Dear Anonymous Commenter,

Thank you for taking the time to comment on my post about Self-Publishing Myths.  While the poor grammar and spelling were annoying, (something you might want to work on as you self-publish that second book), I was struck by this part of your comment:

“Lets be realistic- how many people get published through traditional publishers? When people used to ask me if i was published i would ask them if they had won american idol.
Its not about talent, its about pitching, luck, who you know and the stars aligned!”

I spent way too much time thinking about your words, trying to find a response that would capture the true depth of my feelings.  I came up with the following:

Bite me.

To elaborate, you wander over to the blog of an author who’s published five books with a commercial publisher and proceed to explain that talent and skill and work have nothing to do with it; I just got lucky and knew the right people.  Because the right people will happily risk their careers to publish their friends’ books, even if those books suck.  Is that the line of pseudologic you’re following here?

From what I’ve seen, this sort of nonsense usually comes from one of two scenarios:

1. You drank the Kool-Aid from one of the scammier vanity presses and bought into their crap about “traditional publishers” being run by evil overlords who live only to crush the souls from peppy young writers like yourself.
2. You submitted a few times, got rejected, and decided to take your toys and go home.

You go on to say, “My books are good, as im sure a million unpublished books out there are.”  Right.  Much like everyone who tries out for American Idol is sure their singing is good, and that they deserve a major record deal. 

Because it’s so easy.  Because anyone can sit down and crank out a great story.  Heck, my cat hocked his breakfast onto the keyboard last week and produced a dandy little flash piece about zombie squids.  Everyone’s wonderful and brilliant, and it’s just a lottery as the Publishing Gods roll their d1,000,000 to see which of those worthy candidates shall be chosen.

Most of the people who get rejected from American Idol are sent home because they suck.  The ones who make it to those final rounds are the ones who’ve worked their asses off to learn how to sing.  Writing is the same way.  It takes time and a lot of work.  No magic fairy is going to blow sparkly story dust up your butt and transform you into the next J. K. Rowling.

I understand if you’re frustrated.  I know it can be discouraging trying to break in as a writer.  I’ve been there, and so has every other commercial author you so casually dismiss as “lucky.”

You chose to go the self-publishing route.  Maybe because your unique creative vision was too special for the New York publishers.  Maybe you really are as good as you think you are, and the entire publishing industry was just too blind to see it.  Maybe not.  I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care.  I wish you all the best, and I hope you’re happy with your choice.  But if not–if you’re going the passive-aggressive “publishing is mean and out to get me” route to console yourself–could you please at least keep it to the privacy of your own blog?

Thanks.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Booksignings were always part of my mythic dream of the Published Author.  I couldn’t wait to have my own flyer in the bookstore window, to be sitting there with a stack of my books.  A friend even bought me a fancy pen to use at my first signing.

One of my earliest booksignings was for the Five Star edition of Goblin Quest [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy].  Considering I was pushing a $25.99 hardcover by an unknown author, it went pretty well.  Much better than the one a month  later at B&N, when I sat there for two hours without selling a single copy.

Last week I drove out to Ann Arbor for an event at Nicola’s Books.  These days I’m better known, with five books in print, all available for the more reasonable price of $7.99.

Eight people showed up.  They bought a lot of books, which was great (gotta love Christmas shopping), and I enjoyed hanging out and chatting.  But as I was driving the 60 miles back home, I found myself wondering if it was worth it.

I sold maybe 20 books at that signing.  At $0.48 per book, that’s just under ten bucks.  That doesn’t even cover gas.  Even my best events, the book launch parties I do at the local Schulers, don’t have much financial payback compared to the time and work the booksellers and I put into them.

But it’s important to look at the long term.  I’ve built up a wonderful relationship with the folks at Schulers, and as a result, they stock more of my books than any other store.  I do really well there, in large part because they hand-sell my work.  At Nicola’s last week, I left about twenty signed books which will go back on the shelf.  So even if the signing doesn’t go well, you’re building relationships with booksellers and leaving signed stock that will continue to move after you’ve left.

There’s also the “sneezer” factor.  Tobias Buckell describes sneezers as the ones who get excited about a product early on and talk about it to their friends and family.  Person X might buy a single book, but if they enjoy meeting you and like the book, they’re more likely to go out and spray that enthusiasm all over the place.  I can think of individuals who have sold dozens of my books through word-of-mouth recommendations.

But for every well-organized, “successful” signing, there are others where you and your rapidly-wilting ego sit at a table for two hours while a total of four people wander by, only to have a bored staff member later comment, “Saturdays are usually slow for us.”  (Leaving one to wonder why the store invited you to come out on a Saturday.)  Or the store that ordered only a handful of books that sold out before I arrived.  Or the one where the CRM  doing the event was fired the week before, and they had no books and no record I was even supposed to be there.  (Always call ahead to confirm!)

Basically, the magic is gone.  I’ll continue to do signings, particularly my book launches at Schulers.  I’ll happily do autographing sessions at conventions.  But I’m not going to call every bookstore in a 100-mile radius trying to schedule events, and I’m not going to feel like a failed author if I don’t have at least ten booksignings set up for every new book.  It just doesn’t feel like the best use of my time and energy.

What do you think?  As authors, readers, and booksellers, are signings worth it?

