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Cheeks Sent Me High

Folks, a couple of weeks ago we celebrated International Pennebaker Day, which has nothing to do with baked pasta, and which, for some reason, still lacks proper international recognition.Today, and in that same uplifting spirit, we celebrate International Csikszentmihalyi Day. The word in between “international” and “day” may look like a really terrible attempt at an anagram, or what happens when a Slovakian and a choose to double-barrel their surnames, or just what you get when you put a couple of alphabets into an ordinary domestic liquidiser and hit the Blitz button.In fact, of course, the name is (a) an example of a nice, straightforward Hungarian name, and (b) one belonging to the US-Hungarian psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (roughly, “Cheeks Sent Me High”).Csikszentmihalyi is best known for his work on flow, a mental/emotional state that’s characterised by total immersion in the activity concerned. He says the state takes place when you are:“Completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you\'re using your skills to the utmost.”Writers achieve this state. So do painters and musicians. But sportspeople do as well. I’ve known it, myself, when rock-climbing, but I imagine that the followers of other, lesser sports feel it too.When Emma Raducanu says of her US Open win, ‘At one point mid-game, I just let my racket go because I just didn’t believe I made that shot,’ you sense the presence of flow in action. That shot wasn’t exactly the consequence of a consciously willed action, but nor was it involuntary or unconscious.Csikszentmihalyi elaborates the state thus:Complete concentration on the task;Clarity of goals and reward in mind and immediate feedback;Transformation of time (speeding up/slowing down);The experience is intrinsically rewarding;Effortlessness and ease;There is a balance between challenge and skills;Actions and awareness are merged, losing self-conscious rumination;There is a feeling of control over the task.I’ve known all of that when writing. Most often when writing fiction, but I’ve certainly known it with non-fiction too. I get it (a bit) when I write these Friday emails.The merging of actions and awareness is certainly a leading feature for me. So too is the intrinsic reward. So is the complete concentration. So is the loss of time.When I write, time just vanishes. I can easily miss an appointment by an hour and feel amazed, because I thought I still had ages to go. More weirdly, when I’ve been at peak fitness, I’ve felt it rock-climbing. I’ve had the sense of jumping for a hold and – instead of my normal desperate, failing lunge – I’ve found that I’ve had more time to locate and grasp the hold than I expected. When I see really good climbers climb, the thing that always strikes me isn’t how much stronger they are, but how much more time they always seem to have.Now, I don’t think you really need me to tell you about flow, because I’m pretty sure you already feel it and understand it from within. So here are some further thoughts or questions that occur to me:Do you have to have flow to write?Once you’ve experienced flow, it may seem that it’s the only way to generate quality words on the page. That if you’re not in flow, you should just walk the dogs or fix a shelf or perform some other displacement activity until you feel ready to try again.I don’t think that’s right, or at least it’s only about half right.I strongly suspect that a book written entirely by force of will and without the aid of flow won’t ever be entirely satisfying. It may have craft, but won’t have magic, and without the magic, honestly, what’s the point? That’s why I always have a mental reservation about the 2,000-words-a-day brigade, those folks who point out that you should be able to write a 100K thriller in two months, even allowing a bit of time off along the way.But at the same time, the single best way to bump-start your writing is simply: write.If you feel locked out of writing, then just forcing yourself to do it – going through the motions, if you like – is still the best way to unlock that inner blockage. That approach has worked often enough for me in the past. If you feel any blockage at the moment, then the same basic approach will work for you.(Except that if days and weeks go by and you’re still not feeling right, you need to question things more broadly. Is all well in your life? Maybe there’s some deeper issue that needs addressing. Or is all well with the book? Maybe your inability to get into it is because there is some fundamental issue with the project that you need to acknowledge and tackle directly. Writing, like caustic soda, solves most things, but ...)Can a reader tell the difference between flow-words and non-flow words?I tend to know, even years afterwards, which pages of a book came awkwardly for me and which came smoothly. It’s as though I still feel the ghost of that early awkwardness haunting the text.At the same time, I can honestly say that no agent, editor or reader has ever called attention to those patches and suggested that they’re lesser than the rest. I think a book needs, as far as possible, to be written in a flow state, because that’s what lets the magic in, but once the magic is there, it disperses through the text. There may be better scenes or worse scenes, but magic is a quality that adheres (or not) to a book as a whole.In short: if some scenes just come awkwardly and brutishly onto the page, you don’t need to worry about it. No one else will ever know.Editing can be a flow state tooFor me, this is critical.Actual writing probably brings the greatest joy. (My very greatest joys have been placing my character in extended peril. Oh, how I loved almost freezing Fiona to death in the Black Mountains. I adored bricking her up at the side of a church in the Brecon Beacons. And I had a rare and deep joy when I sank a trawler, with her on board, in the midst of an Atlantic gale.)That said, editing has always been a deep, absorbing pleasure for me. I think writers should train themselves to expect flow in editing as well as writing. The rewards of editing are a little different and, OK, perhaps a little shallower too, but they are real for all that.I love editing so much, it’s always a little grief to hand over a book. I’d like to spend more time with it. If you don’t find editing utterly absorbing, it’s almost certain that you’re cutting corners you don’t really want to cut.__That’s it from me. I’m on holiday next week – as in, really, truly, on a beach somewhere warm – so you won’t get a real email from me. You’re going to get a short “best of selection” that you can sneer at, then tear to shreds.Normal service will resume the week after that.Oh yes, and the header photo on this page? That\'s not me. It\'s James Pearson on The Quarryman, which is the most dazzlingly beautiful climb in the UK - and about a million miles beyond my pay grade. In my next life, I\'m going to come back with the balance of a ballet dancer and forearms like Pop-Eye. I once met Jonny Dawes, the revolutionary who first climbed The Quarryman and I almost fainted with adulation. He\'s a god.

10 of the Best Apps and Software Solutions for Writing Your Book or Screenplay

How using certain online tools can improve your writing Any writer will tell you that writing is hard. Although it’s something we can all relate to, we are only as good as our tools. Which is why it’s important to know what novel writing software is available for when inspiration strikes. Some of the best apps for writers are made specifically for novels or screenplays. It can be hard to choose and determine the best creative writing app for you, which is why I’ve compiled this handy guide. In this article, you’ll get to know what you might be looking for in creative writing apps as well as a list of my top recommendations for software for writers. Writing/editing software doesn’t have to be complicated, or expensive. Read on to learn more about some of my top picks for your writer’s toolbelt! Selecting the Best Novel Writing Software First thing’s first: choosing the best writing app for your needs and expectations. There’s an ever-growing abundance of software tools and apps available for writers, both for editing grammar and clarity, as well as structuring or formatting your writing.  Having so many choices can be bewildering, especially if you consider yourself a dabbler or a writer of multiple genres or styles. However, there’s an app out there for everyone, whether it be outlining software, proofreading software, or simply an aesthetically pleasing writing platform! Before we dive into these top 10 writing apps, take some time to determine your own needs and wants. For example, are you looking for an app that is just for story planning, or are you looking for a technologically advanced screenwriting software? Depending on how specific your needs are, some writing apps are better than others. One of the most determining factors when shopping for author software is knowing the platform on which the app or software is required to run. Do you have a Mac or Windows computer? The best writing apps for Android or iPad may vary. Are you hoping to work on your phone or tablet? These questions will help you select the best writing software. You should also think about the various capabilities and features that many creative writing apps can provide. These include: TemplatesMany apps offer novel or screenplay templates, a perfect feature for new or structured writers looking for assistance in their formatting.Cost / LicensingOn a budget? Some of these writing apps on this list are free, but many others have fees, including monthly subscription options.Ease of use / easy to learnOften writing apps can feel like you are learning an entirely new language; choosing a more simplistic app could be beneficial if you are searching for something that you can write on right away.Additional useful featuresAre you hoping for formatting tips or assistance with your overall grammar and sentence clarity? Some writing apps offer these features, and many more. If you are looking for something specific, keep an eye out for that!File formatsHaving an app for writing that will save in a variety of formats can be extremely valuable for writers, especially those of you submitting your work under very precise guidelines.Collaboration capabilitiesIf you are working on a writing project with a group or other collaborators, you may want to find an app that allows you to work on the same project with multiple writers, however remotely.  I have selected and examined the following software for writers, considering budget and needs. 6 Best Book Writing Software Programs These are some of my top choices of software to write a book, including manuscript software. While these apps are listed under ‘book writing’, they might also be used for playwriting, screenwriting, or other various writing forms.  Scrivener My own personal pick for writing projects of all shapes and sizes, Scrivener is one of the most popular writing apps out there today. With fantastic template options and digital sticky notes for organising, the sky’s the limit for your writing projects. You can choose manuscript outlines with front and back matter formatting included, screenplay outlines for your next pilot, or even outlines for simple essays or formal documents. You can organise the app however you like, with theme colours and a wide array of content analysing features. While Scrivener has a lot to offer, there is an extremely steep learning curve. It took me a few days of consistent use to master it, and even now I know that I have just barely scratched the surface. However, the app has tutorials that you can follow at any time, should the writing app be confusing! Scrivener works on Mac or Windows systems, each costing £47 ($65) per operating system, and you may also consider purchasing a £20 ($28) app for Android and IOS devices. This allows all devices to sync so long as you have a Dropbox account, updating your writing projects across all platforms, wherever you are!  Read more about Scrivener here, and feel free to download its 30-day free trial so that you can get a feel for it. Microsoft Word The most classic of writing platforms, Microsoft Word still has a lot to offer a writer, no matter your genre or specialization. Microsoft Word will no doubt feel familiar to most any writer, as it is set up similarly to most document programs, such as Google Docs or even Scrivener. Microsoft Word offers an annual subscription fee that includes Microsoft’s entire suite (Word, Excel, Powerpoint, etc.) as well as 1 terabyte of storage for single users. The fee is a bit steep- around £60 ($70) for the year.  However, their programs work across multiple devices, and offering cloud storage solutions is a great perk for writers with a lot of content or documents. Microsoft Word has grown a lot over the years too; their spell check and grammar tools have only gotten better, and Word can look at your documents for its overall flow and feel. You can check out all that Microsoft has to offer here, as well as compare each and every product that they offer. If you live in a house with multiple aspiring writers, a Microsoft subscription may suit you well. Google Docs A mainstay for many people, Google Docs is a fantastic free writing software available to anyone with an internet connection. You can work on a document both online and offline, with free storage from Google. Oh, and did I mention this writing tool is completely free to use? While Google Docs may not have all of your favourite fonts and editing options, it has a comprehensive grammar and sentence structure editor as well as standard formatting options found in Microsoft Word.  Like Microsoft properties, Google Docs is a part of an entire suite of useful apps and writing tools, such as Sheets, Slides, Drive, and many more. Google Docs is also ideal if you plan on collaborating with people across time zones or otherwise remotely. You can chat in real time in the document or leave comments for people to see later. Multiple people can edit a Google Doc at once with an internet connection, and you have the option to suggest edits that can be rejected or accepted and applied by your peers. A great tool for collaborations and teams. Plus don’t forget it’s totally free! Check out Google Docs here, if you haven’t done so already. Evernote Do you have a big project to tackle with images, deadlines, and more? Evernote may be the app for you, a perfect writing tool for the busy author. Much more than just a writing document, Evernote brings all of your organization needs into one streamlined writing app. With Evernote, you can sync your documents and notes across all devices, no matter the operating system or product, from a Mac laptop to a Samsung phone and back to an iPad. You can organize your documents and notes to your heart’s delight or leave everything in chaos. Because Evernote’s ingenious search system can find the document that you’re hunting for. Do you take a lot of screen captures for your writing? Evernote allows you to annotate and edit screencapped PDFs, images, and more. It can search handwriting, images, and any document type for keywords, giving you access to everything you have saved with a quick search. Evernote keeps any writer’s business sorted and all in one place, no matter how busy you are. And the best part about Evernote? They offer free plans as well as monthly subscriptions depending on your usage and needs. Plans range from £6 ($8)/month to no more than £11 ($15)/month, per person. Check out all that Evernote has to offer here. Hemingway App Are you a writer known for being verbose, and prone to long, rambling sentences? Then you may be a writer that could benefit from the Hemingway App, named after no other than Ernest Hemingway. Import your latest novel and watch Hemingway light up, highlighting your work in various colours that correspond to different editing tips. Hemingway is designed to point out boring words, wandering or passive sentences, and those pesky adverbs. It’s like having a line editor in your own home for just $20 (£15) in total. It can be a great backup writing app, especially once your manuscript is complete. Hemingway works on Mac and PC operating systems, with or without an internet connection. You can format your document and write directly in Hemingway, a simple and focused editor leading to a more concentrated work environment. You can also publish directly to WordPress or other websites from the app. Check out Hemingway here. Grammarly Let’s say that you have your favourite document program, but you just wish the spelling and grammar checker was a bit more informed. Enter Grammarly, a free program that you can use with most popular word document creators, including Microsoft Word and Google. Grammarly is capable of working in tandem with your favourite document editor, pointing out not only your spelling mistakes, but also any sentences lacking in clarity or engaging points. It’s a great free app for anyone to try, and you can download it as a browser add-on here. 4 Best Screenwriting Apps If you are a budding screenwriter looking for apps more directly geared for your work, you’re in the right place. While all of the apps and software I’ve already listed will still work wonders for your screenplay, the following writing apps are made exclusively for plays or screenwriters alike! Fade In Beloved by many Hollywood hotshot writers for its ease of use and comprehensive features, Fade In is a wonderful app for screenwriters at any level. Available for any operating system, including mobile app features, Fade In is your writing companion, whether it be a full-length play or short pilot episode. Fade In is a complete application for writing motion picture screenplays, including tools for outlining, organising, and navigating, plus extensive screenplay formatting and robust tools for managing rewrites and revisions. The app’s appearance is unfussy and simplistic, allowing you room to write and organise as need be. With many templates and the option to collaborate, Fade In is a great app for screenwriters. You can try it for free for a trial period, or buy it for a flat rate of $80 (£60). Learn more about Fade In here. Final Draft If you consider yourself more than a beginning scriptwriter, you might consider purchasing Final Draft. Apparently used by 95% of movie and television writers, Final Draft has been the industry standard for many years. Its price tag may be high for budding writers, but it could also take your work to the next level. Working on Windows or Mac desktops as well as offering a mobile app, Final Draft is key for those of you submitting your writing frequently. With over 300 templates across multiple disciplines, Final draft paginates and formats your writing to industry standards, saving you loads of time when submission deadlines loom. It has story planning and outlining capabilities, and real-time comments just in case you need to make a note and come back to your work later. It has a simplistic, non-distracting design, as well as many formatting options and tutorials included. Final Draft offers a 60-day free trial for those of you on the fence; it’s fair, given that it costs £183 ($250) upfront. You can look at Final Draft’s many additional features here. ScriptBuilder If Final Draft’s features feel daunting, I highly recommend checking out ScriptBuilder. Just like its name implies, ScriptBuilder is perfect for the budding screenwriter, offering both outline and character builders, scene formatting, and more all from your phone or other device. Costing less than £4/$5 to unlock all of the app’s features, ScriptBuilder is ideal for those of you who get ideas for screenplays while you’re out and about but don’t want to forget them. You can easily jot them down on your mobile device, and format using the app later. While it is simple, it is also effective for fleshing out the overall arc of scenes and screenplay plots. You can even build your characters. Keep in mind that this app is only available for Apple products at this time, but you can learn more about it here. Celtx Pro Writing for television, video production, and game production? Celtx may be a great choice for you, especially considering its many collaborative features. By housing familiar screenplay-style script editing within a branching sequence-based structure, Celtx Game & VR editor enables writers to easily create nonlinear, decision-oriented narratives of unlimited scope. Celtx brings your key creatives together in a single, secure, cloud-based workspace that facilitates seamless collaboration at every step of the narrative design process – including project-wide communication powered by an internal commenting and tagging system. This isn’t for the average writer, but it could be perfect for a team of writers and developers, especially if you want to produce games! The cost? It depends on what features you’d like, but pricing begins at £11($15)/month and scales up to £20 ($27)/month. However, they have an introductory first year price that you can check out here. Conclusion Finding a writing app that suits all of your needs is possible, though the search can be daunting. I encourage you to check out the many excellent software apps and programs available to aid authors and screenwriters found on this list.

Proofreading Marks: What Do They Mean?

As a new author, there’s nothing more important than a properly edited piece of writing. It can make or break your submissions, and editors on any level, for any project, will no doubt have notes to give you! While many writers use the Track Changes function on Word, or apps that can add changes or allow for suggestions from editors, there are still some writers opting for old-school hand-written edits. But why do proofreaders use all sorts of symbols and silly markings to edit your work? More than that, what do all of these marks mean? These unusual red scribbles are a necessary evil when it comes to your work being edited, and they can mean a variety of things. Let’s go over what proofreading marks are, and how you can best decipher them before your next big round of edits. What Are Proofreading Marks? These special signs and symbols relate to sections of your work that need editing or adjusting. This can range from spelling errors to grammatical errors to formatting preferences. These forms of corrections may be less frequently found these days, due to the progression of “track changes” and “suggestions” in many word processing applications. However, some of the symbols are widely used so every writer should familiarise themselves appropriately. It\'s also worth noting that some editors that have their own special characters too - so it\'s important to reach out to your proofreader should you not understand their corrections. How might these marks be used, and what are some marks that have been universally accepted by editors and proofreaders? Let’s go over these now... How Proofreading Marks Are Used Proofreading marks are used by editors to point out changes that need making in your document. They are typically located in the right and left margins of a printed document with pointers to where in the text changes are recommended. Both copy editing symbols and abbreviations will be found along your margins or in your text and various sentences, and they can mean anything from improper sentence spacing to transposing your sentence in an entirely different way for clarity.  You will have slashes through words (which means please remove) and abbreviations for formatting changes (such as italics and bold). You will encounter odd squiggles (often meaning “delete” or “transpose”), and your proofreader may even rewrite whole sentences in your margins. Yes, proofreading marks can be overwhelming, especially if you weren’t expecting so many specific edits! These shorthand symbols took me a while to learn and were more complicated than I expected them to be, so be patient with yourself. Once you\'ve gone through multiple rounds of edits with the same proofreader you\'ll soon get the hang of it. What Are The Common Proofreading Symbols? Here\'s a comprehensive list of proofreading marks. Note that there are two types - abstract symbols and abbreviations. ^   - Insert something, most likely an edit found in your marginsㄉ - Delete this word or section; usually this symbol will appear in the margins of your work while there will be a diagonal or straight line through the specific word, letter, or sentence that needs deleting[  - Move your writing left]  - Move your writing right] [  - Center your text#  - Add spaceeq#  - Make the spacing equalbf  - Bold a section of textItal  - Italicise a section of text(/) - Insert some parentheses[/] - Insert some brackets=  - Insert a hyphen;/ - Insert a semicolon! - Insert an exclamation point? - Insert a question mark~  - Transpose (meaning rewrite the sentence, usually)❡  - Begin a new paragraphfl  - Flush left, or align the text with the left marginfr  - Flush right, or align the text with the right marginAWK  - Something about a particular phrase or sentence is worded awkwardly or strangelyWW  - This refers to “wrong word”, such as using the wrong form of “there”WDY  - A particular sentence is most likely too wordy, complicated, or overstated This is only the beginning of the many possible symbols and proofreaders’ abbreviations. Communicate with your proofreader so you don’t misunderstand any specific symbols. You may also wish to refer to a professional proofreading mark guide, such as this helpful list. How To Use Proofreading Marks While they may seem daunting and sometimes discouraging, these corrections are necessary for writers at any stage. No matter how many copy-editing marks you receive, know that you are on track to make your work the best it can be, with the help of a skilled proofreader! Try our proof-reading service here.

What Are Literary Devices? How To Strengthen Your Story

We writers are always looking for ways to strengthen our storytelling. One of the most impactful techniques to do this is using literary devices, which are effective techniques used to hint at different ideas, themes and meanings in a story. Literary devices are used across different genres, and each one serves a specific purpose. They are tools that will take your writing to the next level – making it more impactful and engaging for your readers, hooking them in from the first page until the last. In this guide, we\'ll examine the definitions of literary devices and examples of different literary devices. It\'ll be everything you need to know to maximise the effect of literary devices and use them to strengthen your storytelling.  Understanding Literary Devices A literary device is a technique that writers use to express their ideas and hint at larger themes and meanings in a story. These devices are excellent ways to enhance writing, strengthen the narrative and engage readers, helping them to connect to the characters\' themes.  There are many different styles of literary devices, and most are used in tandem; some are used at sentence level, looking at flow and pacing, while others are a broader approach, serving the story as a whole. Understanding different literary devices and maximising their impact can significantly improve your writing and a reader\'s experience.  Let’s take a look at popular literary devices in more detail and see if there are any you recognise… List Of Literary Devices Allegory An allegory is a literary device that uses plot and characters to express and explore abstract and complex ideas. This might be used to present issues in a way that is understandable and approachable for the reader. We see many allegories in fairy tales and Biblical stories.  A literary device similar to this is \'anthropomorphism\' – a type of personification that gives human characteristics to either objects or non-humans, such as animals.  George Orwell\'s Animal Farm is one of the most famous allegorical novels (and is also an example of anthropomorphism in literature). Using animals to represent different political beliefs and the rise of communism, it’s a multi-layered commentary with a strong message beneath the story\'s surface. Alliteration Alliteration is a literary device that is a collection of words or phrases that reflect repetition, and all begin with the same sound. It gives more stress to the consonants and creates something memorable in your writing, particularly when choosing the title of your book. For example, Jane Austen\'s use of alliteration in her book titles, Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, made them memorable at the time and classics today. Allusion An allusion is a literary device (not to be confused with \'illusion\') that references something in the real world, whether a person, a place or an event. This device can connect with your readers and paint an accurate picture of a situation. An allusion example is referring to someone as ‘a total Scrooge’. This reference (thanks to Dickens famous work) would immediately paint an accurate picture in a reader\'s mind without elaborating further. They would know this person is tight with money and is miserable and grumpy.  Anachronism An anachronism is a literary device that can portray an intentional error in the era of a story. This device can be used to comment on a theme or even for comedic effect. For example, a character appearing in a different time period, using speech from a different era, or technology appearing before its invention. William Shakespeare used anachronisms in his writing, like the dollar currency in Macbeth and the clock in Julius Caesar (mechanical clocks were not invented in 44 AD). Anaphora Anaphora is a literary device used to emphasise a phrase or words to reinforce meaning and feelings for the reader. This is when a word or phrase is repeated, typically at the beginning of successive sentences or phrases.  The perfect anaphora can be found in the novel The Help by Kathryn Stockett - \"You is kind. You is smart. You is important.\" This quote reinforces the relationship between the two characters. A famous example in speech is Winston Churchill\'s ‘We Shall Fight on the Beaches.’ He rallied the troops and the British people in this speech, and throughout it, repeated the phrase \"we shall fight\" – invoking strong responses and stirring emotions.  Anthropomorphism We touched on anthropomorphism earlier when we discussed an allegory. To anthropomorphise is to ascribe human traits, emotions or behaviours to non-human beings, like objects, animals or phenomena. This literary device differs from personification, which creates imagery, as anthropomorphism is literal. For example, Cogsworth the clock and Lumière the candlestick in Disney\'s Beauty and the Beast are household objects that act and behave like humans. And Pinocchio was anthropomorphised when he gained the ability to talk, walk, think, and feel like a real boy. Archetype An archetype is a literary device that brings familiarity to a story – it\'s typically a \"universal symbol\" with qualities or traits that readers can easily identify. This literary device is used to reveal characters, images or themes that are instantly recognisable to any audience. The literary Hero Archetype, for example, is typically noble, courageous, self-sacrificing and will right wrongs and fight injustice. Cliffhanger A cliffhanger is a classic literary device used as an effective way to keep your reader\'s attention – such as the revelation of who Luke\'s father is in The Empire Strikes Back. It marks the end of a part of the story (the end of a chapter or TV episode), but with the purpose of keeping an audience engaged. A common way to do this is through shock factor, an abrupt ending offering no obvious resolution (until the person turns the page, buys the next book, or watches the next episode).  Colloquialism Colloquialism uses informal language and slang, and when used as a literary device, it can build a character\'s personality and authenticity through their dialogue. A colloquialism is a word or expression common within a specific language, geographic region, or historical era. Therefore, it can also indicate the setting of a story in the context of time and place. The language Holden Caulfield uses in Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye is a great example of colloquialism.  Dramatic irony Dramatic irony is a literary device used to create situations where the audience knows more than the characters. Therefore, the actions of the characters have a different meaning for the audience. Typically, this device often lends itself to tragedy, as demonstrated in Shakespeare\'s Romeo and Juliet, when the audience knows that the lovers are both alive but the characters think the other is dead.  Dramatic irony is not to be confused with situational irony (when readers expect a certain outcome and are surprised by an unexpected turn of events) and verbal irony (when the intended meaning of a statement is the opposite of what was said). Exposition Exposition is a crucial literary device – it is when the narrative provides background information about events, settings, characters or any other relevant element to help the reader understand what\'s going on. It is typically used in conjunction with dialogue and description, offering a richer understanding of the story.  Exposition is presented through many methods, including dialogue, a protagonist\'s thoughts, a narrator\'s explanation or in-universe media, such as letters and newspapers. For example, in the Star Wars movies, the opening title sequence gives the audience the information they need to understand the upcoming events in the film: \"A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away….\" Beware, though, that too much exposition runs the risk of undercutting the emotional impact of a story. As we all know, ‘show’ don’t ‘tell’ where possible. Flashback A flashback is a literary device used to split up the current scenes in a story and look back to something that has happened in the past. It is typically used to build suspense. Flashbacks can also present exposition (revealing information or context about something that\'s happened in the past). Examples of flashbacks include memories and dream sequences. In Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, the alternate chapters in the first part of the book are flashbacks through the medium of diary entries.  Foreshadowing Foreshadowing is a literary device that can create and build suspense by indicating or hinting to readers that something will happen later in a story. It creates dramatic tension and can often be used in conjunction with flashbacks. However, the difference between the two is that a flashback directly offers readers exposition or background information. In contrast, foreshadowing is a little more subtle and gives just a hint or a sense of what is to come. The symbolism of Harry Potter\'s scar is an excellent example of foreshadowing.  Frame Story A frame story is when the main or supporting character tells part of the story or narrative. The frame story essentially \"frames\" another part of it. This device supports the rest of the plot – it is typically used at the beginning or the end of a story, or in small interludes in-between. The movie Titanic is a great example of this. The main plot is set in 1912, but Rose frames the narrative when she looks back over what happened and tells a story within a story.  Humour Humour is a literary device to make readers laugh or keep them amused. It can be difficult to do, as it relies on instinct, making it harder to teach or learn. But there are different techniques, tools and words that can bring funny situations to life and achieve the goal of making an audience happy. Different types of humour include slapstick, surprise, sarcasm and hyperbole, among many others. Humour isn\'t only present in contemporary writing, as Jane Austen used humour throughout Pride and Prejudice, especially in conveying the relationship between Mr and Mrs Bennet.  Imagery Imagery is a literary device that evokes a sensory experience for the reader by using highly descriptive language. Strong imagery will paint a picture by following the rules of \'show, don\'t tell.\' It means playing to the reader\'s senses by describing sights, tastes, sounds, smells and feelings to bring a scene, character or situation to life. An example of this in Shakespeare\'s work is in The Taming of the Shrew: \"If I be waspish, best beware my sting.\" In Medias Res In Media Res is a literary device used when a narrative begins without exposition or contextual information. It is a Latin term that means \"in the midst of things\". Therefore, the story launches straight into a scene or in the middle of an already unfolding action, creating suspense and tension immediately. Odyssey by Homer is a famous example of this. Irony Verbal irony is when the intended meaning of a statement is the opposite of what was said. It is not to be confused with situational irony; a literary device used when readers expect a certain outcome and are surprised by an unexpected turn of events. There is also dramatic irony, a literary device used to create situations where the audience knows more than the characters. An example of irony in a plot is demonstrated in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, when the characters already have what they are asking for from the wizard. Juxtaposition Juxtaposition is a literary device used to place different themes, characters, or concepts and highlight their differences. Instead of being overtly comparative, juxtaposition is an implied comparison, allowing the reader to discern how both entities are different. Juxtaposition can take many forms, such as human instinct and animal instinct in Life of Pi, and kindness and selfishness in Cinderella. Motif A motif is a repeated element, whether it takes the form of an image, idea, sound or word that has symbolic significance in a story. The defining aspect of this literary device is that it repeats frequently. Through repetition, the motif helps develop the narrative\'s theme and illuminates the central ideas, theme or deeper meaning of the story. Motifs are not to be confused with symbols, which may appear once or twice and help understand an idea in the narrative. An example of a motif is in the Godfather series, through the repetition of oranges featured on screen before a character dies. Another example is in Tolstoy\'s Anna Karenina – trains are a repetitive motif that ultimately symbolises death and destruction. Onomatopoeia Onomatopoeia refers to words that imitate the sound of what they\'re referring to. It can be used as a literary device to make descriptions more expressive and, therefore, more effective. For example, words such as buzz, snap and grunt are frequently used in children\'s books to add action and emotion to a story.  Oxymoron An oxymoron is a figure of speech that pairs two words together that are either opposing or contradictory. It can be used as a literary device to allow writers to take a creative approach and play with the use and meaning of words. As a result, it can create an impression and entertain the reader. An oxymoron is about words, not to be confused with juxtaposition, which contrasts two opposing story elements. An example of an oxymoron is in Shakespeare\'s Romeo and Juliet: \"Parting is such sweet sorrow.\" Paradox A paradox is typically a statement that might appear contradictory at first but makes sense after reflection. It\'s a literary device that asks people to think outside the box by questioning the logic and provoking readers to think critically. A paradox can also elicit humour and illustrate themes, such as in Scarface: \"Me, I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.\"  Personification Personification means assigning human traits to describe non-human entities or inanimate objects to express something creatively and imaginatively. It is not to be confused with anthropomorphism, which actually applies these traits to non-human things – whereas personification means the behaviour of the object or entity does not change – it\'s personified in figurative language only. This literary device might be used to create life and explore abstract ideas and themes within inanimate objects and animals by applying human behaviours and emotions. For example, Shirley Jackson\'s The Haunting of Hill House turns the house into a living entity through personification.  Point Of View Point of view is a vital literary device, as it\'s the angle of perspective in the narration of a story. It\'s a crucial decision because each point of view will have a different impact on the story and the reader\'s experience. The point of view effectively governs the audience\'s access and determines how much they will know as the story develops.  The most common points of view in literature are the first and third person. Both have their advantages and disadvantages. The first-person narrative (using pronouns I/we) allows the writer to connect with the reader, as this perspective means the reader has access to the narrator\'s inner thoughts and feelings.  An example of a first-person point of view is To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, when the story is told by Scout. From a storytelling perspective, the third person narrative (using pronouns she/he/they) is flexible because it allows you to write from multiple characters\' perspectives and show their actions and thoughts. An example of the third-person (omniscient) point of view is Middlemarch by George Eliot. The second person point of view is less common, as it uses the pronoun \"you\" to bring the reader into the story, for example, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. Repetition Repetition means intentionally repeating a word or phrase two or more times. While you don\'t want to overdo it, occasional repetition can be an excellent tool to bring clarity to an idea, make something memorable for a reader, drill home a point or create an atmosphere. The best example of this is in horror stories, as horror writers use repetition as a literary device to make readers feel trapped. For example, in The Shining, Jack repeatedly types out \"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.\" This reveals Jack\'s downward spiral as cabin fever takes over. It is not to be confused with anaphora, which is specific in its intent to repeat, and the repetition is typically at the beginning of consecutive sentences, phrases, or clauses.  Satire Satire is a literary device used to make fun of human nature or society to expose or correct it. It is typically done through exaggeration, amusement, contempt, ridicule or irony, usually with the hope of creating awareness and subsequent social change. Satire can be overt or subtle but is common throughout history and popular culture. Examples of this in film and T.V. include Deadpool (satirises the superhero genre), Shrek (satirises fairy tales) and Family Guy (satirises American middle-class society and conventions). Situational Irony Situational irony is a literary device used when readers expect a certain outcome and are surprised by an unexpected turn of events. This is not to be confused with verbal irony or dramatic irony, which we already covered. An example of situational irony in a plot is demonstrated in the T.V. programme Schitt\'s Creek when a wealthy family is catapulted into a less privileged life.  Soliloquy A soliloquy is typically a speech or monologue involving a character speaking their thoughts out loud and usually at length. These are frequently in theatrical plays. The purpose of this as a literary device is for the character to reflect independently – they\'re not speaking for the benefit of other people. It\'s an effective device because it offers insight into a character\'s internal thoughts, reflections and emotions. Shakespeare\'s Hamlet\'s \"to be or not to be\" speech is a classic example of a soliloquy.  Suspense Suspense is a vital tool that writers use to keep their readers interested throughout the story. There are many ways to use suspense as a literary device. For example, raising questions and withholding information. The purpose of suspense is to create a feeling of anticipation that something exciting, risky or even dangerous will happen. It helps readers to engage with characters and evokes emotions, such as sympathy, towards them.  In Gillian Flynn\'s Sharp Objects, the dark atmosphere creates questions about what is happening in her hometown and how the complex protagonist will deal with it when she\'s already struggling with complex personal issues. Symbolism Symbolism means using symbols – a word, object, character, action or concept – in a story. These symbols can represent abstract concepts and ideas beyond the literal meaning and evoke additional meaning and significance. This is not to be confused with a motif, which is an element that\'s repeated frequently to develop the narrative and illuminate the central themes or ideas in a story. An example of symbolism would be The Great Gatsby, when Fitzgerald uses the eyes of Doctor T.J. Eckleburg to represent God and his judgment of the Jazz Age. Tone The tone of a story is crucial for any writer, as it refers to the overall mood and message of the story. Tone is a literary device that sets readers\' feelings and can be established broadly through voice, themes, characterisation and symbolism. The techniques can be even more specific through word choice, punctuation and sentence structure. Tone can range from cheerful and humourous, to melancholic and regretful. Through tone, the writer essentially creates a relationship with the reader, which influences the intention and meaning of the words. This is why tone is so important. For example, the tone of Charles Dickens\' A Tale of Two Cities demonstrates that the story is serious due to the formal, rich language he used. Tragicomedy A tragicomedy is a blend of both tragedy and comedy that typically helps a reader process darker themes by adding humour and helping them laugh at a situation, even when the circumstances are bleak. When using this literary device, the characters are typically exaggerated, with jokes throughout the story, and sometimes there might be a happy ending. An example of this is Lemony Snicket\'s A Series of Unfortunate Events, which uses bizarre situations and over-the-top characters to provide light in an otherwise tragic story. Make Your Story Stronger Strengthening our storytelling abilities is something we writers are always working on (our blog is an excellent resource for this) and a good grasp of the most effective literary devices is certainly beneficial for authors. Literary devices are tools that will take your writing to the next level – making it more impactful and engaging for your readers, hooking them in from the first page until the last. This is exactly what we want to do when telling a story, so these techniques are worth bearing in mind when writing. 

Anti-Hero Vs Villain – A Complete Guide

The relationship between an engaging protagonist and a compelling antagonist against the backdrop of an intriguing plot is what ensures a reader will continue to turn the page. But should your protagonist be an anti-hero – an underdog who goes against the grain of the typical \'hero\'? And what about the antagonist in the story – the character who will stop your protagonist from getting what they want? Is your antagonist somebody morally ambiguous, like an anti-villain? Or are they purely a villain, through and through? In this guide, we\'ll look at these two character types, what they are, how they differ and how to use them in your writing to strengthen your stories and engage your readers.  What Is An Anti-Hero? The definition of an anti-hero is somebody who lacks the virtues and traits of a traditional hero, such as courage and confidence. They can be morally ambiguous in their thinking and actions. However, when it comes to the anti-hero, the audience is rooting for them anyway. That\'s because they do the right thing, but maybe not for the right reasons. They have good intentions, but how they arrive at their conclusion or results can be questionable. An anti-hero typically lacks some of the attributes conventionally associated with traditional heroes. There are several anti-heroes in books, films and TV. Tony Montana in Scarface is an iconic character who ticks all the boxes of a classic anti-hero. Initially, he\'s the good guy, but he develops less than heroic traits throughout the film, as crime and drugs see him descend into a whirlwind of violence and greed. Despite this, he\'s still a character the audience can get behind because he does immoral things for moral reasons (his motivation is strong: getting his family out of poverty). Still, his life of crime escalates his downfall. Al Pacino\'s portrayal of Michael Corleone in The Godfather is another excellent example of an anti-hero. The film is widely regarded as one of cinema\'s greatest masterpieces, thanks to the protagonist\'s gripping character arc and his journey through the world of organised crime. It\'s a superb example of how the \"bad guy\" can be the hero.  Types Of Anti-Heroes One of the most important aspects to bear in mind when writing an anti-hero is that they\'re typically flawed but are usually engaged in doing good. So, now that we\'ve looked at what an anti-hero is and some examples of famous anti-heroes, let\'s explore the traits and characteristics that make up the different types of anti-heroes.  The Corrupt Protagonist Example of the corrupt protagonist: Thomas Shelby, Peaky Blinders. A corrupt protagonist will typically act out of self-interest and might be obsessed with motivations such as power, wealth and fame. For the reader to understand and sympathise with this type of anti-hero, the reasons for their corruption must be clear and logical. Another example is Walter White in Breaking Bad. He\'s a normal guy with a normal life at the start of the series - but his obsession with money and power, instigated by his cancer diagnosis, leads to his downward spiral. The Classical Anti-Hero Example of the classical anti-hero: Frodo Baggins, Lord of The Rings.  A traditional hero is confident and intelligent, with few flaws and weaknesses. Therefore, the classical anti-hero is the opposite and is plagued by self-doubt and a lack of confidence. Readers enjoy the complexity that comes with a layered character who is flawed and conflicted. Traditionally, the story arc will follow the classical anti-hero conquering their fears and coming to terms with themselves and their faults to fight and conquer whatever is threatening them. The Pragmatic Anti-Hero Example of the pragmatic anti-hero: Harry Potter. This type of anti-hero recognises their role in the greater good, and they see everything through a \'big picture\' viewpoint. For example, suppose the story means this pragmatic anti-hero must kill or sacrifice other characters. In that case, typically, this anti-hero will recognise that it must be done so that they can achieve the higher goal. For example, in Harry Potter\'s pursuit of Voldemort, he carries out actions that would be considered wrong (such as using curses) to ensure Voldemort\'s ultimate demise that\'s for the greater good. The Unscrupulous Hero Example of the unscrupulous hero: Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean.  Heroes in this category have good intentions, and they\'re morally good. However, they don\'t care how much collateral damage they cause when they fight to achieve their goals. If your hero is unscrupulous, they\'ll be motivated by revenge and will typically be distrusting. Jack Sparrow is a great example of this as he\'s ultimately fighting on the good side.  Hero In Name Only Example of a hero in name only: Dexter Morgan, Dexter. These protagonists tiptoe along the line of a hero and a villain. The reader will still be on their side and root for them, but they won\'t necessarily agree with all their actions and decisions. These characters are on the side of good, but they\'re not entirely good themselves.  What Is A Villain? The best definition of a villain is simple: a villain is a character opposite of a hero. A villain\'s role in a story is vital, and every villain must be compelling enough to be believable while holding a reader\'s interest. A villain is an antagonist who will place obstacles in the protagonist\'s way and drive forward the story. Creating a great villain is just as important as creating a great hero – and the best villains help define and drive the character arc of the story\'s hero. Writing a good villain means examining different villain ideas and villain traits to see which type of character fits into your story.  What Makes A Great Villain? There are some key characteristics that you can use to create a villain. Arguably, the most important is the backstory. Without it, villains feel one-dimensional and inauthentic. With it, you can create a sympathetic villain that feels real – which is exactly what you want. A villain\'s background will ultimately explain their motivations and help a reader sympathise with them. It will demonstrate why they act the way they do due to past experiences and situations that they\'ve been exposed to. Even better, if a villain backstory is connected to the hero, the story and character arcs are even more compelling for readers. The perfect example of this, and the relationship between a hero you\'re rooting for and an engaging villain, is Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort. They\'re connected through a shared backstory when Voldemort murdered Harry\'s parents. But they\'re also physically connected; Harry\'s scar on his forehead serves to remind both the characters (and the readers) about their connection throughout the story.  But how to write a good villain? It\'s important to remember that a great villain character design should include some likeable qualities. They can\'t be bad through and through because a reader needs to understand them and even empathise with them to an extent. Typical characteristics of a villain include them being intelligent, capable, persuasive, proud and deceitful. They might occasionally reveal aspects of their personality that are good and perhaps even kind, but creating a villain ultimately means creating a ruthless character at their core.  Anti-Hero Vs Villain To distinguish between an anti-hero and a villain, there are certain elements to look at. The first is motive. Villains are typically motivated by something dark and even evil. Their ultimate motivations are not sympathetic as they will usually involve the protagonist\'s demise (even though a villain\'s backstory might encourage empathy from a reader). However, an anti-hero\'s motivations are sympathetic. A reader might not agree with why they\'re doing what they\'re doing, but they will understand and sympathise with their reasons why – for example, revenge and vengeance. The second characteristic is big picture balance. What would the world look like if the anti-hero won? And what would it look like if the villain won? The hero will ultimately restore balance and normality, with good prevailing. In contrast, the villain\'s victory would see the complete opposite. It\'s understandable that the lines might blur, as both types of character can be morally ambiguous. But you can readdress the balance by keeping in mind who the audience will naturally sympathise with – the anti-hero who\'s the underdog with redeeming qualities, rather than the villain who may encourage a little sympathy but ultimately reveals themselves to be purely acting in their own interests or against the protagonist. A typical character arc of the anti-hero is that they grow into becoming a better person, but a villain will go in the opposite way.  What Is An Anti-Villain? While we\'ve explored anti-heroes and villains and how they\'re connected, it\'s worthwhile looking at another type of character: anti-villain. An anti-villain is somebody who isn\'t completely evil (unlike a typical villain). They\'re much more complex, and their actions don\'t necessarily have to be particularly wicked.  Types Of Anti-Villains Now that we\'ve looked at what an anti-villain is, let\'s explore the traits and characteristics that make up the different types of anti-villains. The Sympathetic Anti-Villain Example of the sympathetic anti-villain: Benjamin Barker, Sweeney Todd. The sympathetic anti-villain is a character that the readers feel sorry for, and if some of their actions weren\'t so villainous, the readers might even root for them. The character\'s backstory is key here, as it must garner sympathy from the reader and tug on the heartstrings. It must reveal that the anti-villain is acting the way they do due to past circumstances outside of their control and because they don\'t see any other options open to them. The Well-Meaning Anti-Villain Example of the well-meaning anti-villain: Inspector Javert, Les Miserables. The reader can see that this character\'s heart is in the right place, but they take things a step too far in pursuit of their goal. They are driven by what they deem is the \"greater good\" and will stop at nothing to reach their goals, making them ruthless and morally questionable. Ultimately, the character is making the situation worse, but they might not even be aware of it because they\'re too focused on what they think is right and wrong – thinking purely in black and white, with no room for a grey area.  The Situational Anti-Villain Example of the situational anti-villain: Carrie White, in Stephen King\'s Carrie. This character might find themselves in a set of circumstances that set them against the protagonist. Or against themselves if they are the protagonist. For example, they might have started as a good person, but they\'ve come up against something that has pushed them to the brink of their limits, and now they\'re out for revenge. Or they might be simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The reader will understand that their acts and motivations could be justified, but they won\'t get away with it.  Choosing Between Your Anti-Hero And Your Villain There are some great characteristics and traits that can create compelling anti-heroes, villains, and anti-villains. Ultimately, the anti-hero does the right thing, but not necessarily for the right reasons. Whereas the anti-villain does the wrong thing, but their reasons are often understandable. And the villain is there to make life hard for your protagonist every step of the way. By incorporating these strong character types, you\'re making the story even more interesting for the reader.  For more writing support visit our blog or join Jericho Writers - the world’s leading writing community. With our membership you get access to resources including 100+ hours of video content and masterclasses, live online events with top authors, one to one with agents and publishers, as well as editorial and mentoring support.

