have to wonder if all authors are to be invisible, then what distinguishes one from another? Why should I read an Elmore Leonard novel (I've tried - didn't like it) over some other invisible author? In my mind, authors who attempt to hide, who hold back from being bold and expressive, write boring, unremarkable stories.

Two books on style have shaped my thinking on this subject: Style: An Anti-Textbook by Richard Lanham, and Building Great Sentences by Brooks Landon. In the former, Lanham criticizes the imperative to "be clear." Style should be emphasized over clarity, he maintains. There is little distinction between the idea and the words used to express it. Words are not a window onto something else; it is the words themselves that matter. Lanham says, "People seldom write to be clear. They have designs on their fellow men. Pure prose is as rare as pure virtue, and for the same reasons." Writing is about being persuasive and effective, about achieving a purpose, not about being invisible. Lanham's ultimate message is that writing should be motivated by a sense of play rather than a sense of constraint.

In Building Great Sentences, Brooks Landon teaches us not to be afraid of long sentences. He quotes Ursula K. Le Guin, who wrote, "Teachers trying to get school kids to write clearly, and journalists with their weird rules of writing, have filled a lot of heads with the notion that the only good sentence is a short sentence. This is true for convicted criminals." Landon shows how to build long and interesting sentences, starting with a base clause and adding modifiers and modifying phrases. He acknowledges that a writer must vary sentence length and that short sentences can also be effective. But his emphasis is on the long sentence. Two excellent quotes from educator John Erskine, author of the famous essay The Moral Obligation to be Intelligent, are given as an argument against minimalist writing philosophies. "What you wish to say is found not in the noun," Erskine says, "but in what you add to qualify the noun...The noun, the verb, and the main clause serve merely as a base on which meaning will rise. The modifier is the essential part of any sentence." And also, "When you write, you make a point not by subtracting as though you sharpened a pencil, but by adding. When you put one word after another, your statement should be more precise the more you add. If the result is otherwise, you have added the wrong thing, or you have added more than was needed."

E.B. White
Landon and Lanham both stress that prose is about sound and rhythm, that it is always important to read aloud. E.B. White, who, along with the eminent professor, William Strunk, gave us the imperative to "omit needless words" in the Elements of Style, recognized the importance of sound as well. And he noted that we should be careful about deciding if words are indeed needless or not. He once wrote:

"It comes down to the meaning of ‘needless.’ Often a word can be removed without destroying the structure of a sentence, but that does not necessarily mean that the word is needless or that the sentence has gained by its removal.If you were to put a narrow construction on the word ‘needless,’ you would have to remove tens of thousands of words from Shakespeare, who seldom said anything in six words that could be said in twenty. Writing is not an exercise in excision, it’s a journey into sound. How about ‘tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow’? One tomorrow would suffice, but it’s the other two that have made the thing immortal. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your letter."

Even Elmore Leonard makes some concession to 'literary' writing, what he calls "hooptedoodle." That term he took from John Steinbeck, who titled chapters in his novel Sweet Thursday as "Hooptedoodle 1" and "Hooptedoodle 2." These, says Leonard, were warnings to the reader that the author was embarking on literary flights of fancy that had very little to do with the story and could easily be skipped. And despite Leonard's rule to leave out the things that will be skipped by readers, he says of Steinbeck's novel, "Did I read the hooptedoodle chapters? Every word."


Monday, 17 November 2014

Accounting for Taste

I have long believed that taste, one's aesthetic sense, one's choice in music, literature, art and fashion, is important, that it is not trivial or superficial. I've always struggled to articulate the idea, always wondering how people can like certain things which to me are clearly bad. Are these people deficient in some way? Sure, one can say "chacun son gout (to each his own)" or "there is no accounting for taste," but I've always felt that there is something deeper.  What we like is part of how we define ourselves as individuals. Our tastes are always on display, on our bookshelves, on our walls, in the clothes we wear, and as much of our lives have become digitized, we have our "likes" on our virtual walls, showing to everyone the music, movies and books we love. We say to the world, "This is what I like, therefore this is what I am like."

Like book covers, by which we have been told not to judge the contents, yet nevertheless always and reliably do, we surround and clothe ourselves with outward signs of our inner life. We live in an age of mass marketing and our associations with certain brands and logos are associations with certain values or ideals. It is simply unavoidable, and we, either consciously or not, put our values, or at least our tacit approval of others' values, on display every day.

I'm not talking about such ethical consumer choices where words like fair trade, local or organic might spring up, though, that is an important discussion. I am talking about cultural products. So, while a T-shirt made in a sweatshop in Bangladesh is a material product, weighted with the socioeconomic baggage of globalism, the company putting their logo on these shirts culpable for how it is produced, and that it is something of which we should be aware, I am right now trying to talk about that logo itself, the brand, the ephemeral marker of value, that we in the Western world interact with. And, just like logos on clothing, the music, movies, books and games, those things with which we occupy our imaginations, they too are brands that signify certain values. Certainly "genre" is a type of branding.

Our aesthetic choices say a lot about us, about how we want to be perceived, about our group identification. They can often tells us a lot about our personalities. A person's musical preferences, for example, can be predicted by how they score on a test of the Big Five personality traits, which are openness, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness, neuroticism.Openness to experience has the highest predictive factor, showing that people who rate high in this category tend to like more complex and/or novel music. Those who are open to experience show curiosity, appreciation of art, and unusual ideas. At the same time, openness is also strongly correlated with liberal ethics, such as racial tolerance.

Stephen Harper
This is the point I want to come to: our aesthetics are political. Someone once told me that he had found a new appreciation for country music because he realized how political it is. Of course it is. It represents the values of a large segment of (mostly white, conservative) North America. My problem with it, with the so-called "new" country, is that it sells values like authenticity, small town pride and moral simplicity in a very deliberate and inauthentic way. It is to me as inauthentic and misleading as FOX News, the GOP and Canada's own Conservative Party.  Those who score high in the personality category of neuroticism, which is the tendency toward negative emotion, generally prefer conventional music like country music. At the same it has been shown that conservatives are much more sensitive to feelings of disgust, so maybe there is some correlation there. But regardless of my liberal bias against country music, it certainly cannot be said that it is any more political than say hip-hop or punk.

Robin Thicke and Miley Cyrus
But even that which seems apolitical is in fact not. Much of popular culture, especially music, is directed towards younger audiences and much of it reaffirms mindless capitalist consumption, sex, drinking, white privilege and hetero-normative stereotypes. In games and action movies we see the glorification of violence and the military. In fiction, we find stories that are purely escapist, which do not challenge our thinking or engage us morally, as good literature should. The seemingly apolitical nature of much our culture is in fact very political when it reaffirms the status-quo. And so, our aesthetic sensibilities are not superficial, even if what we like sometimes tends to be superficial. Our vision of how the world is and how it ought to is both a political and aesthetic one.

My point is that we must not be content only with what is sold to us on TV, in movies, magazines and on the radio, with what is popular, with what is spoon-fed to us. We are all cultural antennae and we have a choice of what we tune into. We must dig and sift to find art that is meaningful, important. Taste matters.