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

From time to time, I get an e-mail or a comment from male readers who enjoyed my goblin books, but are hesitant to pick up Stepsister Scheme or Mermaid’s Madness because they look like they’re for girls.

My reaction to this is all over the place.  The goblin books went over well with younger boys, and I can understand why a teenage boy might be hesitant to walk around with a book that has three women surrounded by swirling pastels on the cover.  I also think it sucks that we’re still raising boys to think it’s shameful to be caught reading something “feminine,” but having been a teenage male myself, I can understand that reluctance.

I like the cover for Mermaid better, less because we lost the pastels, and more because I think it’s just a great image.  But I still get the questions.  This is obviously a book about three girls, so doesn’t that mean it’s written for girls?  (Much as Name of the Wind was written for red-haired boys, and the Zombie Raccoons anthology was written for decaying scavengers.)

I’ve said in multiple interviews that I wrote Stepsister for my daughter, in response to the Disney/Barbie princess infestation we went through at the house.  So in a way, these books are written for girls.  Or at least for one girl.  Which means … what, exactly?  I don’t even know what a “girly book” is.  I assume it’s shorthand along the lines of:

Boy Books = Action/Adventure; Girl Books = Romance
Boy Books = Plot/Idea-centric; Girl Books = Character-centric
Boy Books = Explody things on the cover; Girl Books = Chicks and pastels

There’s value in being able to find the kind of books you want.  If you’re into character-oriented fiction, you want to be able to discover those books in the store.  You don’t want to buy a book, take it home, and discover that what you thought was an action-packed vampire adventure is actually a 400-page relationship angst-fest.  I get that.  But trying to classify those preferences by gender, with all of the stereotyping and judgement that goes with that?  It doesn’t work for me.

Josh Jasper wrote a piece over at Genreville about genre shame, and about being male and reading romance novels.  “Why should I be ashamed of reading something fun when women aren’t?  The answer is that I’m afraid of being judged by people I don’t know, whose opinions don’t really matter, about something they have no real business judging me over.  Social conditioning is strange and stupid.”

When you ask me if Mermaid and Stepsister are girly books, the answer is that I don’t even know what that means.  I don’t want to know.  I can’t tell you whether or not you’ll like the books, but I can try to give you an idea what they’re about and let you make your own decision.  In a nutshell, the princess series is about:

Fighting and magic and family and fairies and revenge and unrequited love and requited love and hairy trolls and sailing and a three-legged cat and flying horses and wolves and drunk pixies and sewer goblins and enchanted swords and mermaids and friendship and ghosts and strong women and not-so-strong women and also some men and birds and rats and lots of ass-kicking.

It’s bad enough we still try to force people into fairly rigid gender roles.  Do we really have to do it to books too?

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

• I’ve got a book signing 12/17 at 7:00 at Nicola’s Books in Ann Arbor.  Just in case any of you A2 folks need Christmas gift ideas :-)  The last time I did an Ann Arbor signing, we got one of the nastiest blizzards I can remember.  I’m hoping this doesn’t become a pattern.

• Dragovianknight made this wonderful Christmas LJ icon from the cover of Mermaid.  I love it!

• For those of you who read electronically, Fictionwise is running a pretty nice sale.  Looks like 40% off of short fiction, and 50% rebates on e-books.  (Including my own stuff.)

#

Came across a post responding to the pay rate discussion and protesting how the snobby pros are pulling up the ladder, trying to keep new writers out.  I know a fair number of successful authors these days, and the idea that pro writers are scared of the newbies and spending all this time and energy working to exclude them … is kind of dumb.

Of all the things I worry about, of all the things that can hurt my career, new  writers don’t even make the footnotes.  Many pro authors go out of their way to try to help new writers, and to repay the help we received.  Most either celebrate the success of the new folks, or else simply don’t have the time or the interest to notice them.  But nobody’s trying to keep the newbies down (no matter how much Publish America and their ilk try to convince you otherwise while they take your money).

How can I put this delicately?  The biggest reason it’s so hard for new writers to break in is because most of us suck when we’re new.  Myself included.  I wrote hundreds of thousands of words of utter crap while learning how to do this.  Sure, I was discouraged by all the rejection.  I felt shut out.  I had my days where I felt like a martyr and a victim.

But believe me, it had nothing to do with pros being scared of me as a newbie, or conspiring to keep the good markets all to themselves.  It had nothing to do with editors only buying work from Big Names.  It had to do with the fact that my work wasn’t good enough yet.¹

If you disagree with what folks are saying, that’s one thing.  Sometimes the pros are wrong.  Do your research and make your own decisions.  But if you’re going to argue, please try to come up with something better than The Grand Conspiracy Against New Writers.

—

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

A week or so back, John Scalzi tore into Black Matrix Publishing for their short fiction pay rate of 1/5 of a cent per word.  Black Matrix responded, explaining that this is a “labor of love.” They never implied that they were a pro market, and isn’t a token payment better than none at all? (I believe Publish America uses the same rationalization with their $1 advance.) Scalzi promptly shredded their arguments.

Cat Valente weighed in as a “mid-career author” who writes a lot of short fiction.  Sarah Monette offered a third perspective, including examples of her own fiction which sold for fairly low rates, and a discussion of when and why she chooses to submit her work to semi-pro markets.