The mysterious world of Planet Agent

We usually look at the world through the eyes of authors – and quite right too – but I recently saw an interesting article by literary agent Kristin Nelson, which evaluated the changes she’s seen over twenty odd years on Planet Agent.The gist of the article was that agenting has become a tougher business than it was. I’m going to look at her fourteen reasons why … but first:Oh ye people.Last week, I told you that the Summer Festival of Writing is, from now on, going to be free to Jericho members. This week, I tell you that we’ve also tossed in an extra event, for free. October sees the launch of our Build Your Book month (info here). We’ve got twelve events aiming to help you turn your book into a masterpiece. In effect, it’s the self-editing complement to our super-successful Getting Published and Self-Publishing months, which take place in spring.All this stuff is, and will remain, completely free to Jericho members. If you’re not a member yet, we’d absolutely love to have you (how to join). You also get full access to all our 1000+ literary agent profiles on AgentMatch. You also get access to our 400+ films and masterclasses (info). You also get access to our amazing (and expanding) range of video courses (info). You also get free weekly events throughout the year (info). We’ve also got further yumminess coming up, but I can’t tell you about that now, because I’m bound by the terrifying code of Jerich-o-merta …Okiedoke. Back to Planet Agent. Here are Nelson’s fourteen reasons why agenting has got tougher:1. More agentsNelson reckons there are more literary agents around now than there used to be. I can’t quantify the degree to which that’s true, but certainly there don’t seem to be fewer agents, even though most publishers have cut the size of their frontlists.Verdict: she’s got a (smallish) point here.2. Agents as editorsBack in the day, agents used to be able to hawk a manuscript that had clear potential – and clear editorial needs. These days, with the competition as it is, it would be a dumb agent and a dumb author who took that approach. Instead, agents have tended to get involved in editorial work prior to submissions.(And if you think that because your agent has given you editorial feedback, you won’t need an extensive editorial process with the publisher – well, think again. Everyone gets to give their thoughts; you get to do the work. The good news: books usually get better as a result.)Verdict: She’s right3. Less agent visibilityNelson comments that, years back, it was quite easy for an agent to be noticed via your blog or Twitter feed, just because so few agents did anything like that. Well, that may be the case, but you don’t find many agents complaining about a shortage of submissions – and I know plenty of successful agents who don’t spend any real time on social media.Verdict: Hmm.4. Agent as publicistNelson writes, ‘In today’s publishing landscape, agents have to do so much more marketing/publicity management to optimize client success.’Really? Aren’t publishers doing that? And how many agents are actually pro publicists? And if they are, why are they selling manuscripts for a living? I think most agents do take on real editorial work. I think the good ones do a lot to manage a career and guide the author/publisher relationship. But honestly, most agents don’t do a ton of marketing work and they probably shouldn’t. It’s not their skillset.Verdict: Hmm.5. Email mountainsNelson comments that ‘three hundred emails is a light day’. Jeepers. There’s no question that email volumes have vastly increased – and it can’t actually be healthy or make for efficient business that any one person has 300 emails to deal with in a day. (Before they’ve actually read a word of their clients’ work, or anything from the new submissions pile.)Verdict: I’m very sympathetic.6. Indie PublishingWhen I started writing, traditional publishing was the only meaningful route to making money and finding a relationship. That’s no longer true and that also means agents are aware that their clients can scarper sideways into a game that’s fertile for the writer and arid for the agent.Nelson writes, intelligently, ‘I’m hugely supportive of authors and indie publishing, but the loss of talent to the indie sphere does impact an agency’s bottom line.’Verdict: She’s right, of course. Not a big problem for authors, though :)7. Publisher paymentsBack in the day, advances were split into two or three chunks – typically, on signature, on hardback publication, and on paperback publication. These days, some publishers insist on four or five instalments, and have pushed some payments back to well after publication. (So they’re not advances any more – perhaps ‘late payments’ would be a better term.)Nelson notes that this practice makes life harder for agents, which is true. I also note that it’s effectively a way for billion-dollar companies to boost their cash flow at the expense of authors, which doesn’t seem very graceful to me.Verdict: She’s right again8. The Great Contract SwampPublishers have always been slow in negotiating contracts, which is pitiful when you consider that the vast majority of contracts deal mostly in boilerplate. But they’ve got slower.I’ve known authors with roots in more businesslike professions write to me concerned when they haven’t seen a contract within two or three weeks. What’s going on, they ask, is there a problem?And the answer is no, there isn’t a problem, except that publishers understaff their contracts department and deliver too little authority to editors to sort out issues. I once wrote an entire book in between agreeing the deal (orally and by email) and the publisher actually delivering the contract. And which do you think ought to take longer: writing a 100,000 word book, every word of it original, or writing a contract of about a dozen pages, with almost every word of it boilerplate?Verdict: I’m with Team Nelson here. And I think the publishing industry should do a lot, lot better.9. Then there was onePublishers keep eating each other. First Penguin and Random House married. Now they’re going all menage a trois with Simon & Schuster. Meantime, Hachette is currently gobbling Workman, its sixth US acquisition in eight years. And so it goes.The fewer big publishers there are, the less the competition for authors. And yes: there are some terrific micro-publishers and they do a great job. But if you want cash in your pocket, you need one of the big guys. And there aren’t as many as there used to be.Verdict: Team Nelson all the way10. The Great FloodEditors see a lot of submissions. They say no to a hell of a lot. And because they see a lot, and say no a lot, it takes longer for editors to get back to agents.That makes it harder for an agent to mount an effective auction and means a lot more chasing to get anywhere at all. Nelson comments that that’s made life harder for agents and, since trad authors have their fortune yoked to Planet Agent, that means it’s worse for writers too.Verdict: Yep, right again11. The death of the editorYea, verily, back in the time when the flood waters receded from the earth, editors were allowed to choose books because they liked them. These days, editors are second-guessed by acquisitions committees and marketing folk who sit on those committees, with the result that the whole process has become more tangled, more bureaucratic and (I bet) no more effective.I’d like to say that Nelson is right about this, but remember marketing people and other execs were deeply involved in acquisitions even twenty years back. So if she is right, she has a longer memory than I do.Verdict: Hmm.12. Blockbuster or bustBack in the day, there were authors like Ian Rankin whose first books didn’t sell especially well and weren’t perfectly formed. But they grew into their careers and became serial bestsellers.These days, publishers lack the patience to grow an author in that way. If an author’s debut two-book deal doesn’t pretty much earn out, there’s every chance that author will simply be discarded. That’s nuts.Verdict: I’m Nelsonian – one-eyed and one-armed.13. The Death of the Mass Market FormatNelson writes, ‘Back in the day, so many agents got their start representing authors in romance, mystery, and urban fantasy—all genres traditionally launched in the mass-market format. Fantastic glory days were when I would sell in a debut romance author for six figures.’ These days, she says, mass market editions have subsided in favour of e-books, which haven’t given publishers anything like the same income.That’s all true – but also a misdiagnosis.The reason e-books haven’t given trad publishers a huge payday, compared with the mass market editions of the past, is that the areas concerned – romance, genre mystery, YA paranormal, SF, and much else – have been very largely colonised by indie authors, who have made a killing.So, on this topic, the impact for authors has been highly positive – so long as they’ve gone indie.Verdict: I know what she’s saying, but …14. The Change that Wasn’tOh Jeepers. Nelson also says this: ‘Publishers, despite emphasis on social change in the last couple of years, have not expanded their readership outreach or marketing to reflect the current cultural landscape. This continues to mean fewer opportunities for agents and authors of Color. This should be the one area where it’s better for the agents of today, and it’s not.’This is real head-in-hands stuff. If not now, then when? As it happens, I think a change that has been very long overdue really is beginning to happen – but it probably won’t finally bed in until the mid- to senior ranks of publishing start to resemble the cities that house them: the highly multicultural London and New York.I’ve been publishing work for more than twenty years. I’ve had more editors, publicists, marketing people and others involved in my books than I can easily count. But, from memory, only one of them – ONE! – was a person of colour. Ye Gods. It really is changing though. It really is.Verdict: She’s horribly right.Don’t forget to check out our Build your Book month. And n\'oubliez pas that the Summer Festival is now free to Jericho members. Interested in joining us maybe? Course you are.Oh and you don\'t know what I mean, one-eyed, one-armed? Tush and pish. Inform yourself.

Protagonist Vs Antagonist: A Complete Guide

When it comes to creative writing, the protagonist and antagonist characters are often the main focus and essential in telling the story. These are the characters with depth and complexity, the ones that move a story on, the ones we champion or that we want to see defeated. The conflict between the two is age-old – it creates tension, action and consequence, and, if done correctly, brings great satisfaction to the conclusion of a story. So how do we define a protagonist and an antagonist? How do we write them? What Is A Protagonist? A protagonist is a character who, in most situations, a reader will be rooting for. This character differs from other main characters because they are the ones that drive a story forward with their decisions and actions, and their goals reflect the goals of the story. Consider Lord of the Rings for example.The goal of the trilogy is good triumphing evil, and its protagonist, the big-hearted Hobbit Frodo, has the goal of destroying the ring and thus destroying Sauron who embodies evil. In most cases, a reader follows the protagonist throughout the story, however sometimes we see the protagonist through the eyes of someone else – a supporting character or through a third person narrator. Consider the famous play Blood Brothers by Willy Russell. The narrator is an enormous part but isn\'t the protagonist – the audience care only about the two brothers, Eddie and Mickey. Types Of Protagonists There are three types of protagonist: HeroThe classic good, morally upstanding, saves-the-cat-on-the-way-to-save-the-world kind of character. The hero will have flaws, but readers will have a fair inkling about who\'s going to come out on top in this conflict from the word go. Think Harry Potter, Scout from To Kill A Mocking Bird, Luke Skywalker from Star Wars. Anti-HeroA deviation from the classic hero, often a reluctant or ill-equipped character who needs to navigate a situation thrust upon them. These characters may not be classic heroes, and they might also have some major flaws, yet they still evoke empathy and affection. Think Scarlett O\'Hara in Gone in with the Wind who, although spoilt and hotheaded, survives through wily means even when her glamorous southern belle life falls apart. Other examples are Becky Sharp from Vanity Fair, and Lyra from His Dark Materials VillainYes, you can still have a villain as a protagonist because a villain can still lead and decide the events of the plot. Think Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street, Villanelle from Killing Eve, Grinch in The Grinch (who, OK, turns out good but man, in the beginning he\'s downright mean). Keep in mind when writing a protagonist that they need to be relatable. Your reader needs to care about what happens to them. If they\'re not flawed in any way, they won\'t feel real and therefore the reader won\'t care what happens to them. If they\'re too powerful, the reader will assume they can overcome anything and therefore the story will become boring – Superman maybe a classic hero but thanks to Kryptonite he still has one weakness. Yet, if they\'re too weak, the reader will feel annoyed at the character’s lack of gumption and won\'t root for them. And if they\'re too nasty, they won\'t feel like a protagonist. No one will want to see if they make it to the end of the book. What Is An Antagonist? An antagonist is a character working against the protagonist who, in most cases, the reader wants to see foiled. The antagonist creates the conflict and is generally seen as the \'bad\' one but, like the protagonists, there are different types of antagonists. Types of Antagonists There are four types of antagonists: The villainThis antagonist example is all about the evil-doing and often just for the sake of being evil (how liberating to be so horrible!). They live for the destruction of the protagonist and as such, they are mostly found in fantasy and sci-fi writing where the primary goal is ‘good triumphing evil’. Classic villains are The Emperor and Darth Vader in Star Wars, Voldemort in Harry Potter, the shark from Jaws (who still torments me to this day, so well done Peter Benchley for ruining swimming pools for me). The conflict-creatorThese antagonists are not necessarily a bad character. They are still very much human and have their own fears, hopes and dreams, but their goals work in conflict with the protagonist’s. They may also inspire the protagonist to act against their better judgment. Examples of a conflict-creator are Severus Snape in Harry Potter, Buzz Lightyear in Toy Story, or Willy Wonka in Charlie And The Chocolate Factory (he’s not an out and out bad guy, but he doesn’t make things easy for the children).Sometimes the antagonist in a story isn\'t even a person. Let\'s take a look at the inanimate forces that may challenge your hero... NatureThe antagonist in the Tom Hanks film, Castaway, is the relentless sea who won\'t let him leave the island. The antagonist in Bethany Clift\'s The Last One At The Party is the deadly virus that sweeps the world and leaves one woman pitted against the odds to survive a post-apocalyptic world. The supernaturalThe Shining is a perfect example of this force working against a protagonist. ObjectsThe ominous giant lighthouse in Emma Stonex\'s The Lamplighters causes three men to disappear. It\'s the perfect, atmospheric, antagonist. The protagonist themselvesThis internal conflict, for me, is the most satisfying antagonist, and which also brings the most rewarding conclusion to a story. A character starting a story at A, overcoming a flaw within themselves, and arriving up at B is my absolute favourite thing. The old man in Disney\'s Up is a great example of this – his antagonist is his own emotions, the grief for the loss of his wife which keeps him anchored in the past and unable to enjoy his life. Nudged by Russell, the boy scout, he discovers the joy and freedom of living again. As the saying goes, it’s often simply ourselves who are standing in the way of where we wish to go. It’s important to keep in mind that an antagonist must be as three dimensional as the protagonist. Their backstory should be just as important and relevant as that of the protagonist, and consequently their motivation should be something the reader can understand – even if they don’t agree. Voldemorts\' motivation to kill Harry in Harry Potter is because his broken and mutated soul got stuck in seven different places when he tried to kill Harry as a baby, so you know, if that\'s not motivation for a demise, what is?! Jaws was simply trying to score a meal. Making Your Antagonist Unforgettable Being creative with your antagonist can be a lot of fun and ensures they won’t be forgotten in a hurry. Let’s face it, everyone loves a baddie! They don’t have to be ‘ugly’ or scary or always in hiding, often the most dangerous can be loved by many. Look at giving them redeeming features to make them even more unsettling and unpredictable. Bond villain Blofeld was always cuddling his cat. How can a guy who loves his cat be all that bad? Let your protagonist find out! The Difference Between A Protagonist And An Antagonist A protagonist and antagonist are opposites – antonyms. The protagonists are generally the good guys (even it means that sometimes they are antiheroes) while antagonists are generally the bad guys. Look at the protagonists and antagonists in Disney films or in classic children’s fairytales. They are always perfect examples of clear conflict and well-matched foes. Basically, readers tend to empathise and relate to a protagonist, whereas they won\'t necessarily want to with an antagonist. However, they need to understand both these characters. Their friction needs to be relatable, or at least plausible. If we, as authors, want to hook readers into our stories, we have to make them care. And the only way they are going to care is by relating to our characters and understanding their motivations which drive the decisions they make. It\'s important that a writer addresses this for both the protagonist and the antagonist, not just to drive the plot forward but to connect with the readers. Whichever types of protagonist and antagonists you have in your story, always make sure they are worthy of each other. Opponents need chemistry in order to make a convincing and gratifying conflict. Think Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter in Hannibal who are very different characters but matched in an intelligence in which they find a mutual respect. Batman and The Joker are matched perfectly for their abilities to bring out a madness and darkness within each other. Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty are matched in the depth of their intellectual game playing. Can A Protagonist Also Be An Antagonist? This is an interesting question with some conflicting points of view. For me, certainly a protagonist can be an antagonist. Villanelle from Killing Eve is the antagonist to Eve (the other protagonist) and slips her grasp constantly. However, the plot of the story is very much dual led. Villanelle is funny, unpredictable and wears outrageous clothing, and we find ourselves charmed by her despite her psychopathic, murderous ways. You can have real fun with this sort of protagonist. The appeal of writing someone who says and does questionable and outrageous things so far out of our normal everyday lives is big (at least it is for me, so I wonder what that says about me?!). As a reader, being thrust directly into the mind of someone villainous can be exciting. Not to mention it makes the baddie hard to forget. Also, the antagonist of the story can also be inside of the protagonist – such as the old guy from Up battling against his grief. Woody from Toy Story is another great example of the antagonist within the protagonist. He was Andy\'s most beloved toy until Buzz Lightyear was bought. His presence had a knock-on effect to the internal conflict within Woody – his insecurities and fear of being replaced meant his \'good guy\' persona was rattled and he had to work hard throughout the film to overcome it. Protagonists And Antagonists Make your Story Establishing a strong understanding of the roles played by antagonists and protagonists is essential for all writers. Develop your protagonist and antagonist alongside each other, keep their goals and motivations clear, keep their conflict electric, keep them real, but above all, ensure you enjoy writing them and your readers will be sure to love reading about them.

The Best Book Publishers Of 2022

Ever been to a bookstore and wondered what all the little images on the book spines mean? All those H\'s, penguins and sowers lining the shelves? Well, they are the logos of the publishing companies who have published that book. Take a look at the rows of books in any bookstore and you will most probably be looking at the emblems for the Big 5 publishers and their many imprints, as well as a smattering of independent (indie) publishers. With so many amazing publishing houses out there, the perfect home for you book may well be out there, but how do you know where to look, and who are the most reputable? In this article we will be looking at the very best book publishers, how publishing companies work, and how to get published by a traditional publishing house. The publishing industry can be a little tricky to understand, but by the end of this article you will be armed with all the knowledge you need when it comes to choosing the best book publishing companies for your work. How Do You Search For A Publisher? Finding a book publisher can be hard, especially if you\'re hoping to be traditionally published by some of the top publishers in the business. Where do you begin, and what information is important for you to know before you start submitting your manuscript to some of the largest book publishers? Is there anything to be said for self publishing, and what types of publishing should you avoid? Do I Need A Literary Agent? Yes, you will most likely need to be represented by a literary agent before you (via your agent) can start submitting to bigger traditional publishers. Nevertheless, there’s no harm in window shopping; it might even provide you with a focal point if you are still working on getting an agent. For more information on how to find a literary agent, read more here. Where To Start If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the number of book publishers out there, I’ll be listing the top five biggest publishing houses, some of the best educational publishers and those who publish children’s books, as well as some of my personal favourite independent book publishers.Read on to discover the very best publishers, covering all book genres across the globe. The Big Five Book Publishers While aiming high can be daunting to some authors, literary agents will often wish to submit your manuscript to the top publishing companies first. After all, not only do they have the most power and influence, but they also know what they\'re doing - most of them have been publishing books for over a hundred years! Who Are The Big Five? The biggest and most successful traditional publishers in the world are often referred to as \'The Big Five\'. So I will be starting with them. These are the five powerhouse trade publishing houses which are most well known and widely recognised. Within them you will find many other recognised imprints (publishing houses owned by them) whose logos appear on the spine on the book. Let’s take a look at them in more detail. Simon & Schuster Simon & Schuster is where we begin our big five journey, as this publishing company holds an annual revenue of $830 million. They have over 35 imprints, including notable ones such as Howard Books, Scribner, and Touchstone, and they release over 2,000 books a year! Some of their biggest titles as of late are Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat by Samin Nosrat and The Institute by Stephen King. Founded in 1924, Simon & Schuster remains a prominent publisher today, publishing a variety of genres along with big names such as renown authors F. Scott Fitzgerald, Jodi Picoult and Philippa Gregory. They also offer many opportunities for those wanting to pursue a career in publishing and are one of the biggest names in the industry to work. HarperCollins With an annual revenue of $1.5 billion, HarperCollins has no shortage of good books and authors. Their notable imprints include Avon Romance, Harlequin Enterprises, Harper, and William Morrow, and their titles range broadly. Some of the top books as of late are Girl, Stop Apologizing by Rachel Hollis and The Last Romantics by Tara Conklin. Authors published originally by Harper include Mark Twain, the Brontë sisters, H. G. Wells and Agatha Christie. A book deal from this giant will most certainly help with book sales! With over 100 imprints, this publishing powerhouse also offers a great opportunity to learn about the industry from the best.  Macmillan Publishers Established in 1843, Macmillan Publishers is still going strong. With $1.4 billion in annual revenue, there are many publishing routes and imprints available through them, namely Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Picador, St Martin\'s Press, and Thomas Dunne Books. Some of their biggest titles from the recent past that you may have heard of include The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah and Me by Elton John. With an eclectic list of authors under its belt (from W B Yeats to Leigh Bardugo), and a global market with countless possible genres to publish under, you’d be wise to consider them an ideal place for your book to end up.  Penguin Random House Everyone recognises that little penguin on book spines in bookstores, and everyone is familiar with the orange Penguin Classics books, but what else do you know about this iconic publisher? With over 15,000 books published a year, not only is Penguin Random House one of the top five, it may well be the top of the top five. Their annual revenue exceeds $3.3 billion, and they have countless notable imprints such as Knopf Doubleday, Crown Publishing, and Viking Press. They also have many famous authors under their wing, including books like The Testaments by Margaret Atwood, and The Guardians by John Grisham. As of 2021, Penguin Random House employs approximately 10,000 people globally and has published 15,000 titles annually under its 250 divisions and imprints. Hachette Livre Looking for a European based publisher with more published books a year than Penguin? Then take a look at the Hachette book group. Hachette Livre has an annual revenue of $2.7 billion and nearly 200 imprints. Some of these include Grand Central Publishing, Little, Brown and Company, Headline, and Mulholland Books. Their biggest titles in the recent past include Talking to Strangers by Malcolm Gladwell and Little Weirds by Jenny Slate. they have also published names such as James Patterson, Martina Cole, Donna Tartt, and Celeste Ng. Growing steadily since their merger in 1992, Hachette Livre has a lot to offer both you and your book. Best Educational Book Publishers Looking for a reliable and quality educational book publisher, or someone who specialises in nonfiction titles? This can be more difficult than you think, but thankfully I’m here to shorten the list for you. These publishers are looking specifically for educational books, quality hardback textbooks and the like. This won\'t be helpful if you\'re looking to get your fictional manuscript published, but if it\'s educational materials you write, then read on! Bertelsmann Education Group Bertelsmann is a media, services and education company that operates in about 50 countries around the world. The online education and service offerings are primarily in the healthcare and technology sectors, as well as in higher education. With an annual revenue of around $300 million, this group has no shortage of educational texts, resources, and reliable online connections. Scholastic I can’t recall how many Scholastic book fairs I went to as a child. Perhaps you went to some as well, given that Scholastic is both an educational publisher and a popular children’s publisher. Their book sales are always consistent and their annual revenue is roughly $1.7 billion. Their notable imprints include Arthur A. Levine, Klutz Press, and Orchard Books. While their educational books are extremely popular for grades K-12, their YA fiction remains the most popular (no doubt you’ve heard of Harry Potter and The Hunger Games, right?). Pearson Education Have you ever used DuoLingo for your language learning needs? Did you know that Pearson Education has recently partnered with them? There’s a lot of other notable mentions surrounding Pearson, such as their annual revenue of $1 billion, and their well-known imprints (Adobe Press, Heinemann, Prentice Hall, Wharton Publishing). Their most popular publications are always subject textbooks for higher education, and for good reason. McGraw-Hill Education One of the largest publishers in American education is Mcgraw-Hill. Their annual revenue often exceeds $1.7 billion, and they are well known for their many editions of test prep books (SAT and ACT) and elementary school math textbooks. Their most notable imprints include Glencoe/McGraw-Hill, Macmillan/McGraw-Hill, and McGraw-Hill Higher Education, no doubt familiar to you if you’ve been involved in any American education system. Wiley While Wiley has a lot to offer in terms of non-educational publishing, their For Dummies series of educational books is one of their top sellers. With an annual revenue of $1.7 billion, their various instructional titles are big hits in the publishing world. Their most notable imprints include Bloomberg Press, Capstone, Hungry Minds, and Wiley-Blackwell, and they continue to publish a large variety of titles, both educational and otherwise. Cengage Learning Publishing both hard cover print books and maintaining a dedicated digital library can be difficult, but Cengage learning can do it all. From imprints that publish specifically for grades K-12 as well as books for higher education learning, Cengage is a wonderful publisher to consider. Cengage is also the owner of the National Geographic Education division, made to bring excitement to classrooms worldwide. With an annual revenue of $1.7 billion, it’s safe to say that this publisher is one of the educational publishing powerhouses. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt You may have already heard of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, or HMH for short. This publisher specializes in different disciplines including business and economics, biography and memoirs, children’s books, cookbooks, health and wellness, and more. They make more than $1.4 billion annually, with many notable imprints: Clarion, Graphia, John Joseph Adams Books, and Sandpiper among them. Their largest and most recent titles include elementary school textbooks in all subjects, as well as cookbooks. Best Children’s Book Publishers Some of the top selling books published today are for children or young adults. However, writing and publishing for children and young adults can be a lot harder than you would think! Although young adult novels have really flown off the shelves in the last twenty years, and often offer the most variety in terms of diversity, content and audience, young adult fiction, middle grade fiction and picture books still remain one of the most competitive markets in the publishing world. Here are some of the best choices for children’s book publishing today, and how you can reach out to them (via your literary agent, of course). Bloomsbury With offices around the world and prominent publishing houses in both the US and the UK, Bloomsbury Books is a top contender for children’s book publishing (they also publish a vast array of nonfiction books including political nonfiction). Established in 1986, Bloomsbury has many popular children’s book authors across every age group. With an annual revenue of $150 million, Bloomsbury USA Books for Young Readers was established in 2002. Their YA fiction has grown increasingly popular, their authors often topping the New York Times Bestseller list. If they\'re good enough for the likes of J K Rowling, Sarah J Maas, and Samantha Shannon, then I\'m sure your book will be more than happy in this home. Ladybird Books It\'s impossible for anyone over the age of thirty to not have fond memories of their first Ladybird hardback book as a child. Who doesn\'t remember their favourite fairytales presented in that iconic little book with a plump ladybird on the cover? UK-based and another division of the Penguin Group, Ladybird books is perfect if you’ve got a bedtime story to tell. Their lineup of children’s books is primarily geared toward younger audiences, from toddlers to roughly age ten. They have many award winning series published under their name, including many Peppa Pig books, as well as an educational division with their famous Peter and Jane reading guides and other titles where they have teamed up with names such as BBC Earth. Their annual revenue is roughly $17 million. Chronicle Books San Francisco-based favourite Chronicle Books, with a $10 million revenue, has a wonderful eye for the unique and aesthetic storyteller. Their children’s books are beloved and unique, and this small independent publisher receives more than 1,000 submissions a month for their young adult department alone! They publish most type of children’s books including activity books, art books, board books, picture books, chapter books, middle grade, games, and gift and stationery items. Hogs Back Books Hogs Back Books publishes fiction books aimed at children up to 10, as well as early readers for children up to 14, and teenage fiction. Amongst its most notable titles, Boris the Boastful Frog was recommended by The Telegraph in 2013 as one of the best books of the year for young children. They are a small family-owned and independent publisher, and the small selection that they choose to publish is beautiful and heartfelt. Arbordale Publishing With just about $1 million in annual income, Arbordale Publishing isn’t the largest in US children’s publishing. However, their books are aligned to Common Core, Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS), as well as state education standards. Arbordale books are vetted by experts and professionals from a variety of organizations including NASA, JPL, Project Learning Tree, USFWS, SeaWorld, the Cherokee Nation and others. They publish an average of 20 books per year. Immedium Based in San Francisco, CA, Immedium is influenced by an increasingly diverse world. While they are a small company and make an average of $150k in annual revenue, they have wonderful illustrations and ideas for children’s books.  Immedium publishes subjects range from eye-catching children’s books to contemporary non-fiction, including commentaries on art, popular culture, and multicultural issues. Kids Can Press Kids Can Press is a Canadian-owned publisher of children’s books, with a list of over 500 picture books, non-fiction and fiction titles for toddlers to young adults and an estimated annual revenue of over $10 million.  The Kids Can Press list includes characters such as Franklin the Turtle—the single most successful publishing franchise in the history of Canadian publishing, which has sold over 65 million books in over 30 languages around the world. Quirk Books Looking for a smaller publishing agency for your unique and captivating children’s book? Publishing only around 25 books a year, Quirk Books is based in Philadelphia and is searching for the most original, cool, and fun ideas out there. Is your book creative enough for Quirk? It’s one of my favourite publishing companies, having taken the helm on series such as the Miss Peregrine anthology by Ransom Riggs, which has won many literary awards. August House Publishers A more traditional publishing company, August House Publishers are seeking children’s book authors committed to folktales, diverse and memorable. They enjoy stories from many diverse backgrounds, as well as stories that work well as oral tales, stories meant to be passed on from generation to generation. They also have a soft spot for scary stories and stories that can be used in a classroom environment. With an annual revenue of roughly $10 million, they produce beautiful children’s books. ABDO Publishing With almost $50 million a year in revenue ABDO is a formidable children’s book publisher. Based in Edina, Minnesota, this family-owned book publishing company specializes in non-fiction books for the school library market. From engaging nonfiction to illustrated titles, ABDO has both educational and fantastical book titles for children of all ages. Best Independent Book Publishers Are you looking for a smaller company to publish your book? This is a better option if you are still seeking a traditional publishing company, but want to work with them directly There are many benefits of working with an independent book publishing company. Smaller companies often accept unsolicited submissions (ie you don\'t need to have a literary agent and can approach them yourself), especially if the submission is more unique and experimental in nature. Plus, independent publishers often offer a more hands-on approach for new and inexperienced authors. the downside is that their budgets and reach may not be as large as that of the big five, so you are less likely to get an astronomical advance or become an international bestseller. But it\'s not impossible! Let’s check out some of the best in the business... Autumn House Press Autumn House Press is an independent, non-profit literary publishing company based in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania that was founded in 1998. They began as a publishing company strictly for poetry, but they have since expanded to include fiction and nonfiction. Autumn House Press’s especially notable titles include Anxious Attachments by Beth Alvarado and Not Dead Yet and Other Stories by Hadley Moore. Tupelo Press Tupelo Press is an American not-for-profit literary press founded in 1999. It produced its first titles in 2001, publishing poetry, fiction and nonfiction. Tupelo Press publishes the winners of its national poetry competitions, as well as manuscripts accepted through general submission. Awards given by Tupelo Press include the Dorset Prize, the Berkshire Prize for a First or Second Book of Poetry, and the Snowbound Series Chapbook Award. They have a lot to offer as an independent book publisher. Influx Press Hackney-based London independent publisher, Influx Press, was founded in 2011. They focus on site-specific literature closely linked to precise places across the UK and beyond. They have printed unique books such as How Pale the Winter Has Made Us by Adam Scovell and A Door Behind a Door by Yelena Moskovich. Fledgling Press Fledgling is an exciting and innovative publisher founded in Edingburgh, Scotland. Their focus is primarily on Scottish talent, but they still consider writers from other parts of the world. Founded in 2000, Fledgling Press have have launched the writing careers of award winning authors including Helen Grant, Philip Caveney and Alex Nye. Graywolf Press Graywolf Press is an independent, non-profit publisher located in Minneapolis, Minnesota. They publish fiction, non-fiction, and poetry. Graywolf Press currently publishes about 27 books a year, including the Graywolf Press Nonfiction Prize winner, the recipient of the Emily Dickinson First Book Award, and several translations supported by the Lannan Foundation. Their published work is bold and award winning. New Directions New Directions was founded in 1936 and they publish about 30 new titles a year. They publish anything regarding literary fiction, poetry, memoir, nonfiction, and their annual revenue is roughly $1 million per year. It was the first American publisher of authors including Henry Miller, Vladimir Nabokov, and Jorge Luis Borges, among others. Tin House Books Publisher of award-winning books of literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry; home to a renowned workshop and seminar series; and partner of a critically acclaimed podcast, Tin House champions writing that is artful, dynamic, and original. While they only publish about two dozen books per year, they are all astounding, and you can learn more about their small operation here. Europa Editions Europa Editions is an independent trade publisher based in New York. The company was founded in 2005 by the owners of the Italian press Edizioni E/O and specializes in literary fiction, mysteries, and narrative non-fiction. They have a few imprints, namely Tonga Books, and a series for mysteries known as Europa World Noir. City Lights Publishers Known for publishing Howl and other poems by Allen Ginsberg, City Lights Publishers is a great independent publishing option. Founded in 1955, with nearly 300 books in print, City Lights publishes cutting-edge fiction, poetry, memoirs, literary translations and books on vital social and political issues. For over fifty years, City Lights has been a champion of progressive thinking, fighting against the forces of conservatism and censorship. Forest Avenue Press Forest Avenue Press, founded in 2012 in Portland, Oregon, publishes literary fiction on a joyride and the occasional memoir. While they are currently a small-scale operation, they are growing in popularity in the Pacific Northwest. And That\'s Not All Of Them... And that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the best publishers to consider! The best thing to do, when looking at what publisher to approach or consider, is to look at the books you love or that are most similar to your own and look at who publishes them. You may well be surprised, and they may well not even be on this list (which doesn\'t make them any less fabulous). A Publisher For Every Writer Writing a book and finishing it is a huge achievement in itself. Choosing whether to self-publish, look for an agent, or approach indie publishing houses yourself is the next step..and a large one. So take your time and choose your route to publication wisely. While I hope you found a few excellent book publishers to consider from this list, do keep in mind that there are many more that are worth your consideration. And however you choose to get your book out into the world (and all options come with a list of pros and cons) they all ultimately all lead to the same thing - holding your book in your hand one day and having others enjoy your words. Frequently Asked Questions Who Are The Big 5 In Publishing? The big five publishers in the world are: Harper Collins Simon & Schuster Macmillan Hachette Penguin Random House These five publishers make up over 90% of hardback book sales in the US and over 80% of paperbacks sold. What Is The Most Prestigious Book Publisher? In terms of the most established book publisher, Cambridge University Press, dating back to 1534. But in terms of revenue, iPenguin Random House generated revenues of 3.8 billion euros in 2020, up from 3.63 in the previous year. Which Publisher Is Best For First Time Authors? The best thing a first time author can do is find a great literary agent that specialises in whatever genre they write. Through that agent they will then have access to the very best publishers. Without an agent, you can\'t get near the Big 5! How Do You Pick A Publisher? To have access to the top publishers you need a literary agent, and they will know who to approach. But if you want to approach smaller publishers without an agent, or just curious as to who you\'d like publishing your book, then simply take a look at books that are similar to the one you have written and see who publishes them.

What Is A Prologue And How Do You Write One?