Looking at my own bibliography, there are two stories I received no payment for, and at least a half-dozen more that fall into the semi-pro category, whether that’s a $5 flat rate or a penny a word.  A careful reading will also show that this stopped around the end of 2003, after I “sold” a flash piece to a royalties-only e-book that, as far as I can tell, never sold a single copy.

Around 2004, I began submitting only to markets that paid SFWA pro rates (Then three cents a word. ETA: Current SFWA pro rate is 5 cents/word). Not because I was insulted by lesser pay rates.  Not because I felt exploited by the smaller markets.  But because my goal as a writer was to be read.

Publishing in those smaller venues was good for my ego.  Of course it feels better to be accepted than rejected.  But aside from that ego boost, those sales did little else for my stories or my career.  Sure, I could go out and buy a slice of pizza with my earnings.  But almost nobody read my work.

The contributors got their copy, so it’s possible some of my fellow authors glanced at my story.  Maybe.  (Authors, how many of you read every story in every contributor copy of an anthology or magazine?)  Aside from that?  Well, one friend in college did pick up a copy of World Wide Writer, so that’s something, right?  What’s World Wide Writer, you ask?  Oh, right.  They were a tiny startup ‘zine that died after two issues.

I don’t use pay rate as an absolute rule.  Sure I’d rather make $250 than $25.  But I sold a story to Andromeda Spaceways recently, and they pay significantly less than 5 cents/word.  On the other hand, they’ve been around a long time, put out a nice magazine, and have a good reputation and readership for a semi-pro.  There are a handful of others, publications that pay less than pro rates, but have earned a lot of critical acclaim or developed a broader readership.

In general though, minuscule pay rate correlates to minuscule readership.  I suspect there are more markets listed on the for-the-luv page at Ralan than there are readers for those markets.

When I started aiming for pro markets in 2004, several things happened.  I got rejected more.  I was forced to improve as a writer.  And eventually, as I broke into those markets, more people began reading my work.

Is Black Matrix exploiting writers? Token payment is better than nothing. (Chtulhu spare us from markets promising “exposure” as compensation.)  But there’s “token” and there’s “spare change I found in my sofa.”¹ I don’t believe Black Matrix is trying to scam anyone.  But I won’t submit to them, and I wouldn’t recommend them as a market for new writers who want to build a career and be read.

—

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

At least once a month, I receive an e-mail or a comment asking if I’m going to do a fourth goblin book.  The answer has always been, “Probably not.”  I can think of only two situations wherein I might consider writing another goblin book:

1. DAW offers to pay me a million dollars¹.
2. I come up with an idea for a goblin story that is both new and exciting to me as a writer.

The thing is, in my brain, Jig’s story is finished.  I’ve shown him and his fellow goblins growing and changing over the three books.  I leave them in a very different place in book three, and I like that.  I like that we got to see Tymalous Shadowstar’s story as well.  I like that we got closure for some of the other characters and situations from book one.  It feels done.

Sometimes I wonder if I made the right call, if maybe I should have kept going with the series.  Jig has some wonderful fans, and he really was a fun character to write.  (Not to mention the goblins were making great money over in Germany!)  And then last night I caught the rebirth of Scrubs.

This is a show that “ended” after season eight.  I thought they had a wonderful series finale, and I was very impressed at how they handled everything.  It worked.

And then they decided to keep going.  I don’t know why.  I don’t know if it was a purely commercial decision, or if someone honestly thought they had more stories to tell.  All I know is that it was painful.  Many of the characters had crossed the line into caricature.  The stories felt repetitive–things we had already seen in earlier seasons.  The whole thing felt hollow.

I hope they’ll improve as the season progresses, and I’ll keep watching to see where they go with it.  But those two new episodes affirmed for me why I don’t just sit down and write a fourth Jig book.  If I wrote it because the fans wanted it, or for money, or for any reason aside from my own love and excitement over a new story, the odds are that I’d lose the heart of those stories.  I’d end up with the same kind of empty, repetitive caricature I watched last night.

I was disappointed when Scrubs ended, but I enjoyed the series, and I loved and respected the way they wrapped things up.  As a fan, I find myself wishing they had left it there.  And as a writer, I don’t want to do that to my own fans.

—

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

From time to time, you come across authors talking about how their books are their babies.  I’ve been thinking about the release of The Mermaid’s Madness [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy], and decided to see how well the analogy holds up.

Part 1: Creation.  It took me one year to finish the manuscript that would become The Mermaid’s Madness, and that’s without my editor’s revision requests.  It took me mumble minutes to finish … er … well, to finish my part in the creation of what would become my child.  (On the other hand, at least my wife didn’t ask for revisions!)

Part 2: Prepublication.  It takes roughly nine months for a human baby to develop and be born.  It took about ten months for finished copies of Mermaid to start showing up in bookstores.  In both case, you have some beautiful milestones along the way.  The first ultrasound and the first glimpse of your cover art.  Preparing the baby’s room, and redesigning the web site to make room for the new book.  The baby analogy holds up better here.

Part 3: Release.  Labor is not a fun experience.  We were back and forth to the hospital several times.  The doctors tried and failed to induce labor.  In the end, both of my children were born via C-section, basically cutting my wife open and tugging the kids out.  This is not a gentle process, folks.  It was like trying to remove a basketball from a too-tight package.  The books, on the other hand?  My publisher shipped ’em to me in a Fed Ex. box.

Part 4: The Real World.  Very few people will tell you your newborn baby looks like a cross between a bulldog and a California Raisin.  People have no such reluctance when it comes to reviewing your new book.  The real baby is snuggled, fed, burped, bathed, and rocked to sleep.  Your books will receive no such love.  Some will be forgotten in the back room.  Others will linger on the shelves, along with tens of thousands of others.  Those lucky enough to find a home will have their spines cracked, and after a brief relationship, will end up squeezed onto a bookshelf and left there for months or years to come.

Part 5: Letting Go.  Your baby will likely be with you for at least 18 years.  Your book?  You’ll be lucky if it’s still on the bookstore shelves to celebrate its first birthday.  Within a month, many of those books will be setting out on their new career: stripping.  Front covers are wantonly ripped away in an orgy of shelf reorganization, and soon you’ll find these prematurely aged paperbacks discarded in back alley dumpsters.

Part 6: The Next Child.  I’ll be honest, I rarely think about Mermaid these days.  I’m lavishing all of my love and affection on Snow Queen.  This will be my seventh book.  I hope to pop out at least thirty over the course of my career.  Forget octomom, I wanna be tridecadad!  Children, on the other hand?  I love both of my children dearly, but I don’t know whether I could handle a third.

In conclusion, myth busted.  A book is not a baby.  Tune in next week when I talk about how dingos ate my book.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

• Thank you to everyone who’s offered new and autographed books for the DV Book Drive.  I’ll be continuing to collect books through about mid-December, at which point they will be delivered to the shelter.

• I’m still taking entries into the Mock Cover Contest, too.  I’ll pick the top entries and put those up for a vote early next week.

#

Way back when, after I sold Goldfish Dreams to a small publisher, I started hunting for blurbs. I was fortunate to get some great ones, but I remember the individual who e-mailed to say he hadn’t read the entire book, but offered a blurb anyway.  Better still, when I pointed out that his blurb contained spoilers, he invited me to just rewrite it however I saw fit.

I’d like to say I took the ethical path and declined.  Alas, I was young and desperate. I rewrote the blurb, e-mailed it to him for approval, and slapped his name on it.  I rationalize it by saying at least he approved the blurb, but it’s not my proudest moment as an author.

Years later, I was reading Julie Czerneda’s comments about blurbs. I can’t remember exactly how she said it, but I came away thinking of blurbs as a contract, a matter of trust between reader and author.  If a blurb from me has any impact at all, it will be because you’ve read my work, and you trust me as an author.  You trust that I wouldn’t recommend something I didn’t like.

Over the past few years, I’ve begun getting more blurb requests, which means I’ve had to decide how I’m going to approach this.  I find myself thinking about that blurb I got for Goldfish Dreams, and the one I got from Julie for Goblin Quest [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy].  Guess which one means more to me?  Guess which of these two individuals I want to be like.

That’s led to some uncomfortable moments.  I’ve had to tell several friends that I couldn’t blurb their books for one reason or another.  Sometimes the book just didn’t work for me.  That makes for an awkward conversation, but I also try to be honest.

I had a different experience a few months back.  Jennifer Estep sent me an ARC of Spider’s Bite [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy], which comes out in January.

It’s not a bad book.  I like the idea of using elemental magic in urban fantasy.  Gin has the strong female thing going, which I generally enjoy.  And the story is definitely a page-turner.

I still declined to blurb it, and a part of me continues to wonder if I’m overthinking it.  Spider’s Bite, like a fair amount of urban fantasy, is a pretty “adult” book.  There’s violence and bloodshed, as well as fairly graphic sexual content.  It’s a very different style than my own work, and that’s where I hesitated.

If my name were to show up on the cover, what would that signal to my readers?  What expectations does that create?  Will someone pick up this book expecting light, fun fantasy like Jim Hines writes?

I’m sure there’s overlap between Estep’s readers and my own.  People read a wide range.  And It’s not like my blurb is going to scar some innocent, wide-eyed young reader for life by tricking them into reading sex and violence.

But I wasn’t comfortable with it, and I’m continuing to try to understand where that’s coming from.  On that note, I would love to hear your thoughts on blurbs.  What is and isn’t appropriate, what works and what doesn’t, and so on.  As an author, where would you draw the line?  As a reader, what makes you lose trust with a blurbing author?

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

• Still taking title suggestions for the mock urban fantasy cover contest. And for anyone who missed it, that entry inspired Paul Abbamondi to do his own urban fantasy mock-up with Jig in a traditional cover pose. Click to view the awesomeness.

#

So Nebula recommendations are now open for all works published from July 1, 2008 through the end of this year. I was actually surprised to see how much I had that qualified. Being the trend-following guy I am, I figured what the heck.

Novels:

The Mermaid’s Madness [Amazon | B&N | Mysterious Galaxy]
The Stepsister Scheme [Amazon | B&N | Mysterious Galaxy]

Novelette:

“Red’s Tale” in The Faery Taile Project. November, 2008.