What Is A Prologue And How Do You Write One? Most writers know that the opening of a book is all-important in terms of grabbing the attention of busy agents and editors. Many of us also know from our own experience browsing online that a striking beginning might make a difference between buying a book or not. Hence if how you start your plot can change your literary fortune, prologues can offer a fresh way to launch a narrative.  In this piece, we’ll look at what prologues are, a little bit of their history and their main types and purposes. What is a Prologue? What does ‘prologue’ mean?  Prologues originate in Greek drama, coming from the term prologos, ‘before word’. Ancient dramatists used them as devices to introduce the play to come and you can see the influence of this in later Shakespearean works, such as Romeo and Juliet, where the Bard uses a prologue to set the scene for  the star-crossed lovers. Another famous prologue is that of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, which was written in the Medieval period and introduces his cast of characters and the context of the pilgrimage. As you can see, prologues are used at the start of a work to bring the audience into a piece, but, as you’ll see below, in fiction writing, there are particular types of prologue which you might use to make your book opening more compelling.  Purpose of a Prologue As we’ve seen above, in plays, prologues literally set the stage for the action to come, bringing us into the world of the drama in a succinct way. However, prologues are not always necessary in novels and, indeed, they are a source of debate in writing circles as they can tempt writers to add too much ‘backstory’ about their characters and the setting in one go, before the main plot begins in Chapter One, leading to an overload of information which can be off-putting.  Prologues can also easily be too long, meaning the ‘real’ beginning of the story is delayed. Make sure you don’t make your prologue longer than your standard chapter and possibly consider making it even shorter to add real punch. You need to lay the foundations for the plot to come, but without being long-winded. Another difficulty is that prologues often don’t contain the lead character, unless in a mysterious and often unnamed way, so you’ve got to be careful about being too ‘on the nose’ as this device can be a way to generate real tension and excitement about your story. As you can see then, prologues come with various pitfalls, so they can be a challenge to pull off well. We’ll look at some of the reasons why you might use a prologue below, but just remember that not every plot needs a prologue, so don’t feel your work isn’t solid without one. Differences Between Prologue, Preface, Foreword And Introduction If we’re new to writing, it can be hard to tell the difference between prologues, prefaces, forewords and introductions and to understand exactly what is a prologue in a book. A preface is usually a short account by an author, explaining the origins of their book, with a foreword often offering an introduction to the text and its author by another person, usually a writer or authority in the same field.  An introduction, on the other hand, is a summary chapter, outlining the argument and contents to come, which is used primarily in non-fiction. Indeed, most fiction doesn’t have a preface or foreword on the whole, so it’s not something the majority of writers need to worry about.  Prologues are primarily the preserve of novelists then (as well as some playwrights), being a part of the narrative itself, rather than material which precedes it.  Types Of Prologues Considering the various functions prologues can perform is perhaps one of the most important things if you’re going to include one in your novel.  Many writing experts say there are four main types of prologue, involving a future protagonist, past protagonist, a different point of view and one which presents background. Future Protagonist This sort of prologue shows us the future self of the lead character – perhaps including their death – in order to set in motion the story of how they reached that point. It is written in the same point of view and style as the rest of the novel, but if you’re using the third person, the prologue often presents the end of the story first, with the journey towards that point beginning in the first chapter.  If you’re using a first person voice, the prologue might show the lead writing a letter or memoir, stating why they needed to tell this story, and the tone is often reflective. In this sort of prologue, an older character often is introduced, presenting the overall plot as a walk down memory lane. Past Protagonist Sometimes there’s a juicy event in your protagonist’s life which the reader needs to know to understand them fully. Often, it’s a tragic event, such as a loss or trauma, which might not be given its due in the course of a flashback, but which has set up the wounded detective lead, say, to have a passion for justice.  This sort of prologue allows us a look into the past then to let us see what makes the lead tick, bringing to life a powerful event which will draw the reader in and making us sympathise with the protagonist deeply right from the get-go and, luckily, it’s effective when written in the first or third person point of view. Different Point Of View Prologue Sometimes, it’s useful to bring in a different narrative perspective in a prologue than the viewpoints presented in the main plot. It can be particularly useful in order to add mystery to the coming story, perhaps, say, by showing a murder in the viewpoint of the unknown killer before the main plot shows the hunt for this villain. You can also use this sort of prologue to create dramatic irony, so the reader sees some event coming down the pipe – probably something which threatens them in some way – whilst the lead remains unaware. In women’s commercial fiction, for example, we might be presented with a cheating husband, while the protagonist wife goes on oblivious – until reality hits later in the book at some point. This sort of prologue is often useful in historical or adventure fiction with, say, an artefact being used or hidden in the past, which the lead only discovers later on, as this brings the world of the book into focus, as well as establishing the compelling question about what this thing is and why it’s important. However, it’s crucial that this sort of prologue is written in the third person, even if the main part of the novel is in the first person, to make it stand out from the rest of the narrative. Background Prologue If the world of your novel is very different than our own, such as if you’re writing science fiction or fantasy, this sort of prologue can be used to establish your unique setting and its rules in detail, so we understand the main action better. However, this is tricky to pull off as you don’t want to throw your reader into your alien world, say, unprepared, but you also don’t want the book’s opening to become an overwhelming info dump either. Focus then on creating a simple plot which illuminates how your particular world works – preferably one which links to the main narrative. Sometimes, however, the prologue might could take the form of a document which sets out the strange wonders of the world we’re entering and this form of opening offers a lot of opportunities to use your imagination, but, again, it’s a matter or balance as you also don’t want to make the beginning too obscure. Again, it’s good to narrate this sort of prologue in the third person, even if the main plot is told through the first. How to Write a Great Prologue So, does a book need a prologue? As I discussed above, many novels don’t require one at all, so it might not be necessary for you to learn the skills set out here in order to create a killer plot opening. However, as you can see, prologues can perform some very useful functions in terms of opening a plot with power and they can be particularly helpful when writing certain genres of fiction, so you might want to consider including one in your novel.  We all know how crucial a striking and stylish opening is, so bear this in mind when writing your prologue – this will be the first thing agents, editors and the general reader sees of your book, so you must make it compelling.  If you’re wondering how to write a prologue, it’s key that you grab your audience’s attention from the first line and keep it. The prologue needs to be essential reading for the rest of the book, so make sure it’s both relevant to the main plot and dramatic.  Immediately Engage The Reader In order to make your prologue stand out, it’s a good idea to take a powerful event and milk it for all its worth. You must also ensure you’re engaging the reader all the way through and not getting lost in backstory or obscure details.  You want the prologue to keep the reader turning pages right into the main narrative, so keep it peppy, no matter what genre you’re writing in. You might not need a car crash or explosion in literary fiction, but even emotional crises can stir emotions enough to lure the reader in. Provide Essential Information As I said before, prologues can help with world-building for fantasy, sci-fi and historical fiction writers, allowing the reader to become aware of the specific context of the coming story. Indeed, prologues can also provide relevant information about past events which have impacted the lead or show scenes, such as a murder, which set up the ensuing narrative.  In many ways then, prologues can give the reader relevant information for the literary journey to come and can be extremely useful devices. However, as I’ve also stressed, it can be difficult to not overload the reader with information. Add details gradually, like a breadcrumb trail through the forest, knowing you have the whole book to establish your characters and setting and remembering that an air of mystery and unanswered questions can be very alluring. Make sure the reader has the necessary information, but no more.  Use a Consistent Tone and Style It’s important to remember that, whilst the prologue might well be in a different point of view from the main text or come from the viewpoint of a character whose perspective does not appear in the later narrative, the prologue’s style always needs to fit with that of the main narrative. What you don’t want is for your prologue to seem inconsistent with the rest of the book. Yes, you want the prologue to stand out, but if your prologue doesn’t sit well with the rest of your plot and language, it will possibly offer a false impression of your book to the publishing industry and general reader.  You don’t want to confuse your audience as to what your book is like or to have your readers feel perplexed when they reach the first chapter, so make the prologue powerful, but in keeping with the ideas and style of the main text. Keep It Short I described before how prologues shouldn’t go beyond your average chapter length and this is one way to ensure you don’t bore the reader or include excessive information. Indeed, some of the most powerful prologues are brief, offering just a glimpse into a murder scene or a crucial part of the lead’s past, before delving into the main action. In this way, prologues can be very evocative, without giving away the store.  Consider then if less might be more with your prologue. Review Other Prologues Much of our skills as a writer come from reading, so research other prologues, particularly those from books in your genre to see how the best ones work. You could even try to experiment by emulating certain types, copying prologues to see how they’re put together, and experimenting with different types from the four given above to see what might work for your novel. Excellent Prologue Examples I’ve already mentioned some of the most famous prologues, such as Chaucer’s General Prologue, Shakespeare’s opening to Romeo and Juliet, but there are also plenty of more contemporary examples available, including those from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhikers’ Guide to the Galaxy, Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park and Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Identity.  From ancient Greece to modern action and adventure, there are plenty of juicy examples of prologues to ponder. Think carefully as you read about what the author is presenting in the prologue, what type of prologue it is (does it provide background, for instance) and how long the author has made it. By taking notes and really absorbing what the author is doing, your own ideas and writing craft will grow. Prologues Can Add So Much As you can see, prologues aren’t always necessary, but they can add a lot to the opening of a novel if handled well.  From ancient Greece on, writers have turned to prologues to provide important past information on the characters and general background. They also can be part of world-building in sci-fi and fantasy or generate context for historical fiction.  Moreover, prologues can offer a framework for an older narrator to look back to the past, or to present a different point-of-view – such as that of a murderer in crime – thus adding mystery, as well as dramatic irony and a juicy impending sense of doom. Although you have to be careful not to add too much backstory or go on too long, ensuring that you keep the prologue relevant and consistent with the style of the rest of the book, you might end up with a really special opening to your novel. Try it and see how you get on!

Let’s all Pennebake

Folks, today is International Pennebaker Day; I have so decreed it. And, lucky you, I plan to tell you all about Pennebaking, but not until I have told you this:We started our Summer Festival of Writing last year because our plans for our regular, physical Festival were thrown into disarray by the pandemic. Then, partly for the same reason, but also because the Summer Festival was such an obviously brilliant thing to do, we ran it again this year, with fifty or sixty live events running across the whole summer. We’ve now taken the decision that the Festival is so awesome, we should make it as widely available as we possibly can. So from now on, the entire Summer Festival will be free (and exclusive) to Jericho members. That means, if you’re a member, your membership has just become a whole lot better. If you’re not a member, then you have about fifty or sixty additional reasons for feeling sad.OK. Nuff of that. Back to International Pennebaker Day:James Pennebaker, a US psychologist, was interested in trauma. He knew that trauma of any kind is associated with bad health outcomes, but what if those suffering trauma were good at talking about their ordeal? Would that make a difference?Pennebaker decided to investigate. His first thought was that some traumas carried more shame than others. (So, for example, the death of a child by suicide might be more shameful to the parent than a death by car accident.) So perhaps the nature of the trauma would be highly correlated with outcomes?He investigated and it turned out that the exact nature of the trauma was essentially irrelevant. Instead, what mattered – and it mattered a lot – was what people did with that trauma. If you had a bad experience and talked about it with friends, or family or a support group, you were largely spared the adverse health effects. If you stayed schtumm, you were much more likely to become physically ill.That was interesting enough, but what if you didn’t talk about your problems? What if you just wrote about them?Again, Pennebaker investigated. He asked a group of people to write – for fifteen minutes a day, for four consecutive days – about the most upsetting experience of their lives, preferably one they hadn’t shared extensively with others. A control group undertook a similar exercise, but wrote about their homes or their workdays, or something else forgettably bland.A year later, and with permission, Pennebaker got hold of everyone’s medical records and found that those who had written about their trauma got much less sick than those who did not. An hour’s unstructured writing had yielded major health benefits – a remarkable discovery.But further research got more interesting still.If people were asked to describe their emotional difficulties via music, or dance, or painting, they got no benefit. What’s more, if people came to the writing exercise already fluent in their description of their trauma, they obtained no particular benefit to writing it down. The people who benefitted were the ones who made progress over the four-day period; who gained in insight, who built a story.Now all that is interesting in itself – blooming interesting, if you ask me. But we’re writers, either already professional or with aspirations to be published.What does Pennebaker’s research mean for us?Well: I don’t know, but here are some things that occur to me.First, if you have experienced major trauma, you should write about it. It doesn’t matter whether that trauma was newsworthy or not, of public interest or not. All that matters is that you write about it, for your own mental or physical health. You’ll be glad that you did. It’s an amazing thing to do and you’ll definitely feel better for doing it.Secondly, I should probably tell you now that memoirs of personal trauma usually aren’t saleable for a mixture of reasons. There are some significant legal obstacles – libel and privacy – for one thing. I know of one really strong memoir, well-written and shocking at the same time, which found an agent, but which publishers declined to take on for fear of the possible legal consequences.But, look, what publishers do really doesn’t matter. That’s not the point. You’re the point. Write it for you.Third, I do wonder whether all novelists don’t in some way write books in order to deal with some deep psychic issue – or more accurately, our life experience simply smuggles itself into our work, whether we want it to or not.John Le Carre spoke somewhere (I haven’t been able to find the quote) that he found himself always writing about love and betrayal. It’s the theme that resonates through his work and one born of childhood insecurity: a conman father, a mother who deserted him. When you read things in Le Carre, like “Do you know what love is? I’ll tell you: it’s whatever you can still betray.”, you know you are reading about the author as well as the character.If you notice things like that happening, let them happen. The richest novels always have deeper themes stirring beneath the surface. I don’t even think you need to analyse those themes beyond a point. I always love it when I’ve written three-quarters of a book, or am doing my tenth edit of a completed draft, and then think, ‘Dang me, I’ve been writing about X all along and never noticed before now.’ Sometimes that X is a directly personal thing, but often it isn’t, or at least not so obviously as in Le Carre’s more colourful case.And all this makes me wonder: does writing novels have a health-protective effect? If we sublimiate our emotional difficulties and work them out via space opera / detective stories / Regency romance / literary fiction / dystopian YA, does that work as well as doing the Pennebaker exercise, the way he set it out?I’m going to guess not, but (A) I bet it does something beneficial, and (B) it does seem, from Pennebaker’s work, that there really is something special about words, as opposed to paint, music and all that. (The ‘lesser arts’ as we can agree to call them.)Which gives us a conclusion of sorts, I think.If any of you have real trauma to deal with, I think the Pennebaker exercise looks genius. Four days. Fifteen minutes a day. Just write, don’t judge. The science says you’ll be wiser, happier and healthier for that (tiny) investment.And all of us: if traumatic events smuggle themselves, subliminally, into our fiction, then great. Our fiction is likely to be the better for it. As you know, I can be quite analytical about fiction, but when it comes to that personal/fictional interface, I tend to be quite incurious. I somehow feel that if my unconscious wants to work a few things out via my story and characters, I’m probably better off leaving it be. I’ll look after the story. My unconscious can look after its Pennebaker-chores.That’s it from me.In this week’s, Kids Being Barmy news:I screwed some castors onto an old wooden pallet and added a rope to pull it along with. The four kids pull the pallet up the road outside the house, then ride it downhill with the younger boy shouting, ‘Crash coming up! Crash coming up!’His predictions generally come true within a few seconds of being issued. So far, no major injuries.

Natalie Chandler’s debut two-book deal with Headline Accent

Natalie Chandler began researching and writing her debut novel, \'Believe Me Not\', in 2020, and attended the Summer Festival of Writing to build up her confidence before seeking agent representation. She\'s now represented by Liza DeBlock at Mushens Entertainment, and recently signed a deal with Headline Accent. Natalie kindly shares her story and some words of wisdom here.  JW: Tell us about finishing your book – where did the idea come from, and how did you go about turning that idea into words on a page?   NC: ‘Believe Me Not’ was born from a dream, believe it or not (delighted to have got a pun in so early on). I woke up thinking about a disorientated woman trying to find her baby son despite everyone she trusted insisting she didn’t have a child - and the idea just wouldn’t be quiet until I sat down and started writing.  I’m very much a pantser so I had no idea where the plot was going or what was going to happen. But my protagonist, Megan, was already fully formed and she drove the early chapters. I did a lot of research – I hate getting details incorrect – and was fortunate that one of my best friends works in the NHS and she not only patiently answered my countless questions but also put me in touch with other mental health professionals.  For the first time, I had no other distractions, due to the small matter of the world coming to a halt with a global pandemic. No lunch invites, no exhortations for ‘just one drink’ or weekend getaways. I was writing practically full-time and it was flowing like never before. I had nearly finished the first draft when I saw an advert for the Summer Festival of Writing and decided, since I was Doing This Properly, it would be a sound investment. It turned out I was right. I came away feeling empowered, knowledgeable, no longer a complete amateur – and ready to edit until I could edit no more.    JW: How did you land your agent? During the 2020 Summer Festival of Writing, I attended every webinar led by an agent. I wanted to learn as much as I could about submissions before jumping into the fray again, having previously tried to find representation for two earlier novels and been unsuccessful. Jericho Writers provided such wonderful opportunities to, for the first time, really discover the secrets of the industry and I felt much more confident in my submissions package after applying everything I’d learnt. I also booked several agent one-to-ones, which were nowhere near as terrifying as expected! One of the early ones was particularly brilliant. She ripped my opening pages to shreds and it really stung at the time, but when I sat down to work through her deeply perceptive notes, I realised she’d helped me improve tenfold and I was so grateful to her. From then, I had a stronger package to present at one-to-ones and I gained three more full requests from subsequent sessions.   By this point, I already had six full manuscripts on submission and was prepared to wait to see what the feedback would be when, out of the blue, I saw on Twitter that Liza DeBlock at Mushens Entertainment had opened her submissions that morning. I’d followed Liza for a while and really liked her style so I decided there was nothing to be lost in contacting her. She replied within hours asking for the full manuscript and just over a week later, I was signing on the dotted line in a state of wonder, disbelief and sheer joy.  It had been nearly a decade since I sent out those first tentative letters (no email back then!) seeking representation and I was so thrilled by the opportunity to become part of the Mushens Entertainment family – a dream agency I had followed since its creation – that I didn’t quite dare to believe it was finally happening.   JW: What was the process of choosing an agent after a number of full manuscript requests?   Liza was the first agent to call – she read the full manuscript in 48 hours and left me the most wonderful voicemail telling me how she loved it so much she’d stayed up half the night to finish it, which I intend to keep forever! As soon as we got talking, I was amazed by her excitement and her sheer passion for ‘Believe Me Not’. She already understood the characters and themes and we were completely on the same page regarding edits and improvements. I knew we’d clicked but Liza encouraged me to continue talking to the other agents who had the full manuscript and see what their thoughts were. They were all lovely and so encouraging but my gut was telling me I was going to accept Liza’s offer. My partner told me to listen to the voicemail again and said ‘anyone that enthusiastic is going to be your most valuable ally. She’s 100% committed to you and the book and you can’t ask for anything more’. That sealed it for me.  JW: What is your relationship like with your agent now?   Wonderful! Editing together was the best experience – the book grew stronger and I learned so much working alongside a talented professional for the first time. Liza’s cup is always half-full and she approaches everything with positivity. She checks in regularly whilst still giving me total autonomy in the writing process, and she always has time for me despite being super busy. I can discuss any problems or concerns with her and know I can trust her advice and guidance.   My partner told me to listen to the voicemail again and said ‘anyone that enthusiastic is going to be your most valuable ally. She’s 100% committed to you and the book and you can’t ask for anything more’. That sealed it for me.  JW: So you got your agent, but then what? What was the submissions process like?   ‘Nerve-wracking’ is probably the best description. There had already been interest from a number of editors when I gained representation so we started with a list of twenty initial submissions to mostly Big 5 houses after we’d done two rounds of edits. I knew there are always rejections so I’d steeled myself but we were getting fantastic feedback and after three weeks, the magic word ‘acquisitions’ was whispered. Days later, Liza called with the news that Headline Accent wanted to meet me and was offering a two-book deal – I was really going to be a published author!  JW: Has everything met your expectations so far, or have there been a few surprises?   As a debut, I didn’t expect to be given the level of autonomy and control I have.  Even though I’m learning fast, I’m still inexperienced, therefore I’d anticipated more instructions and fewer discussions. I was impressed that my thoughts and opinions are valued and how it has been constantly emphasised that it is my book and I am free to decide what works best.  Editing together was the best experience – the book grew stronger and I learned so much working alongside a talented professional for the first time. Liza’s cup is always half-full and she approaches everything with positivity. JW: Has this experience taught you anything about the publishing industry and pursuing your goals? Primarily, I’ve learned how lovely people in the publishing industry are! Everyone I’ve met has been so generous with their time, advice and encouragement. I’m very grateful. Don’t be scared to ask questions and take every opportunity to learn and network. If being an author is what you really want, understand it won’t happen overnight – sometimes it takes a decade. Stay committed through all the rejections and keep going – write anything, write everything, but keep honing your craft and growing as an author. You’ll feel like giving up many times but never forget you write, above all else, because you love it.  It’s all worth it the moment you get the voicemail that will change your life!  About Natalie Natalie Chandler was educated at the University of Durham and currently works in behavioural education, specialising in social, emotional and mental health issues.  Her debut psychological thriller \'Believe Me Not\' was written during lockdown and delves into the fractured mind of a woman abruptly diagnosed with psychosis, as she fights to prove the existence of her baby.  \'Believe Me Not\' will be published by Headline Accent in March 2022. Natalie is represented by Liza DeBlock at Mushens Entertainment and divides her time between London and the rural North of England. 

Finding freedom

What’s the point of metaphors, similes or other such imagery? Yes, they add colour, but a one-legged Russian general with an odour of bear and a bellowing stutter would add colour too, and I bet you don’t have one of those.Really, I think a good metaphor does three things:The writer introduces a pause – the purpose here is to make you, the reader, stop, look and reflect.The reader recognises something. The feeling is roughly, “Yes! It’s just like that.” But at the same time ...The reader is surprised. The feeling here is roughly, “But I never thought of it that way before.”That means, I think, that plenty of more showy and self-conscious metaphors don’t really work. Shakespeare had Romeo say, “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and Juliet is the sun.”But honestly, have you ever looked at a teenage girl and ever thought of her as a sun? Iis your view of Juliet in any way deepened or extended by that idea? I seriously doubt it.(And, uh-oh, I’m coming close to dissing Shakespeare here, which is a punishable offence under the Don’t Bad My Bard Act of 1843. So let me hasten to say that I think Shakespeare probably gave Romeo a strikingly naïve metaphor to tell us something about the boy, not about Juliet. Phew!)More effective imagery might work something like this:… in the early days, when our love was settling into the shape of our lives like cake mixture reaching the corners of the tin as it swells and bakes. (Max Porter, Grief is the Thing with Feathers.)Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life. (Marilynne Robinson, Gilead.)You couldn\'t make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You had to just wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn\'t go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind. (Elizabeth Strout, Olive Kitteridge.)In each of these cases, the author starts by describing the thing he or she is talking about in ordinary language: love settling into the shape of our lives, the peace of an ordinary Sunday, how you can’t make yourself stop feeling a thing. But that first description, although accurate and efficient, doesn’t quite clinch the deal. If there hadn’t been a metaphor to follow, you wouldn’t, as a reader, have stopped to take stock of the thought being presented. The reader’s inclination is, always, to hurtle on without that moment’s thought.So the first thing a metaphor needs to do is slow the reader down – to arrest them in the moment. The incongruity of the metaphor does that instantly. The reader has to pause to assimilate the sudden incursion of (in these cases) a cake, a garden, and a piece of tinsel. It’s almost as though the reader has pinned a red flag to the piece of prose that’s just gone, saying, “No. Look at this. Consider it properly.”But you can’t, of course, just stick any old flag in place. The flag has to add something. It has to deliver that little click of recognition, but also add something to the thought that has just gone before.So ‘Love settling into the shape of our lives’ is clear, but functional. It’s dry. Add the idea of a cake starting to push into the corners of a cake tin and you have a sense of the gradualness of the process, the way crevices get slowly filled. You have also that phrase ‘swells and bakes’ which tells you that the love is growing (something that the earlier language had omitted) and that’s it’s baking, or curing – becoming mature. All that, plus you have the sense of something turning golden and smelling nice. Something functional and dry has turned into a literary moment that you want to break off and eat.Same thing, give or take, with the other bits I’ve quoted.Which brings us to the question: how do you do that yourself? How do you gets bits of writing like the ones above into your own text?Well, I have two parts of the answer, but there’s a crucial third which I’m missing – and which may not exist.The first part is that you need to be alert, yourself, to the moment in your tale when you want to arrest the reader. You might well, for example, have a moment in your book when your character is enjoying an ordinary, peaceful Sunday. I suspect that your vocabulary comfortably extends to each of those three words. So the first bit of the Marilynne Robinson quote is definitely within your grasp. So your job now is to notice that you want or need to do something more.You need to have the thought, “Hmm, yes, I’ve described that experience efficiently enough, but I need a dot of colour to flag the moment for the reader’s attention.”If you have that thought, you are already halfway there. Noticing that you have a job to do is probably the single most important step in actually doing it.The second part of the answer is that, to find the right image, you have to loosen the handbrake. You can’t find the right image by analysing too closely. You find the right image by detaching a bit – blurring your gaze, not sharpening it. It\'s like a word association game, or one played when you\'re under the influence of a mild hallucogenic.It’s like you go into the feeling (peaceful Sunday) and let yourself forget what you are actually talking about in order to find the image (garden / rain) that it most resembles. Once you have that basic image, you can then start to mess around with the right words (mature garden? Newly mown garden? Spring garden? Newly planted garden?) to find the formulation that works best. Once you have the actual idea (peaceful Sunday = garden after rain), the best way to phrase it is a matter of trial and error, pushing words round to see what fits best.The third part of the answer is the one where I can’t really offer you much help. How do you release that handbrake? What if the handbrake is jammed on? Where do you find the damn thing? What if the instruction manual for finding the handbrake is written in Japanese, or Cornish, or Kashubian, or Klingon?Well, I don’t know. All I can say is that my own handbrake has loosened up the more I write. These days, the damn thing is so loose, I can’t park on a hill without running into a parked car or (once) tumbling over a quay into the sea.I so also think it helps if you lose any sense that you might be ridiculous, or that an image is just silly. (Love? Like cake mix? Don’t be absurd.) And yes, of course, your first three ideas might not work. But that doesn’t mean your fourth one won’t.Notice when you need a dab of colour. Grope around for images. Tinker with them till their right. And free up that damn hardbrake.Oh yes, and even if you follow all the advice in this email, you probably still won’t write like Marilynne Robinson. She’s a god.

Round Vs Flat Characters: A Complete Guide

When you’re writing fiction, developing your characters is a crucial point in the writing process. You might have the most compelling plot in the world, full of romance and action and intrigue – but if your characters feel more like paper dolls than people, chances are your book isn’t ready yet. It’s important to be able to tell the difference between round and flat characters, and to know when it’s okay to let a character stay two-dimensional or when they really need that extra axis of development. So let’s dig in! Characters In Fiction Let’s define something out of the gate: what do we mean when we talk about ‘character development?’ Basically, character development is the process by which a character (particularly in fiction) is brought ‘to life’ by giving them motivations, personalities, wants and desires – making them feel vivid and real, essentially. It can also refer to the ways your characters may change over the course of the novel, their literal development on the page thanks to the plot. For the purposes of this article, we’ll be talking about two – well, three, but we’ll get to that – kinds of characters: flat ones and round ones. What Is A Round Character And How Do I Write One? A ‘round’ character has layers. They’re nuanced and vivid, the kinds of characters you read about and wish they were your friends or to whom you feel an emotional connection. Essentially, the round characters are the story. These characters are your complex protagonists and antagonists, and your key supporting roles. They serve as the plot drivers because they make the decisions on where the story goes. A fully-formed, well fleshed out character doesn\'t happen overnight. Much like meeting someone at a party, it takes time to get to know them. They all start two-dimensional and then you add layers to them – it\'s like growing little onion-people! (Sorry for that strange insight into my brain.) A reader wants to care about your rounded characters, will want to be surprised by them, and will want to follow them on their journeys. The more we explain why someone is the way they are or acts the way they do, the more complex they become, and that\'s the beauty of a rounded character. A good tip is to spend time getting to know the characters that you need to be rounded, and this can be super beneficial before you start writing because that knowledge can influence and better shape your writing. Here are some tips on how to create them: Outline Their Goals And Motivations A reader cares more when they understand our characters, and the key here is to ensure our reader knows what motivations are driving our character\'s decisions throughout the story. These motivations can be based on good reasons or bad, and will apply to both the protagonist and the antagonist. It seems that the appetite for understanding motivations has increased in storytelling, and so it’s worth looking at two beloved characters who’ve recently had their motivations brought to the big screen: JAMES BONDOver decades, we’ve seen a host of Bond films where he’s more or less the same character: a charmer and a killer. This had a certain appeal, to be sure, but it also made him rather two-dimensional. When producers decided to adapt the 1953 novel Casino Royale in 2006, we were suddenly shown insight into how Bond became a killer (that brilliant black-and-white opening sequence) and what motivated his callous charm (falling in love, discovering her deception, watching her drown). Now we understood why he behaved the way that he did, which made him far more human than he’d been before. THE JOKERPart of the Joker’s appeal in every Batman appearance prior to Todd Phillips’ 2019 film Joker was that he was a madman. He represented anarchy to Batman’s order – very archetypal, comic book stuff. But Joaquin Phoenix’s award-winning performance revealed a failed clown whose inner turmoil gave rise to the chaotic villain we’ve all come to know. Bring Conflict Into Your Character\'s Life Conflict is not only a tool to drive the plot forward, but also shows a reader how your character will respond to a given circumstance. That in turn is interesting to a reader because it will show up traits in a character like their moral standing, etc. We can use another character to demonstrate conflict, or use an internal conflict, or even both. Take Woody from Toy Story as an example of both. He was Andy\'s most cherished toy until Buzz Lightyear came and took pride of place on Andy\'s bed (and heart). Note that introducing Buzz into the story – who posed no threat to Woody physically because they didn\'t have any historical conflict – had a knock-on effect to the internal conflict within Woody. Woody\'s insecurities and fear of being replaced meant his \'good guy\' persona was rattled. Let Your Character Evolve A rounded character will learn something throughout the story, and they’ll be different by the end than they were at the start. Using Woody in Toy Story as an example again, his acceptance of Buzz by the end of the film – and his willingness to understand what it means to share Andy’s attention -- leaves him in a far different place from where he was at the beginning of the movie. You are a different person from who you were when you started your journey; shouldn’t your characters be, too? What Is A Flat Character? A flat character is two-dimensional and uncomplicated. They are often minor characters (though not always) and their role in the story is usually a perfunctory one. It’s rare for a flat character to undergo any kind of development over the course of the story – usually because their development isn’t the point of the story. But that’s not to say that flat characters are a bad thing, or even something to avoid! They can be used for enhancing rounded characters and interaction between the two can reinforce the rounded character\'s strengths, traits and values. Think about The Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz: she\'s simply evil and not given any backstory, but she makes Dorothy look like a saint with awesome morals via the ways in which she provokes conflict. Your flat characters might also be supporting roles like Miss Stephanie Crawford, the town gossip in To Kill a Mockingbird: someone who can help deliver the novel’s message and who can help spur the revelations of the rounded characters, but whose story doesn’t need to be filled out for the reader’s enjoyment. Let’s get into some tips on writing your flat characters: Flat Characters Get Flat Names I tend to give my flat characters forgettable, common names, or even no name at all – sometimes a job reference will even do, eg. \'the waiter\' if they\'re just in one scene and delivering a cup of tea. Flat Doesn’t Mean Boring Your flat characters can have quirks that will delight a reader but won’t distract them. For example, you can have a clown who\'s not funny, or a dentist with bad teeth. Tom Bombadil is one of Tolkien’s most memorable inventions, but he serves a purpose in The Hobbit, not a distraction – or think about Dame Judi Dench’s performance in Shakespeare in Love, which won her an Oscar and she was on-screen for eight minutes! Enjoy Them But Don\'t Spend Lots Of Energy On Them If you feel confused about whether a flat character needs more to them, the likelihood is that the reader will also feel confused about their role. Don’t let that compelling quirky weirdo who shows up in one scene take over the rest of your book (unless, you know, you want them to) – again, you don’t want your flat characters to be a distraction. That’s why they’re flat! Determine their relevance to the scene and then focus on that before getting on with your day. The Difference Between Flat And Round Characters If you\'re not sure if you need a round or flat character in any given scene, ask yourself a simple question – do I need the reader to care about them here, or in the story as a whole? If the answer is yes, you need to give them some complexity. If not, they\'re the flat ones. Consider a classic battle scene in The Return of the King: The Ride of the Rohirrim, a last ditch attempt against all odds to save Middle Earth (no pressure). The sequence has both flat and rounded characters within it. We care about the collective force because they are representing the microcosm of the entire trilogy – good vs evil – in a spectacular and emotive way, but do we care about each and every one of the six thousand riders? Nope. We care about Theoden, Eowyn, and Merry – because those are the characters that have been given layers. We’ve spent time with them, seen their lives upended, witnessed their doubts and insecurities, seen their moral and emotional growth, and have agonised alongside them. And while we’re talking about speculative fiction, let’s use a role-playing game example: your well-rounded characters are, well, the characters you’re playing – while your flat characters are your NPCs, your non-player-characters. They’re the ones your main characters interact with along the way. What Is A Static Character? A note: some main characters, including some quite famous ones, are decidedly static characters – by which we mean that they don’t change, even as they’re quite memorable and even by many respects ‘well-rounded’ characters. Remember what we were saying about the Joker earlier? Remove that 2019 film from your brain and think about the character again: we often don’t know his name, his motivations are unclear, and he serves mostly as a foil to our protagonist. Another, more literary, example would be Bertie Wooster (and Jeeves, for that matter!) from P. G. Woodhouse’s Jeeves and Wooster stories. The relationship between Bertie and Jeeves will always be the same, those two men themselves will always be the same, and that’s really part of the joy of reading those stories: that those characters do not change. Without Character You Have No Story Your characters are the beating heart of your novel or story, and it’s crucial to make sure that you’ve invested them with the time and attention they deserve. Some of them might be well-rounded characters and some of them might be flat – but hopefully these tips and tricks will help you determine which should be which!

Six Poles

Planets are boring; they only have two poles. Books are interesting, because they have at least five or six poles, which define the shape of the whole.Here they are:External jeopardyIn a huge number of books, the possibility that a big bad thing happens animates the entire reading experience. If you’re reading a thriller, or anything in that zone, the external jeopardy (eg: will the baddies blow up the White House?) is likely to be the single dominating component of your overall structure. The question provoked in the reader is, roughly, what happens next? That’s the basic question underpinning all suspense novels.MysteryIn pretty much all crime novels, but in plenty of other books too, there’s also a big element of mystery. Here, the question isn’t what happens next, but what did happen? Who killed Colonel Higgins in the library? Why where there no footprints in the flowerbed? Why was the butler seen with an unwaxed moustache and an unbuttoned waistcoat? Why did the library smell of burned almonds and gently warmed honey?Mystery is not as powerful a driver of story as suspense, but it’s still reasonably powerful (ask Agatha Christie) and it’s particularly successful when combined with plenty of suspense.EmotionMost books involve a bit of love interest, or some other powerful emotional centre – a missing child, a dying parent.Plenty of novels have that emotional interest as their object of overwhelming concern. So, yes, most romances will have some notes of external jeopardy: for example, in Pride & Prejudice, there’s the question of whether Wickham will debauch the silly Lydia and ruin the family. But these things are deeply secondary to the big emotional question of whether he/she is going to get it together with him/her.These emotional questions are one of suspense – that is, they look forward, not back – but they’re worth separating out from the issue of external jeopardy, simply because most novels (including all of mine) have issues of external jeopardy playing alongside more traditional romance. They feel like, and are, different elements.MoralityPretty much all novels (and again, all of mine) also run up against significant moral questions. Those moral questions are typically entangled with other aspects of story. So, in romances, the Mister typically needs to prove his moral worth (eg: ride to Lydia’s rescue) in order to give the romance its final delicious bite. Or in crime novels, the detective/investigator is typically confronted with taxing moral challenges en route to solving the crime.BeautyAt the more literary end of the spectrum, there’s another element to take into account: how beautiful is the writing? How deliciously quotable are the sentences? This is book as objet d’art: something you almost want to hang on the wall and coo at.HumourLast and probably least, there’s humour. A bark of laughter is so different from everything else we’ve considered, that it’s worth teasing out into its own category. A romance or a thriller or a ghost story or a literary novel could be glumly serious from start to finish, or it could make you gurgle with laughter. You can have romantic comedies, and romantic tragedies, and romantic adventures, and they’ll all have a different feel. Same thing with any other genre. Some books make you laugh, others don’t. There’s another pole right there.**Now I mention all this partly because it’s of interest in itself to lay these pieces out on the counter for inspection.But I was also inspired to write this email by watching my kids cook. They are still of an age where they think that more of any ingredient must be better. We made lemon and ginger tea this morning, for example. Lemon is good, so they added plenty of that. And honey, so plenty of that. Ditto ginger. And obviously mint is good, so handfuls of that were added. There was no sense of proportion, balancing this ingredient against that one, so the result was a very full saucepan and a brew so thick it needed loads of dilution before it was actually palatable. If I’d let them add salt and mayonnaise and pineapple chunks, they’d probably have added them too. After all, who doesn’t love mayonnaise?Now I’ll admit: my approach to writing is broadly the same. Humour’s good: I want plenty of that. Romance: yep, bring it on. Mystery? I write detective novels, so I need plenty of that. But my books need to thrill, so I want a very high jeopardy climax. And I want my writing to shine stylistically, so I work at that too. And inevitably, given the kind of stories I write and the character I write about, moral issues creep in there too, and I do what I can to make real space for those too.It’s probably true that my books are above all suspense novels: if they weren’t exciting, nobody would read them. It’s the proper delivery of that element which allows me to get away with everything else.And that basic model does work. In fact, it’s probably the primary way to write a book. Choose your lead element (suspense in my case, with a heavy dash of mystery) then see how much you can ratchet the other things up.But it’s not the only model. If you write a really funny book, for example, the laughter is likely to drown any more subtle shades. Likewise, you can certainly slot a romance into a thriller with some end-of-the-world type hook, but the romance is almost certainly (and ought certainly) to be secondary. More interestingly, there’s quite a lot of high-end and critically lauded literary work where the beautiful writing tends to shove aside everything else. I’ve just finished reading a book, Lanny by Max Porter, where the writing is unquestionably stunning. It’s original, poetic, versatile, funny, surprising – everything you think you might want from a literary novel.But the book told a story about a boy vanishing from his home, and possibly abducted. The denouement reveals the true story and delivers (small spoiler) a happy ending. But honestly? The writing overwhelmed the story and the characters too. The boy himself never quite felt real. The parents’ own feelings creaked under the weight of lovely writing laid on top of them.To my mind, those failures spell disaster. If you tell a story about an abducted child and you don’t feel much resonance with either the child or the parents, then something’s gone wrong. (That is, I accept, a personal view: plenty of people love those books, or say they do, or give literary prizes to them. But how many of those people actually read every word of those books, I wonder?)The question I have for you is where does your story score on each of its dimensions? Are you a shove everything in kind of writer? Or do you have one very clear lead element with the others left trailing in the background.I suspect that most of us should take one of two approaches:Choose a lead element and make it exceptional. If it’s about beautiful writing, then be really beautiful. If you’re writing a thriller, then make it utterly thrilling. If your book isn’t going to be roundedChoose a lead element or two, and see how much of the other elements you can bring in without breaking things. The trick here is keeping the coherence of your lead elements intact, while bringing other things into play. It’s good if your book is funny – but you can’t let too much laughter kill your high-jeopardy denouement, or take away the sweetness of that finally fulfilled romance.And one of the purposes of this email is to nudge you if there’s anything you’ve forgotten.There’s some Woody Allen film where he’s getting ready for a big night out. We see him checking his jacket, adjusting his hair, building his confidence. Then he’s ready – he leaves the room – the camera stays running – and we see him rush back in: he’s forgotten to wear trousers.This email is asking you to check that you are wearing trousers. Have you just forgotten to tease out the morally difficult areas of your story? Is there a mystery you are neglecting? Is your handling of that secondary romance just lacking?Because, as writers, we concentrate so hard on getting our lead elements arranged correctly, we can som1etimes forget to think about all those other things. So think about them, right?Add mayonnaise.And pineapple.

How To Write A Compelling Plot Twist

We all know that a book with a great hook is something agents, editors, and readers are looking for. But when it comes to books that last, the ones that readers will be recommending for years to come, it’s those with the best plot twists that stand the test of time. Yet plot twists are so hard to write. So how do you deliver thrilling twists and turns that will keep your readers guessing until the very end? What Is A Plot Twist? “I feel that the characters in my book, if they were real, would be like, \"Seriously, another plot twist?” (Author, Meghan Blistinsky)A plot twist is a literary device found in all forms of storytelling, where the reader (or viewer) is lured into the intrigue of the plot and left reeling by a grand revelation or turn of events they didn’t see coming. A plot twist can take place in any scenario, but there are three very important rules a writer must follow: 1. It must be plausibleThe reader needs to be surprised by the revelation, but not shocked. All readers love to guess what will happen next, but if the plot twist doesn’t make sense or hasn’t been primed in advance the readers will feel tricked or let down.2. It must be a surpriseIt’s not much of a twist if the reader is able to guess the outcome from the very beginning. A successful plot twist, whether in a book or movie, will keep people guessing all the way through.3. It must be foreshadowedWe all love to think we can outsmart the writer and guess what will happen. But a great writer will make you think you’ve cracked it, and still surprise you with a revelation that makes total sense, but only in retrospect. Why Is It Important To Have Plot Twists In Your Book? It’s not. Plot twists aren’t vital in every book, but they are a great way to add intrigue, keep readers turning the pages, and get them invested in the plot. Not to mention add much-needed hype to your book. And it doesn’t matter what genre you write in. A great plot twist transcends all types of books and stories. We often think of thriller plot twists when considering books with a grand reveal – you can’t have a successful murder mystery without a shocking revelation at the end - but every book can benefit from adding a plot twist (or two, or three, or four) to add tension, intrigue, and keep readers talking.A good plot twist can be used effectively in all genres, from fantasy and YA to rom coms and gothic horror. Even if no one has gone missing or been killed. Plot Twist Examples From Books And Movies “The best stories are the ones with the unexpected plot twists that no one would have guessed, even the writer.”(Author, Shannon L. Alder) There are too many amazing movie plot twist examples and great plot twists in books to list them all, so we’ve split them up into three types. Plus, we’ve kept the descriptions vague so as not to ruin their big ‘wow’ moments if you are unfamiliar with them. Watching a movie, or reading a book, a second time can be extra enjoyable because that’s when we see how the writer planted the clues to the twists throughout the story from the beginning. See if you can think of your favourite plot twists and where they would fit in to these three categories. Plot Twist #1: The Grand Reveal This is generally known as the ‘who dunnit?’ and is used in all crime, thriller, and murder mystery books and movies.Behind her Eyes by Sarah PinboroughA single mother falls in love with her boss and befriends his wife, but something is very wrong.Sharp Objects by Gillian FlynnA reporter confronts the psychological demons from her past when she returns to her hometown to cover a violent murder. Knives OutWho killed crime novelist Harlan Thrombey? A murder mystery with more twists than Chubby Checker.The Orient Express by Agatha ChristieJust after midnight the Orient Express stops in its tracks. In the morning, an American is found stabbed to death. Who did it?Secret Window, Secret Garden by Stephen KingPeople are being murdered. But who is the bad guy when you’re a writer living alone? Plot Twist # 2: The Plot Thickens These types of plot twists are often used to change the direction of the story. Sometimes the twist is the inciting incident, sometimes the midway reveal, or it can pull the protagonist in a new direction and lurching into act 3. When it comes to a series, these types of revelations can also serve as great cliff hangers. The Maze Runner by James DashnerDozens of boys, and one girl, must escape a maze for freedom. Yet who is behind their imprisonment? Fingersmith by Sarah WatersA novel set in Victorian England follows the intertwining lives of two women from different worlds. ParasiteA poor family scheme to become employed by a wealthy family and infiltrate their household by lying about who they are. The Girl With All the Gifts by Mike CareyA teacher and a scientist living in a dystopian future embark on a journey of survival with an unusual young girl.I am Legend by Richard MathesonA post-apocalyptic vampire thriller, about a lone survivor struggling to live in a world that is no longer his own. Plot Twist #3: Wait! What? Some of the best plot twists are those that you never asked for and come out of nowhere. By adding a huge twist at the end, one that (unlike a murder mystery) you were not waiting for, it changes the entire story from what you were led to believe to something else. Unlike a simple ‘who dunnit?’, these twists throw the biggest curve balls and leave you reeling as the credits roll or you close the book for the last time. Sixth SenseA little boy can see ghosts and is helped by a psychologist…who may not be all he seems. Everything, Everything by Nicola YoonA teen girl has an illness which means she can’t leave her bedroom. Then she falls in love. SevenSomeone is killing people based on the seven deadly sins. But what’s in that box at the end? American Psycho by Bret Easton EllisWe know he’s a cold-blooded killer. Or is he?We Were Liars by E. LockhartA lonely teen girl recounts one beautiful summer, that may not have been so beautiful after all. How To Write Your Own Plot Twists “Beneath every story, there is another story. There is a hand within the hand...... There is a blow behind the blow.”(Author, Naomi Alderman) You only have to read the latest Amazon reviews of a newly-hyped thriller to see how important plot twists are to readers. Many books are sold as having a ‘twist you never saw coming’ – which can backfire if readers are able to guess the grand reveal too early, leaving them feeling cheated. In other words, readers want you to surprise them with twists that they never saw coming yet were obvious in retrospect. This is easier said than done. So how can you, as a writer, achieve that? Here are five plot twist writing tips to keep your readers intrigued and guessing until the very end: 1. Let Your Characters Do The Hard Work If you have created well-rounded characters with clear intentions and strong personalities, they will often reveal to you something you never initially planned. Relax and leave your main characters to do the walking and talking. Perhaps put them in a strange scenario and see what happens. You may be surprised by where they take you. 2. Work Backwards When it comes to the best thriller plot twists, authors often work backwards. They start with the big reveal, then go back and insert subtle clues and pointers alongside dead ends and red herrings. It’s important the clues are hidden amongst the more obvious clues that are placed on purpose to misdirect the reader. For example: If you want the killer at the end of your novel to be the cleaner, you may have her polishing the gun in act one, and you may have her cleaning in a scene where another suspect is acting more obviously guilty. The best places to add plausible clues that lead to your twist is to hide them among action or dramatic narrative where the readers won’t be noticing them as much. Let your readers think they’ve cracked it, then lead them down a dead end and make them circle back. 3. Mislead Your Readers On Purpose This leads us on to misdirection, red herrings, and dead ends. The only way to keep your readers guessing is to play with them. Like any good magician, you make them look at your right hand while hiding the coin with your left. This doesn’t mean simply pointing at the wrong culprit until the big reveal at the end, but entertaining your readers with plenty of action and intrigue until they are yanked out of their comfort zone with a big twist.For example, in Life of Pi by Yann Martel, we are so intrigued by the concept of a man having to survive on a life raft with a killer tiger, that it doesn’t occur to us that the story may be an allegory. And in Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, we are so enthralled by the depiction of a seedy club full of men fighting one another, that we never once consider that perhaps our narrator is far from reliable. 4. Give Them A Mega Twist At The End Of The First Twist There are no rules when it comes to how many plot twists you can have in one book (as long as you don’t make your readers dizzy with them). One fun device is to build up to an expected twist, then deliver a mega-deadly twist straight after. One example of three twists in a row is in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. In the original novel, not only does Dorothy discover that the Great Oz is merely an inept man behind a curtain, but she learns that she could have gotten home simply by clicking her heels. And then, as if that’s not enough drama, once she’s back in Kansas we discover it was a dream all along. Or was it?These twists after twists are a fun way to add tension and speed up the pace during the last act, and to keep readers thinking of the story long after they close the book. 5. Play With Your Readers’ Emotions Authors love to make you feel – whether that means making you laugh, cry, shocked, or even so angry you throw the book against the wall (then quickly pick it back up, because you simply have to know what happens next). The best way to play with a reader’s emotions is to deliver a roller coaster of gut-wrenching twists. In Romeo and Juliet, we go from the throes of passion and teen love to Romeo’s best friend Mercutio being killed by Juliet’s cousin. A big dilemma we never saw coming. From love to despair, Romeo then delivers another twist when he kills Tybalt in revenge. We go from a cute YA love story to one of violence, tragedy, and drama when Romeo is banished. If Romeo and Juliet were a teen novel today, most readers would expect that arc to lift by the end of the book, proving that love can overcome everything. Yet this is no love story, it’s a tragedy that purposely messes with your emotions. As a final, fatal, twist we see Romeo not only kill himself in the last act because he thinks Juliet is dead – but Juliet wakes up, sees that her lover is dead, and kills herself too! This onslaught of dramatic twists leaves the spectators reeling with every imaginable emotion until at the end of the play they are left completely bereft. But in the very best way. Because, ultimately, a reader wants a writer to make them feel. A Plot Twist With A Difference As a final plot twist of our own, we’re adding a little bit more to this article and supplying you with some inspiration for your own memorable plot twist creations. Now we’ve had a look at what plot twists are, which ones work best, and how to write your own, here are some fun prompts to get you messing with your readers’ minds. What if… - The bad guy isn’t the bad guy after all? The MC is? - The MC falls in love with the friend helping them get the girl? - The imaginary world is the real world? - The MC isn’t the narrator? It’s all been from someone else’s POV? - The good guys were never there to help after all? - The MC isn’t alone, as we have been led to believe? - The narrator is unreliable? - The MC has been lied to all along? - They were pretending to be someone else? - They are not dead? - Or…are not alive?Plot twists, when executed well, are not only fun to experience as a reader, but are also a lot of fun to write. There’s no greater thrill than a reader exclaiming they never saw your twist coming. Next time you are reading a great book, or watching a movie, study where the writer or director is asking you to look and look in the opposite direction. Study the clues, guess the outcome, and try to get one over on the writer. You may even be inspired to write your own unforgettable plot twist.

What’s your hidden mantra?

Here’s a thought:You will, consciously or unconsciously, have a philosophy of writing, a set of assumptions or beliefs that underpins everything you do. But what is that philosophy? And is it helping you? Or (more probably) does it partly help you and partly block you?I had that thought because I’ve definitely had a philosophy that has partly helped and partly hindered. My first novel (The Money Makers) was a playful, enjoyable, highly commercial romp. I started the book while still working full time in the finance industry and, before I’d been in finance, I’d studied economics and philosophy at Oxford.I came to writing fiction deeply aware that all my recent training – Oxford and finance – was deeply unhelpful when it came to writing popular fiction. I needed to chuck out the long sentences, the jargon, the fancy words. I needed to bring in tight, clear, physical, compelling writing.So I developed the habit of checking my prose for readability – literally checking my readability score for each chapter. The metric I used was the Flesch-Kincaid score which looks at sentence length and complexity of vocabulary, then gives you readability measure in terms of what high school grade would be capable of reading read what you’ve just written. I aimed for a score in the 6-7 range, meaning that kids of 11-12 would in theory be able to read the book. In practice, of course, it was an adult novel, but beach reads ought to be nice, easy, fast reads, so that’s what I aimed for.In practice, I probably overdid it, but my theory was sound. I managed to erase my past training and sprung into print as a fully formed commercial writer.I developed some other ideas too. One was an absolute horror of boring the reader. I wanted something on every page to prick the reader’s interest. That might be a plot movement. It might be some snappy dialogue, or a joke, or anything else – but I wanted to sustain the reader’s interest from very first page to the very last.As a result, I also became relentless at tightening my prose. A nine-word sentence that could equally well be a seven-word sentence struck me as baggy and weak.Many of those habits stuck with me. I’ve become a much better writer over the years, but I still have that horror of being boring. And it’s mostly worked out for me: my books have sold for decent amounts and my readers have enjoyed reading them. That’s a win, right?Except that even healthy habits can become limiting. What if I took the risk of a few slower or less vibrant pages, in the hope of gaining some deeper reward? Gone Girl, for example – which is a commercial novel in my genre – took those kind of risks, and the risks paid off massively, not just literarily but commercially as well. You could say exactly the same about The Talented Mr Ripley. You could say the same, in fact, about Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. I’m not saying I could have written those masterpieces under any circumstances, but my “gotta be interesting at all times” credo meant I was never even in the game.Other things too. I used to believe that I had to write / think / edit my way into fluency. I sometimes had an eight-hour writing day and often enough, four hours in, I’d thought plenty, and tinkered with some of my previous prose, and tried out two or three approaches for the next chapter … but not actually got any meaningful new text down on the page. I thought that this three- or four-hour approach march was just the way my creativity came.Then, along came the kids. I never had an eight-hour writing day again. If I even managed five or six hours, in bursts, over the course of a day, that was a highly unusual day. So out went my arid approach march. I just got more productive.Another example: I used to think I wrote old-school adventure fiction. (Plenty of excitement, but not much violence.) Then that career dwindled, because my book sales didn’t keep pace with my advances. So I undid my previous belief about what I could write, and turned to non-fiction. But I’m a fiction writer at heart, so I came back to fiction again but in a markedly different genre and written in a markedly different style.And all this makes me wonder: what beliefs or methods do you have that help you and simultaneously block you? Here are some possibilities:“I can only write in genre X”. I bet that’s not true. I don’t think that’s true of any really passionate writer.“I have to get this book agented before I can start another.” Maybe. But what if this isn’t going to be your breakthrough book? At a certain point, you have to ditch the project and start another.“I would never self-publish: it’s beneath me.” Right. Mark Dawson was published by Macmillan, who sold very few books. Now he self-publishes and he’s sold millions and is one of the highest-earning authors on the planet. But sure. Of course, you wouldn’t want that outcome. Think how awful it would be.“I have to write the kind of prose that my university workshop group would admire.” Right. Except those guys aren’t the ones handing out contracts, are they?“I have to write Great Literary Art. I wouldn’t stoop to anything less.” But debut literary novels need to sell. If you aren’t thinking commercially (as well as artistically) your Great Literary Novel is likely to entertain the contents of your bottom drawer and nothing else. That box of pencils and those day-glo Post-It notes will love it, though.“I like books from the 1930s / 50s / 70s / 80s and I want to write like that.” People sometimes think that because (let’s say) Agatha Christie was and is a huge bestseller, they could write a book like that and do as well. But of course they can’t. If people want a Golden Age crime novel, they’ll turn to Christie or one of her peers. If people want contemporary fiction, they’ll buy something recently published. By all means, write Golden Age crime fiction with a contemporary twist, (The Seven Lives of Evelyn Hardcastle being an obvious example.) But bring something of the now into anything you write.“I need to write with hand-turned pencils in a badgerskin notebook in only my favourite café and only in the morning and only if they’re playing Chopin on the music system.” Yeah, right. You aren’t actually going to write anything then, are you?Those are some commonly held, and unhelpful beliefs, but I’d be genuinely interested to know what ideas you have that may or may not be helpful … or, better still, which are both helpful and unhelpful, useful and limiting.So tell me. Or – better still – tell each other on Townhouse. These beliefs are really fruitful if they stimulate. They’re destructive if they restrict. And they’re not static. Something that was helpful last year might be holding you back this year … and quite likely, you haven’t yet noticed.So notice.Here endeth this epistle. Oh yes, and they’re charging us by the word for PSes this week, damn their eyes.

Jan Cavelle’s Achievements in Business and Books

Entrepreneur and Jericho Writers alumna Jan Cavelle is phenomenally successful, having grown her own 20-year-strong business from scratch and published a book of expert insights into growing a business, ‘Scale for Success’, with Bloomsbury in 2021. Whether it’s a business or a book, the journey is never easy - and Jan kindly shares her experience of non-fiction publishing with us here.   January 2020 seems a different world away for all of us.  I was paying little attention to tales of an old lady dying of some unknown disease in remote China.  In fact, I had gone off-grid, telling no one what I was doing.  It was too big, too heart-stoppingly important to me.    One chilly day that January,  I hauled myself upright at around three in the morning and drove to London, terrified of missing my appointment.  I spent most of the four-hour wait in a tourist hotel pushing congealed eggs around my plate and wondering just how many cups of tea it was possible to drink.  Finally, I walked around the corner to the hallowed offices in Bloomsbury Square to stare in awe at the Harry Potters on display in reception.   I had gone off-grid, telling no one what I was doing. It was too big, too heart-stoppingly important to me. But let me take you back a little.  My childhood dream was to write a book, but life and, as a single parent, an abrupt need to make a living took over.  I started a business on a shelf under the stairs in our tiny Victorian cottage and, from non-auspicious beginnings, grew it to something mid-size.  Single parenthood and solo-entrepreneurship are both a recipe for isolation, so it would be years before I met other entrepreneurs.  Entrepreneurs are an interesting bunch.  They come from all sorts of backgrounds and work in virtually every sector.  They are hugely driven, often obsessive, yet the majority are far less judgemental, far less worried about who they are talking to, and more interested in the quality of what is being said.  Most – definitely not all, but most - are highly intelligent and have great stories to tell.  By chance, I saw a business publication advertising for a blog writer. Remembering my writing dreams,  I answered, and thus started a decade of writing for a digital publication called Real Business.  I also joined Jericho Writers.  When I finally parted company with the business, my first thought was retirement.  It took about two weeks for me to miss writing.   I went back to writing articles, but the dream of a book still niggled.  I started working my way through the Jericho Writers resources, focussing on the merits of attempting either self- or traditional publishing.    It took about two weeks for me to miss writing. I had decided to write about sales, my strength - and with the confidence I gained from the articles, I was somewhat cavalier about the writing.  However, to play safe, I submitted my first draft to be assessed by one of the Jericho Writers team.   My editors had always been rather nice to me, so I was unworried when it came to the feedback phone call.    By five minutes in, I was having to ask for a couple of minute\'s break because I was crying so hard that I couldn\'t actually hear. The expert tore it to shreds.  The concept was wrong, the writing careless on fact and atrocious on style.  It was the very definition of tough love.  It says much for my love of writing that I kept going, and much for his judgment that when I re-visited the manuscript a few months later, I was beyond appalled that I had even considered anyone reading it.    Chastened, I wrote another manuscript.  I followed all the instructions on the Jericho Writers website and researched likely agents and publishers.  I treasured the reply that told me it was well written (but not for them).  Elsewhere it was silent.    Relaxing in the glorious summer of 2019,  I had another idea.  People often advise you to write about what you know, and what I know best is how hard it is to scale a business.  I also knew that it is a business stage that many people struggle with.   Suddenly, I realized I had a subject that could potentially be of genuine use to a reader, unlike my somewhat self-interested previous attempts.  My problem was that I was no expert.  But I did know other people who had achieved the leap successfully.  I started off by attempting to interview friends and get their expertise.  Not an easy experience, with both parties in unfamiliar roles and keen to get back to the usual bottle of wine.  I dug out old contacts, people who I barely knew.  I trawled the net endlessly for businesses that looked on an upward curve.  A massive hulk of a book, going from start-up through scale-up, started to take shape.  People often advise you to write about what you know... Suddenly, I realized I had a subject that could potentially be of genuine use to a reader. At around three-quarters of the way in, I realized that I had forgotten the trad vs self-publishing quandary, and worse, I now had an obligation to do something with this thing to the people who had kindly given their time.  Back to my Jericho Writers knowledge bank, I went.  I knew that many of the people interviewed would be less than impressed unless it was traditionally published.  Old school, perhaps.  I spent a month putting together three submissions.  The one to Bloomsbury bounced back on my email.   That bouncing email was the wild piece of luck that we all need from time to time.  Tired and frustrated, I sent a quick tweet off to Bloomsbury to tell them the email was down. It was just before Christmas, so perhaps it was the festive spirit,  but I received a charming reply suggesting I send a brief outline of what I had been trying to send through to the respondee\'s personal email.  I thought no more about it.  Other publishers, too, were notably silent.   I was dumbfounded over Christmas to receive an invitation to come into Bloomsbury\'s offices. Hence finding myself pushing around the congealed egg in January.  The initial meeting was held in a room full of would-be writers, all of them having the weaknesses of their proposals pointed out to them by the editors.  The size of my project was demolished as being far too broad and my use of UK entrepreneurs was no use to a global publishing house.  I argued - I can split it.  I can get other entrepreneurs.  I was packed off to the country to form a submission.  Luckily I could still draw upon Jericho for it.  I muttered \"possibly for Bloomsbury\" into the ears of overseas entrepreneurs and found it a magic key to get them talking.  Hearing back is not a quick process.  The book had to be approved by several layers of international hierarchy.  At each stage, I was genuinely stunned and delighted to have got that far.  Finally, however, a contract was offered, and I was on my way to being (magic words) a published author.  I muttered \"possibly for Bloomsbury\" into the ears of overseas entrepreneurs and found it a magic key to get them talking. \'Scale for Success\' came out in February 2021 in the UK and July in Australia and America.  It contains the stories and wisdom of 30 genuinely amazing people from across the globe.  I didn\'t want to go for the Bransons or the Musks (not that they would have talked to me either), but I wanted relatable people, and I am still stunned by their stories.  Working with a range of people meant a vast amount of extra work.  They all had to be found, convinced that the idea was good, interviewed, and their approval of what I had written obtained.  If I hadn\'t so loved hearing their stories, it would have been a nightmare.  Non-fiction is unbelievably overcrowded.  The self-publishing market has gone wild under the \"a book is your business card\" mantra.  Looking for a backup plan, I spoke to a few of the publishing coaches who take a fat fee for helping you self-publish.  All were confused by my expressed desire to write \"a good book.\"  Entrepreneurs of decidedly mixed-level writing skills are employing hugely expensive PR companies to tout them as the next Tolstoy.  There is little chance to compete in the sunshine with that if you are writing for the love.   Reviews on Amazon are so precious – I can read the stars but haven\'t got the nerve to read the words.  As for the future, I am having a bit of a ‘what-now’ moment.  I produce a stream of business interviews and articles for my website and other publications, but I would love to do another book. Whether Bloomsbury or any other publishing house would love me to do another book is something for the future.  About Jan Jan Cavelle is a writer and entrepreneur who successfully grew and ran her own business for over 20 years. She was chosen as one of the first 50 Female Entrepreneurial Ambassadors to represent the UK in Europe and has been invited to speak on Newsnight. Jan contributed to Real Business for many years and her first book, ‘Scale for Success’, was published by Bloomsbury and cited by publications such as Elite Business, Irish Tech News, Medium, and the Undercover Recruiter.   Find out more about Jan here. Buy ‘Scale for Success’ from Bookshop.org here. Interested in Creative Non-Fiction? We offer a six-week crash course that could be the perfect way in to your new project, taught by Galley Beggar Press\' Sam Jordison. Find out more here. Read about finding an agent for your non-fiction here. Learn how to write a non-fiction book proposal here. Getting rejected by literary agents? Here\'s what to do next.

Nine Odd Things

Here are nine Odd Things about the market for books.Odd Thing the FirstConsumers are fantastically finicky about books. If you like tomatoes, you like pretty much any tomatoes. Sure, you might have a preference for ones that are vine-ripened, local-sourced, certified organic and picked by the light of a full moon. But, really, you just like tomatoes.It’s not like that with books. It’s not even like that with genres. You don’t think to yourself, “Hey ho, I like historical fiction, so here’s a work of historical fiction that I haven’t read, and the price seems perfectly OK, so I’ll buy it.”On the contrary, you think, “Yes, that’s a Renaissance-set book, and I like that period, but I’m tired of all that Florence / Rome / Siena intrigue, and it looks like there’s a boring old romance at the heart of this, so no: I ABHOR AND REJECT YOU, book, even though I like books and I like historical fiction and I even like historical fiction set in this time period.”Another reader, with tastes highly similar to yours, may fall on that selfsame book and love it.Like I say: readers – finicky.Odd Thing the SecondBooks are cheap.That may seem like not such an odd thing, really. Tomatoes are cheap too. So are (random list) flip-flops, toilet bleach, china cups and cauliflowers.But those things aren’t passionately hand-made. They either come from giant factories or commercial nurseries or whatever the product’s factory-equivalent is.Books are hand-made from the ground up. You choose your story. You slave over it. You handcraft it. You subscribe to excessively wordy emails that may – may – help you improve your work. Then you find an agent (whose tastes and judgements vary widely) and an editor (ditto), and at each stage there’s a devotedly microscopic attention to relatively minor matters – right down to the placement of a comma.Most things that are made that way are expensive: compare a pot sold by a ceramic artist with a vase you buy at your nearest supermarket.But books are both handmade (by you) and mass-produced (by a printing press). And they’re very cheap. That’s odd.Odd Thing the ThirdWriters are badly paid, with insecure jobs, with no pensions and terrible prospects.That’s not the odd bit, however. After all, other jobs like that exist and, in less wealthy parts of the world, there are loads and loads of jobs like that.Rather, the odd thing is this: people really, really want to do the job. You do. And (often but not always) the people who most want to do the job are ones with an excellent education and the ability to secure terrific jobs in other, more prosperous sectors.Oh yes, and if I’m allowed to have an O.T. 3(b), then I might add that almost everyone involved in the production and sale of books sells their time for less than they could get elsewhere, Jeff Bezos being one notable exception.Odd Thing the FourthNormally, a prestige product costs more than its more ordinary counterparts. An Aston Martin costs more than a bottom-of-the-range Volkswagen. (I bought my first car for less than £1000 / $1500, and very rubbish it was too. It was bright yellow and once went ninety miles an hour, but only going downhill with a strong wind behind it.)You can buy 250g of loose-leaf tea from Fortnum & Mason’s, a posh British grocer, for £12.95. Or you can buy 80 tea bags (a similar quantity, in terms of cups produced) from any old supermarket for as little as £0.75.But books? To Kill a Mockingbird, one of the greatest books of the twentieth century, is currently being sold for £6.55 on UK Amazon. A Time to Kill – a good quality, but still not exceptional, legal thriller – is selling for 12% more at £7.37. I also managed to find a debut legal thriller written by no one you’ve ever heard of selling in paperback for £11.99, an 80% mark-up on Mockingbird. That debut book may be almost twice as good as Harper Lee’s classic, but I’m going to guess otherwise.It is, admittedly, true that if you look at ebook prices, you’ll tend to see a slightly more orderly lineup, with prices that better reflect prestige, but only slightly more orderly, even then.The big point here is that highly rated and well-known products don’t really compete on price. As a   rule of thumb, book prices are basically determined by what kind of packaging you choose. That’s like tomatoes that cost twice as much if you buy them in a paper bag than if you buy them in a plastic one.Which is odd, right?Odd Thing the FifthMost fiction is digital – that is, most fiction is consumed as either ebook or audiobook. There aren’t any public and up-to-date figures for how much adult fiction is digital, but about 70% would be a reasonable guess. If you add in print books sold online, the total would be more than 75%.So you’d probably guess that a bestselling ebook would have more cachet than a bestselling print book. And guess, furthermore, that a bestselling paperback would probably have more kudos than a bestselling hardback.You’d probably also guess that stores which only sell physical formats don’t have real authority or weight in the world of books. An analogy might be the world of music, where, sure, it would be nice if your album topped the vinyl charts. But you and everyone else knows that the vinyl charts are a quirky little throwback, and what you’d really most want is to lead the way in downloads or streaming.Only, this is the world of books, where everything you’ve just guessed is dead wrong. It’s almost perfectly true that the less economic weight something has, the more likely it is to have prestige. Huh?Odd Thing the SixthSuppose you went to a concert and more than 50% of people walked out halfway, the composer or orchestra would presumably be considered useless, right?And if people went to an exhibition of art, and a large majority of people left without seeing half the rooms, you’d think that the artist must be a load of rubbish.But it’s commonplace for people to abandon books unread. Data from Jellybooks, an analytics company, suggests that most books are unfinished by most readers. Of the books that Jellybooks have tested, only 5% are finished by more than 75% of readers.In other words, most books disappoint most of the time.And that’s after intense scrutiny by agents and editors and all the other people who try to make your book great. And some of the least-finished books are amongst the most-critically lauded.Which is odd, huh? Oh yes: and if Book X had a great critical following, but then word got out that particularly few readers finished that book … that information wouldn’t alter the critical consensus one iota.Which is weird, right?(Almost as weird as the fact that we use the word iota, a letter in the Greek alphabet, to signify insignificance. The phrase not a jot comes from the same source.)Odd Thing the SeventhIn the music industry, streaming pretty much slaughtered older physical formats.In the news industry, countless papers have gone bankrupt or have lost a ton of profitability.In photography, grand old names – hello, Kodak! – went bust, bankrupted by digital.In pornography, a monster wave of digital content pretty much eliminated the commercial structures that had been in place before.And in publishing – the industry looks much the same as it always did. Yes, the big publishers now report a steady 25% or so of sales in ebooks. (Self-publishers and digital-only publishers explain why the total share-of-ebooks is so much huger than that.) But really, the experience of a published author today is much the same as it was twenty years ago. The firms are still the same. The production process is still the same. The industry itself considers itself to have been through wrenching change, but that’s code for “wrenching by the standards of publishing.”Which isn’t that wrenching.Odd Thing the EighthThese days, any old idiot can self-publish a book. Assuming you have a cover and a manuscript to hand, you can, in theory, upload your book to Amazon in about ten minutes. A day or so later, that book would be available to essentially every reader in the world.At the same time, firms exist which do much the same job and don’t always do it better. The only extra wrinkle: they also have the power to sell books through bookstores and supermarkets (though there’s no guarantee that physical outlets will ever actually take your book.)Those firms have long heritages and, of course, brand names. But as brands go, those brand names are virtually meaningless. People might trust a breakfast cereal because it said ‘Kelloggs’ on the box. Almost no one carries a book to a shopping till on the basis that it has been published by X rather than Y. Readers care a lot about the book and the author. They care about the publisher so little, they barely notice it.So those brand names have no significance, right?Well, actually yes. The people who care most passionately about the brands, are the authors who are willing to give up 100% of net royalties from ebooks (which they’d get if they self-published) in exchange for 25% net royalties (which they’d get from their trad publisher), plus the authority of one of those brand names that consumers truly don’t care about.Somewhat Odd Thing the NinthYou care enough about this whole damn game that you’ve read yet another stupidly long email from me, even though it doesn’t actually tell you anything that will help you write, edit or market better.Jeepers. One of us here must be crazy.Ah well. We’ll get more “how to”-ish soon, I promise

Got no car, got no house …

The Guardian newspaper ran an interview yesterday with a South African author, Karen Jennings.In one way, the article offers a standard literary tale. Roughly this:“Author writes book, this time about a lighthouse keeper and a refugee who washes up on his little island. Publisher buys book. Publisher publishes book. Book gets nominated for a major prize (in this case the Booker). Book increases its print run ten times over. Author suddenly starts to get a ton of positive attention. Big newspapers like the Guardian run flattering features. Life turns on its head.”You’ve already read a version of that story a million times, except that on this occasion there’s more honesty on view, than often. The interview also tells us that Jennings finished the book in 2017. She didn’t (and doesn’t) have an agent. She found it very hard to get a publisher. When she did find one, (British micro press, Holland House), the team struggled to find anyone to endorse the book or give them a quote for the blurb. Prospects were so meagre that Holland House put out a print run of just five hundred copies (and it’s essentially impossible for anyone to make money at that level of sales.) When the book came out it was met, very largely, with silence.Just pause there a second. That rather glum experience is as common as nuts. Loads of writers struggle to get an agent, struggle to get published, struggle to sell books, struggle to get that book noticed. That is pretty much the norm for our odd little industry.And, OK, on this occasion we’re talking about a micro press that is well used to dealing with small numbers. But the same phenomenon is common enough with the Big 5 houses as well. Yes, advances are generally larger and yes, sales expectations are consequently higher. But if your book gets a mediocre cover, it’ll die all the same. You don’t hear a lot about the books that just curl up and die, but there are a lot of them out there. The reason you don’t hear about them is (duh!) they’ve curled up and died.This experience often calls for sacrifices. Karen Jennings is quoted as saying, ‘I’ve been really poor for a very long time. I don’t have much of a social life either. You know, I don’t have fancy clothes. I don’t have a car. I don’t have a house. I don’t have a career the way other people have.’Now that outcome, it seems to me, is optional. I urge writers – and I mean YOU – to look after your income sensibly. That mostly means: get a job and write in your spare time. Or marry someone rich. Or win the lottery or strike oil in your back yard. Please don’t make the mistake of looking to writing for your livelihood. But, OK, Jennings wanted to go all in on writing. She took that gamble and now her book is Booker-nominated and making waves.Great. Good for her. It’s easy to read that story as one of belief. She believed in her writing. She gambled everything on it. The path was hard. Success didn’t come right away. But she hung in there – and one day the world opened up and started to give her all the things she’d always wanted.But that’s the wrong way to read it. There are a thousand books out there as good as Jennings’s. Most of those will just sell a few copies then be forgotten. It’s perfectly likely that Jennings’s book will perform decently, but not win the Booker Prize, and then she, and her nascent career, may look little more robust than before.Critical attention isn’t just fickle. It’s also wildly erratic.Take a book that did win the Booker Prize: Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending. That’s a major author winning a massive book prize – so it must be a great book, no? I mean, there can’t be any doubt about that, can there?Well, yes there can. Geoff Dyer, writing in the New York Times, commented: ‘This was not one of those years when the Man Booker Prize winner was laughably bad. No, any extreme expression of opinion about The Sense of an Ending feels inappropriate. It isn’t terrible, it is just so . . . average. It is averagely compelling (I finished it), involves an average amount of concentration and, if such a thing makes sense, is averagely well written.’Personally, I agree with Dyer. I think the book was obviously mediocre.So why did the book get so heavily praised? Well, media likes to work with memes – idées reçus, to use an older term. Once the media has formed an idea about a novelist (or, actually, an anything), it struggles to overturn or challenge that idea.So the Julian Barnes meme says, “Julian Barnes is a great novelist. Here he is writing about some Big and Important Topics. So this must be a Big and Important Book. Let’s say how great it is.” Easier to do that than to read the book and do some real critical thinking about it.Let’s summarise some of these thoughts.One: you can’t trust that excellence alone will bring you to national or international prominence. That may well not happen. Excellence is not enough.Two: you can’t rely on critics to determine the value of your book. For one thing, the critics are mostly unlikely to read or comment on your book. For another, what they say is often nonsense, or a basket of conflicting opinions.Three: once an opinion has formed, that opinion is likely to hold like iron, no matter what the actual reality of the situation.Which is all good. It sets out the landscape for us as writers:You need to enjoy the process of writing, because you may not earn money or fame.You need to enjoy the process of publishing, for the same reasonYou need to trust your own inner assessment of the book, because you may not get any meaningful external commentary – and what you do get may be unhelpful anyway.It’s not just writers who have to find their own rewards. Think of the Olympics. We focus on the medal-winners, of course, but most athletes coming to the Games end without a lump of metal round their necks. And very few athletes make it to the Games. In fact, there’s an entire pyramid of endeavour which exists because people love the endeavour.So love the endeavour. Find your treasure in the here and now. In my experience, that’s the only enduring way to proceed, the only way to a settled satisfaction.That’s it from me. The picture in the header this week? That’s the kids doing pre-Renaissance devotional art. Roll over Cimabue. There’s a new brush in town.

Writing For Children: “When a writing course is everything it promised and a bit more”

We\'re thrilled to be offering another round of the Writing for Children course with Eleanor Hawken, beginning in September 2021. The course is six weeks long and is perfect for beginners, lovers of children’s books and for those with a passion for storytelling. Florence Gladwell, a student on the inaugural course, shared her experience with us. (Image: @nickmorrison on Unsplash) Writing For Children With Eleanor Hawken If I were to sum up my experience of Jericho’s Writing for Children course with Eleanor Hawken, I would say: I’m so glad I did and I’m confident of what to do next. And because of the tutor guidance, frequent quality critique, and encouragement within the group, I really want to do it again! Early Expectations I was excited from the day I enrolled. I had a clear set of expectations for myself and from the course. For myself, I wanted to grow the pocketful of ideas I had been carrying around and focus on developing them into a fun, gripping, and marketable story. Another major driver was to get more experience in exchanging critique with people who were interested in writing for kids. From the course I expected everything that was advertised – weekly tutorials; peer-exchange and video meet-ups; covering the ins and outs of the children’s book industry; selecting an appealing narrative voice for different ages; building rounded characters with distinctive voices; creating dramatic tension; establishing a workable plot; as well as making sure to nail the ending. It was a full-on six weeks, to say the least, and I absolutely loved every minute - even if my young daughter sometimes had to nag me to get off the computer. Delightful Surprises What I hadn’t expected was how great it would be to have a diverse range of stories, voices, and skill sets all bouncing off one another. Our group had people working on everything from picture books to YA, contemporary to fantasy, first person to third person with multiple POV, and some beautiful lyrical prose to contrast others with a more tightly-paced style of writing. Although many of the group commenced the course with fully-formed ideas, completed first drafts, and in some cases, well-advanced manuscripts, I did not. This is because after finding no takers for my first manuscript (a middle-grade fantasy adventure), then seeking feedback from Jericho’s manuscript assessors, I decided to let it go and start again. This was a lot easier than I imagined. I had realised the story’s core wasn’t good enough, and this time I was already starting to understand so much more about myself, the industry, and what I really wanted to write. \"What I hadn’t expected was how great it would be to have a diverse range of stories, voices, and skill sets all bouncing off one another.\" At this stage, a course where I could develop an idea with some guidance and feedback sounded perfect. And then one day an email came from Jericho Writers, offering me just that. The Nitty-Gritty: How My Ideas Developed Through the Six Week Course Week one: Our homework was to write a brief pitch, such as you might send to an agent. This isn’t easy for anyone. Even our most progressed group members struggled. But with exchanges of feedback and Eleanor’s keen eye, I managed to find a pitch I was really happy with. Now there was just the small task of living up to it. Week two: The exercise involved outlining a simple plot. Again, \'simple\' does not mean easy. This was a big concept to turn around in a few days, but I cobbled something together and submitted it. I was relieved to find I wasn’t miles behind many of those with a first draft. After the group helped me express my ideas more clearly, Eleanor really hit the nail on the head when she explained what made my proposed story special and what it lacked. The worst of it was, my proposal didn’t live up to the pitch. For the time being, I let my ideas marinate – but we’ll get back to that later. \"After the group helped me express my ideas more clearly, Eleanor really hit the nail on the head when she explained what made my proposed story special and what it lacked.\" Week three: We had our first chance to share the first five hundred words of our writing. This is when I discovered how different all our writing styles and voices were. Though distinct, some voices - like mine - were still emerging, while others were well-developed and confident. It was inspiring. I wasn’t the only person to submit multiple edits following critique from a very encouraging group, and the final offering was much better for it. Week four: We were able to share any scene from our story which showcased characterisation. As I went away with my family during this time, I wasn’t able to make use of the group’s feedback to edit. But as it was, most comments were on the things I already suspected weren’t clear enough, while Eleanor’s notes made me completely re-evaluate the relationship of my characters. This fed a lot into how I redeveloped the plot. Week five: This week was all about creating dramatic tension, and Eleanor gave us the option to either submit a scene of our choice or write a scene about the main character entering their bedroom. There were many variations on this theme offered up in the homework as others adapted the exercise to suit their stories. As I didn’t have a settled plot yet, I took the task requirements and built a scene which (with some editing) I think could very likely end up in my final manuscript. Brilliant. Plus, the feedback from the group gave me a lot to think about. \"Eleanor’s notes made me completely re-evaluate the relationship of my characters. This fed a lot into how I redeveloped the plot.\" Week six was supposed to be about endings. But as I mentioned earlier, I had not settled on a plot, and I was having a crisis of POV to boot. I had cheated in all the previous weeks, finding scenes in the first quarter of the story which I was pretty sure would remain the same. But an ending required me to make some decisions. Fortunately I had now been arranging and rearranging plot ideas in my head for five weeks, and I was ready to write something down. So instead of submitting a passage of writing from the end, I resubmitted a plot and five hundred words from a slightly adjusted beginning passage using a new POV. The POV change was hard, but I really wanted it so I could better tell the story as I now imagined it. With some absolutely amazing feedback and encouragement from the group, along with a few rounds of shared edits, I got somewhere that felt right. Even better – it lived up to my pitch In just six weeks, I had found my story. Expectations Exceeded I put a lot into this course, but I got so much more out of it than I expected. I am grateful I had the opportunity, and feel privileged to have been able to experience it with such a great group of people. If you’re interested in writing for children and are looking for a course to progress your skills and story ideas, I can highly recommend this one. Thanks again Eleanor! About Florence Florence Gladwell is an aspiring writer from Australia and mother of one adorable but rascally pre-schooler, who charmed the course participants by drawing pictures for them based on passages they submitted as homework. If you would like to say hello to Florence or ask anything else about how she found the course, you can find her on Twitter @FlorenceGladwe1 About Eleanor Hawken Eleanor is the published author of nine children’s books, which include the Sammy Feral’s Diaries of Weird series. She has also written numerous books and novels under pseudonyms and as a writer-for-hire for licensed brands such as Disney, Warner Brothers and Universal. Eleanor is an experienced children’s fiction editor, having worked in the publishing industry for over 15 years. She has worked on a wide range of books from young fiction through to YA. She has a passion for storytelling, children’s books and helping other writers find their narrative voice and navigate the path to publication. For more on Eleanor, see her website or Twitter. For more information on the Writing for Children course and how to apply, just click the button below: Writing for Children

What Does Book Coaching Really Mean?