Short Stories:

“The Creature in Your Neighborhood” in Strip Mauled. September, 2009.
“Mightier than the Sword” in Gamer Fantastic. July, 2009.
“The Red Path” in Terribly Twisted Tales. May, 2009.
“Gift of the Kites” in Clarkesworld Magazine. October, 2008.
“Original Gangster” in Fantasy Magazine. September, 2008.
“Images of Death” in Imaginary Friends. September, 2008.
“The Eyes of Ra” in Cat Tales. September, 2008.
“Ours to Fight For” in Realms of Fantasy. August, 2008.

If you’re in SFWA and are interested in reading any of these, including the novels, please let me know.

More importantly, I wanted to use this as a reminder about the 2009 Humorous SF/F Roundup.  I will continue to add qualifying works to the list until the end of 2009.

The prevailing attitude is that humor and comedy are somehow lesser works.  (Much like SF/F in general is often viewed as lesser–mere escapism.)

I’ve received mail from people in hospitals with dying relatives, people dealing with death, divorce, and other crises, and I can tell you this–escapism matters.  Humor matters.  Reading a well-written book that allows you to escape the pain and stress for a few hours, that might even allow you to smile or laugh for the first time in weeks–it matters.

For that reason, I would love to see one or more humorous pieces make the ballot this year.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

• First off, a quote from author C. C. Finlay: “The third law of writing: For every fiction there is an equal and opposite re-fiction. For example, if there is The Hobbit, eventually someone will inevitably write Goblin Quest.”  I am much amused.

• The SF/F Humor Roundup is up to 22 short stories and 12 novels.  So far, so good!  I’m working on guidelines to try to cut down on blatant self-promotion.  I don’t mind authors recommending their own work, but I don’t want a list of 30 stories from every online nook and cranny.  I’m thinking of limiting self-promotional recommendations to one short story and/or one novel.  What do you think?

• I’ll be heading to Windycon tomorrow.  I’ve got the Manly Baen vs. Womanly DAW panel Saturday at 10, an autographing session Saturday at 2, What are Kids Reading on Sunday at 10, and I’ll be reading my muppet werewolf tale on Sunday at Noon.  Hope to see some of you there!

#

I realized I haven’t done an actual writing update in a while.  After finishing the revisions for Red Hood’s Revenge, I started back in on Snow Queen.  I struggled through the current chapter, but it was painful.  The whole thing felt like it was stuck, and I had no idea where to go from here.

Some of the more experienced writers probably know exactly where I’m at in this manuscript.  That’s right, it’s the dreaded 30,000 word slog.  Every book I’ve done for the past five years has hit this same point, where my outline falls apart and the story crashes and burns.

Fortunately, I’ve done this enough times to recognize it.  The solution for me?  Step back and rewrite the outline.  When I’m first planning a book, my brain can’t hold the whole thing.  So I outline and do the best I can, but by the time I’ve typed 25K-30K words, I’ve changed enough that the outline no longer works.

I’ve spent the past week outlining, and I’m just about ready to dive back in.  I’m not going to start over from the beginning, because I’ve found that just wastes time for me.  But I’ve made notes about what to change in the rewrite, and more importantly, I’m excited about some of the new ideas and directions I’m taking in the rest of the story.  I’m also surprised to realize I don’t know how this book is going to end.  I honestly don’t know whether or not certain characters will survive.  That’s kind of fun

So there’s where I’m at with the writing.  Book three is done, book four is underway, and the back of my brain is quietly percolating ideas for the next series.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Here we go!  This is the link for the 2009 roundup of humorous science fiction and fantasy.  Let this be the first step toward a new age, an age in which humorous books can walk proudly beside their literary brothers and sisters, an age in which puns and nose-picking jokes shall be treated with the respect and accolades they deserve!

http://www.jimchines.com/humor-2009/

If you’ve read some amusing science fiction or fantasy from this year, please let me know and I’ll add it to the list!

If you’ve written something funny, same deal–but please note that I’m only listing work that appeared in paid/commercial publications.  And no, that $1.00 advance from Publish America doesn’t count.

Finally, if you have feedback on the page itself, please let me know.  This is a work in progress, and will probably evolve as it goes.

Please feel free to spread the word to anyone you think might be interested, and thanks!

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

October kicked my ass, but man, what a ride.  The Mermaid’s Madness [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy] came out at the start of the month.  I did my first-ever guest of honor stint at Icon.  There were signings and readings. I also did a final revision on Red Hood’s Revenge, which I turned in on Sunday (woo hoo!)

I’m probably going to be playing catch-up for a while longer, but wanted to talk about one of the panel discussions we had at Icon, about humor in science fiction and fantasy.  I’ve thought about this a fair amount, having published a number of rather silly stories over the years.  One of the things we chatted about was the style of humor in some SF/F stories and circles–the puns, the in-jokes, the puns, the Star Wars and Monty Python quotes, the puns…

One of the reasons I think a lot of us enjoy this sort of thing, whether it’s competitive punning or protesting, “You keep using that word–I do not think it means what you think it means,” is that it’s a group identity thing. It’s a shibboleth, a way to identify fellow geeks, to affirm that yes, I belong.  Every family has its quirks, its unique language and vocabulary.  Geek humor serves the same purpose.