One of the huge advantages of taking a writing course is having a book coach, or mentor, by your side giving you one-to-one support. But what does this actually involve? How closely will you work with your book coach, and what will the dynamic be? We asked the US/International tutors on our Ultimate Novel Writing Course to tell us about what mentoring means to them and what to expect. JW: What is book coaching? Can you say a few words about what you would expect your relationship with your students to be like? Lindsey Alexander: The mentoring component of the UNWC is one-on-one customized coaching that\'s calibrated to your needs as you move through the course. Your mentor is your creative collaborator, someone who\'s going to get to know you and your project really well in order to help you ensure that your novel reflects your intentions in a way that\'s going to captivate your reader. Each month, you\'ll submit a portion of your work-in-progress to your mentor. You and your mentor will connect for a conversation over Zoom or by phone, typically for about an hour. You can also opt for written feedback, or choose a combination of the two. \"Your mentor is your creative collaborator, someone who\'s going to get to know you and your project really well in order to help you ensure that your novel reflects your intentions in a way that\'s going to captivate your reader\" In our conversations, we think big and brainstorm, review specific passages in your manuscript to look at what\'s working well and where there might be room for improvement, and navigate the ups and downs of the writing life as you build toward a sustainable creative practice you\'ll be able to stick with long after the course is over. Between these conversations, your mentor is there to field your questions, concerns, and middle-of-the-night epiphanies, and each month, your mentor will gather their group of students for a  Zoom conversation to reflect on the tutorials and discuss progress and challenges together. You\'ll also have the option of continuing your work with your mentor through a manuscript assessment in the final months of the course A.E. Osworth: I have a really particular pedagogy. I teach it a lot, and I teach a lot of different kinds of students. One thing I find that nearly every writer has in common, especially when they’re working on their first draft, is that momentum is more important than anything else. You don’t know what’ll happen to the finished draft. Then you can go back and apply things to it, but up until then, you are experimenting with choices. So when it comes to working with me – as an instructor, as a mentor, as a peer, as anything – my pedagogy is one that focuses mainly on praise, so that you know which of the choices you’re experimenting with are the strongest, and are getting across your message the strongest. And so you can hoard those choices. My approach to coaching is praise-focused because it gives students the chance to write toward their strongest choices instead of away from criticism, which honestly could stop a writer in their tracks. And the most important thing is to finish that first draft. “My approach to coaching is praise-focused because it gives students the chance to write toward their strongest choices instead of away from criticism.” The other thing that people can expect from me when it comes to coaching is that I have a pedagogy of decentralising the instructor. So in any group of novelists, I believe that we all have things to learn from each other; I am not special in that room. Working with me is a really non-hierarchical experience. I have tools and I am happy to hand those tools over to someone else - but someone else’s experience of their life and their art and their career is just as valid as my experience of mine, and their experience is more relevant to their life. So what you can expect from me is: here is an array of tools, we get to practice using them and then you get to pick which ones are actually working for you. I’m not going to impose my taste or aesthetic, or my practice, on somebody else. My practice works for me because I’m me. Read more on ‘useful praise’ by A.E. Osworth for Catapult. Brian Gresko: I try to be very available to students to field questions, and essentially to be a kind of accountability buddy but also there for support– that might require a pep talk, but sometimes it’s just knowing that somebody is there listening. I think especially with writing for publication – it’s a communicative art. It can help to have someone who is waiting to get your pages, and that gives you a certain amount of energy to complete them. Your mentor gives you real-time feedback on your work, and that also can help guide how you’re moving the narrative forward. I like really getting into the text and talking about story decisions. Structure, and pacing, are both really important to me. Besides reading, I’m a big television watcher and I think it’s a similar principle. Keeping your audience’s attention over around 300 pages is hard, and you have to really think about how you’re going to keep the energy of the reader chapter by chapter. “I try to be very available to students to field questions, and essentially to be both a kind of accountability buddy but also sometimes for support– that might require a pep talk, and sometimes it’s just knowing that somebody is there listening.\" So I will be talking to my students face-to-face once a month and seeing them together as a group once a month, and hopefully getting everyone to share some of the challenges and experiences finding their way through a story I try to help the author thread their way through their narrative structure, before they become lost. Sara Lippmann: As writers, we sit at our desks all day, in our own worlds, with all these characters looming large in our heads. It can be extremely isolating. I know. I get it. I\'ve been there. I\'m still there. As a mentor and coach, I am personable, honest, and hands-on. I will walk alongside you, cheering you on when you need it, but I will not blow smoke. I am an intuitive, close reader - that is, I read for intentionality in order to help you realize your vision on the page. “As a mentor and coach, I am personable, honest, and hands-on. I will walk alongside you, cheering you on when you need it, but I will not blow smoke.” I will keep you on track by holding you accountable, and I will push your work to the next level, encouraging you to lean into your natural narrative strengths and to stretch them beyond your comfort zone, toward greater urgency and resonance. I\'ll challenge you to take risks and dig deep, in order to excavate a larger truth. My style is a mix of merciless and generous, but I always come from a place of openness and love. Lindsey Alexander, A.E. Osworth and Sara Lippmann are available as tutors on the UNWC US/International course. They\'ll give you one-to-one book coaching and expert tuition as you write a publishable novel over a year. Find out more below. UNWC US / INTERNATIONAL Brian Gresko is now available as a mentor on the course with a UK/European timezone: UNWC UK / EUROPE

Plot twists & how to write em

Determined as I am to add value to my readers, always  – I’ll start by telling you the easiest way to write a plot twist.Answer: you don’t. You write a compelling, interesting narrative that doesn’t have a plot twist anywhere.This is advice I live by. If I think back over my fiction, I can think of almost nothing that boasts a honest-to-God plot twist. In all my books, I have only one proper plot twist (and even then, I don’t think most readers or critics commented on the twist specifically; they gave a broader view about the entire book.)Now, admitting that my books mostly don’t have plot twists is not at all the same thing as saying they’re dull. I blooming well hope they’re not. On the contrary, I hope they’re full of surprise and hope my readers never quite know where the book will be going next.But a twist is different from a surprise. Here’s the difference:A plot surpriseSomething happens that is perfectly in keeping with what’s gone before. There may even have been some kind of foreshadowing. But the surprise does not unsettle a reader’s expectation, because the reader had not formed any particular expectation in relation to this particular issue.Examples of this kind of surprise are plentiful. In The Dead House, Fiona spends a long time draining a boring-looking pond. The reader has no idea what she’s going to find. When she finds the (previously flooded) entrance to a cave, the reader is surprised. (“Good heavens! A cave! I never expected that!”) But they’re not unsettled. They simply had no idea what the whole pond-drainage thing was leading up to.Readers are gripped because they want to know what significance the cave has. But they’re not confounded or startled, because they didn’t have any prior expectations about what might be the case.A plot twistFor something to count as a plot twist, the plot movement needs to surprise, of course. It also needs to be perfectly consistent with what’s gone before. There may well have been some rather subtle foreshadowing that only makes sense in retrospect.But in addition – and this is the new element – the plot development needs to overturn, and violently overturn, an assumption that the reader had previously held with total confidence.There are a ton of examples of twists such as these. In Hitchcock’s Psycho, we simply assume that Janet Leigh – the huge star at the heart of the film – will at the very least survive to the last 10 minutes. (After all: she’s a huge star, she’s box office gold, and the first half of the film centres on her almost completely.)It’s not that the viewer consciously wonders whether Leigh will survive or not. They simply assume they know how movies work, and you don’t kill the film’s obvious lead character in the middle of the film. But Hitchcock did exactly that – and the film swerved off in an utterly unpredictable direction.In Clare Macintosh’s debut hit, I Let You Go, we assume that the lead (first person) character has one particular relationship to a dead child. It turns out that the relationship is very different from what we think.In Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, we assume that Amy’s diaries (in the first half of the book) can be taken at face value. In the middle of the book – well, we discover something different.And so on. Why readers love plot twists – and whether you need oneNaturally, a surprise that comes with the added force of confounded the reader both seems more surprising and also carries a whiff of technical bravado. (“You want a twist, baby? Look at this little beauty!”) There’s something of the circus trick about them, a difficult manoeuvre carried out with dazzle.That performative quality is why, I think, readers love twists and tend to comment on them. With works like Psycho, I Let You Go and Gone Girl, you just don’t hear critical commentary that doesn’t home in on the plot twist itself.And of course, if you want to think about embedding a twist in your book, the place to start is always with the reader’s own expectations.The one time I’ve written a book with a proper twist, I worked hard to embed the expectation – and then overturn it. The sequence ran roughly like this:Get the reader to think that art-thieves have stumbled onto real-life evidence of a major Arthurian artefact. (‘King’ Arthur was almost certainly not a king, but it’s perfectly plausible that there was a major British warlord of that name who fought and won a major battle against the Saxons. So for someone to find archaeological evidence of his existence would be unlikely, but not at all absurd. For what it’s worth, I think that warlord probably did exist, it’s just that no one can prove it.)Reinforce that expectation by making it clear that other people around Fiona share it – and grown-up people too: academic archaeologists, the police, and so on.Foreshadow and hint at the truth, but in a way no one could possibly understand.Boom! Overturn the expectation abruptly and unexpectedly.At the same time make it clear that, if you look carefully, there’s only one way to read the sequence of events up to this point. So the view that the reader (and lots of others held) was actually impossible to sustain.Develop the book along the new lines. More surprises may follow, but (probably) no more actual twistsIf you like the whole twist idea, it’s worth taking time just to think through what expectations your reader has – or could have, if you went to the trouble of building false expectations. The more solid and unquestioned those expectations, the more enjoyable the act of exploding them will be.Once you have that basic notion, you just need to backfill with everything else: embed those expectations as carefully as you can, foreshadow the real truth, detonate as explosively and loudly as you can.That, my old buddies, is the art of the plot twist. As I say, it’s not actually a route I’ve travelled down all that much and it’s definitely not essential to writing a great book – not even if, like me, you dwell in crime-thriller-land, where twists are much talked about.That’s me done for this week, old buddies. Have a lovely weekend.

Felicia Yap on weaving your life experiences into your writing

Friday Night Live shortlisted author, Felicia Yap, was snapped up by Jonny Geller at Curtis Brown soon after our 2015 Festival of Writing. Her brilliant high-concept thriller \'Yesterday\' was bought by Headline’s Alex Clarke for a six-figure sum. Her latest title, \'Future Perfect\', was also published by Headline in March 2021. Felicia has had an expansive and divergent career; we spoke to her about how you can use multiple interests to inform and add texture to your writing. JW: Hi Felicia! It\'s great to talk to you. Could you start by telling us about yourself as a writer? When did you start writing? FY: I started out as a journalist. I wrote newspaper articles from the age of nineteen (for The Economist and The Business Times, amongst other publications). Later on, I became a historian at the University of Cambridge and spent years writing academic papers about the Second World War. I only began writing fiction properly after the idea for my debut novel \'Yesterday\' came to me; the concept struck me on my way to a dance studio in Cambridge. I started writing the next day and I’m glad I did. JW: Tell us about your journey to publication. Were there any events or resources that helped you along the way? FY: I was fortunate to be shortlisted for the Friday Night Live competition at the Festival of Writing in 2015. It was a joy to read the opening paragraphs of \'Yesterday\' to a large audience in York; I was thrilled by how the audience responded. It made me confident that my story began decently – which in turn made me twice as determined to finish my manuscript. \"Nothing in life is ever wasted when it comes to writing.\" JW: So, you got your agent – what happened next? FY: I did an extensive round of edits with my agent. He then sent out my manuscript and it went to auction in multiple territories. JW: What happened at the auction?   FY: I had the wonderful privilege of speaking to several editors in both the United Kingdom and America, to find out if we shared similar visions for the manuscript. It was an exciting time. JW: You’ve had a multi-hyphenate career, including working as a radioactive-cell biologist, a war historian, and a technology journalist. How have your different career paths informed your writing? FY: I have drawn on technical elements and knowledge from the professional orbits I\'ve moved through. I have also incorporated sensory details from these worlds. My second novel \'Future Perfect\' combines high fashion with technology; the book is set in the near future where computers will be able to predict how we will live and when we will die. The first chapter is told by a model who carries a bomb down a catwalk in Manhattan. I used to be a runway model and wrote quite a few articles on detection/prediction technologies for The Economist in the past. \'Yesterday\' contains spoof academic papers and science articles in the house styles of the publications I have contributed to. Nothing in life is ever wasted when it comes to writing. JW: Do you have any tips for balancing writing alongside other, seemingly divergent pursuits? FY: My unorthodox pursuits have stemmed from curiosity; I’m fascinated by the delicious possibilities out there, the things worth trying and doing. I’m convinced that divergent activities can enrich a person’s life (and one’s writing), especially the quirky ones. Life is too short not to be embraced fully. If one truly enjoys one’s pursuits, balance will come naturally. JW: Your writing balances being very high concept whilst at the same time achieving the complexity of a murder mystery. How do you approach this? FY: I normally begin with the concept and iron out the details later. Both my novels were inspired by conundrums, questions I knew I would be happy spending two years of my life figuring out the answers to. \'Yesterday\' grew out of the question: ‘How do you solve a murder if you only remember yesterday?’ While \'Future Perfect\' was inspired by the concept: ‘What if today were your last day?’ Yet, high concepts are merely empty canvases on which to hang narratives. What makes a story sparkle are the tiny yet lively details that populate it. JW: Is your writing more research-driven or informed by the experiences you’ve already had? FY: All my writing is informed by personal experience, the things I have done or encountered  (or eavesdropped on). I try to set my stories in places that I have visited before or know well. This is because the five senses are crucial in the art of storytelling, especially their rich alchemy. Stories come alive when readers can feel, touch, hear, taste and see what the characters are experiencing. I believe that one can only write about the five senses convincingly if one has experienced them in the magical amalgamation unique to a particular location. I also do a lot of research but only after I have completed the first drafts of my manuscripts. It helps to know what you don’t know, so that you can ask the right people the right sort of questions. \"High concepts are merely empty canvases on which to hang narratives. What makes a story sparkle are the tiny yet lively details that populate it.\" JW: Do you think that your experience as a journalist had an impact on your writing? FY: Most certainly. The first paragraph of The Economist Style Guide continues to resonate with me. It says: “Clarity of writing usually follows clarity of thought. So think what you want to say, then say it as simply as possible.” JW: Were there any other resources you found helpful along the way? I did a couple of writing courses; they helped me understand the basic ‘rules’ of storytelling and gave me some appreciation of form, structure, and technique. It helps to know the rules if you hope to break them. More importantly, the courses put me in touch with other writers. Many of my classmates have since become good friends and we still send our works-in-progress to each other for critical feedback. \"It helps to know the rules if you hope to break them.\" JW: What are you working on next? FY: I wish I could tell you but I’m afraid it might jinx what I’m currently working on. Even my long-suffering partner Alex hasn’t got a clue! About Felicia Felicia Yap is the author of the speculative literary thrillers \'Future Perfect\' and \'Yesterday\', published in multiple languages around the world. She has worked as a radioactive-cell biologist, a war historian, a university lecturer, a technology journalist, a theatre critic, a flea-market trader, and a catwalk model. Read more about Felicia Yap on her website. FUTURE PERFECT YESTERDAY Follow Felicia Yap on Twitter at @FeliciaMYap

The 20 Best Children’s Book Publishers In 2022

It isn’t easy, to become a children’s book author. From deciphering endless submission requirements to learning that your dream children\'s book publisher doesn’t accept submissions from authors without an agent, it can be difficult finding the right home for your work. In this article, I will endeavour to make the process of getting a children’s book published a bit clearer for you, as well as include my top picks for children’s book publishers. Because let’s face it, there are a lot of options out there, and you should be armed with the best possible knowledge out there. You’ll learn the submission requirements for some of the top children’s book publishers, as well as some examples of children’s books these companies have already published so that you can choose a publisher that aligns with your current book.  Still plotting your next book and unsure if you are writing at a level that’s optimal for children? I encourage you to read our existing post regarding everything you need to know about creating a children’s book, from start to finish! Now, onto the publishers. Best Children’s Book Publishers Before I discuss some of the top children’s book publishers and their most successful children’s books, I should note that not all children’s book publishers accept submissions directly from authors. Some only accept submissions from literary agents, and you should keep this in mind before falling in love with any one publisher. It is also important to know which category your work falls under. While this may not seem necessary right away, some publishers may only be looking for certain submissions at certain times. And some children’s book publishers may not even accept certain varieties of children’s books.  The most common submission types are as follows:  Children’s fiction Children’s non-fiction Children’s picture books/board books Of course, you can also further divide children\'s fiction and nonfiction by age group/demographic (middle grade fiction and nonfiction, YA/young adult books, chapter books etc), and by genre too (fantasy, action/adventure, romance etc) which further complicates the process of researching children\'s book publishers. If you are unsure if your current manuscript meets any of these categories, you may wish to consider our Children’s Manuscript Assessment program. Through this editing service, our  team of editors will read your entire manuscript and give you structured editorial feedback that you can use to craft your work into shape. If your editor thinks your work is ready, we’ll also help you find the right agent, for free. Now, let’s get onto the children\'s book publishers. Keep in mind that the following is only a summary list of some of the best children’s book publishers and that many more exist. I do hope that one of these choices suits your publishing needs perfectly! 1. Bloomsbury Children’s Books USA With offices around the world and prominent publishing houses in both the US and the UK, Bloomsbury Books is a top contender for children’s book publishing. Established in 1986, Bloomsbury has many popular children’s book authors across every age group. Their YA fiction has grown increasingly popular, their authors often topping the New York Times Bestseller list. Their kid’s division covers all books for any age, from picture books to young adult novels. Bloomsbury is known for publishing high fantasy YA fiction and heartwarming tales that help provide kid-friendly entry points into emotional intelligence topics. Some of their most popular authors and series are Ruby Finds a Worry by Tom Percival and Defy the Night by Brigid Kemmerer.  The unfortunate news is that, unless you have a YA book ready to go, Bloomsbury only accepts submissions from a literary agent. However, feel free to take a look at their website for any more useful information, including their various adult and children’s book authors. 2. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, known as HMH for short, has gone through a few changes in its recent past. Now known as either Clarion Books or Mariner Books, this company has been a mainstay in children’s publishing since 1832. From board books to graphic novels, HMH publishes just about any children’s book you can think of. HMH has worked hard to develop programs for more unique voices in publishing, including new authors in their children’s publishing division. Entitled VERSIFY, this fantastic publishing program reflects a need for accessible and powerful prose and poetry—in children’s picture books, novels, and nonfiction. HMH strives to publish work that can celebrate the lives and reflect the possibilities of all children. For the most part, HMH is an agent-only submission publishing house. However, their VERSIFY program does accept unsolicited submissions during certain parts of the year. Learn more about HMH and its various submission opportunities here.  3. Holiday House Established in 1935 as a publishing company for young readers, Holiday House is a wonderful organization to submit your children’s book to. Their books are processed and distributed as a division of Penguin Random House, and they publish children’s books from ages 4 and up. From picture books to nonfiction informational handbooks, they are publishing some of the most creative and educational children’s books out there. Given their commitment to education and teaching children about major childhood themes, their website’s search engine for currently published books is in-depth and informative. From young readers books such as Lunch Box Bully by Hans Wilhelm to riveting and humorous YA fantasy like the Devil series by Donna Hosie, Holiday House no doubt publishes something for every kid in your life. Holiday House does indeed accept unsolicited submissions, which is great news for those of you without an agent. They don’t have the time to respond to every submission that they receive, but they will of course reach out if your manuscript interests them. You can learn more about their variety of books, list of awards received, and their submission process here.  4. Chicago Review Press An independent publisher founded in 1973, the Chicago Review Press strictly publishes nonfiction, including an award-winning selection of children’s nonfiction. They are firm in their desire when it comes to children’s picture books: they do not accept them, whether fiction or nonfiction. However, that doesn’t mean you are completely out of luck. If you have a fantastic nonfiction book for children, their submission process is clear and easy to follow on their website! While nonfiction children’s activity books are their bread and butter, their topics range broadly, from the history of American environmentalism all the way to Salvador Dali. There are a lot of perks to publishing with a small independent publisher, including the fact that they accept unsolicited submissions without an agent. If your book fits the niche that is the Chicago Review Press, they are an award-winning publisher that would be happy to have your nonfiction children’s workbook! 5. Flashlight Press Looking for another publisher searching for very specific submission guidelines? Check out the specificity needed from Flashlight Press, a children’s book publisher hunting exclusively for books that explore and illuminate the touching and humorous moments of family situations and social interactions through captivating writing and outstanding illustrations. What does this mean, exactly? Well, if your book targets 4–8 year olds, is under 1000 words, and has a universal theme fitting with many other Flashlight Press titles, you may have found a home for your book! Their titles vary wildly in themes, but all of them have to do with childhood themes and concerns. All of the books tend to tackle these themes with a sense of humor, such as I Need My Monster by Amanda Noll, and Carla’s Sandwich by Debbie Herman.  So long as you are familiar with the rest of Flashlight Press’s work and think your book has a similar thematic feel, their submission process is easy. Feel free to submit without an agent too, and check out Flashlight’s website here. 6. Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing An American publishing company started in 1924, Simon & Schuster is a powerhouse, capable of publishing 2,000 titles annually under 35 different imprints. Their children’s publishing division is just as lauded and award winning, and they publish just about anything ages 0-12 as well as everything young adult.  There’s no shortage of award-winning selections published by Simon & Schuster, including the ever-popular To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before series by Jenny Han, and the City Spies series by James Ponti. Simon & Schuster may not be the easiest publishing company to publish with for your first book, especially because they don’t accept submissions without an agent. However, they should definitely be a publishing company to reach for as you grow as a children’s author! Learn more about them here. 7. Chronicle Books San Francisco-based favorite Chronicle Books has a wonderful eye for the unique and aesthetic storyteller. Their children’s books are beloved and unique, and this small independent publisher receives more than 1,000 submissions a month for their YA department alone! They publish most children’s books ideas, including activity books, art books, board books, picture books, chapter books, young adult, games, and gift and stationery items. While they accept a wide variety of children’s publishing themes, it is important to note that, since Chronicle receives so many submissions, they are hoping for the most unique and innovative stories out there. No pressure, right? At any rate, check out their submission process and desires here! 8. Ladybird Books UK-based and another division of the Penguin Group, Ladybird books is perfect if you’ve got a bedtime story to tell. Their lineup of children’s books is primarily geared toward younger audiences, from toddlers to roughly age ten. They have many award winning series published under their name, including many Peppa Pig books.  Their offerings also include a long list of informative nonfiction titles, such as books about the human body and our natural world. While publishing for any division of Penguin may seem complicated at first, they have provided an easy to read guide regarding their submission process. I believe having an agent would be useful if you are hoping to submit to any Penguin Group.  9. Quirk Books Looking for a smaller publishing agency for your unique and captivating children’s book? Publishing only around 25 books a year, Quirk Books is based in Philadelphia and is searching for the most original, cool, and fun ideas out there. Is your book creative enough for Quirk? It’s one of my favorite publishing companies, having taken the helm on series such as the Miss Peregrine anthology by Ransom Riggs. Quirk Books has a very informative and helpful submission page, found here. They have clearly outlined books that they are interested in, as well as appropriate emails for your submissions. From popular YA series to nonfiction books for young readers, Quirk publishes just about anything, so long as it’s quirky. 10. August House Publishers A more traditional publishing company, August House Publishers are seeking children’s book authors committed to folktales, diverse and memorable. They enjoy stories from many diverse backgrounds, as well as stories that work well as oral tales, stories meant to be passed on from generation to generation. They also have a soft spot for scary stories and stories that can be used in a classroom environment.  August House is committed to children’s publishing, and there’s no shortage of awards gifted to them for such a commitment. If you have a picture book made especially for young readers or a story related to folktales, stories from the oral tradition, stories from diverse cultures, scary stories and resource books about using stories or storytelling in the classroom, August House Publishers may be the right choice for you. You can email them and learn more about their submission process here. More Great Children\'s Book Publishers 11. Macmillan Children\'s Books 12. Hot Key Books 13. David Fickling Books 14. Balzer And Bray 15. Quarto Kids 16. Usborne Publishing 17. Hachette Children\'s Group 18. Little, Brown Books 19. Scholastic, Inc. 20. Lerner Publishing Group Frequently Asked Questions Who Is The Biggest Publisher Of Children\'s Books? There are several big children\'s book publishers, including: Bloomsbury; Simon & Schuster; Ladybird books; Macmillan Children\'s Books; Usborne Publishing; Hachette Children\'s Group; Scholastic, Inc.; and Little, Brown Books. How Do You Submit A Children\'s Book To A Publisher? To submit a children\'s book to a publisher, you first need to decide whether you want to find a literary agent first, contact the publisher directly (rare, but not impossible), or self-publish. It\'s helpful to do some research beforehand to find out where your book fits in the market (in terms of age range, genre, hook etc). Then, ensure your manuscript is as well-edited and finely tuned as you can make it, and then proceed to query agents, contact publishers, or begin the self-publishing process; whichever is applicable. Make sure that you carefully read the agent\'s/publisher\'s submission guidelines before sending your work to them. How Long Does It Take To Publish A Children\'s Book? As with any book, it can take quite a while to publish a children\'s book. Between coming up with the initial idea, planning, writing, researching, editing, and contacting literary agents/publishers or self-publishing, it requires a lot of time and effort. How much time varies widely on a case-by-case basis, but, from start to finish, it generally takes around 1-3 years. Of course, this is an approximation, and some books are published in far less time, while others take much longer to be published. Whether you choose to be traditionally published or self-published also makes a big difference. How Much Do You Make Selling A Children\'s Book? How much authors make from writing a children\'s book depends on whether they\'ve already published successful books or have an existing audience, whether they have foreign rights, and even things like how recently the book was released can affect sales figures. Writers generally get an advance; the amount of which can vary based on the popularity of the book\'s topic, whether they\'re a first time author or an experienced one, and many other factors. If the book has illustrations, the author will split the royalties with the illustrator (unless the author is also the illustrator), so they will both get around 3.5-6% of the book\'s sale price, rather than 7-10% royalites for the author of a non-illustrated children\'s book. If you have an agent, a proportion of your royalties will also go to them. Conclusion While I hope you found a few excellent children’s book publishers from this list, do keep in mind that there are many more that are worth your consideration. Whether you have an agent or not, there are always publishers seeking the best new stories out there. Yours could very well be one of them! What are some of your top publisher picks for your children’s book? Are you still crafting your book? I encourage you to take some time exploring our website for many publishing resources, and perhaps consider joining the world’s leading online writers club! Happy writing!

Here lies the body of Mike O’Day

I’ve never really been a sailor, but I’ve done some mucking around in dinghies on lakes and on the coast. At one point, my dad, thinking that I should actually learn something about the craft, gave me a book about it. I don’t now remember the difference between a halliard and a shroud, but I remember one section quite clearly. There was a long and patient discussion of rights of way on the water – who gives way to whom, and that sort of thing. The discussion ended with this verse:Here lies the body of Mike O’DayWho died maintaining his right of way.He was right, dead right, as he sailed along,But he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong.It’s a ditty that I urge you bear in mind. Here are three reasons why:CopyrightA lot of authors, especially indies, are anxious to Protect Their Copyright. Back in the day, people used to mail themselves sealed, dated packages containing their manuscript. More sensibly, you can register your work with the US Copyright Office, at the cost of some manageable fees and some tiresome form-filling.And OK, if you want to do it, do it. (Any competent publisher will do the legal basics for you, and you can always check to see that they have.) But here’s the thing: let’s say you have the world’s most bullet-proof copyright registration in the world. Let’s say you have film of Barack Obama solemnly testifying, his hand upon the Great Seal of the United States, that he watched you and you alone write your manuscript. Ok, great – but so what?If your book is popular, it’ll be pirated. Sleazy crooks, probably based in Russia, will rip off your book and make pirate copies available online.What then? What do you do? It’s not like there’s some Interpol of Copyright staffed by a combination of Daniel Craig, Tom Cruise and the like. There’s literally no one who’s going to help you. So, sure, you could sue, but you’d have to go to a Russian court to do it (and good luck with that.) And even if you did that and won, the crooks would just pull down one pirate site and pop up a duplicate site two weeks later.I can prove to you that you won’t defeat piracy, as follows:You’re not as well-resourced or experienced in fighting piracy as Penguin Random HousePRH books are pirated all the timeSo your book will be pirated too, assuming anyone can bother to do itWhich all sounds terrible, except that almost no one gets their books from pirate sites and plenty of people make plenty of money from books. So the problem can’t be that bad.ContractsYou sign a contract with a top publisher. They make various commitments and you take those undertakings in good faith.But it’s not unheard of for big publishers to break their contractual commitments. It’s happened to me, more than once. It used to be really quite common. Now, I think, it happens a bit less than it used to, but it still happens.So let’s say a publisher breaks a contract with you. Let’s say, they commit to publishing three books. They publish one and it doesn’t do well. They bring out the hardback of #2 and it doesn’t do great. Meanwhile, corporate shenanigans mean the entire imprint is being reduced in size, so you get an email telling you sorry, there won’t be a paperback of #2 and they won’t bring out book #3 at all. That story isn’t made up. That exact thing happened to a friend of mine.(And what’s more, the whole communications round the episode were terrible. It would be one thing for you editor to call, or take you out to lunch, and say, “Look buddy, I’ve got terrible news and I feel awful.” Quite another to get a blunt email from someone in Contracts you’ve never even met. I might also add that there was nothing wrong at all with the books – the same author has a great career elsewhere now. The sales failure was entirely on the publisher’s side.)So what do you do?You have in black and white a contract signed with full faith and credit of a very large corporation, undertaking that they WILL do X.You could – you really could – go to court and seek an injunction compelling the so-and-sos to do what they’d promised. But in the first place, the publisher would probably deny they’d caused commercial harm. In the second place, a publisher forced by court-action to publish a book is hardly likely to do a great job with it. And third: what next? The great publishers of the world are unlikely to want an author who’s willing to sue them.In other words, there’s damn all you can do. (Or almost damn all: you should make a big, bloody fuss because someone might offer you some apology-money, and because you thoroughly deserve to have your feelings known and recognised.)But legally speaking? You are Mike O’Day: right, but powerless in your rightness.AgentsSame thing here. With agents, the issues don’t tend to be contractual exactly, as the author/agent contract is often pleasantly brief. But there IS an implicit contract, nevertheless, which runs as follows:You will sell your work only via the agent (with a little carve out for direct-to-reader selling, via self-pub – and even then, that should always be talked about first.)The agent will represent your work and manage your careerIf anything happens to disturb that understanding, you’ll both talk about it like grown-upsOften though, that’s just not how it turns out. I know of well-known agents at absolutely first-class agencies who have simply discontinued any kind of comms with no-longer wanted authors (even, in one case that springs to mind, when that author was actually a bestseller in her own country.)So, quite possibly, the agent you think it going to take care of your career simply exits, stage left, with no proper discussion or handover. And even though your contract is with Big Agency, LLC, not with Jane Jones of Big Agency, LLC, it turns out that Big Agency has literally no interest in taking care of you if and when Jane Jones decides to wash her hands of you.Is that fair?It is not.Is there ‘owt you can do about it?There is not.Sandy O\'DonnnellSo where does that leave you? You should sail your career like a wiser Mike O’Day. You take care of your copyright, your contracts, your agents and all the rest of it as professionally as intelligently as you can.You will do that, and people may still – unreasonably and uncontractually – mess you around. You are welcome to scream. You are welcome to feel peeved. But the thing you do after that is get back to your desk, so you can start writing another book.Here lies the body of Sandy O’DonnellWho never again would write a novel.An agent betrayed her, a publisher lied – And instead of just working, she sat down and cried.Do not be like her.

Time – our favourite dimension

Last week we were all set to talk about time, when Markus Dohle of PRH and some Italian pigs’-bladder-kickers got in the way.This week, however, we’re back to our favourite dimension and how to use it. Oh, and incidentally, although I always talk about novels as though that’s all that matters, the issues here are deeply important in narrative non-fiction too, where they tend to crop up a lot.The idea for this email arose from my self-editing webinar the other day. One of the pieces we looked at was particularly well-written. It had some really good phrases in it, good use of vocabulary, and a great little story to tell. (Ordinary Yorkshireman in the late sixteenth century is called up to fight in a foreign war. He doesn’t want to go, but is compelled to do so.)But the particular snippet under our microscope didn’t work. The prose had great content everywhere you looked, but the air leaked out anyway, a tyre too flat to pump up.The problem is common. The solution is easy. And the technique for solving it is universal. Here goes:The problemLet’s say there are three chunks of time you want to talk about. Just to mix things up a bit, let’s say our story is about Melinda. She’s a pharmacist’s assistant in Alabama. Her husband, Bill, is a forklift driver, but also a former serviceman who is technically still a reservist for the US Army. The army wants him to go to Afghanistan. He doesn’t want to go, but he’s gotta. Off he trots, leaving Melinda at home. To add a little cajun seasoning to all this, Melinda and Bill haven’t long been married and Melinda is pregnant.The sequence we need to manage is therefore as follows:The period after getting married. Bill’s merrily forklifting around. Melinda’s happily getting pregnant, assisting pharmacists and planting dahlias. This period is maybe six months, or something like that.Bill gets called up. He tries to fight the summons – tries to get a court order, or something. There’s some kind of legal process, but he never stands a chance. All this evolves over a month or two.Bill forks off to Afghanistan. Melinda’s left at home, heavily pregnant, looking at her dahlias and feeling that life has already gone off the rails.Now, to be clear, none of this stuff is THE story. It’s effectively a prelude to the action that the author really wants to talk about. But all these elements of the prelude matter, of course. Quite clearly, Bill and Melinda’s feelings about their situation would be utterly different if they were in the midst of a tangled divorce and Bill couldn’t wait for any opportunity to get away.So we need a way to lay out these elements in a way which prepares us properly for the story to come.Here are three ways we could do it.The method condensedWe could handle the entire sequence in a single paragraph or so. Crucially, we’ll avoid any real attempt to give depth of flavour to any of the individual segments. The result will be that the whole thing reads like a single episode – perhaps something like this:Those first months of married life contained the joys and annoyances usual to the state. [One or two sentences describing that period.] All that, however, was ended – abruptly, rudely, even – by an envelope bearing the insignia of the US Army Reserve Corps. The letter inside informed ‘Sgt. Gates’ that he was being called up for a six-month tour in Afghanistan, the tour he had been promised would never happen. They fought, of course. Launched an appeal against the summons. But the appeal was brushed away. The cruel date arrived. Bill, in uniform, left the house. Melinda cried. Bill promised to write. They told each other that six months wasn’t really that long. But Bill drove away and Melinda was left behind. She was five months’ pregnant.That’s all fine.You might, optionally, wish to break that out into two paragraphs, and of course you’ll edit and adjust that prose as much as you wish.But look what we haven’t done. We haven’t got specific about place and time until the very end of the period in question (“the cruel date arrived. Bill … left the house.”)The result is that the reader hears “Ah, yes, some good general blah about what things are like after marriage, and NOW – when we get specific about place and time – that’s when our story properly kicks off again.” In effect, the story uses a bit of compressed telling-type language (telling the reader about those post-wedding months) followed by a jump back into showing (time and place specific) at the end. The jump into specificity signals to the reader, \"Here\'s where the story restarts.\"That strategy works.Here’s another way to do things:The method discursiveThis is the opposite strategy.You take each period – post marriage / fighting the call-up / departure for Afghanistan and the months after that – and give them proper page space. How much is up to you. I’d say a good length paragraph would be the minimum, but if you wanted to write a page or two on the honeymoon period of the marriage, that would be fine.If you adopt this approach, it’s fine to drop some specifics in there. This sort of thing:It was a broiling August day. Melinda was rocking on the porch, eating grits, brewing moonshine, fixing her pickup truck and generally demonstrating her hatred of deep South clichés. The postman arrived, as ever with a wad of chew-tobacco tucked inside his lower lip. ‘Seems like the Army got some business with your Bill,’ he drawled…You can get away with that dab of specificity, because you have given yourself the space to deal with the specific moment, then pull back to a more general discussion of the aftermath, before moving on to the next period.That strategy also works. Whether you use this option or the one before is really up to you. What’s the right balance for your story? Only you can feel your way into answering that question. (And, by the way, your answer may well change as you come to re-edit the book as a whole. When you first answer the question, you can’t feel the weighting of the whole book. When you do have a sense of that, your first guess about what works may prove wrong.)But there’s one more strategy you might choose to follow. It’s this:The method calamitousThis is where you try to combine the two approaches. Where you seek to handle everything in a condensed way, but still try to insert real specifics about time, place, and mood.This approach always fails. It induces a kind of sea-sickness in the reader. And the reason is that you are making multiple very frequent switches between telling-type prose (condensed, summary, economical) and showing-type prose (time- and place-specific, detailed, discursive.)Of course, every book can and does switch between those two modes, but you can’t switch too fast and too often in a limited space.The Method Condensed works, because you basically avoid showing-type language until the very end of the section – that is, when you are ready to dive back into your story proper.The Method Discursive works, because your switching between modes is quite widely separated – by several paragraphs, perhaps even a page or two.You almost need to think about the showing / telling switch in the same way as you would handle a switch between character viewpoints. You can do it, yes. But you can’t do it abruptly. You can’t do it screechily, with smoke coming from your handbrake.That’s it from me.I have a cunning idea for folding time in on itself which should give me an extra two hours lie-in on Friday mornings. I’m going to need a large amount of liquid helium and a docile test subject …

Be happy

I was going to write an email today about time, and how to write it. But then –A group of eleven Englishmen managed to kick a pig’s bladder into a white net once more often than a group of eleven Vikings.I read about a speech from Markus Dohle (CEO of Penguin Random House) about reasons to be happy.So – we’ll talk about time next week. This week, let’s look at the Dohle Six – his reasons to be positive about the future of publishing.Reason Number OneThe global book market is growing every year.That means people are spending more money on books. More money is coming into the industry. Yay!Now, those statements do need to be expanded a little. The US and UK book markets are very highly developed and better described as flat or mature rather than growing. But they’re certainly not shrinking and more books are being read in parts of the world that have had too little cash (or sometimes literacy) in the past to support a mature books market.My take?Yes. A good reason to be happy. Even a flat / mature / stable market is something to celebrate. Ten years ago, nobody knew if the internet would simply kill books. Why not? In Stewart Brand’s famous formulation: “On the one hand information wants to be expensive, because it\'s so valuable … On the other hand, information wants to be free, because the cost of getting it out is getting lower and lower all the time. So you have these two fighting against each other.” Which would win? In music, free mostly won. In newspapers, free has bankrupted a ton of local presses and is placing unprecedented pressure on many, even highly established, titles.But in books: free has not won. There is a lower cost ebook market and a higher cost print one. Both are orderly. Piracy is minor. The original publishing model has adapted – but held strong. Reason Number TwoThe industry has a robust business model for both physical and electronic distribution.Publishers have strong stable relationships with all parts of the retail ecosystem: Amazon, other e-stores, supermarkets, flagship booksellers (B&N, Waterstones), and independent book stores. All those parts of the ecosystem are doing OK. Nothing is tottering.My take?That’s true – just. A few years back it was genuinely unclear if B&N or Waterstones would survive. I think that, in the longer term, the fate of those chains is still not completely clear. Will the shift to online selling just decimate ordinary retail? Those flagship chains survive because people go to the High Street or the mall to buy other things and pop in for a book at the same time. You don’t need many people shifting from physical to online buying to jeopardise a huge swathe of physical retail, including the bookstores.But that’s a bit too doomy for our present mood. The fact is that, as of today, all the key sectors are OK. The publishing industry has been through the most wrenching ten years of its half-millennium history and it’s done just fine. It’s making more money than ever. Reason Number ThreeThe physical / digital split seems stable rather than precarious.As with all big publishers, print books account for about 80% of PRH’s global sales. Physical sales remain the anchor product of the entire market.My take?Well, I have two reactions really.The first is that he’s right. When you think of a book, you think of a thing you can whack a spider with, or hurl at your TV screen if a Viking kicks a pig’s bladder into an English net.That’s no longer true of music. You think of a song as something you find on your phone or stream through your iPad. You actually have to strain to remember music as something that lay embedded in grooves laid on vinyl, or spooled on tape, or weirdly curled up somewhere in the shine of a CD.My second reaction is irritation, as always, when grown-up publishers just pretend the self-publishing market doesn’t exist. The 80% physical / 20% digital split is true of traditional publishers only. But just this year, as part of our regular JW member events, I’ve interviewed, or am about to interview, Marie Force (10 million copies sold), Mark Dawson (4 million), Amanda Prowse (untold bazillions.) Virtually all of those sales have been self-pub or with Amazon Publishing. Virtually all self-pub and APub sales are digital. Markus Dohle knows this perfectly well but, like all publishers at his level, he pretends to forget it when talking in public.That said, the fact that this enormous digital market exists while the traditional one is still healthy is a powerful endorsement of Dohle’s basic contention. Now is a good time for publishing. It’s a good time for authors. Reason Number FourThe addressable audience is growing.The world population is growing. Literacy is booming. More and more people are earning enough to be able to think about books.My take?Well, I’m not absolutely sure that more humans is a good thing. (If you asked our planet, it might very politely ask for rather fewer monkeys, pretty please.) But, OK, Dohle’s talking economics not mass extinction, and of course he’s right. And the fact that many, many more people are able to read and can afford books is an unalloyed good. Reason Number FiveEver since Harry Potter, children’s books have been the fastest growing category in publishing.Reading habits are formed early, so that means more and more children are becoming adult readers. That means we can already be confident in the reading appetites of the future.My take?He’s right. My kids are aged 7, 7, 5 and 5 and they’re all addictive readers. I’ve noticed how their language improves, how their imaginative play is enriched, how their horizons broaden. The gift of reading is a huge one and it’s embedded young. Reason Number SixAudiobooks are booming.You can listen to audiobooks in a car, or while cleaning, or in the bath, or wherever. That means the number of attention-minutes available to publishers has increased. And it turns out that audiobooks have expanded the overall market for books. They have not cannibalised it.My take?I’m not an audiobooks fan. I haven’t even listened to my own books on audio. But again: boom. He’s right. In a way that no one predicted, digital has expanded the for-sale books market, when plenty of people thought it might actually kill it. And because it’s our duty and our pleasure to out-perform expectations, here’s one more reason to be happy just for you:Harry’s Bonus ReasonThere have never been more or better paths to market for authors. There have never been more or better ways to market and establish yourself.Self-pub and digital first publishing are wholly new routes to market. They earn a hell of a lot of money for authors. They provide an amazing way to access a huge number of readers.Micro presses and very specialist presses are having a golden age. In literary fiction especially, some of the best work comes out of the smallest spaces. If big publishing has grown a bit conservative (and it has), that hardly matters when experiment and passion at the micro level is stronger than it’s ever been.Same goes for marketing tools. Mailing lists have an extraordinary power. Ten years ago, virtually no authors have them or deployed them well. These days, we know just what to do and just how to do it. Those lists (and other tools, such as ad platforms) give authors a power we never had back when publishers controlled everything.Oh, and the heck with it, here’s one more reason too. If you happen to be Italian, you may want to look away now.Harry’s final reason to be happyThe England football team are going to win the Euros. We’re going to beat the Italians 19-0. Our pig’s bladder kickers are better than theirs. It’s coming home, football’s coming home.