Another thing we discussed is the fact that humor is hard to write well.  Trying to balance the funny with the needs of the story, learning where humor will have the most effect in a story, using it as a counterpoint to the serious moments to balance and strengthen both … there’s a lot to learn.

Sadly for those of us who broke in with bunny knives and nose-picking goblins, humor doesn’t get taken that seriously. (Go figure, right?) I’m not saying every pun-filled title deserves to be on the New York Times Bestseller List, but can someone explain to me why the heck Terry Pratchett hasn’t taken home a Hugo or a Nebula yet?

So I’m thinking about starting a roundup of humorous stories and books published in a given year, including links and information to make it easy for anyone nominating or voting on the Hugo and Nebula to read the funny stuff that’s eligible.

Sure, this is partly self-serving, as it gives me the chance to share my muppet werewolf story.  (On that note, if you’re in SFWA or registered for Worldcon, and if you’re interested, please let me know and I’ll e-mail you a copy of  “Creature in Your Neighborhood”.) But I think it would be good to build more awareness and recognition for the humorous side of the genre and the writers doing it well.

For now, this would probably be a page on my site that I’d maintain myself. I’m thinking of restricting it to paid publications–an arbitrary choice that would eliminate self-published stories, but something I’m willing to reconsider.

So, thoughts about humor in general or an annual humor round-up in particular?  Good idea? Lame idea? Pitfalls I should be aware of?

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

I debated whether or not to post this, but in the interest of keeping myself honest and talking about all sides of this writing thing, I decided to go ahead.

My friend Seanan McGuire’s debut novel Rosemary and Rue [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy] came out at the start of September.  It’s a great book, and I’m thrilled for her success. Yet there’s a part of me that compares her Amazon listing–50+ reviews, a ranking in the 1000 range, and #99 of all fantasy titles at Amazon, all more than a month after her release–to my own, and comes away feeling envious.

I hate comparing myself to other writers. A friend gets a $30,000+ advance, and while I’m truly happy for them and excited for their news, there’s also that tiny whisper asking why I’m not earning the same.

I hate it because it makes me lose sight of what I already have.  The Mermaid’s Madness [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy] has a month-long face-out display at most Barnes and Noble stores.  Mermaid’s first week’s sales were the best of any of my books so far.  Publishers Weekly called it “a witty, well-constructed adventure tale about powerful women stepping up with skill and cleverness.” I’m the freaking guest of honor at Icon in Iowa in two days!

But then I compare my web-only PW review to Laura Anne Gilman’s starred PW review for Flesh and Fire [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy] (which looks like an awesome book, by the way), and suddenly my good news feels … deflated, somehow. Even if only for a moment.

Screw that. The fact is, I’ve got an awful lot to be proud of.  I have five books in print. The first three have earned out their advances and gone back for multiple printings. They’ve been translated into a half-dozen languages. I even have miniatures of my characters. How freaking cool is that???

The self-doubt and the insecurities are insidious, and they don’t magically disappear once you get a book deal. It’s only three years since my first book with DAW hit the shelves; I’m still a fairly new writer. Maybe this is normal. Maybe it takes a good track record with 10 or 15 books to start earning those higher advances, and for the big review venues to really sit up and take notice.

I love what I’m doing, and I wouldn’t trade it. Fairy tale princesses might not be as hot as My Little Pony with Steampunk Zombies*, but I love these stories, and I’m proud of them. I know there will always be more successful writers, and that to compare myself to everyone who does better than me means I’m creating completely distorted expectations for myself. I know all of this, but the emotions don’t always listen to the logic.

Fortunately, I also know the envy is a transient thing. I’m proud of my friends, and happy for them. The envy will pass (for the most part), but the pride remains, because my friends rock, and they’ve earned that success. I’m happy for myself, too–happy and proud, and that will still be there after the envy fades.

—
*Yes, now I want to write it too.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

• Would folks be interested in a discussion post for The Mermaid’s Madness [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy]?

• While at ConClave, Al Bogdan did an impromptu video session of Merrie Haskell and I interviewing one another. I can’t watch, ’cause I cringe to see myself on camera, but I had a good time chatting with Merrie. Interview is posted here.

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I stopped by the local B&N today to sign stock, and as I was browsing the shelves, it struck me how many of these authors I’ve come to know either in person or online.  Wonderful people, (well, mostly wonderful), and I wish I had the time to keep up with all the great books they’re putting out.

But every once in a while, I’m reading a friend’s book and I find myself unable to get into the story.  I have to force myself to turn the pages, and soon I’m reading out of guilt and looking forward to the end for the sole reason that it frees me to read something different.  (Note to Jennifer and Lisa, since both of you know I’ve been reading your stuff lately: I’m not talking about you here.)

If the author is a stranger, it’s easy to toss the book aside.  But if it’s someone I know, even just from chatting online … yeah.   Awkward.  Uncomfortable.  Serious Oh-God-please-don’t-ask-me-what-I-thought-of-your-book moments.

Since Mermaid just came out, I figured this was a good time to say to anyone who’s as neurotic as I am about this stuff … it’s okay.  I don’t expect everyone who hangs out and chats here to be rabid fans of my books.  Some of you have never read my stuff, and that’s okay.  Others have, and weren’t impressed.  That’s okay too.

Any author who expects everyone to love their work is a damn fool.  Mermaid has been out for little more than a week, and already I’ve read comments calling it the perfect book and others calling it a disappointment. C’est la vie.