Aliya Ali-Afzal on working with her agent & choosing a publisher at an auction

Aliya Ali-Afzal became a member of Jericho Writers in 2019, signing with her agent in 2020. Aliya’s debut novel, ‘Would I Lie to You?’, will be published by Head of Zeus in the UK and Grand Central Publishing in the US in July 2021. Having already proven to be in-demand at auction, it looks set to be incredibly popular. Aliya is represented by Juliet Mushens of Mushens Entertainment. We spoke to her about the working relationship between author and agent, and the surreal experience of choosing a publisher from an online auction.   JW: Hi Aliya! Great to talk to you. We’re really intrigued by the concept of your debut - where did the inspiration for ‘Would I Lie to You?’ come from?  AA: The initial inspiration came from something that happened in my own life. I had been on a big spending spree, and when I got home, my husband called to say he had lost his job. I felt a surge of panic - then guilt - as I thought about all the money I had spent, especially as my husband didn’t know about it. This sparked the idea about what would happen if someone had spent a lot more in secret, and unless they could put that money back quickly, they risked losing everything.  I’m fascinated by human nature and when I worked in London as a career and life coach, I saw how people’s sense of self can sometimes get caught up with how much they earn and what they have, rather than who they are. I also wanted to explore what happens after someone makes a terrible mistake. Can we ever put things right and can others ever forgive us?   JW: How did Jericho Writers membership help you with your writing journey?  AA: I became a member of Jericho Writers in the Spring of 2019, when I had just started editing my novel. I listened to every single podcast and video in the resource library! There’s a really broad range of topics covered including plot, characterisation, editing, writing cover letters and synopsis. I also loved watching Slushpile Live.  In September 2019, I attended the Festival of Writing in York for the first time and loved the panels and workshops. In my one-to-one session the agent asked for the full manuscript, which was an incredible boost for my confidence. It was also very helpful meeting other writers who shared their experience and tips about the submissions process. I felt inspired by hearing stories about writers who had found agents, after countless rejections!  All these things helped enormously when I started submitting in November 2019 - which resulted in me signing up with Juliet Mushens in January 2020. I would recommend that writers sign up with Jericho Writers immediately!  \"I became a member of Jericho Writers in the Spring of 2019, when I had just started editing my novel. I listened to every single podcast and video in the resource library!\" JW: In what ways have writing groups helped you along in your journey to publication?  AA: Our group meets every fortnight to give honest feedback, help with plot ideas, synopsis, advice on cover letters, agents, and publication. We also provide each other with that other vital ingredient for writers- moral support! The group has been invaluable and feels like having my own personal hotline whenever I need help!  Knowing each other’s work intimately, we feel comfortable enough to point out things that could be improved or are not working. By workshopping regularly, we also shift the focus from writing being ‘good’ or ‘bad’, to work that is simply being edited and improved. This is an important distinction. As well as learning how to give clear, productive feedback, it is important to know how to receive and process feedback too. Over the years, I’ve almost developed an intuition about which feedback I want to take on (often something that most people in the group agree on), and which elements of the feedback I disagree with. After a while, you learn to trust your own instincts as well, and it is important to be able to reject feedback sometimes too, even if you value and accept it most of the time.  \"[We] provide each other with that other vital ingredient for writers- moral support! The group has been invaluable and feels like having my own personal hotline whenever I need help!\" JW: Can you tell us about how you found representation with Juliet Mushens?  AA: Juliet was my dream agent and there were several reasons why she was at the top of my list. I knew that she represented some incredible writers, who all raved about what a great agent she was. She was super successful and brilliant at her job, but also seemed very passionate about it, which I admired. I followed her on Twitter and found that we shared a similar sense of humour and a love of beautiful dresses, which also convinced me that she would be my perfect agent!  I attended an excellent Guardian masterclass that she presented on how to find an agent, but was too shy to go and introduce myself or even ask a question. I did, however, take lots of notes! By the time I submitted to Juliet via the slush pile, I had done months of research about her wish list and wrote a targeted and personalised cover letter. Juliet asked for the full manuscript the same day that I submitted to her. Five days later, she emailed me to offer representation. It was, without doubt, the best email I had ever received in my life!  In total I submitted to five agents and it took me seven weeks to find representation. I had expected it to take months, even years, so I was blown away at the speed at which it all happened. Some of this was of course down to luck and timing too, but I think it also helped that I did months of research, preparation and hard work before I started to submit. JW: What’s your working relationship with your agent like? What do you think are the benefits of having an agent?  AA: Juliet is an incredible, extraordinary agent. Despite being insanely busy, she is always available for me and makes me feel as if I am her only client! She is direct and honest in her communication and I love that – I\'m the same and I feel comfortable saying what I think to her. We also instantly got on when we met, so I really enjoy working with her too.  The most valuable aspect of having Juliet as my agent is that I absolutely trust her opinion on both business and creative matters. I have consulted her throughout the publication process and value her advice. This is especially important as a debut, when you can feel out of your depth.  Juliet is also a brilliant editor, and gave me extensive editorial feedback. I love brainstorming with her, and it helps that we are both obsessed with working on the manuscript until it\'s perfect, however many rounds of edits it takes!  \"Juliet asked for the full manuscript the same day that I submitted to her. Five days later, she emailed me to offer representation. It was, without doubt, the best email I had ever received in my life!\" JW: Can you describe the auction?  AA: It was a surreal and very exciting experience. Under normal circumstances, we would have visited each publisher’s offices for the auction, but under lockdown, everything took place on Zoom. Each publisher’s entire team- editorial, marketing and publicity - pitched to me and Juliet, showing us presentations about their publication plans and creative visions for ‘Would I Lie to You?’ We also chatted to see how we got on.  After years of wondering if I would ever get an agent or any interest at all from a publisher, I suddenly had three publishers, each wanting me to choose them! It was a great feeling to have these amazing publishers telling me how much they loved my writing and discussing my characters with me. It boosted my confidence enormously, both in my writing and in my story. Juliet debriefed me after each pitch and outlined all the factors I needed to consider before making my decision.  JW: Do you have one last piece of advice for the JW members?  AA: Prepare, prepare, prepare, before you start to submit!    About Aliya   Aliya Ali-Afzal is studying for an MA in Creative Writing at Royal Holloway, University of London, and studied Russian and German at University College London. She is an Alum of the Curtis Brown Creative novel-writing course. Aliya lives in London and is a career and life coach.   Get Would I Lie to You? from Waterstones From Bookshop.org From Amazon Follow Aliya on Twitter: @AAAiswriting 

The World’s Biggest Pedant

My missus and I are currently watching a Netflix drama, Orange is the New Black, set in a women’s prison in the US.And – it’s OK. The show has kept us entertained. We’ve stayed watching. (Still on Season 1, mind you. We’re years behind.)At the end of the most recent episode, however, the following little drama unfolded.A nasty prison officer (called ‘Pornstache’ in honour of his facial hair) is escorting a drug-using inmate, Tricia, through the jail. He wants her to start distributing drugs for him. She doesn’t want to do it. He applies some pressure, then leaves her alone in a small room, for no very obvious purpose.Tricia swallows the entire packet of drugs that he’s pressed upon her and overdoses.Pornstache, returning to the room, finds Tricia dead. Not wanting the investigation that would surely have fingered him as the source of the drugs, Pornstache makes it look as though Tricia hanged herself. In the next episode, we’re told, in a somewhat offhand way, that the prison authorities had had the body cremated quickly to avoid a bothersome investigation. And that, more or less, was the end of that story thread.I bit my lip and said nothing, but my wife – who is not a crime author and doesn’t know her way around the bureaucracy of death – said, ‘That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? Surely there’d have to be an autopsy?’And yes, there would. In England and Wales, the jurisdiction I know best, there’s a simple rule which would require autopsy in the case of any homicide, suicide or unexplained death. In the US, the rules are complex, and vary state by state, but – duh! – you can’t just burn embarrassing corpses. Of course, you can’t.In other words: the story was rubbish. It simply didn’t hang together.I’m sure that the screenwriters knew this perfectly well. They had, as consultant to the series, Piper Kerman, on whose memoir the series was based. And – this was a lavishly funded Hollywood production. If they’d needed to pick up the phone to a lawyer or coroner, they could have done so with ease.So the writers clearly just thought – “Hey, a murder plus a faked-up suicide would drive the series forward nicely. No one will know it’s all unrealistic, and if they do, they won’t care. So we’ll do it.”But, but, but …Look, you guys know me. Detail-oriented to a fault. (I once had to return the “World’s Biggest Pedant” Trophy, because, as I was obliged to point out, I’m the World’s Most Pedantic Pedant. I’m not, however, especially large.)There’s no way I’d have brushed off a fake suicide as easily as these writers did.In one way, that’s annoying, because care for the facts can be annoying. Telling your story gets harder, because you have to work your way around obstacles.But pedantry – care for the facts – doesn’t just make your storytelling harder, it also makes it better.Go back to the Pornstache / Tricia story. If I’d been writing that episode, I’d have had to consider a whole set of different options:Pornstache makes a mess of the fake murder scene and is arrested for itPornstache bribes or threatens any investigating officersThe coroner or medical examiner is drunk or incapableThe coroner is corrupt or willing to do some illicit deal with the prison wardenThere is some family relationship between Pornstache and the coronerPornstache finds a way to tamper with the evidence so as to make it look as though Tricia’s corpse has passed any toxicology testsPornstache realises he is about to be charged with murder and kills himselfOr something else. There are a million possibilities.There’s not a right or wrong here. The point is that there are solutions for any problem. (And to be clear, we’re not necessarily talking about reality here. We’re talking about solutions within the realm of your fictional universe. Even Star Trek has rules.)But these options are complicated, all of them. They’re not things you can dispose of in two minutes before you start off down your next storyline. And that’s true of most of these fact-induced diversions. They push you off the road you had wanted to walk down.And yet: your story gets better.The detail takes you into better realised scenes, characters and plots. When you think of a properly top-class drama (Breaking Bad, let’s say), you’ll notice the acute attention to detail. How is a drugs factory meant to operate? It has to be clean, right, so what kind of cleaning is involved? What kind of filters? What kind of protective gear? Those thoughts pushed the series creators into an extraordinarily well-realised depiction of a crystal meth operation. As a viewer, you felt utterly convinced by the presentation. And the result of that conviction was that you were more absorbed, more engaged, more intent.This is true about big things – story, scenes, characters, settings – but it’s true about tiny things too. Imagine a conversation between two of your characters over coffee, and the same conversation as they are rigging up an air purification system for their meth lab. Because the second scenario is fascinating in itself, the conversation itself takes on an extra glitter. In novels, the vocabulary that detailed research gives you adds precisely that same lustre.OK. So that’s the positive reason for caring about detail: you get a richer, more engaging book.But it’s worth thinking about the flipside as well.What happens if – like that scene from Orange is the Only Black – you choose not to bother with the detail? What do you lose?In the end, you can find the answer by watching your own feelings when you read or watch a scene that just doesn’t convince. You end up feeling something like, ‘Oh, they’ve just brushed that away, haven’t they?’You might continue to read / watch, but something lethal has happened all the same. That tight attention you once had – scrutinising dialogue and incidental detail for implications about character and story – just loosens. Why bother to scrutinise something with care when the author can just pretend the rules-of-this-world don’t exist for a spell?So you might go on watching – we’re continuing to watch Orange – but the relationship has shifted for the worse. Truth is, the author has probably lost that deep, careful attention for ever. The story you’re telling has gone from being memorable and precious to something more like bubble-gum pop music: something you happily listen to, and forget as soon as you have.So pay attention to detail. It is annoyingly obstructive and brilliantly rewarding. Both those things, always.That’s it from me. If you’re a JW member and you want to see me in Dr Pedant mode, then do come to my self-editing webinar on Tuesday 6 July. There will be bears.

Bears with muskets

Here’s how writing works:You get an idea for a story (or, actually, a book of almost any kind.) You write it down.In one way, what you have is a bit rubbish (because it is a bit rubbish.) And in another way what you have is perfect, because it exists. So then you start to edit and prune and change characters and reknot your plot points. As you do all that, you do have a general sense of craft. Economy with language is good. Plot needs to be in constant flux. Beware of creating too many viewpoint characters. And so on.In the early stages of your writing career, that craft knowledge is really important. It’s a compass that prevents you skedaddling off on long journeys to the wrong place. As you get more experienced, the craft knowhow still matters; it’s just that it becomes more like second-nature. You don’t think about it as much.But the thing that ultimately steers your editing isn’t some manual on How To Write, but it’s your own sense of what feels right on the page. Take this random paragraph from a work-in-progress:The bears love any excuse to go shooting. They make long trips into the hinterland. The sound of their musketry echoes across these plains, echoing over the flat earth. This fire isn’t particularly accurate – most of the carcasses have been not shot, but clawed to death – but it’s an impressive haul. Four elk, three reindeer, any number of geese, some cormorants. salmon. A mangy wolf.That feels interesting, doesn’t it? A book you might to read more of. But it’s also, to my mind, not quite right.There are some obvious – technical-type – problems, such as the repetition of echoes / echoing. But there are also some things that bother me, that might not bother somebody else. Is hinterland quite right here, for example? It’s a geographer’s term that came into use at the end of the nineteenth century, and then mostly in the contexts of industrial planning or economic geographies. The setting of this little paragraph is mid-sixteenth century and very far removed from that kind of context. To me, the word just feels wrong. It might perfectly well sound fine to you.And while I like the list of animals at the end of the paragraph, it feels underwhelming. I’d want to enrich it.Also: “any excuse to go shooting” feels a bit pallid to me. These are actual bears with actual muskets and that sentence doesn’t quite seem rich enough to honour that set-up, so I’d want to find more interesting words there. Trips, likewise, seems a bit bland.And the sort-of joke about the bears and the inaccuracy of their shooting seems a bit muffled, somehow. I’d want to make more of it.Some of these feelings seem purely personal. Others seem like ones that most editors would agree with. But, either way, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the editorial judgement of you, the author. That’s it. That’s the whole deal.So if I were scrabbling away at this paragraph, I’d end with something more like thisAs for the bears, they love any excuse to get out their muskets. They make long forays into the back-country. The sound of their musketry echoes across these plains, whistling over the thin earth and flat rock, a pebble skimmed over water. It’s not clear how accurate this fire is – most of the carcasses that eventuate seem to have been clawed or bitten to death, not shot – but the heap of the dead is impressive nonetheless. Four handsome elk and a pair of skinny calves. Three reindeer, one of them pregnant and with two kids inside her. Any number of geese. Some cormorants. Salmon. One mangy wolf.That definitely feels better – that is, more reflective of me. If you had your hand on the same paragraph, you might have had some similar concerns but ended in a different place. (And do notice that on this occasion my edits made the paragraph longer, not shorter. There’s no rule that says editing can’t add text as well as subtracting it.)That’s an example of editing in microcosm, but not all editing happens in microcosm. In fact, one of the most interesting aspects of the editing process is the way you learn to understand your own book.Yes, you might start a project with some broad idea of why your Big Idea has resonance. But as you edit your book into shape that broad idea will take on a ton of detail. You’ll find, almost certainly, that there are more depths to your book than you had ever realised.Here’s how things have panned out with my current Fiona Griffiths novel, the one that’s been delayed about a million years.That book is set in a secure psychiatric hospital. My character was, as a teenager, hospitalised with mental illness and she has an abiding fear of such places. OK. So far, so good. It’s pretty obvious that the setting and that character make for a nice complementarity.But how exactly? I wasn’t sure how to bring those two things together. In particular, the end of the book caused me real problems. I knew I needed a big climax but nothing I quite put on the page seemed to deliver. Then – duh! – I realised that my character needed to experience drug treatment at the hands of a hostile doctor. She needed to be give psychotropic drugs being given for malign reasons – and her sense of self needed to fracture under the load.That’s really different from most of my endings, which are a bit more pow-biff-bam than that, but it was obviously the right one for this book.If I plot out how that understanding actually came to me, it’s roughly like this:Write 80% of the novelFeel dissatisfiedFiddle away at the part I’ve written, try different strategies, fix things that need fixing. All this was self-editing, albeit work done before I’d completed the novel.Feel dissatisfiedSketch out possible endings, most of them involving big all-action drama, along the lines of my previous workFeel dissatisfiedScratch away a bit more. Drive the plot forward. Edit old sections.Then realise that I’d never properly picked up or understood my own theme. I’d had Fiona reacting really badly when she first arrived at the hospital, but that story had no proper ending. My chief baddie in the book is a doctor; I had to get that baddie injuring Fiona in the way that Fiona most feared.Relief! Delight! A sense that I know what I’m doingFinish the bookFeel pleased, because I now know this book has legs / Feel dissatisfied because there’s a lot of work still to doGo back and start the editing process yet again. (I’ve done lots already.)Come to bits that I had never quite liked in the past, but didn’t know what to do with. For example, my hospital had never quite felt isolated enough, or like its own little kingdom. But now I knew how Fiona would be ending up (as a patient in that selfsame hospital, with her life very much at risk), it felt much more obvious how I wanted to deal with the hospital’s isolation. Scenes that had baffled me before just fell into place.There’s lots more still to do. Lots of plot smoothing, lots of simple writing edits. But now that I have my keystone in place – Fiona gets drugged; Fiona almost dies – I know that everything else is just a matter of time and work.The lessons from these reflections? Well, a few actually, but including these:Editing is big and small. It’s about changing individual words and it’s about getting massive ideas about how the end of the book needs to work, with consequential changes for absolutely everything else.Your ability to be dissastisfied and remain dissatisfied with your text is key. It’s that “not yet right” feeling which guides you to a better book. It’s probably also why writing can be so arduous as well as so joyful. That relentless dissatisfaction with your work – that’s the very feeling that makes it better.Bigger ideas often guide the smaller scale ones. So take that work involving bears and muskets. Food and cannibalism are themes in that book, so the the list of game – food, in this context – needed elaboration, and the pregnant reindeer with kids inside her was, in a way, a graphic, if ghoulish, representation of cannibalism. It’s not that readers will notice such things exactly, but the more you look to add those touches, the richer and more coherent the final manuscript becomes. A perfect manuscript has a kind of holographic quality to it: the whole embodied in the part, and vice versa.But also: smaller scale ideas often guide the bigger ones. It was writing a scene between the doctor-baddie and Fiona that made me realise, she needs to be drugged. Specifically, I was fidding around with the scene, because I was dissatisfied with it. That dissatisfaction with how the scene was playing out sentence by sentence led me to the realisation that would end up solving The Big Problem with the book.And: it’s work at the coal-face that fixes things. Yes, I believe in long, thoughtful dog walks as a way of solving plot conundrums. But most of the actual breakthroughs come when you are mucking about with text – actually writing it, or actually editing it.This long and baggy email is, in a way, a big fat preamble to one final message:I’m doing a self-editing webinar – for members only – on Tuesday 6 July. If you’d like me to rip your work apart, like a bear savaging a reindeer, then send me a chunk in advance of the session. Do that by adding a comment to the \"self-editing webinar\" blog post here. And remember the event is for members only. If you\'re a non-member, please don\'t submit work as we won\'t be able to use it.Thankee!!

Self-editing webinar – members only

Hello folksWe\'ve got another self-editing webinar coming up on 6 July at 19:00 (UK time.)If you want to submit some work for me to RIP APART WITHOUT MERCY then:a) Mwah-hah-hah. I look forward to feasting on your bonesb) Please give me a chunk - maximum 300 words - in the comments below. Please include your name (or I\'ll just use your Townhouse handle.) Also the title of the piece, and just one short sentence telling us what kind of book it is. (Plus something about the set up of the snippet, if we need to know.)I won\'t be able to use everything. In the past, I\'ve been able to get through 3-4 pieces in the hour.Please don\'t submit your work below if you\'re not a JW member: we won\'t be able to use it.Please also don\'t submit your work unless you are comfortable having it discussed publicly, cos public discussion is exactly what\'s gonna happen.All clear? Yes? No?Yes! Tremendous. Look forward to seeing you there.

How Taking A Writing Course Helped My Confidence Grow

We’re thrilled to be launching another year of our Ultimate Novel Writing Course. It’s the most practical, hands-on course we offer, helping you go from first draft to full publishable manuscript with expert tuition and ongoing support. We chatted to Sharon Dunne, a student on the 2020-2021 course, about how the UNWC has impacted her writing journey.   JW: Hi Sharon! What stage were you at with your writing before the UNWC?   SD: I had very little experience before the course. I\'d always loved writing but it just wasn’t feasible as something to do as a career, at least not in my circle. I started writing properly about a year beforehand and, after eleven or twelve months, I realised that I needed help. I didn’t really know what I was doing, and I was just going with it - but if I wanted to make it a serious career, I really needed some help.   JW: What was your favourite part of the course?   SD: It’s hard to choose! Meeting my group was absolutely amazing because they were such great support. You end up building a friendship - a supportive circle where you can help each other when someone is struggling. That was one of my favourite things. I think the weekly exercises, the feedback, and the tutoring have been excellent as well. I had started with a book, but I ended up deleting a whole 96,000 words and starting again. I’d thought I needed a little bit of help, but I realised quite quickly that it just wasn’t good enough. The first tutor feedback I had was from Wes (Brown, UNWC tutor) and it was really good. He gave feedback in such a supportive way that it encouraged me to start again. Now I’ve just finished my manuscript. It’s just been sent off to Lindsey (Alexander, UNWC tutor) and it’s so much better. I basically learned from the ground up and I worked really hard at it – the whole experience was great.   JW: Amazing! Do you think starting from scratch on your MS was made a little easier because of that support?  SD: Yes, definitely! I had started writing without knowing I needed the basics, but once I’d started learning them I realised that [my original manuscript] wasn’t good enough and there was no point in trying to make a load of changes. In the end I just wanted to start again. Actually, I think I was more excited than anything. Whatever chapter I was writing, I would use that for whatever was the focus of the course each week – so I was kind of tweaking as I went, as well. The weekly tasks were really good because I performed them on my work-in-progress as I wrote.    I had started with a book, but I ended up deleting a whole 96,000 words and starting again... JW: It sounds like that corresponded really well then! Which aspect of the course did you find the most challenging?  SD: I have four small children and I work, so I suppose for me the most challenging thing really was just finding the time. But I was, and still am, very creative and I was learning very fast throughout the course. It was during that time I realised I just loved it – I really loved it. So I made sure I made the time, whether it was 9pm at night or getting up at 6am and doing a couple of hours in the morning. That was probably the most challenging aspect, but it was good to fully commit.   JW: How have you found fitting the course round your schedule?  SD: The course is great; it’s so flexible, especially for someone like me whose time is very limited. The amount of time and effort you give it is up to you and I think the more you put in, the more you’re going to get out of it. So I just decided that I was going to do the task every week no matter what, whether that was late night or early morning. I think that helped with building relationships with everyone in my group, as well. We also set up some monthly zoom calls where we could talk things through and see if anyone needed any help.   JW: It must be lovely to have that nice, supportive environment, because sometimes writing can be quite isolating. How would you rate your confidence with writing after the UNWC?  SD: I’m way more confident now! I believe that it’s possible now, and I’ve just committed to keep going.    JW: That’s brilliant! Do you feel that you have something close to being ready to submit?  SD: I’ve just submitted my work-in-progress to Lindsey (Alexander, UNWC tutor). I’m waiting for the response and then I’ll have feedback to do the next draft. I have a few drafts done – the second draft is the one that’s just gone over for critique. I would hope that I could then do another draft with Lindsey’s feedback – she’s been great as well – and hopefully then be ready to submit. Actually, last year I booked the Jericho Writers Self-Edit Your Novel Course  for this September, so I’ll do that with my new draft, and I’m hoping that after that I’ll be ready to submit.   I\'m way more confident now! I believe that it’s possible now, and I’ve just committed to keep going. JW: Amazing – I look forward to hearing about how you find the Self-Edit course as well. Lots of people have said great things about Debi [Alper] and Emma [Darwin].   SD: Yes I’ve definitely enjoyed them in webinars! I’ve also found the webinars really good – on the Jericho Website I found the ‘How to Write’ video course that Harry did, and I found that super-useful. I watched the whole thing when I first started writing.  JW: To what extent do you feel being an UNWC student has helped you find new opportunities?  SD: I think I’ve been opened up to an awful lot of opportunities because now I understand so much more about the fundamentals of writing. I have a lot more knowledge of how agents and publishers work, the different ways to get published, how difficult it is to get published and the standard your work needs to be at before you submit. Also, the importance of having a supportive team – I got to know all the other writers, knew where I could go for help, the different types of assessments and reviews you could get on your manuscript, and the whole writing world in general. I suppose that was especially good for me because I was very new to it – before I started this course, I didn’t know any other people who wrote in their spare time.   JW: I’m so glad you had that for support; having like-minded people around you is so important to keep going. In what ways do you think taking a writing course is helpful (compared to learning independently)?  SD: I think mainly it helps because of all the support. I know some people don’t like critique, but I loved it because it told me where I was going wrong. It made me want to change it - otherwise I would have never known! Obviously so much was wrong – nearly everything was wrong – and it was all revealed in the critique so maybe even from the first week it set me on the right track. Lindsey talked me through and I realised, okay, this is just not good enough. I know if I’d kept writing independently, I wouldn’t have improved. Some people perhaps are born being able to write well, but I needed to learn.   JW: You definitely do need that constructive criticism sometimes, especially in the early stages. Is there anything else you’d like to add?   SD: Generally, the tutors were all fantastic, and the group as well. I’ve found that the whole thing has been a really enjoyable experience and it’s taught me so much.   Sharon Dunne is an Irish mother of four young boys. She is a primary school teacher (who previously worked in advertising) and lives in the sunny South East, although she often questions the \'sunny\' part! Sharon is writing a novel called Phoenix Park, which follows the lives of three Irish women, two of whom are running for President. The third is a relentless reporter with the Viral Touch, who\'s covering the election. One of them is hiding a secret and when it\'s uncovered, the trajectory of all three women\'s lives are changed forever The Ultimate Novel Writing Course is now open for applications for the October \'22 - September \'23 course. With online tutorials and mentoring sessions led by leading authors in their fields alongside in-person events, editorial assessments, literary agent inductions, and more - no other course offers this level of support as you work towards publication. Find out more: Ultimate Novel Writing Course 2022/23

Life, story and the need for corsets

It’s easy to think that because life permits something, then story must too. After all, stories are allowed things like starships, unicorns and Dr Evil, so it would seem that stories are more capacious than life, holding everything life offers, and then some.Well, yes and no.Yes: stories get to have starships and unicorns, while life does not. But then again, life is permitted randomness, which stories basically may not have.So let’s say you were writing a Manhattan-set rom-com. You’re getting to the denouement. Mr Lovely is racing through Central Park to greet his girlfriend, Fraulein Gorgeous, and ask her to marry him. We all anticipate that Fraulein G is going to say one ditzy thing, do one charming thing, and then say yes. We’ll laugh a little, shed a tear, then move on, happy.But Life might have other thoughts. So, let’s say, in reality, Mr Lovely was racing through the park, when – oh, I don’t know – a subway tunnel collapses, or an ice cream truck hits him, or (why not?) an overflying airplane accidentally releases some blue ice, which falls 20,000 feet and splatters his romantically-inclined skull.(Blue ice? Um. It comes from aircraft toilets and it shouldn’t leak, but sometimes does. In the 1970s, some blue ice struck a chapel in London and caused so much damage, the building had to be demolished.)Now, because Life can and does release blue ice over major cities, there’s no reason in fact why the Lovely / Gorgeous romance might not be ended by a lump of falling waste. But a story can’t handle that.Story demands a unity of logic and (ideally) a unity of theme too.Take the logic part first. Although things can and do happen for essentially no reason, stories are our way of putting the meaning back in. That reason can operate within the boundaries of strict logic. (The detective got DNA results back from the lab, which led her to Bad Guy’s house, which allowed her to …) But it can equally well operate within almost purely metaphorical ones – ones that deliver thematic coherence to your story.Take, for example, the war film, Bridge over the River Kwai.In that film, Colonel Nicholson (the Alec Guinness character) is a British officer who has become a prisoner of war, held by the Japanese. The POWs are ordered to build a railway bridge to help the Japanese war effort. Nicholson – as a way to maintain his self-respect? as a way to show off the skills and resourcefulness of the British army? – becomes obsessed with building the perfect bridge. When Anglo-American commandos then prepare to sabotage the bridge, Nicholson becomes conflicted, seeking to protect ‘his’ bridge. In the concluding firefight, he is wounded and falls onto the detonator’s plunger, thereby destroying the bridge.In one way, this is just a causally coherent explanation for how the bridge came to be built, then destroyed. But no viewer simply experiences it like that. There’s something about Nicholson’s journey – the obsession, the perfectionism, the death, the explosion – that gives a kind of coherence to everything that’s happened before. If you took out the two minutes of film around that final firefight and the destruction of the bridge, you’d have essentially nothing. Lots of prettily filmed events, but no story.So the Lovely / Gorgeous romance + blue ice killing just doesn’t work as story. Yes, you could make that an opening scene. (The rest of the novel then becomes about Fraulein Gorgeous coming to terms with the random death of her beloved.) And indeed, life-changing random events provide the kick-off for plenty of stories.Generally though, you are always – via strict causal logic, or metaphor – seeking to pull events into an orderly shape. In the end, you’re about creating emotional journeys and a sense of derived meaning.Life just doesn’t offer that neatness.Journeys don’t end until you die. And meanings come from us, and our story-making desire, more than from life itself.The more dense you can make your storytelling – neat causal logic plus an overlay of metaphor and character journey – the stronger and richer your final story will be. In short, life is great, but it’s baggy. If you want your story to look right, I recommend the corset. Breathe out, lace up tight – and don’t eat.

Thwackum, Squeers and Griffiths

Back in the day, a top author – such as Henry Fielding, who died in 1754 – would enjoy giving some of his characters names like Mr Thwackum (a savage clergyman and schoolmaster) and Squire Allworthy (a man as virtuous as his name suggests.)Charles Dickens, a century or more later, wasn’t quite as direct, but you can still hear the character suggestion come through pretty clearly in names like Ebenezer Scrooge (a miser), Uriah Heep (an unctuous sycophant), Tiny Tim (the one to generate the tears), Thomas Gradgrind (a fact-obsessed school superintendent), Wackford Squeers (a cruel headmaster), Estella (beautiful, but distant – like a star), and so on.These days, we generally don’t do that. The problem with those names is that they hang a huge placard round the neck of the character. “Hey, I’m Allworthy. You don’t even have to think about who I am – you don’t have to scrutinise the way I talk and act and make choices – because look at this great big placard. I’m ALL-WORTHY, right? Look how great I am.”In effect, the name compresses the space in which the character can operate – and a book without characters isn’t going to be worth all that much.Dickens’s names aren’t quite as blatant as Henry Fielding, but the sheer improbability of a ‘Wackford Squeers’ announce the author’s intention almost as directly. The placard is smaller, but it’s still there.The modern approach therefore tends to be sadly dull, You might have a Gradgrind-y type character, let’s say, but you’d call him or her something like Mark Pettigrew or Samantha Anderson. Your ideal name is just interesting enough to remember, but just boring enough that it’s not calling attention to itself (Jabberwocky Jones or Bianca Blanco.)Likewise, you’ll think not just of your star players, but your team sheet as a whole. You might love the name Rhodri for a friend of your protagonist, but if you already have a Rhys, a Rob, a Rhian and a Rhydian, your reader is going to get seriously confused. This advice so far has all been very sensible, but, but, but …Isn’t there a halfway house, perhaps? Something that could add flavour without simply depriving the character of space in which to operate?And the answer, surely, is yes. The trick is to add a bayleaf or two, not the whole damn kitchen cupboard. (I learned this trick from my colleague, Sarah Juckes, by the way, then realised I’d already been doing something similar, but unconsciously.)The idea is that you choose a character’s name that refers, even in the most oblique way, to some deep-lying essence of the person. So, in Sarah’s Outside, her characters are trapped in a single, horrible room. The name Willow suggested something of the outdoors – the yearning for it, as well perhaps as the slender-but-tough whippiness of a willow stick. It’s a lovely way to encapsulate a feeling – but at the same time, the name is common enough that it doesn’t break the basic Mark Pettigrew / Samantha Anderson naming convention.What’s more the name does make a difference. You can almost feel the energy the book gets as a result. If you doubt me, just try giving Willow the name Samantha Anderson. You’d never choose to make that switch, would you?I used to think I don\'t play a lot of those games in my Welsh fiction, or at least that I did so only very sparingly. In the first book, I allowed my main character, Fiona “Fi” Griffiths, to meditate on her name:Fi. That’s ‘if’ backwards.Griffiths. Nice ordinary name, but two more ‘if’s lurking at the heart of it. My name, literally, is as iffy as you can get. The only solid sound, the only one you can actually hang on to, is that opening G, and it’s not to be trusted.Elsewhere, I don’t muck around much. My other series characters are really named just to be plausibly Welsh (in most cases) and of the right approximate generation.But when I explore more closely, I do often end up with names that carry a scent.In my current (much-delayed) WIP, the doctor in charge of a secure psychiatric hospital is called Etta Gulleford. That is a striking name, of course. It commands attention, just as the woman in question is also striking and commanding. Is the name a bit disconcerting, perhaps? Hard to place? Probably, and if so, that fits with her character too.The inmate in that hospital that Fiona is most interested in also has a non-standard name, Jared Coad. Again, that’s not quite so unusual it challenges the boundaries of realism. And I mostly chose it because it was plausible and yet memorable. A two-syllable name to remember.But, thinking more about it, I think there’s more going on there too. Jared is an Old Testament biblical name. The character is a damaged warrior, but with depths of virtue. A dangerous prophet? An ancient Judaic king? Those echoes do work for the character on the page – magnificent, avenging, doomed. The splash of antiquity somehow adds a useful dimension to an otherwise very twenty-first century character.I\'ll quite often change characters names as I write a draft, twisting this way and that way until I have something that feels right. That feeling comes by touch and feel: I\'m not at all programmatic about it. And sometimes, to be honest, the names never quite feel right. They nag at me long after publication.(Which brings me to a further tip, actually. Unless you are really sure of your choice of name, only use names where you can use the Find and Replace tool easily. That means avoiding a name like Jo, because it forms a part of too many ordinary words (jogging, banjo, and the like. If you use a name like Joely, you get the same kind of flavour but the Find and Replace tool will still work for you.)I’d really love to know how you name your characters and, in particular, how you manage to add a hint of character or depth into a name that still seems like a plausible choice for the character concerned. And no, fantasy authors, you don’t get the day off. I want to know how you pick names too. Voldemort isn’t a name you’d give to a good guy, is it? I guess the “mort” part of that name is bringing hints of death, but I probably wouldn’t lend my wallet to someone whose name began “Volde” either. So, yep, SF and fantasy authors too: I want to know how you come up with names.Don’t email to tell me. Share your thoughts in the comments below. Let\'s have a heated debate ...

The loon and the prison guard

Last week, I totally forgot about my Friday email until the deadline was starting to loom in a scarily loomy way. (Overhanging by 5 or 10 degrees, and offering thin holds on sketchy protection – that kind of loomy.)So I dashed out an email that had a single thought at the heart of it. This one:Creative writers and, really, creators of almost any sort,are often asked to perform their best workwithout any kind of support.That email then turned into a kind of mission statement. Very roughly: “we can’t alter the basic difficulty of your situation, but we can and will be as supportive as we can.” There wasn’t really any practical, actionable advice in the email. When we sent it out, it felt like some underweight homework rushed out to meet a deadline.But you lot told me otherwise.I always get plenty of responses to these emails, but last week I got double the normal volume. The general gist of those answers was summed up in one email that said my message felt like a hug, necessary and comforting. And, good: consider yourself e-hugged (in a way that respects your personal boundaries and all covid-regulation protocols in your country of residence.)But it struck me, as I read your replies, that there are two phases to our acts of creation and each phase makes a different demand.First, there’s a purely creative phase, one that’s all about production.This is where we dream up the idea of the story. It’s where we nudge and tweak that (still theoretical) story into shape. It’s where we write our openings chapters (in a rush), our middle chapters (slowly and in pain), our ending chapters (with relief.) The end of this creative phase is marked by delivery of a complete manuscript, starting on page 1 and running all the way through to the beautiful words, “THE END”.For that birthing process, I strongly recommend an attitude of slightly crazed positivity. And I do mean crazed. It’s not enough to think, “Oh, sure, I think this novel will probably be good enough to be looked at with some interest by a literary agent.” In my experience, you need to be ludicrously positive. You need to be dreaming of that multi-publisher auction, your book piled high in supermarkets, your name on bestseller lists, foreign rights deals flooding in. Whatever works for you.You don’t have to be reasonable. Just give yourself whatever drug gets you through. You’ve got a daydream about being invited onto Oprah? Or getting a call from a certain Stockholm-based prize committee? Then good. Dream away.Those hopes may well be unrealistic. After all, the brutal statistics say, you aren’t likely to be published. If you are, the outcome – critical and commercial – may not be all that astonishing. But those true and reasonable facts are hardly likely to sustain you through months of creative endeavour, hard labour, and false paths.So leave realism aside. For the creative phase, be as unreasonable as you want. Give yourself whatever dreams you need to inspire you. And remember this dictum of Jane Smiley’s: “Every first draft is perfect because all the first draft has to do is exist.”She’s right. Block out the negative. Dream your dreams. And write.But then comes the second phase, the editorial one.For most first-time novelists, I’d say completion of the first draft marks – very roughly – your halfway point in the whole creative process. The editorial process is likely to take as long, or maybe longer, as the writing phase. It’s equally critical. I’ve never once seen a first draft manuscript that was in good enough shape to find a publisher. My own first draft manuscripts (which I edit heavily as I go) would not be ones I’d be happy to send out.And now you need to switch from the forgiving / dreamy / inspirational you to the pedantic / critical / perfectionist one. You need to transform from loon to prison officer.Everything you have just written is up for review. Everything.Your basic idea for the novel. Is that sharp enough? Attractive enough? Fresh enough? Does it infuse the entire book? Is it saleable?Your basic plot arc. Is it clear? Does it compel the attention? Does the ending satisfy? Does the basic plot machinery work?And does your main character engage the reader? And do your settings exist and have atmosphere? And what about your secondary characters? And was your first person / third person choice correct? And do you have the right number of viewpoints in play?Oh yes, and does this sentence really need all ten words, or could you say the same thing just as well in eight?For this phase, in my experience, you more or less have to drop the Oprah daydreams. Forgiving optimism isn’t the right spirit to bring to the task of constant fault-finding and error-correction.Quite the contrary. In that first phase, you needed to praise yourself as the word counter ticked slowly up. Now you need to do the reverse. “Yay! I deleted 3,000 words today. Well done, me.”In the first phase, you needed to think, “Yes! You know what? My Best Friend character really is funny, quirky and a delight on the page.” Now you need to ask, “Is that actually funny? Or is it just lame? Would the balance of this scene feel better if I just cut the banter?”This process, always, is trial and error. You try one thing and see if it feels better. If not, you try another and another till you find something that pleases you.A solid grounding in writing craft will unquestionably support this process – you’ll work more efficiently and produce a better outcome. But every editorial decision still comes down to a question of which sounds better to you, X or Y? Perhaps you settle on Y, and complete this new draft, then come back to the same place during a new round of editing, and you’ll find yourself asking “Y or Z? Or was I wrong to abandon X? Now what I’ve changed the Auntie Prue death scene, maybe I’d do better to stick with X here?” The process only ends when you read the manuscript and think that, yes, you like what’s written there. You can’t find a way to improve it.Emotionally speaking (and in my experience, at least), the thing that sustains you through the editorial phase isn’t wild-eyed optimism, it’s a sense of relief.You knew the first draft was problematic – of course you did. That’s why you had to keep telling yourself good-fortune fables to keep your spirits up. Now, with the editing, you can start addressing problems, and you feel the book starting to lift.For me, that experience is of finding a faster, lighter, more purposeful book emerging from the manuscript I started with. It’s almost like you are pulling heavy, sea-going timbers from a boat, to find a sleek fibreglass hull underneath. That’s what allows you to be a brutal critic of your own work: you can see that the criticism leads to a better reading experience. You actually see it happening in front of you.I don’t want to pretend that these observations are universal. They may not be. In the end, you need to arrange your emotional landscape in whatever way best suits you and your life and your project. If wild optimism is what keeps you going though that editorial phase, then please – be my wildly optimistic guest. If you like to edit your book as you write (and I do), then by all means bring something of the prison guard to your writing phase as well as your purely editorial one.But forgive yourself. Find the process that works for you, and permit it. There isn’t a right or wrong as regards process. There’s only a good or bad in terms of the final manuscript. If you can navigate your little craft to the Harbour of Good Writing, then North Pole / South Pole / Panama Canal? Just take whatever route works for you.Happy sailing, happy writing.