I obviously want people to enjoy the books I write, and I’m delighted when they do.  I do hope, if you like the blog, that you might check out a sample chapter or try one of my stories, but I don’t expect it.

I’m grateful to everyone who’s picked up one of my books and given a still-relatively-new author a shot.  If they turned you into a goblin or princess fan, that’s awesome.  But if you found my writing wasn’t to your liking, no worries.  We’re still cool.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

So The Mermaid’s Madness [Amazon | Mysterious Galaxy] is one day old.  At this point, a lot of authors will talk about the things readers can do to support the book.  You’ve probably seen lists like:

• Review the book in your blog, at Amazon, at GoodReads, or wherever, because word of mouth is the biggest factor in a book’s survival in this cold, cruel world.
• Buy books right after they come out, because the publisher and the bookstores pay attention to those early sales.
• Ask your library to get a copy in stock.  Better yet, tell ‘em to get two!
• If you like the book, recommend it to your friends, family, and that guy down the street with the weird lawn gnomes.

Those are decent suggestions, I guess.  But you want to know what most authors really want?  How to truly support your favorite writers?  Read on, my friend.

• You see that guy carrying the huge manuscript and jogging after our author friend?  That’s Bob.  Bob doesn’t actually know our author, but he’s nonetheless going to fling that manuscript at the author’s feet and demand a critique, a blurb, or a referral to the author’s agent.  If you could run Bob over with your car, that would be very much appreciated.
• Authors aren’t supposed to respond to bad reviews.  It’s tacky, and it just leads to more bad publicity.  But there’s no rule against you tracking down the person who posted that review, following them to their house, kicking down their door, and screaming “Nobody expects the Goblin Inquisition!” as you beat them with a dog-eared paperback.
• Mow my lawn.  (I know it’s a long shot, but I thought I’d throw it out there.  I despise lawn mowing, and it’s going to be a few years before my kids are old enough to take over.)
• Accept the crazy.  Authors are nuts.  Peek inside my brain right now, and you find me wanting to refresh Amazon (even though I checked the rank 30 seconds ago), an ego that’s simultaneously huge (I am Published Author) and fragile (Why isn’t my book selling as well as Random Author’s? I must suck!), and the emotional scars left from 500+ rejection letters.  Just smile and nod and slip the meds into our drink when we’re not looking, just like Murdock and BA from the A-Team.
• Finally, taser anyone who asks the following questions*:
  • When’s the movie coming out?
  • When are you quitting the day job?
  • Where do you get your ideas?
  • Can I have a free book?

Please feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments!

—
*I don’t actually mind when people ask most of these, but the questions come up so often they start to show up in my dreams.  I lay there in my sleep mumbling, “Can’t quit.  Need benefits and steady paycheck.”

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

I’ll probably be talking about book-release stuff next week when Mermaid’s Madness comes out, which got me thinking about some of the really bad publicity strategies for authors.

I’m not claiming to be perfect.  In the past five years, I’ve tried any number of things to promote my work that make me wince to think about ‘em now.  Bad home-printed bookmarks, obnoxious begging for reviews, etc.  But I’ve tried to learn, and I do my best to keep my promotional efforts in check–trying to model them as the occasional commercial break as opposed to an infomercial, if that makes sense?

Anyway, I figured this might be a good time open things up for a discussion of some of the most annoying, ineffective, or downright bizarre promo efforts you’ve seen.  Starting things off with five of my personal favorites:

• If a bookstore isn’t carrying your work, sneak in and leave a copy on the shelf.  When someone goes to buy it, they’ll be forced to add you to the computer.  Voila!  Now you’re in the system, and sure to sell millions of copies.
• Stick your book cover on postage stamps!  (This one comes courtesy of Writer Beware.)
• Run around posting five-star reviews of your own work.  In your own name.  (Yes, I’ve seen this done on multiple occasions.)
• Spam.  Including e-mail, message boards, blog comments, and so on.  ‘Nuff said.
• And my all-time favorite, Photoshop yourself into photos of successful authors.  (Related: make up sockpuppet accounts to harass anyone who calls you on it.)

What else have you encountered that makes you cringe?  What bad advice have you come across?  (“You must spend your entire advance on promotional efforts, or your book is DOOMED!”)  What annoys you to the point where you’ll deliberately avoid buying, reading, or even being in the same room with a book?

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

I’m off to Durand today for a news interview in preparation for the Fantasy Expo on Saturday.  Today was also my day for blogging at SF Novelists.  So if I’ve set things up properly, you should be able to click on over and read my post about depression as a writer.

Or you can stick around and admire LEGO Wall*E, built by corran-101.  Click the pic for the full set.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Slush I Read
by Jim C. Hines

(Apologies to Seuss)

I read slush.
Slush I read.

That slush I read.
That slush I read!
I do not like that slush I read.

Do you like fanfic with vamps?

I do not like them Mary Sue.
Why do these vamps all worship you?

Here’s a tale from D & D!

I do not want your D & D.
I do not like your elf PC.
I can not stand your purple prose.
I want to punch you in the nose!

Would you like a hot sex scene?
I wrote it for my online ‘zine!