A song from the tightrope

A short email from me today, with a single thought in it. Here it is:Creative writers and, really, creators of almost any sort,are often asked to perform their best work without any kind of support.No financial support: you have to write and edit and perfect an entire damn novel before you get to find out whether anyone wants it or has a use for it. For most us, that’s like asking us to do one year’s worth of work before finding out if we’re going to get paid anything at all.No institutional support: you’ll be doing your work alone. There’s no big surrounding environment to say, “Yes, we’ve asked you to do this difficult thing, but don’t worry, there are career structures for people like you, here is a team which is made up of people like you, and here’s a canteen that offers cheap lattes because we know you like them.”No tech or knowhow support: If you’re self-publishing, there are quite a few tech dashboards to deal with. If you’re not, you still have to grapple with the intricacies of agent-hunting, which involves a certain knowhow, a knowledge of what to do and how to do it. Either way, there’s a whole lot of technical knowledge which you don’t have, and other people do, and which you will need to master in order to succeed.And often the support of our loved ones is passive rather than active. “Oh, Joan? Yeah, she loves writing. She’s upstairs now tapping away. I think it’s something about orcs this time? Or is it medieval sailors? Or something to do with tsetse flies? Anyway, yeah, I’m sure it’s great.” I don’t want to knock that kind of support, because that’s necessary too, but there’s a big gap between that and the sort that really sees your project and understands and endorses your passion for it.And – jeepers. That’s a big ask, right?In any well-run office, we recognise the need to bring new members of staff onto the team with care. An introduction to the job, to the team, to the tech, to the staff parties and the in-jokes and all the rest of it. Mess that stuff up and you very likely won’t get the best from that newbie – and the newbie, very likely, will be wondering whether to look around for a different job.And at one level, that basic isolation doesn’t change. I’m playing around on a new project at the moment – very literary, very quirky – and it’s completely unclear whether anyone at all will want to buy it. So am I writing for myself or an audience? For free or for pay? I don’t know. The process of finding out is still months away.And in the end, Jericho Writers can’t solve that problem for you. No one can. The essence of it is hard-wired into our industry.But we will do what we can. We ask our Writer Support people to be friends and guides first. We ask them to be absolutely honest with anyone who rings up or emails in. We set them absolutely no sales targets. They aren’t there to sell; they’re there to help.We also want to enrich our community – and will have a lot more to share later this year. Membership of that community will remain free to all. I know that plenty of writers have come to depend deeply on friendships and relationships first formed in that community.And then there’s the matter of ethos too. Of course, we aim to work with professional editors, and professional tutors, and so on. We demand a high standard of work and are constantly monitoring it. But do our editor-tutor-mentors just deliver the work and move on? Or do they actually care? Are they invested in the work and the people whose work they nourish? In the end, we don’t ask for mere professionalism. We also want to work with people of genuine passion.So that’s the thought. This writing game of ours is tough. It’s isolated. It’s probably doubly hard in the context of a global pandemic. Plenty of people have struggled.We can’t change that basic struggle. Writing is tough because it’s competitive and difficult. It’s tough making the Olympics too, and for essentially the same reason. But we can recognise the challenge. And many of us know what it’s like from our own experience. We’re on your side.

Dancing with Plain Jane

I once wrote a book – The Lieutenant’s Lover – which was a historical novel set mostly in the St Petersburg of 1917 and then, after a long gap, in 1945/46 Berlin.(The book was my first and only proper romance, though it had big elements of historical adventure too. The heroine was forty-something by the time of the Berlin chapters. She was also a sergeant in the Red Army and had just experienced a pretty bruising thirty years. The cover designer chose to represent her as an extremely elegant young woman, with immaculate make-up and a jauntily fashionable chapeau. I don’t think he knew a lot about the Red Army.)(Oh, and look, am I allowed two parentheses, even right at the start of an email? Yes? No? Yes. OK, so I also want to tell you that my German publisher liked the book but said that it was a bit different from my earlier fiction, which hadn’t had been primarily romance. So they asked, could I please adopt a penname for the work? I said yes. My full name is, as it happens, Thomas Henry Bingham, so I suggested that Tom Henry might work fine. They said OK, but they were thinking a woman’s name might be better …? I quite liked that idea, and was going to publish under the name Emma Makepeace, which I still think is a GENIUS name. Unfortunately, something happened to foul up the deal and that book was never published in German. I still have the petticoats though, just in case.)Anyway, the point of this email is neither cover design, nor pennames.I want to talk research. In this case, my research had to do with two well-studied historical periods, but really any kind of fiction might call for research. If you’re writing a psychological thriller where one character works in an advertising office, you need to know how advertising offices work. If there’s a bit of ocean-sailing adventure, you need to be able to tell port from starboard. Even if your work is totally speculative – full of androids working uranium mines on prison planets – you need to know something about uranium and the technology behind those androids and have a working model of the gravity / atmosphere / geology of your planet.To do that research, you’ll naturally hit Wikipedia and you’ll pick up some books.In my case, I learned a lot about the very interesting politics of Germany’s post-war occupation. The Western allies took very different approaches to the management of their sectors. The Soviets had, from the start, a no intention of anything other than a complete takeover of theirs.I like my history and I gobbled up plenty of textbooks and learned loads. But there’s a huge difference between regular history and the stuff that’s of interest to a novelist. So yes, you need to know the broader political history of a time. (Or a bit of formal geology, if you’re researching uranium mines. Or a bit of marketing theory if you’re researching ad agencies.)But ultimately you are in search of detail.So take my characters in 1946 Berlin. I knew a lot about the politics. I knew a lot about reconstruction of the city and the teams of women chipping mortar off fallen bricks so the things could be reused. I had some curious little family details. (My wife’s grandparents were German/Poles who ended up in Munich at the end of the war and lived in a refugee camp for years.)But none of that answered my questions. What did characters eat? What did they cook on? What occupation-bureaucracy did they have to deal with? With paper money almost worthless, what did they barter with?The best answers to those questions didn’t come from formal history books, but from ordinary diaries and memoirs. It didn’t even matter if those memoirs were badly written. They just needed to be chatty, discursive, full of detail.Those details are the ones to pounce on.Same thing with uranium mines. It’s all very well to read things in Wikipedia like this: “In conventional mining, ores are processed by grinding the ore materials to a uniform particle size and then treating the ore to extract the uranium by chemical leaching.”Good. You need to know that. But that doesn’t get us close to the felt experience of being a uranium miner. Uranium is radioactive. Humans need sheltering from the exposure. Open-cast uranium mining is therefore mostly done by miners operating inside sealed cabs in order to prevent them breathing in radioactive dust.But what happens when the sun shines on one of those cabs? Do they get hot? Are they air-conditioned? Does the driver even have the ability to open a window? What are the washdown procedures after work? What happens if you have a mechanical breakdown and have to leave the cab?Answering those questions will get your fictional miner ever closer to a believable character with a believable set of experiences.And you’re not just looking for details. You’re hunting for words. With uranium, it’s words like yellowcake, roll-front deposits, Geiger counter, shear zone, gamma ray spectrometer, heap leach, contamination, haul truck, primary crusher, and so on. With a vocabulary like that, you can already feel the credibility of the story beginning to build.Another trick: have your characters toss those words off as though they’re ordinary, not needing more explanation. It doesn’t really matter whether your reader completely understands the nature of yellowcake or knows how a primary crusher operates. If your characters use those terms with the fluency of the very familiar, your entire setting gains in authority. You’ll actually get more colour and credibility that way than if you burrow into a detailed description of the crusher. (Unless it matters of course. If you’re about to drop an aggressive robot into a primary crusher, then yes please, tell us about it.)And accuracy?Well, look, I’m an imagination-first kind of guy. If I’m considering whether or not to read a novel, the recommendation that “it’s very accurate on the topic of post-war Berlin / modern ad agencies / uranium mining,” is likely to make my heart sink. In the end, I think Imagination needs to dominate poor old Fact, the plain Jane of that sisterly pairing.But the more you know, the more your imagination can leap. Very often, you’ll find yourself holding back from a sentence you might want to write because you don’t quite know the factual detail needed to support it. So accumulate the facts, then leave them behind. Or, if the facts are wonderful, place them front and centre. I once wrote a book about the 1920s/30s oil industry. There were two or three major oil strikes described in that book and they were all closely based on the actual facts of what happened.And often fact just trumps anything that you might have dreamed up. A tiny example: in my research for the oil book, I read about a driller who fell out of the derrick onto the roof of the pumping shed and from there to the ground. He broke multiple bones but, while he was waiting for medical help, he said to his co-workers, ‘Well, ain’t you going to find a cigarette for this broken-assed son-of-a-bitch?’That’s such beautiful colour, you can’t help but want to use it.Even Plain Jane has her moments in the sun. Grab em. Use em. Have fun with them.What are you researching? What bountiful colour and detail has Plain Jane given to you? And who out there writes under a penname of the opposite sex? Maybe one of you is actually called Emma and writes under the name Butch Ribeye, or something. I\'m really hoping so.

The Micronesia of Publishing

It’s conventional to talk about publishing as split into two camps, two rival poles:There is Trad Land, populated by literary agents and Big Publishers and imprints whose colophons drip with history and just a little (nay, more than a little) snobbery. Back in the day, those places smelled of tweed and pipe-smoke. Women wore earnest glasses and looked mildly frazzled. They felt like places where you could talk about sentence structure without being laughed at and where all but the very rawest publicists had a hundred tales about Embarrassing Incidents involving Major Authors.Then there’s Planet Indie. (And yes: I’m muddling up my poles, lands and planets in a giant astro-geographical soup. But phooey to you. I live in a world beyond Lobachevsky and out here, in my universe, everything makes perfect sense.)On Planet Indie, things don’t smell of tweed and pipe-smoke. No one really knows what a colophon is. The only person who wears earnest glasses is you, if that happens to be the look you’re rocking. Planet Indie doesn’t have an assembly of gleaming towers in London and New York. It has – well, it has your bedroom and your living room and, quite often, the coffee shop you most often go to for caffeine / company / an internet connection that doesn’t curl up and die on you.Both places produce an awful lot of books and an awful lot of sales.Fiction is largely read electronically these days. Perhaps about seven-tenths of all fiction is consumed digitally (mostly e-book but a good splash of audio.) Add in the print fiction that is purchased online and cyberspace accounts for more than three quarters of all fiction sales. That’s territory which indie authors can compete for very successfully indeed. During our Self-Pub month (for members), I spoke to Marie Force who has sold ten million books, the vast majority of which she’s sold as an indie and the vast-vast majority of which will have sold in e-form.And yes: it’s still true that traditional acclaim tends to accrue to trad-published authors – print media doesn’t review indie authors, for no good reason beyond simple laziness. The result is that “authors you’ve heard of” and “authors who’ve sold a gazillion books” are non-identical sets. There’s plenty of overlap, of course, but media hoo-hah is not even remotely a reliable guide to book sales.Now all this, really, is by way of preamble, pre-canter, and pre-gallop, to the thing I really wanted to say. Namely this:Lots of IDIOTS – myself included – often talk as though there are only two ways to get published. Trad-land and Planet Indie. So when writers get rejected by literary agents, they often have a tendency to think of self-pub as their primary fallback.But, oh my friends, I have led you into grave error. There aren’t really two types of publishing, there are three.There’s Trad-land, with its agents, its colophons and its gleaming metropolitan towers.There’s Planet Indie, with its book sales, its productivity, and its faint smell of pyjamas.And there’s a whole scattered archipelago, the Micronesia of Publishing, populated by innumerable little micro-publishers, each of whom publish rather few titles and sell rather few books.But, of my friends, in those islands there be riches. Some examples:Risky literary fictionThe bigger publishers need to sell a reasonably large volume of any title to justify the launch costs. That now tends to rule out more challenging or more experimental fiction, except from authors already famous enough to sell pretty much anything.So a slew of really excellent literary micro-publishers has sprung into being. We’ve had as it happens a long association with the two principals behind Galley Beggar Press, a tiny publisher whose authors have won, or been short- or longlisted for, pretty much every major literary award you can think of. In terms of sheer quality of output, I doubt if there’s any Big 5 firm who could compete.But Galley Beggar isn’t unique. It’s part of a vigorous international constellation of such firms. They are producing some of the best fiction in the world today.Niche non-fictionLet’s say you’ve written a really important book about the history of needlework in the early Colonial period. Or – a book I kinda want to buy – a history of bilge pumps from 1500 to the present day. The world needs projects of passion like that, and no sane person would ever judge the worth of such books by the volume of sales they generate.No agent will touch those books. A 15% commission of Not Very Much is – um, let me get my calculator – approximately Not Very Much At All. So agents don’t want them.But you might not want to self-publish, and why should you? There’ll be a micro-publisher somewhere whose range on the history of maritime technology is badly missing something on bilge-pumps. They need your book.Niche memoirOr let’s say you’ve written a memoir with a mental health theme. Or an Iranian one. Those books may well be too niche to grace the front tables of a major bookstore. The big publishers aren’t well set-up to sell them. Agents don’t want them, for that precise reason.But there’ll be a publisher out there who absolutely does want those books and has an audience greedy to read them. You won’t reach a large volume of readers, but you will reach the readers you most want to reach. Those publishers too do a great job.***These reflections remind us that a lot of the advice out there on the internet – and a lot of the advice we give as Jericho Writers – is simply ignoring one of the most important ecosystems in publishing.We ignore it because the collective volume of sales is not that huge, but also because the geography of this archipelago is so hard to define. We at JW can point you at all the literary agents in the world. We’ve placed clients with all the Big 5 on multiple occasions. But we don’t know even 10% of the micro-publishers out there. No one does.You, as author, simply have to navigate your own seas. You know your niche. You can find out the publishers who publish work for that niche. Dig out contact details. Address them direct. You don’t need an agent. You don’t need to feel timid or underqualified. If you’ve written that book on bilge-pumps, then someone wants it. Find them. Do a deal. Get published.And if you do get published, then I bow to you. There’s as much honour and majesty in getting your book on bilge-pumps published by a passionate and knowledgeable house as there is in getting your samey police procedural published by a big house that publishes a million other samey police procedurals.I’ll probably slip back into dividing the world into trad and indie, just because the habit is so ingrained. But please don’t forget that when I do so, I LIE. There are three broad camps, not two, and they all count.

Finding the red thread

One of the strangest experiences in any author’s life arrives the moment they sign their first two-book deal. (And yes: fiction is normally sold in chunks of two. There’s no rigorous logic operating there, except that the first book is the one that attracted the publisher and the second one gives them another opportunity to profit from the success of the first. It also, incidentally, gives them the opportunity to compound their loss if the first book loses money, as most first books do. And yes: Publishing Logic is not really the same thing as actual Logic-Logic.)Anyway: we were talking about strangeness. And your first book almost certainly came to you in a rush of inspiration. Yes! I have to write that story. My head is full of these characters, these events, and I have to set them down.That opening burst of inspiration eventually produced a manuscript, some rejections, an acceptance and a book deal. Well done you.But it also produces, right now, the expectation – indeed, the contractual obligation – that you will write another book of the same standard.Yikes! That inspiration? Where did it come from? How do you invoke it? How do you ask it to strike again, in the exact same spot as before, and in a timely enough way that you can meet the date written into your contract?The ask seems impossible. Seems – and sometimes is. I know a couple of authors whose second books simply didn’t meet the levels of their first. In one case, I know the author simply bashed out a serviceable but uninspired second novel because she didn’t know what else to do. Her career never recovered.But there are solutions. There are ways for you to invoke that inspiration. To find it reliably and, as it were, to order.The trick is to forget about the bolt of lightning. That’s not what you’re looking for. You’re searching for the tickle of interest, a quickening of interest, the red thread lying in the blue.Here’s a news story that tickled me today:The sheriff’s office announced Monday that [a woman from’ Salt Lake County], who had been missing since before Thanksgiving, had been found alive in an area not far from where she was camping. Authorities said the woman, who had yet to be publicly identified, “had lost a significant amount of weight and was weak” when she was found. She was lauded by the sheriff’s office as “resourceful,” living off grass, moss and water from a river.“We now believe she knowingly chose to remain in the area over the months since November 2020,” the sheriff’s office said in a news release.The bit I love about that is the grass and the moss. It’s such a great novelistic detail. “Living off squirrels, edible tubers and insects” would have given a totally different and (to me) less interesting tale.Or another example:I was with a friend yesterday, who told me that she’d had a spate of burst tyres on her car. Each time she had a burst tyre, she got a call the next day from her (rather dodgy) ex, asking how she was. When she became suspicious at these coincidences, she checked her car and found a tracking device fixed to the inside rim of her wheel arch.Or – Well, when I was wondering what to write about for my last book, I started browsing the website of the National Crime Agency and other similar outfits. There, I saw some references to antiquities fraud, which intrigued me. That criss-crossed with the idea that King Arthur was a genuine figure of the early Welsh Dark Ages. And what if …?What you notice here is that the story never arrives fully formed. It doesn’t even really present itself as a story, exactly. Not even the raw material for a story. At most, it presents as a kind of doorway into something. A portal.It is your task to bundle your way through that opening. To be active, not passive.So the woman in Utah with the moss and the grass: why was she there? What was it like for her? Was she running from something? Or to something? Who missed her? Who was looking for her?I don’t have much interest in what the actual answers to those questions are. Personally, I tend to discard the actual facts of any real-world story pretty quickly. It’s your answers that matter, not the actual facts of the case.Take that friend with the dodgy ex. The person in question threw the tracker away, changed her phone number, cut any kind of contact with the nutter. That was the end of her story, but your story would leave the actual facts almost immediately. Maybe she put a tracker on his car? Or started to mess with his head by popping her tracker onto the side of a lorry bound for France. Or …?The moral here, really, is that life – and your reading, and your existing interests – already furnish you with a million ideas for stories, far more than you could ever write.Your task is to notice those trembles of interest, then explore actively. Discard anything that doesn’t open out into something yet more inviting. Explore the pathways left open as deeply and actively as you can. “Actively” here means reading. It means writing. It means starting to write notes on possible stories.Inspiration can strike anyone, anywhere. But it only kindles fire when you’re at your desk, ready and working.

Leaky pipes

Last week, we talked about how you can manage your affairs effectively even if you feel daunted by the potential scale of the marketing challenges involved in modern bookselling.This week I want to pick up the thought I ended with: leaky pipes and thirsty sweet peas.Let’s assume your book is on sale on Amazon. Let’s assume you can throw as much traffic as that page as you could reasonably wish.I don’t know whether your book is for sale yet, but the second assumption is certainly true. You can throw traffic at your Amazon page. As much as you want. You can buy advertising on Facebook, on Bookbub and on Amazon itself. There are dozens of other traffic sources available too.So the two basic needs for any sale campaign are perfectly doable. You can create the product and you can generate a flow of potential buyers.So is there anything to stop your book selling well, pleasing readers and putting money in your pocket?Well: yes and no.No: there’s no reason why that shouldn’t be possible in theory.But yes: most indie authors (and plenty of trad publishers) foul it up in practice. And it’s not too hard to figure out why. Let’s start with a simple thought experiment. What would it be for a book’s marketing campaign to run perfectly? What would perfection actually look like? And to simplify the thought experiment, let’s refine that a little. Assume all your book sales are on Amazon – or at least, let’s ignore other retailers for now.So, a perfectly tuned marketing machine would look like this:Have you visible on any Amazon search page where your readers are likely to gatherConvert 100% of those readers to visit your book pageInduce 100% of those readers to buy your bookCompel 100% of those readers to read your book right to the endComplete their journey by (a) reviewing the book, (b) buying the next in the series, and (c) signing up to your readers’ clubGet readers to open and read every email you sendGet 100% sales from your mailing list when you next launch a bookIf 1000 people saw your book listed on an Amazon search page, that would convert into 1000 sales, 1000 reviews, and 1000 additions to your email list.Now, OK, that won’t happen, but the thought experiment is still useful. Let’s look again at the marketing funnel and identify what the key conversion points are:Have you visible on Amazon search. You need to fully optimise your title, subtitle, categories and keywords to achieve this. That means identifying the key bestseller lists where your readers are likely to assemble and figuring out what search terms people actually use to find books like yours.Persuade those readers to visit your book page.The only conversion tools you have here are title, cover, price and reviews. Price isn’t really a factor on its own, in the sense that you’ll be competing against other similarly priced titles. Equally, you’re not very likely to stand out from the competition via title alone or (in the early days) reviews. So that says that getting your cover right is a vastly important factor. Perhaps the single most important one in selling your book.Induce 100% of those readers to buy your book. OK, so now you have got potential readers to leave the search page and arrive at your book page. Great. That’s a key step in your conversion channel. And please note, that while a lot of readers will find your book page via some kind of Amazon search, plenty of readers will arrive directly at your book page from somewhere else completely: a social media post, a link in an ebook, an email, a blogger talking about your book, or anything else. So for some readers at least the Amazon leg of the marketing journey starts right here, with your book page.Amazon, of course, controls most of the real estate of your book page, so you have a limited number of elements under your direct control. The key ones there are: cover (again, and in a larger size this time), title, blurb, price and reviews. Of these, the two critical ones are going to be blurb and cover.Oh yes, and for plenty of readers, but not all, the purchase decision will be swayed by a quick visit to the “Look Inside” view of your book. The key conversion factor there? A blindingly good bit of opening text.4. Compel 100% of your readers to read your book right to the end No doubt about what the key factor here is: does your book please the reader? Most books aren’t read. According to data gathered by analytics company, Jellybooks: “On average, fewer than half of the books tested were finished by a majority of readers. Most readers typically give up on a book in the early chapters. Women tend to quit after 50 to 100 pages, men after 30 to 50. Only 5 percent of the books Jellybooks tested were completed by more than 75 percent of readers. Sixty percent of books fell into a range where 25 percent to 50 percent of test readers finished them.”That’s scary stuff. Most readers don’t finish most books. But the absolute key conversion factor in terms of your longer term career is simply this: Does your book get read? Would anyone want to buy another book by you?5. Get all your readers to (a) review the book, (b) buy the next in the series, and (c) sign up to your readers’ club Writing an amazing book will be the biggest conversion factor here (and by a mile), but how good is your ebook at performing those other chores?It’s not uncommon, still, for trad-published books to do an appalling job of hooking readers in for the long haul, but plenty of indies mess up as well. If you only have a timid “Please subscribe to my newsletter” somewhere in the copyright notices and other boring rubbish at the back of the book, then no one will subscribe. So your mailing list won’t grow. Similarly, if you don’t ask for reviews at all, or don’t ask in the right way, or don’t supply a one-click link to the relevant review page, then you’re not likely to get reviews.6. Get readers to open and read every email they send It’s not uncommon for big publishers to have a single-digit open rate on their emails. Open rates for individual authors writing to their readers should be thirty percent or more. A really well-curated list can manage 50%. And those open rates matter, because when you come to send out the email that really matters to you – the launch email, the buy-my-book one – it’s not the number of names on your list that matters. It’s the number of people who bother to read what you’ve sent them.What makes the difference here? It’s how much value your emails generally deliver, plus some technicalities around avoiding users’ spam filters and that kind of thing. Mostly though, it’s content, content, content. Do you write stuff that readers want to read?7. Get 100% sales from your list at launch The conversion factor here will be an accumulation of everything else. But really? If people love your books and open your emails, they’ll buy the next book when you tell em it’s ready to go.Now, pretty obviously, no one has the perfect marketing system, or anything close.If your book page converts at even 20%, that will be an excellent result. (In other words, 1 in every 5 readers will end up buying your book having landed on your book page.) If you are selling your ebook at $4.99, you would do well to achieve even that conversion rate.If 75% of readers actually finish your book, that will place you amongst the most successful titles out there.As for email list sign ups, you would do well to get 1 in every 10 people signing up for your list.An open rate of 40% on emails would be strong.And what about the percentage of people who, having bought book #1 in your series, go on to buy books #2, #3 and #4? That’s a massively important stat. If you have a series that is three or more books long, then you should be aiming for a series readthrough of 50% or better. (ie: if you sell 1000 copies of book #1, you sell at least 500 of book #3.)These things matter a vast amount.Go back to the idea we started with: you have a book. You can easily generate traffic to the relevant sales page. Bingo. Your career is made.Except that it costs you money to generate that traffic. And whether that traffic will end up generating revenue depends entirely on how leaky your sales system is.And when do you think paid advertising is likely to work the best:When your marketing pipes are leaking paid traffic all over the place?Or when each one of those joints in your marketing network are as watertight as humanly possible?Put like that, it’s really obvious that advertising just can’t work if the rest of your system is leaky. Indeed, since the price of ads will be driven up by professional authors who have a non-leaky system, there’s no chance at all that authors with a badly leaking system can make money.And that’s why, in almost every case, when people tell me “I tried advertising but it didn’t work”, the principal issue doesn’t lie in the advertising itself. It lies in all the stuff that has to be right before any kind of marketing activity is going to succeed.That’s why most people fussing over their blog tour, or their social media posts, or their CPC on Facebook ads are simply looking at the wrong thing. Those things matter only if the rest of your system is already up to scratch.These considerations are most keenly felt by indie authors, as they have all the levers of marketing power under their own direct control. But trad authors face the same basic challenge: building a leak-proof marketing system. Yes, it’ll be their publishers who face the challenge of driving traffic to a page, but in the end, it’s the author who cares most about the end result.Is your book good enough?Is your cover strong?Is your blurb attractive?Do readers sign up to and engage with your mailing list?You need your answers here to be emphatically positive. If you are an indie, and you recognise that you could do better on these issues, then your first task is to fix them.If you’re trad-published, and these things aren’t right, then you need to do what you can to secure the changes you need. (Which will be harder, because you don’t have direct control.)These things are hard. And they are time-consuming. And some of them cost money. (Primarily editorial help and book covers.) But you have to do them anyway.If your irrigation pipes leak, your plants won’t get watered, no matter how wildly you turn the tap.If your irrigation pipes are reasonably watertight, then watering your plants is child’s play.Sermon over.I am now going to supervise my children using a real and actual hose to water some real and actual sweet peas. My prediction? We will all get very wet.

How to be organised

I like tea and I need reading glasses.I mention this only because both activities require some basic accessories: a china cup in one case and a pair of glasses in the other.But those accessories aren’t actually glued to me and I often put them down. Because I’m absent-minded, I often forget where I put them or, indeed, that I had them with me at all.The result? I leave a trail of tea mugs and reading glasses wherever I go. When I’m on the phone, I’ll often walk into the garden or down the road outside the house. (Walking is good for brain activity and conversations, in my opinion, happen better outdoors.) Trouble is, I’ll often have a cup of tea in my hand, put it down when it’s finished, then forget that I’ve done so. It’s perfectly common for me to find a mug of tea in our vegetable patch, a pair of glasses on a box hedge, or any empty cup, with a pair of glasses in, on the verge outside our gate.This sounds like a mildly chaotic (if agreeably bucolic) way of life, and I suppose it is. While more organised people buy designer glasses for eighty pounds the pair, I buy my glasses from Amazon, ten pounds for three. So when the kids sit on a pair, or I leave them in a café, or a hedge somewhere just grows over their carcass, I don’t really mind. Just chalk the cost up to me being me.Now, I mention this because earlier in the week I talked to Rachel Abbott about her career in self-publishing.(Short recap if you missed the webinar: she built a tech company, sold it and retired. But when she retired she wrote a book that became the #1 bestseller on Amazon for eleven weeks. That book launched a whole new career and Rachel has been a huge-selling author ever since.)And:Rachel is organised and productive.She has self-pub books, books with Amazon Publishing, and books with a Big 5 firm. She sells overseas in multiple languages. She has an agent and multiple editors and a virtual assistant in Serbia.She divides her marketing efforts up by type of reader. (Red-hot: her passionate fans. Warm: people who have read a book or so, but aren’t yet addicts. Cold: people who haven’t yet read her stuff.)She thinks about ad platforms and her Facebook page and her Facebook group and email lists.She manages multiple series. And has to write the damn books. And deal with edits. And do all that while (in theory) retired and enjoying the gentler life.All this is kind of intimidating to the rest of humankind.What if you’re not quite so superhuman? What if – just to pick an example – your kids are quite likely to come in from the garden having found your glasses in the strawberry bed? Or rescued from the roof of a car before it drove away?Well.A few thoughts.First, this isn’t just about self-pubCertainly, self-pubbers have more on their plates than trad-authors do, but any really high-profile author is juggling a lot. I know of one reasonably successful literary author, who has mastered the art of being a literary author. Hanging out at the right parties, knowing the right people, popping up on the right talk shows, and all that. Her books aren’t actually all that good, but she’s parlayed a middling level talent into quite a successful career by just working her own specific channels as hard as she can.The short message is that flourishing careers involve complexity, whether you’re trad-published & literary or self-published and genre. You can reduce the challenges by going trad, but you certainly don’t eliminate them.Second, write wellBeing a good writer always, always helps. Marketing bad books is a pretty much impossible exercise. (Not quite, but almost.) Marketing good ones ought to be, and is, a much simpler exercise. The heart of any writer’s job lies exactly where you want it to: putting the right words in the right order.Third, focus on what works for youWhat works for you? What things are you good at? What do you enjoy?If you love the chatter and hubbub of Facebook, then go for it. Use it strategically, and with a clear plan in mind, but you can certainly make that the centre of your marketing work.If you like the mix of creativity (ad creation) and geekiness (ad dashboards) involved in advertising, then ride that tiger.If you like direct communication with your reader – which you should; you’re a writer – then a mailing list should certainly be at the centre of things for you.And so on.You can’t be good at everything and you don’t need to be good at everything. You need roughly three reliable traffic sources to succeed. In self-pub, those sources might be your mailing list, promo sites (like Bookbub) and one paid advertising platform.In trad-land, you need decent supermarket uptake, plus a good presence on Amazon, plus some additional means of driving interest in your books. (A successful publicity campaign can work, but don’t just assume that what your publisher does will be sufficient. It usually isn’t.)Fourth, get the basics rightAny marketing, whether trad or indie, will basically fail unless you have the basics right. I started to write a checklist and why it matters so much, then realised the topic was big enough – and important enough – for a whole separate email.I’ll write that email another time but, for now, just know that getting the basics right is critical. Do you love your blurb? Is your cover stunning, and appealing to the exact right audience? Is your pricing right? Do you have authentic book reviews (or a plan for getting them)?You don’t have to have a Rachel Abbott level of organisation to achieve those things. You just need to realise that they matter and you need to go on worrying at them until they’re right.Cheer for the disorganisedSo yes, if you are a Monarch of the Spreadsheet, an Empress of the List, you’re lucky. I’m not.If you are capable of hanging onto a cup of tea or a pair of glasses for an entire day without losing them, then you’re lucky. I’m not.But writing well, focusing on what matters, and finding a small handful of things that you can do well? That’s enough. Trad or indie, that’s enough.And the heart of it all? The bit that matters most? It’s the ability to put sentences together in a way that pleases readers. Nothing else.Now I’m off to go and find tea mugs amidst the bindweed. It’s sunny here and the tulips are out.

How to build an author website (without screaming)

I wrote an email before this one – reread it – didn’t like – and scrapped it. So here instead is a workhorse of an email. A sixteen-hand carthorse with shaggy fetlocks and a willingness to pull heavy farm implements in the rain.Because we’ve just relaunched our own website, the theme of this email is what your author site needs to do – and the most practical way to do it.Rule the first: get a site.If you’re even half-serious about making a living from writing, then you need a site. No real author-led marketing can happen without it.Rule the second: Build like you mean itEveryone knows what to expect from the domain name of an author site. You either want to be harrybingham.com (or.co.uk, or whatever) or – if you share a name with someone more famous than you – something like jamesdeanauthor.com.Don’t go for something funky like crazypinkrabbits.com, no matter how appealing that is to you. Your most basic bit of branding simply needs to identify your site as the thing that readers are looking for when they search. That means either just yourname.com or yournameauthor.com. Save the jokes for your author bio.Equally, although you can get free hosting if you choose a site like yourname.wordpress.com, you should spend the (fairly small) additional cost in direct hosting – that means cutting out the “.wordpress” part of that domain address.Rule the third: Simplify yourselfYes, I know. You are a complex human creature with thoughts and opinions on the poetry of Robert Frost, how to bake sourdough, the state of coffee farmers in Nicaragua, bluegrass music, eighteenth century epistolatory novels, and women’s soccer.But shut up about it.Your website is not a platform for you. It is a platform for your books.If you want to discuss all the poetry/sourdough/soccer stuff, then feel free to do so – but somewhere different. Your author website is a marketing asset. Keep it that way.Rule the fourth: Use the right toolsThese days, you need to WordPress. There are simple drag-and-drop website builders out there, but they will all limit you in the longer run if you seek to develop your site. WordPress is insanely powerful with a tool for every need you could possibly have. So use it.WordPress comes with a million different themes on offer. (The website theme is the bit of code that acts as the chassis for everything else.) Don’t get bogged down in trying to choose and don’t let your web designer just pick something he or she is familiar with. The best theme for your site is Parallax for Writers by GoCreate. When you buy the theme (for $600), you’ll get most of your site set up for free. More info here.Rule the fifth: if in doubt, pay someoneTen years ago, I didn’t have a website. I didn’t quite see the point.Then I got a contract for my work in America. I flew out to New York to meet the team. And someone said, “Oh, you need a website.” So I built one. In an afternoon. And quite a pretty site it was too.The whole thing cost me a few bucks a month.But it was still limited. When I redeveloped the site, I wanted a few add-ons that I couldn’t get from my simple site. So I paid someone about a grand, because I didn’t want the hassle of doing the work myself. On the one hand, that’s quite a lot of money. On the other hand, no serious author is without a properly designed and properly functioning website, so it’s money you need to spend.The short message is that you either need to do the work yourself, or pay someone. You can’t just avoid the issue.Rule the sixth: brand for the futureA lot of authors, seeing their first ever book cover, decide to place the cover art at the centre of their entire site design.And then – the paperback looks different from the hardback.Your US cover looks different from your UK cover.Your second book uses different colour and cover art.Your fancily designed website soon loses touch with the books that readers are actually looking at.The answer to this conundrum is simply to make sure that your website embodies your brand, not your book. So if you’re writing cosy crime, your site will feature quilts and grannies and cats and the like. If you’re writing second world war historical fiction, you’ll have soldiers and tanks and planes of the right vintage. If you’re writing gritty police procedural, you’ll use monochromes and cityscapes with splashes of bright acid colour.Do that, and your site art won’t need to change every time you change a cover.***Now all of this sounds like – and is – sensible advice, but I’ve so far skirted the issue of what a website is actually for. And you need to understand this, because most authors – and most publishers – get it wrong. So listen carefully as I tell you:The Golden RuleThe purpose of your website is to collect email addresses.That’s it. The core purpose.Yes, you may also achieve other things. (Provide a way for your readers to contact you. Provide a way for media opportunities to reach you. Provide a bio for those interested. Provide a longer guide to your books than Amazon offers. And so on.)But all those things are ancillary. The thing that actually matters is that your website is a stellar way to collect the email addresses of the people who land there. That way, you can communicate directly with them whenever you want.As it happens, I’m doing a (member-only) webinar on mailing lists tonight. If you can listen along then do. If not, then catch up on replay.But, long story short, mailing lists are the most powerful tool any author possesses. They have driven my own self-pub career. My own trad career. And they drive Jericho Writers too.My author website picks up email addresses from about two thirds of the people who land on it. If I hadn’t made that email collection central to the design, my conversion rate would be far lower – perhaps in the low sing digits – and my author career would have been far different.I won’t talk long here about how to optimise for email collection, but I will say that you need a proper landing page (ie: one stripped of all normal navigation tools). Therte’s a bit more on this in the PSes if you want to know more.That is all from me.This carthorse of an email intends to plod steadily towards a barn full of hay, a bucket of warm water, a groom with a curry comb, and heaps of fresh straw.If you\'ve got questions about websites, then ask away in the comments and I\'ll do my best to answer. Oh yes, and if you can, hop onto the mailing list webinar this evening. The topic is a very important one.

The fourth line, and then the fifth line …

As you know, I’m on a George Saunders kick at the moment, and this email closes a trilogy inspired by his Swim In A Pond In The Rain. More about all that in a second – but first up, just a word to say that there\'s some important housekeeping material in the first comment below this post. All important stuff - and you\'re quite likely to be affected, so do take a look.Righty-ho. Editing. Writing and editing:-I want to start with something Saunders says at the very beginning of his work. He says this:Years ago, on the phone with Bill Buford, then fiction editor of The New Yorker, enduring some painful edits, feeling a little insecure, I went fishing for a compliment: ‘But what do you like about the story?’ I whined. There was a long pause. And Bill said this: ‘Well, I read a line. And I like it … enough to read the next.’… I’ve taken a lot of comfort in this idea over the years. I don’t need a big theory of fiction to write it. I don’t have to worry about anything but: Would a reasonable person, reading line four, get enough of a jolt to go on to line five?In a way, that’s the whole deal, right? If someone enjoys our writing enough to read it through at a happy canter, we’ve won. Some readers will find more in a book than others. Some people will rank us higher or lower than some other comparable authors. But don’t be fussy. If someone reads our work, line by line, to the end, we’ve done what we came to do.In the past week or two, I’ve run a self-editing webinar where I live-edited about 1000 words of text, over the space of about an hour. We also spent time, you and I, with that white chairs / green terraces exercise, where we all spent a lot of time trying to find a way to say something simple in about ten words (without, I think, yet finding a completely satisfactory answer.)Many of you will have felt a little frustrated by the amount of time I’m willing to spend on apparently minor things. (Does whitely work as an adjective? Can Dan talk about his sister standing outside his door, when he doesn’t actually know if she’s standing or not?)And, just to be clear, I really am willing to spend time on minor things. When I fuss over minutiae on a webinar, I’m not putting on a show simply because I have an hour-long gig to deliver. I’m doing in public what I do all the time in private. The truth, indeed, is worse than you fear. In an hour-long webinar, I’m conscious of the need to entertain and keep moving. At home, with no one watching, I’ll just redo the same damn sentence as long as it takes to make me happy.So yes: I am picky. And yes: I too subscribe to the Buford Theory of Fiction (BTF): If sentence N is good enough, they’ll read sentence N + 1, and …According to that theory, micro-blockages in a piece of text can accumulate to lethal effect. If you write a sentence that forces the reader to pause and re-construe the sentence in her head, you’ve created a momentary interruption in the flow. A few such interruptions in the course of a book are perhaps inevitable. But two or three such blockages on a single page? That book is one that the BTF tells you will never be read.So editing is good for that reason.But Saunders says – let’s call this the Saunders Theory of Fiction, the STF – that editing is also the process that creates highly organised fiction (or, if you prefer, simply good fiction.) Here is Saunders again:We can reduce all writing to this: we read a line, have a reaction to it, trust (accept) that reaction, and do something in response, instantaneously, by intuition.That’s it.Over and over.It’s kind of crazy but, in my experience, that’s the whole game: (1) becoming convinced that there is a voice inside you that really, really knows what it likes, and (2) getting better at hearing that voice and acting on its behalf.(I always like Gore Vidal’s way of saying something similar: ‘Style is knowing who you are, what you want to say, and not giving a damn.’ That’s simple, reliable advice. Just apply it – and boom! Twenty years later, you’ll be a good writer.)But Saunders presses home a wider point, which is that the repetitious action of read / react / change / re-read ends up building into something that is you, but is also bigger than you. More humane. Funnier. More observant. More insightful. More nuanced. More coherent.On the one hand, you’re not that funny, that observant, that nuanced – but you can be a bit of all those things, sometimes. So you capture the funny when the funny is there. Four paragraphs later, a phrase floats onto the page that has more deftness, more nuance than the thing you replaced. Your page still isn’t that funny, or that nuanced, but what the hell? You’re only on round #4 of the editing. You’ve got lots more opportunities to find the humane / observant / funny / tender, etc. Each time you adjust the manuscript, the book will have more of you breathing in it, but a better, perfected sort of you.What’s more, as the book takes shape, your story starts pushing things at you. The decisions you make about sentence 8 on page 197 are informed by the 196 pages you’ve already read and the 112 pages that follow (and whose content you already know.)An example: my current work in progress is based in a secure psychiatric hospital on the west coast of Wales. The hospital has something of the air of a ‘fortress built by Nature for herself’, but my description of the hospital never quite found a way to make the surrounding ocean feel present and alive. There’s a scene where my character first arrives at the hospital, and I’d already reviewed and rewritten that scene a dozen or more times without finding a way to get the sea in there (or, indeed, realizing that I needed to.) But by the time I’d finished the book and had the whole of it, so to speak, in my hand, I felt precisely what the deficiency was and started – Saunders-like – to scramble towards a solution.As that process continues, the themes and metaphors of the book will start to take shape and cohere, by themselves. I won’t be thinking, “Gee, need to make more of the sea-as-metaphor.” I’ll just react to sentences and scenes, and go on making my fiddlesome little corrections, until I start to get happy. And, based on past experience, I predict that when I get happy enough to say ‘Finished’, the book will have taken on enough complexity and coherence to be something of value in the world.That’s all from me, but do remember to take a look immediately below in the comments, because there lurk truffles.