I do not like your pervy tale.
Your metaphors make readers pale.
Your paragraphs are pages long.
Your bad sex scene is oh so wrong!
Can people do that with their lips???
I do not like your manuscripts.

This one is in Comic Sans!
My parents are my biggest fans.

That evil font we do not want!
My aching eyes, my weary sighs.
Why can’t you get the format right?
We post our guidelines in plain sight!
I will not read your 8-point type.
I want to bash you with a pipe!

Would you read this in the loo?
Let me slide it right to you!

I would not, could not, while I poo!

You just hate me ’cause I’m new!
I’m too original for you!

Too original you say?
This book is one absurd cliché!
It should not see the light of day.

I do not like your Mary Sues.
I do not like your crackhead muse.
Eve and Adam, Star Trek slash,
Tolkien ripoffs, pointless trash,
Prologues forty pages long,
Spelling every third word wrong.
I do not want to read this slush.
It’s all too much, my brain is mush!

Just one more story for today.
Soon I’ll clear this slush away.
No more vampires, I pray.

Wait–
This cover letter’s brief.
The format’s clean.  What a relief!

Say!
This story from the slush.
This story gives me such a rush.
These pages have a brilliant hook.
I want to read it in a book!
The wordcraft makes me start to swoon.
Is that the end? It came too soon!
I read it one time, two times, three!
It is so good, so good you see!

So I will read the slush again.
And wade through drafts by Twilight fen.
And I will read the pointless plots,
And tales of busty blonde sexbots.
And I will read your pissed off mail.
And I will read it without fail.
Yes I will read slush by the bale
So I can find that next great tale.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Like I did last week, I’m rerunning this piece from 2006 (with minor edits) to get it into Wordpress.

For a long time, invitation-only anthologies were my Holy Grail, a goal only one step below actually selling a novel to a major publisher.  I drove myself a little loopy trying to crack the invite market, and thought I’d share those experiences for anyone trying to do the same.

What conclusions do I draw from all of this?

• Your odds are better if you already have pro-level sales under your belt. Especially if the editor has read and liked your work (thank you, Goblin Quest).
• Networking is important, much as I hate to admit it. And editors talk to one another. So do authors. Authors talk to editors, too. So be nice.
• When you get that invitation, be professional. Don’t blow the deadline. Don’t turn in a dusty old trunk story (unless you revise the heck out of it to make it shiny and brilliant). Show the editor you’re someone they want to work with again.
• There are no guarantees. An invitation does not mean the editor will accept your story. I’ve had several rejections on invite-only projects.
• I’ve never had an editor get mad at me for politely asking if they’d consider me for a project. Don’t push, and don’t pout if they say no or ignore you. The worst they can say is no.
• Make your story stand out. Try not to write the most obvious story for any particular theme.
• Unfortunately, there are more authors wanting to write for anthologies than there are anthologies. Be patient. Like everything else in this business, it takes time.

I hope this is helpful.  Please feel free to jump in with questions, or to discuss your own experiences.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Hey, guess what showed up in a big ol’ Fed Ex box yesterday.  I’ll give you a hint–it wasn’t The Tick

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Because it came up in the comments yesterday Tuesday, I thought I’d talk a little about the Bechdel Test.  For those of you unfamiliar with the test, check out the Wikipedia link.  In brief, a story has to meet the following three requirements to pass the test:

It has to have at least two women in it
1. Who talk to each other
2. About something besides a man.

The Angry Black Woman posted a modified version regarding race:

1. It has to have at least two people of color in it
2. Who talk to each other
3. About something besides a white person.

The first time I saw these, my first reaction was of course to apply them to my own books.  The goblin trilogy is iffy on the first test.  Book one fails, but then we get Grell, Golaka, Kralk, Billa, and we start to fare a little better.  The female characters are definitely in the minority though, and I’d have to go back and check to see how much they talk to one another as opposed to being all about the men.

In terms of race?  Not a clue how to apply it to the goblins, since few of my characters in this series are human.  On the other hand, the actual humans, dwarves, and elves were all white.  Why?  There’s no deliberate reason; I just defaulted to white when I wrote the books.

The princess series fares better, passing the original test with flying colors.  When it comes to race though, that’s a little different.  Of the three heroines, Talia is the only non-white character.  It’s not until book three that the books pass the racial test.

I’m not aware of anyone saying every story has to pass the tests.  We’re not talking about quotas, and I swear to Cthulhu I’ll loose the goblins on the first one to raise that strawman.

The point, at least for me, is how few stories actually pass these tests.  Because we default to what’s easy or familiar, or what we’re used to reading and writing.  Why did Darnak the dwarf have to be white and male?  Why is Talia the only non-white servant I’ve described working in the palace?  Did I think about the politics and racial atmosphere in Lorindar and make a conscious decision to minimize non-white characters, or was I just lazy?

Most of the time, I don’t think it’s a conscious choice.  I know I don’t always see the trends in my own writing until I deliberately stop and look back at my work.  The Bechdel tests are one way to do that.

Remember IDIC from Star Trek?  (Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, for those of you whose geek-fu is not as strong.)  It’s not about quotas or satisfying the PC police.  It’s about telling better stories.  Because defaulting our stories to a single narrow slice of reality, limiting what we write and read to tales of Straight White Men, is simply illogical.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.