The click of billiard balls

I mentioned last week that I was reading George Saunders’ A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, a book about reading and writing. It’s a very good book and I recommend it.At one point, Saunders writes:I’ve worked with so many wildly talented young writers over the years that I feel qualified to say that there are two things that separate writers who go on to publish from those who don’t.First, a willingness to revise.Second, the extent to which the writer has learned to make causality.I’ve probably worked with as many writers as Saunders has. (Though, young? Tush! The oldest client of ours to become a top 10 bestseller was the 84-year-old Barbara Tate. You don’t need to be young to have something to say.) And on that willingness-to-revise issue: well, he’s right.The most frustrating writers I’ve ever dealt with are ones who come to us with a really strong manuscript, which they then don’t revise. I remember one writer in particular who had a genuinely interesting and well-written manuscript. It needed a brisk haircut, three or four weeks in the workshop, and it would have been ready to meet some agents. And – it never did. It never got there. I’d look at version N+1 of the manuscript and be genuinely perplexed. Had I in fact received version N by mistake? And then I’d look and I’d find that, no, sure enough, a few specific paragraphs had changed in response to very specific comments by me.But those comments had always been simply illustrative of more general points: “Your characterisation is sometimes sloppily general, for example on page 243, where you say …” The issue on page 243 might have been fixed, but the manuscript just didn’t reflect the broader comment I’d been struggling to get across.I think it’s probably true to say that not one of those authors has ever been published. And honestly? They didn’t deserve it either.Really, though, I want to focus on Saunders’s other issue: causality.He writes:Making causality doesn’t seem sexy or particularly literary. It’s a workmanlike thing, to make A cause B … But it’s the hardest thing to learn. It doesn’t come naturally, not to most of us. But that’s really all a story is: a series of things that happen in sequence, in which we can discern a pattern of causality …This is important, because causation is what create the appearance of meaning.“The queen died, and then the king died” (E.M. Forster’s famous formulation) describes two unrelated events happening in sequence. It doesn’t mean anything. “The queen died, and the king died of grief” puts those events into relation; we understand that one caused the other. The sequence, now infused with causality, means: “That king really loved his queen.”And yes: just yes.Causality gives stories meaning, which gives them purpose. You can’t have a memorable or interesting story that doesn’t have layers of meaning – and rich causal relationships.But I want to pick at this a bit more, not least because Saunders addresses himself, in large part, to literary writers. But we genre authors are in the same old boat, with the same sails, ropes and steering tackle.We have the same aim: write an engaging story! And the same means of propulsion: characters at move in the world, events connecting up via chains of causality.Yet things only start to get interesting when the causality gets complicated and (preferably) a little but murky too.An example:Let’s say you want your detective novel to end with the baddie taking your protagonist, an unarmed female detective, hostage down at the now-deserted docks. OK, good. That sounds like a perfectly good strategy to me.But why would your unarmed female detective go and explore those dark and deserted docks by herself? Those of us who write police stories have an eternal battle: we want drama, but police forces really don’t. The author solution to any plot-climax is: get the protagonist one-to-one and face to-face with the baddie. The police solution is: deploy overwhelming force so the baddie has absolutely no chance to get one-to-one and face to-face with anyone.The classic authorial response involves some kind of side-shuffle. Damn! The detective’s phone is out of signal. Damn! She’d call for help, but she’s in trouble with her boss, so ... Damn! She would call for help, but she has a stone in her shoe and …And, OK, you do probably need a thing-in-the-world type solution like these. Such things help.But they can’t be all. That can’t be your everything.Saunders, remember, links causality with meaning – and a lost phone signal doesn’t deliver any kind of interesting meaning at all. So you need to pair up your thing-in-the-world solution with something fuzzier, darker and more capable of complex interpretation. So:Your protagonist is half in love with the dark marauder at the docks.She feels that dark marauder is her – that he embodies a part of what she is.She thinks the dark marauder may be her father; she doesn’t know if she wants to capture him or free him.Or something elseIn one of my novels, The Dead House, my character investigates a number of disappearances. It turns out that the victims have been forced into a life of religious service, that they did not invite and cannot escape. At the crucial point in the book, my character, Fiona, has pieced together about 80% of the mystery. She knows enough that she could escape it – but doesn’t. Her investigation leads her – alone – down a dark country path. There she finds the clue that completes her understanding of the case, but also leads to her capture. She too is about to be forced into a life of painfully narrow religious service.So why? Why does she go alone?Well, yes: I provided the reader with enough thing-in-the-world type explanations to satisfy the most basic objections. But that wouldn’t have been enough. That would have delivered an excuse, yes, but no meaning. So I tried to write the relevant scenes with a sense of longing as well as one of horror. After the book’s denouement, one of the rescued prisoners (a Russian woman) sits and talks with Fiona. Here’s a (very trimmed down) version of what happens:We sit.Opposite each other at a short refectory table. Like staring into a mirror, except that she is taller than me, and very pale. The skin and eyes of a land close to the High Arctic.Her kirtle is beaded around the neckline, where mine is plain, but the bootstring lacing at the front is the same. The grey cloth is the same. The weight of scratchy wool. The thin, almost sheer, undershirt.I say, ‘Last night. You saw me through the glass? I thought I felt it.’‘Yes. You are a police?’‘A police officer. Yes.’‘Last night, when I see you, I—’‘Yes?’I think this is what I wanted to know. The reason I asked to see this woman. I want to understand what she felt. What she saw.She says, ‘I don’t know. I have two thought. One is, you are real one. You are really here to do this thing [life as a religious anchorite].’ She sweeps her hand from wimple down towards the hem of her skirt. ‘You have this in your face which say, “Yes, I am come to really do this.” But also, I think, this woman make us free. How, I don’t know, but . . . this woman make us free.’And that’s causality operating the way Saunders means. It’s not really the click of billiard balls he’s after – a pattern that could be fully described in mathematics alone – it’s the murk of human-to-human causation.Was Fiona there to rescue prisoners? Or submit to a life of religious service? In the end, she chooses the rescue option. (Of course. Duh! I have a series to write.) But we feel the temptation of the other course too. The terrible beauty. The way it could attract a character like mine.So why did she let herself be caught? Because she wanted to be caught. Even phrasing it like that is too crass, too simple – but that basic pull of attraction was an essential ingredient in the cassoulet.So, folks. Revise lots. Work with causality yes, but make it complicated. Dodgy phone signals are fine, up to a point, but your deeper meanings – your story purpose – those will always lie buried in a complex human heart.And how about you? Are you struggling with a problem of causation where your thing-in-the-world solution just feels insufficient. Or have you read something which inspired you to dig out deeper, more ambiguous connections in your own work? Let me know below, and we\'ll all have a Heated Debate.

How Does Instafreebie Work?

How To Use Prolific Works To Promote Your Books Looking for an article on Instafreebie? It’s called Prolific Works now. Prolific Works (formerly Instafreebie) is a site that gives ebooks away free to anyone who wants them. That sounds nice for readers, but not great for authors, except that the giveaway comes with a sweet little wrinkle. Because, to collect their free ebook, readers must give you – the author – their email address. Here, for example, are what Prolific Works giveaway pages look like. You’ll see there’s a book cover. A “come and get it” headline. And an easy sign-up form. PW isn’t really a way of giving away books, then, rather a way to give away books in exchange for an email address. And since presumably no one downloads a British-set crime novel unless they are interested in reading British-set crime novels, the email addresses you collect are from the reader group you are seeking to target. Expert tip: when you set up your giveaway page, you’ll be asked whether you want to oblige readers to sign up to your email list, or whether you’re fine making it optional. In the old days, we used to urge people to make the sign-up mandatory, but with changes to the system post-GDPR rules, we now advise you to make the email list signup optional. Conversion rates will be lower, but those will be balanced out by much better visibility. So – sorry – but optional it is. How Does Anyone Find Your Giveaway Page? People will come to your giveaway page in one of two ways. You’ll have directed them there, via your blog, your social media activity, and all the rest.PW will highlight new, interesting giveaways using its own resources (it’s had millions of downloads from its site already and the firm only started in 2014). And who does Prolific Works choose to highlight? Just those authors who are most active in promoting their work. The more you do, the more they’ll do for you. It’s win-win. Expert tip: if you’re active on social media, use @prolific_works or in your Tweets. If you’re doing other good things, just drop them a short summary email so they can see what you’re up to, but don’t let your good work go unnoticed. You don’t need to badger them, though. Stay professional, not needy. Why The Book-For-Email Exchange Is Good (Even For ‘Lazy’ Authors) You and PW between you will promote your giveaway page. The reader gets a book. You get an email address. What next? You don’t want to spam or abuse the trust of that reader. You wouldn’t make money if you did, so how do you – honestly and honourably – use your ability to make direct contact with that reader? Even if you’re almost totally passive on Prolific Works, you might make some money. Let’s say you get readers’ email addresses on them downloading books from PW. You do nothing straight away, but when your next book comes out, you email everyone on your list – including those PW readers – to say, ‘Hey, my new book is here, do come and get it’ (or words to that effect). That strategy is low-effort, but it can be rewarding in three ways: Your PW readers may love that book and go out and seek your other work on Amazon.Your PW readers may buy your new book when you come to launch it.The added weight of those PW readers will help boost your sales rank on launch, and that higher sales rank will mean higher overall visibility on Amazon, which means more eyes looking at your book, which means higher sales. That’s how PW can work for you, even if you’re not fussed about using it actively. And perhaps you’re lazy like me, but you don’t have to be disorganised, right? Let’s look at a more engaged, active strategy. Expert tip: Read the next section. Do what it tells you! Why The Book-for-Email Exchange Is Brilliant (For ‘Lazy’ Authors) The trouble with Lazy Strategy is simple. People float around the internet all the time. They click buttons, collect free stuff, add themselves to random mailing lists. Where’s the bond, though? The relationship? The loyalty? Often, it’s not there. People will forget where they got the book from and quite likely forget your name as well. Easy come, easy go. That’s the problem you must overcome. Don’t just use Prolific Works to give away your books. Use your mailing list to cement the bond. You want to turn a user download experience into a proper relationship. So how do you do that? How do you do it easily? We all like an easy life, so we replace our Lazy Strategy above with Astute Strategy: Reader downloads book from PW.You get their email address.Immediately, send out an email to welcome that reader. Say something like, ‘Hey. You just downloaded a book from PW. I’m so happy you did. Here’s a little bit of blurb to tell you about the book. I really hope you enjoy it. Oh, also watch out for another email from me tomorrow, because I’ve got another gift for you, it’s free, and I think you’re going to love it.’The next day, send out an email with another freebie. It doesn’t have to be more than a short story, and you say, ‘Here’s your next gift. And here’s a little bit of text about me, the author. Oh, and I’ve got one more gift for you, so keep watching your inbox.’Then, a little bit later (I leave it two days), you send an email which says, ‘Now you’ve had two freebies from me. I hope you loved them. Now here is a free bit of a full-length novel, #1 in the series. If you read that and enjoy it, it’s available over here on Amazon.’ And the book should be hyperlinked, available at an attractive price, probably no more than $2.99 for that first one. The beauty of this approach is multi-dimensional: You automate. Set up and activate those emails via an ‘Autoresponder’ on your email service. If you use Mailchimp, then just click the “Automation” tab, and set up a new workflow. It’s quite straightforward. I’m hardly Mr Tech, and I find it easy.You build connections. Turn that here-today-gone-tomorrow download experience into the start of a more authentic bond between reader and author.You put the book into their hands. If they read a third of your full-length novel and love it, they’re not going to resent the small extra that enables them to complete the journey. And if they get that far, that reader’s interest means they’ll be interested, all being well, in hearing news on the rest of your series.You get committed readers standing by to support your next launch. The advantages of the mailing list driven launch are still available – as before – only with this strategy, you should expect better conversion rates, because you’ve done more to nurture your bond with the reader. This approach lies at the heart of pretty much every successful indie author strategy, and I can’t stress enough that you need to follow it – with care – if you want to succeed. Expert tip. Don’t try to go it alone! Did you know that Jericho  Writers is a club for writers like you? We’ve gone overboard in trying to make our membership as rich and useful to you as it can possibly be. So we’ve taken our super-premium video course on self-publishing . . . and made it free to members.Yep. A totally comprehensive course on self-publishing totally free.And our complete 17-video How To Write course – one with a gazillion awed reviews from super-enthusiastic users – that’s free too. And everything else as well.We built our club to offer incredible value to writers like you, and we’d genuinely love you to come on board. You can find out more about what we do here. And honestly? We think it could be the best move you ever make. How To Get Even More From Prolific Works: Astute-But-Social Strategy In Action So far, so good – but, so far, our strategy has been quite solitary. We haven’t teamed up with anyone. We haven’t developed any real synergies from joint action. In fact, we’re going to ditch the Astute-but-Solo strategy in favour of the Astute-but-Social one. The idea is that you team up with authors in your genre to co-promote books. Readers will eye ones that best fit their tastes (so readers will be well-targeted), and since they may download several books from the range offered, you’ll also increase your downloads beyond what you could achieve for yourself. The other reason social giveaways work is that PW itself loves them. It’ll heavily promote group giveaways, because they offer much to their own readers, meaning total traffic to those pages can be huge. Make sure, as before, that PW knows about the giveaway, but if they know about it, assuming participating authors are active, results should be great. An expert tip: Don’t know other authors in your genre? Search PW forums to find a group to join. If your book looks half sensible, they’ll be delighted to have you. What Does Prolific Works (Instafreebie) Cost And Is It Worth It? PW presently offers three pricing bands as follows: a basic free plan, a package of US$20 a month, or US$50 a month. You’ll need to research each of these, but you’ll likeliest want to pay the $20 a month, the plan that integrates all those downloads with your mailing list – since, if you don’t get those emails, this strategy is defunct and, unless you writer under a lot of pen names, you probably don’t want to pay the $50. That’s what it costs, but do the results give you back those twenty bucks of value? And, here let me report the experience of J.N. Chaney, who compares her experience with Facebook advertising with her experience on Prolific Works (then Instafreebie). Her Facebook budget for an ad being $23 a day, giving its average of 49 subscribers per day (at an average cost per lead of $0.51), didn’t compare to PW at $20 per month, with its average of 84 subscribers per day (at a cost per lead of $.0076). So is it worth it? It’s worth it if: Your book is good enough to grip and retain readers.You have some short freebies to give away.Your book cover is strong enough to attract interest.You are willing to pay $20 a month.You have a morning or so to spare, clipping all these parts together. Or, to put it another way, your email list is the foundation for everything else in your self-pub career: the very first blocks in the wall. And PW gives you that precious way to get things started. It’s kind of insane not to give it a go. How Prolific Works Works and What to Do Next What next? Well, two things. Number one, hop over to Prolific Works and sign up. Number two, create your giveaway page. (A process that’s so spectacularly simple you don’t need us to talk you through it.) 5 Golden Rules Of Prolific Works Here’s Ashley Durrer, Director of Business Development at Prolific, with her own golden rules for success. Over to you, Ashley. 1. Do you already have some fans? Make them your biggest. I love learning how different authors approach engaging fans. Once you have subscribers, it’s so important to show them how much you value them. Respond to each reader email personally. Think about how you would feel if your friends forgot about you. The same feeling can be applied here. So take advantage of “The Lazy but Astute Strategy”. Remember your fans, reward them, and make them feel special. In the future, you can surprise them again with short stories, or novellas about one of your characters. 2. Link Prolific to your website or blog. Link your PW Author page to your website or blog for a more engaging landing page, where readers can sign up to your mailing list. Now you can share all your active, public giveaways with a single link, including book descriptions, bio, social media, and more with readers. It’s important to us that you can communicate with readers. 3. The Big Secret: Make your giveaway campaign “Shareable”. The big secret at PW is that we fully believe in reciprocity. You share, and we share. If you check the “shareable” checkbox when making a giveaway campaign, we will connect your campaign with the right readers. The more you connect with, the more we accelerate your work. 4. Take care of the reader. Relationships matter. Sometimes readers receive too many emails or requests to buy work. Maybe they receive too many emails in general. A good rule of thumb for emailing readers: maximum of one email a week to readers. These activities will help reduce spam reports and high unsubscribes. 5. Make unsubscribing easy and focus on readers who stay. No one likes being tattled on, reported, or blamed for spam. We also know that we can’t please everyone in the world. Let’s all do our best, and give everyone the opportunity to easily unsubscribe. If you aren’t a right fit, that’s okay. It’s better to have the right readers instead of more of the wrong readers. You can make it easy for them to move on, and get back to the people who really care about you.

White chairs, green terraces

A few weeks back, one of you excellent people recommended George Saunders’s book on reading and writing, A Swim In A Pond In The Rain. I bought it and I’m enjoying it muchly.In the back of the book, Saunders produces this little exercise. He lists five translations of the same sentence from a Russian author, Isaac Babel. Here they are:In verdure-hidden walks, wicker chairs gleamed whitely.Wicker chairs, gleaming white, lined paths overhung with foliage.White wicker chairs glittered in walks covered with foliage.Wicker armchairs dazzled white along green-shrouded promenades.In leafy avenues white wicker chairs gleamed.Same sentence, five versions.Now think about them. Which do you like the best? Which the least? And why? Why do you like the ones you like? Why dislike the ones you dislike?And suppose you were writing that sentence, not relying on the services of a translator, what would you write?Now, neither Saunders nor I have actually read the Russian original, but that doesn’t really matter for the purposes of this exercise. Here are the ingredients we need you to toss together:Chairs, made of wicker and coloured whiteA path or pathsTrees or bushes overhanging the pathsSunshine (implied, I think, in the glittering / gleaming verbs)A contrast between white / green, shade / brightWe’re all friends here and this isn’t an exam, so you don’t get extra marks for accuracy. Trees, shrubs or bushes? Mention the wicker, yes or no? Path, walk or terrace? I honestly don’t care.Along with those ingredients, we also have a constraint, namely that Isaac Babel didn’t give this little micro-scene a ton of attention in his text. The longest of our translations runs to just under ten words, so I’d suggest that we set ten words as an upper limit for our own endeavours.OK? So have a go. Have a think about the sentences above, then write out your own version of it. I’ll do the same myself. Meanwhile, we’ll have a short intermission.** Tea and biscuits are served **** A chamber music quartet plays Debussy **** Writers suck the ends of their pencils and scribble quietly **** A cat stalks through the room and mutters, “Jeez, Writers!” in darkly accented cattish. **Right.OK, so which sentence did I like? Well, none of them, really. Some of them felt overly compact and almost cryptic, like a crossword puzzle clue or someone forced to pay for text by the letter:In verdure-hidden walks, wicker chairs gleamed whitely.“Verdure-hidden” is strained as an adjective. The adverb, “whitely”, is even worse. And “gleamed” is a perfectly fine verb in most contexts, but the hopeless adverb pretty much murders it here.Much better are the versions that just say, plainly and accurately, what’s going on:Wicker chairs, gleaming white, lined paths overhung with foliage.White wicker chairs glittered in walks covered with foliage.Take the first sentence of that pair. It tells us there are chairs. They’re wicker. They’re a bright white. They’re lining paths. Those paths are overhung with foliage.Boom. Nice and easy. Totally clear.The second of those two sentences attempts the same plainness, but does so less successfully. “In walks” sounds a bit odd, for one thing. The chairs are surely on a path, not in one. And “covered with foliage” has a sort of Palm Sunday feel – fronds laid upon the ground underfoot. The word “overhung” is surely more precise here.Anyhow, that’s the first part of our challenge. We have decided we like clarity, accuracy and plainness. (And yes, sometimes we want a sentence that detonates like a firecracker. But not here. This is a one-line description in a story that’s hurrying on to more important things.)So what did you come up with? Please tell me – just drop your versions into the comments below, along with any comments you have on the exercise.Here’s what I produced, my first version:White wicker chairs, bright white, lined gravel paths, overhung with foliage.That takes the version I liked the best but inserts “bright” for the slightly more forced “gleaming”. (Forced to my ear, that is; your tastes may differ.) And I popped in the word “gravel”, I think because the sentence feels like it needs shaking out and loosening up.In fact, if you really wanted to get the bright / shady distinction going here, I think you’d do so by giving one sentence to each thought:A row of wicker chairs stood bright and white in the sunshine. Behind them, the paths, heavily overhung with foliage stretched away, dim, green, remote.The real key to getting a version like that right will be to hit exactly the right note in the final word. I went for “remote”, but there’d be something better there, depending on the context. Enchanted? Inaccessible? Alluring? I don’t know, but that final word will be the clincher.On the other hand, you will by now be hurling broken biscuits at the Debussy quartet and yelling: you said only ten words!And OK, I did. And also – I’ve not been quite straight with you, because I don’t actually write like that last pair of sentences anyway.The frustration we had with the five original sentences were that they all used verbs (gleamed, dazzled, glittered) that really wanted to be adjectives. The fact is the chairs weren’t really doing anything. (That’s why the verb “lined” was the pick of the bunch.) And personally, I think, descriptions sometimes work most powerfully when you simply present the ingredients to the reader. So if I had a sentence like this in one of my Fiona Griffiths novels, I’d have handled it something like this:White chairs. Green-shaded paths. A luminous quiet.That’s only seven words (eight, if you don’t count that cheaty hyphen), but I’ve given myself room for a whole new thought, the luminous quiet.It’s perfectly true that I haven’t explained how the chairs relate to the paths – but who cares? Not me.It’s also true that this feels like - and is - a sort of flat-pack description. You have all the parts to hand, but the task of assembly is all yours. Again, that would be a problem for plenty of novels and novelists, but my (somewhat bold) solution is just a shrug and another ‘don’t care.’If you want to see how my technique feels in an actual novel, here’s my “description” of Fiona’s journey through Wales in This Thing of Darkness:Trawsfynydd, Dolgellau.Llanbrynmair, Llanidloes. [These are Welsh placenames, in case you thought you’d just fallen into a different language.]Low hills, green valleys.Grey farmhouses and sheep-studded fields.Bridges.Rivers flowing fast under alders. Trout-coloured water breaking over rocks.Near Llanwrthwl, I stop for fuel.And look: we started out thinking about a descriptive sentence, and we seem to have ended up in a place where sentences have almost entirely collapsed into their raw materials. That word “bridges” does triple service here as a word, as a sentence, and as a paragraph. To put it mildly, that is not a normal way to write – and I use it not just because it’s a solution to the puzzle of how to write elegant, yet compact descriptions, but because the jerky, dissociated prose style reveals something crucial about my narrator’s jerky and dissociated consciousness.But that last point leads us to one more thought – this too borrowed from Saunders – before we finish:We started out simply by thinking about how to fit our various ingredients into the confines of one short sentence. We encountered some fairly technical obstacles (the failure of whitely as an adverb, for example), and those obstacles pushed us to consider a longer version of the description – a two-sentence one, that worked hard on the light / shade distinction.But in doing that, we came to sense that we couldn’t quite nail down our description until we knew more about the story itself. So did those paths want to be “dim, green, remote” or “dim, green, inaccessible”? Or something else?Descriptions are never neutral. They always act as a bridge between the world-of-the-novel, the story and the experiencing character. That’s why my descriptive writing in the Fiona novels often collapses down to a set of raw materials: because the experiencing character undergoes those collapses in herself.In the example I just quoted above, you can feel the hand of Story playing its part as well. Fiona doesn’t yet know it, but she’s about to be abducted by bad guys and put in a place where the looseness and freedom of “rivers flowing fast under alders” will just be a lost and scrambled memory.So what started out as a simple exercise in writing technique – a ten word sentence: that’s all we asked! – has ended up us:A simple exercise in writing techniqueA window into the experiencing characterAn opportunity for story to creep inA statement about how we want to approach the entire bookThat’s why writing is hard. And that’s why writing is fun. And that’s why I urge you to be utterly pedantic about every sentence you write. That obsessive, repeated scrutiny is the route to better writers and better books.Oh yes, and I still don’t really like ANY of the versions of that sentence I’ve presented in this email. If they were in my first draft text, I’d edit again before I’d let the manuscript out in public.Did you do better? I hope you did. Let\'s see your offerings in the comments below.

MEMBERS ONLY: Self-editing webinar 30 March

Hi folks, there\'s a (members only) webinar coming up on 30 March, where I\'m going to pick out a few chunks of your work and edit them live on screen, talking about what I\'m doing and why I\'m doing it as I work.If you are a member and intend to attend this webinar, then feel free to give me a maximum 250 word extract of your work in the comments below. Do note that I\'m going to have time to handle only about 4 submissions during the hour we have, so do understand that most submissions won\'t get chosen.And any case - it\'s not really about whether your submission is or isn\'t chosen. It\'s really about understanding how sentence-by-sentence editing works in the raw, so you can apply some of the same insights to your work.This is a webinar we\'ve run before and it\'s always been fun, so I hope you come along and get a lot from it. Till soon!

Building it bad to build it right

One particular joy I have as a writer and a reader is sentences that work, because they don’t. Here’s an example (from Dodie Smith again, but I’ll stop banging on about her soon). The narrator is talking about her brother, Thomas, and observes that he can be both older than his years, and absolutely consistent with them, almost in the same minute. She exclaims:               Really, the puzzlingness of people!Puzzlingness isn’t a word and there are obvious, easy ways to rephrase things to avoid that clumsiness. Smith could have said, “How puzzling people can be!” Or, “What a puzzle some people are!” Instead of just inventing a word – and a rather clumsy word at that – she could have used a regular noun or a regular adjective in precisely the regulation way.So why didn’t she?Here’s another little oddity, from Gillian Flynn / Gone Girl:So I know I am right not to settle, but it doesn’t make me feel better as my friends pair off and … as I go to endless rounds of parties and bar nights, perfumed and sprayed and hopeful, rotating myself around the room like some dubious dessert.In that case, the oddity isn’t quite as blatant, but it’s still there – lurking in the phrase rotating myself around the room.Mostly, we use the word rotate intransitively – that is, without a direct object. (“The spindle rotated furiously …”). The most common transitive equivalent is the verb, to turn. (“I turned the wheel …”)And, OK, in this snippet, it’s clear we want the word rotating not the word turning, but we surely don’t need the word myself. Why doesn’t Flynn just write: “rotating around the room like some dubious dessert”? The meaning of that is totally clear. It avoids the awkward “rotating myself” construction. It just works.So why didn’t she write that? She’s (by a mile) the best crime writer of her generation, so she presumably had the ability to find the easy, natural, grammatically unobjectionable option.While you consider that, I’ll offer you one further example from another (less classy) crime writer. Here’s my very own Fiona character talking about a “World’s Best Mum” silver cup that her father has given her mother, and then placed on a shelf above the kitchen door:On the way through into the kitchen, we had to stop to admire the ‘World’s Best Mum’ trophy, which now looms over the kitchen door like something about to collapse.There’s no grammatical problem there, as such, but the phrase that ends the sentence (“like something about to collapse”) feels almost like a placeholder, just there to fill space until I actually find the image I was after (“a landslip waiting to fall”, for example.) And look – none of these three writers, myself included – are dummies. We put words on a page because we think they’re the right words. I don’t know about Gillian Flynn’s creative process, but Dodie Smith spent more than two years painfully editing and re-editing I Capture The Castle, so I’m pretty damn sure she didn’t write puzzlingness just because she was in a rush and couldn’t be bothered to retype.So what’s going on?I hope you sense the answer already.In Dodie’s Smith’s case, she wanted to achieve a sense of how knotty and intractable it is to understand others. She could have delivered that thought via a fluidly grammatical sentence – but then the sentence itself wouldn’t have been knotty and intractable. So she placed a knobbly, awkward block right at the heart of the sentence: There! People are knotty and awkward, just like this word.With Flynn, the same thing.Amy, the narrator of that little quote, doesn’t go to those parties with the ease of someone wholly comfortable in her surroundings. On the contrary, she approaches those parties self-consciously, as though clumsily executing a plan in which she does not fully believe.And how to achieve that sense of awkward self-manipulation? Why, how about using a verb/noun pair that embodies that awkward manipulation: rotating myself around the room. It sounds as though she’s heaving some recalcitrant piece of machinery around, not her own beautiful self.It’s that phrase that really gives the sentence its coherence and its wit. She starts out perfumed and sprayed and hopeful – but hauls herself around like a clunky machine part – and ends up as popular and wanted as a “dubious dessert”. It’s the bit in the middle that lends utter credibility to the transition from perfumed to dubious.Crucially, it’s also the bit that identifies where the blame lies. So it’s not the other party-goers who are at fault for being too aloof or too drunk or too whatever. It’s her own damn fault, because she wields herself like a lump of machinery, instead of just being a wonderful human. The grammatical faux pas manages to identify precisely where and why the party-experience is going wrong.Same thing with the “thing about to collapse” phrase. Fiona wants to suggest that the shelf is rickety – and, more than that, she wants to convey that the whole idea of giving a fun trophy to her mother was a terrible one in the first place. And what better way to convey a ramshackle bad idea, than using a clumsily ramshackle and provisional-seeming phrase to end the sentence?Boom!Building it bad to build it right.As I say, I have a stupidly fond spot for anything like that. I actually prefer a prose style that takes the risk of messiness. It feels more alive and more creative, though I acknowledge that’s a matter of taste, not an Ultimate Truth.Although “building bad” as a technique will tend to work only when you are dealing with something that is bad / awkward / puzzling / self-conscious / ramshackle – those things have a billion different shades of use, which means a billion different ways to express yourself, gloriously well through glorious badness.And you? If you have an example of “building bad to build it right” from your own work, then drop your examples into the comments below. I’m agog.And Britain needs gogs.

Character Arcs: What They Are And How To Create Them – With Template

Character arcs are some of the most important tools in terms of writing compelling fiction, even if they’re played out on a smaller scale in a short story, but certainly when writing a novel.  They play a central role in not only establishing your lead’s motivations and thus narrative aims in a book and thus form the spine of the plot arc, but they are what makes the reader believe in and root for the lead which contributes hugely to how much they’ll invest in your story. In this piece, we’ll discover the different ways to develop a strong character arc, together with some examples and a template to help you create your own powerful character arc based on a lead who feels ‘real’ to the reader and who keeps them turning pages. What Is A Character Arc? Basically, in the course of a novel, or even a short story, a character needs to be pursuing a certain goal. What they want and why needs to be obvious to your audience so they can root for the lead to get their aim in the novel.  This goal is usually something noble, like finding love in women’s commercial fiction, solving a murder in a crime novel or even saving the world in action or adventure writing, although in literary fiction, the ultimate direction of the character arc might be something more subtle like seeking redemption or freedom.   However, whatever genre you’re writing in, your character arc is based upon this purpose or quest the protagonist is set on and is doggedly pursuing through the piece and your story arc will not have the poignancy or sense of purpose it needs without this being crystal clear to your audience and thus forming the backbone of your plot.  How Do You Write A Character Arc? One thing readers are looking for in a satisfying character arc is that the lead will have changed by the end of the book due to all they’ve experienced whilst fighting to get their narrative goal. Therefore, it’s key that your protagonist has grown by the end of your story arc and is not the same person as they were at the start.  First Act -- How Your Character Starts In some ways, this is the prologue work. Who is your character, on a fundamental level? Name, age, race, class, occupation -- the basics, yes, but also things like what kind of food they like, what their aspirations in life might be, if they\'re left or right-handed. (You don\'t necessarily have to know everything about them like their mother\'s maiden name or their third-grade crush or the places they want to visit before they die... but maybe those things are useful, so if you think of them, why not jot them down?) The arc begins (as does the plot of your novel or story) when the character\'s normal life is turned upside down by a trigger event or inciting incident – say, a murder in a crime novel which sets the detective on the hunt for the killer. As they do this, like any lead in any genre, they need to be proactive in going after their narrative goal, entering each scene with the intention to get their story arc aim or move nearer to it, only usually to fail or to make some progress, only to face an even bigger obstacle.  Second Act -- How Your Character Develops You\'re not the same person you were yesterday, and you\'re certainly not the same person you were last week, or last month, or last year, and so on -- and neither are your characters. As things happen to them (or because of them), their world changes and how they respond to those changes is key to developing their arc. Maybe the milquetoast office drone thrust into a plot of murderous high-stakes intrigue has discovered that she\'s actually really good in a knife fight. Maybe the fast-and-easy pirate has developed feelings for his first mate, despite saying that he\'d never settle down. Whatever the case may be, these developments and discoveries aren\'t happening in a vacuum: the character is going to have some feelings about what they\'re going through! So it isn\'t just that office drone turns out to be good with knives, but also that she\'s morally conflicted about how exciting she finds it. Authors often forget that there needs to be this emotional reaction after action to make their characters feel human to the reader, but then the planning part too, so the story arc has a causal connection and we see why one thing happens after another, this set-up ensuring the protagonist seems energetic and plucky and which keeps the story arc full of drama and an obvious forward-moving purpose.   Third Act -- How Your Character Ends Up As your plot builds to a climax or conclusion, the changes your character has undergone will be brought to the fore. How do they react to this new situation, with everything that\'s happened to them? Do they accept it? Do they fight against it? How will they attain their goal -- and how might their goals have changed, as they have changed? Bilbo Baggins is not the same hobbit when he comes home to The Shire as he was when he left. Some of that is obvious, but some of it lives in the background: he\'s traveled, he\'s seen horrible things and wondrous ones too, and now as the book comes to a close, he returns to a life that doesn\'t look familiar any longer. Your character doesn\'t have to go through such immense changes, but chances are they will whether you planned for them to or not. As your story comes to a close, your characters will have been pushed to their limits in one way or another and become someone new. It doesn\'t have to be satisfying, necessarily, but it should be real. It\'s unlikely that the knife-wielding office drone is going to be quite such a shrinking violet after everything that\'s happened to her -- and even if the pirate doesn\'t stay with his first mate, his heart might not be so freewheeling now. Conflicts – Internal And External An antagonist for your protagonist -- an opposing figure or force against your main character -- is a great way to help build out a character arc because it gives your character something to fight or push against, adding tension and strengthening the lead as the story arc progresses.  However, there can be other causes of external conflict than the villain figure, such as a confidant(e), which may be a best friend or family member, who acts as a sounding board for the protagonist and offers support, but who can also accidentally cause trouble for the lead due to well-intentioned meddling. This is something we sometimes see in chick lit, where the boozy best mate might tell the lead’s love interest they’re seeing someone else to create jealousy and supposedly add to the dreamy guy’s interest, but it just leads to a misunderstanding between the would-be couple and scares him off.   Indeed, terrible weather, a rough environment or even disasters can also be ways of preventing the lead from going after their goal, but they can also show their mettle too as often they will carry on anyway.  In terms of external conflicts, things get much more interesting when we put our leads in situations which are utterly hellish based on their past traumas or personal phobias or fears and make them face them! Say, in the simplest terms, someone hates spiders (like me!) and then our protagonist has to crawl through a web of poisonous arachnids to save the kidnapped girl which has been the goal of his or her story arc – not only will the reader be sat on the edge of their seat, wondering if the lead will finally overcome their terror for the sake of their bigger plot aim, but we’ll also be privy to the inner world of the lead and the immense inner pressure NOT to do this scary thing and this is called internal conflict.   It can feel mean to us writers, as we’re often so attached to our characters, but the best thing you can do to create a compelling character and story arc is to put your protagonist in the midst of an external situation that makes them quiver (public speaking is more scary to more people than death, believe it or not!) and ensure that you’re also showing the internal monologue of your lead as they fight against their fears.   You can even make them self-sabotage en route to their goals as humans are often wont to do. For example, a detective character could be out to make a big break in a case and then he’ll go out on an alcoholic bender which makes him lose the trail of the villain.   What If You’re Writing A Series? Generally, I tell author clients that if they’re new writers and want to write a series that they should keep this quiet in their submission package and make their first book as self-contained in terms of its character and story arc as possible so agents and editors can sell it as a standalone novel. This is because taking on a rookie is always a risk and the burden of having to sell multiple books may put some publishing personnel off.   In this case then, the character arc needs to be pretty complete by the end, with the story goal attained or near enough so, although you may want to allow a little wiggle room for a future sequel by not providing complete closure.   However, this is good advice across the board as a too sugary ending can seem unrealistic, but this also depends on the genre you’re writing in as certainly chick lit allows for more happy ever afters.  Obviously though, if you are intending to self-publish, you have carte blanche and often writing a series is a good idea as a way to develop a following, so your character and story arcs can be left more loose at the end, but with important questions left to be answered, despite the lead’s obvious growth, in order to intrigue a reader enough to buy the next book.  What Is A Flat Character Arc? Flat character arcs are exactly as they sound – they stay on a flat line, with the character neither growing in strength and awareness or falling from grace, as in Shakespearean tragedies. They mostly appear in genre fiction, like action writing – James Bond doesn’t change much for all his enemies and situational struggles, for instance – but, more and more, even genre writing is moving towards the emotionally shifting character arc of the protagonist playing a key role in the plot and the book’s overall interest.   If you think of most crime leads now, there’s often a wounded detective figure at the centre (something noted by James Frey in his books on thriller and mystery writing) who finds personal healing by solving the crime and Scandi Noir has brought the victims of the killed characters’ families to the fore so that these figures finding peace and moving on is a key part of the murder plot.   Hence whilst you can pull off a flat character arc by writing in a genre where you don’t have to reinvent the wheel or add much nuance to your main figure, it often helps if there’s a sense of inner doubt about their ability to pull off the huge goal before them which adds something of Joseph Campbells’ ‘Hero’s Journey’ (which deeply influenced Star Wars) into play in which the hero hesitates in their confidence to pull off the story arc aim and this adds some important tension – even if, say, Frodo, is good at the start and good at the end of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ and so, arguably, for all his struggles, a flat arc character.  How Do You Work Character Arcs Into Your Story Structure? One thing my first writing teacher, Leone Ross, taught me was to really get to learn about my main characters before I started planning my plot, let alone writing my book. She showed us how to create a template for discovering our protagonists in depth. Hence I create a list now that includes the character’s name, age, strengths and weaknesses, their goals etc. Editor’s note: why not download our free Character Arc Worksheet, designed to make your life easier! A Basic Example Of A Character Arc: Cinderella  Her nasty stepfamily (the opposition figures) are treating her like dirt when a handsome prince comes looking for his ideal dame (the trigger or inciting incident).  The mean girl stepsisters try to force Cinderella aside, but she’s determined to catch her man (the lead sets her story goal and her character arc flows from here).  She may be getting grubby scrubbing floors, but she schemes her way to the ball (character takes dogged action to get her goal and grows in defiance and strength).  She gets to the ball and catches the eye of the prince, only to have to return before her carriage turns into a pumpkin at 12 (darn external obstacle!).   However, she leaves her glass slipper behind and the prince is now so infatuated with Cinders that he scours town looking for its wearer – and, bam, as much as the mean stepsisters may try to force their feet in, only Cinderella’s dainty foot is a match (she gets her story goal and her character has grown from subservience to power and from loneliness and contempt to love).  Does Every Character Need An Arc? Minor players who don’t play a fundamental role like the lead, love interest, confidant(e) or opposition figure certainly don’t need a character arc as their role in your story arc is tangential.  These other key players though should have clear goals too which they pursue and which develop their character over the course of the story arc. The love interest’s aim should always be to win the lead’s love, the opposition figure fights to stop the lead getting their story goal and a confidant(e) is there to support the lead and let them talk about their main plot issues and inner turmoils, but they can also accidentally get in the way of the protagonist’s aims by causing mistaken mix ups and so on.  Hence we need to see the love interest growing as s/he strives to become the person the lead can adore and the opposition figure may grow in strength through conflict, but also face their own fears and weaknesses in this process so perhaps become changed by the end of the plot. A confidant(e) might well also develop in the process of supporting the lead through their journey, realising their own needs.   Crafting Character Arcs A character’s arc or development involves their proactive pursuit of their story goal which is established when their life is changed by the inciting incident at the start. This helps create a lead readers will identify with and cheer for, but also makes a compelling plot.   The way your lead deals with external challenges, such as conflict with your opposition figure, extreme weather or terrain or natural disasters, as well as facing their inner demons, will all change them as the course of the novel goes on, usually bringing to the fore strengths they never knew they had, as well as some flaws and even possible tendencies to self-sabotage which all add realism to protagonists and make them three-dimensional.  Although some genres have flat character arcs without much, if any, development in the lead, generally it’s a good idea to show the evolution of your protagonist over the course of the book towards a positive end, such as healing grief, as well as getting their external goal, such as catching a killer.   Indeed, in most plots, there’s the main one – say, solving a murder – and a subplot perhaps involving romance, so it could be that both story arcs bring out different parts of the protagonist they didn’t know existed at the start.  However, it’s also important to remember to give character arcs and a sense of personal change to your other main players too, such as the opposition figure, love interest and confidant(e). The latter two don’t always need to be included in a story arc, but I’d argue that a lead without a villain has less chance of becoming all they can be as the enemy figure forces the protagonist to grow in strength and resourcefulness and confront their inner fears and traumas. Plus, without a concrete opposition figure, there’s less conflict, which is the lifeblood of fiction, and you risk your story arc losing drama and impact.  Get to know your lead and other key players well then, preferably by filling in a character questionnaire like the one above before you start work on your book or even short story. Keep asking yourself why, say, a character buys underwear from a certain place and on and on as this will reveal more and more of their values and beliefs and, even if you never directly use this material in your novel, it will give you a confidence as you write these characters.   After this, imagine the world through their eyes – not yours – considering the language or diction they would use as fits their education, interests and background, as this is key to establishing a convincing narrative voice and viewpoint, as well as creating distinctive dialogue – all on top of making a great character arc.  It’s worth every moment that you put into knowing your main characters and especially your lead, so you can convincingly show how they act to get their plot goal and react to the obstacles the villain and other external and internal elements which stand in the way of them getting their story arc aim.   It may be painful to see your treasured protagonist suffer as you make them face their worst fears, but it’s what will guarantee your book is gripping and up its chances of publication or be successful when you self-publish.  And, mostly, by the end, you get to give the lead their dream or a form of closure which life often doesn’t offer, so it’s not all bad news, but just being cruel to be kind to make them figures your reader never forgets. 

Protagonists And Antagonists, And How They Differ

Having a strong protagonist and antagonist is key to making a novel compelling, no matter what genre you are writing in. But what is the difference between them and how you include them in your book? In this piece, we’ll look at what protagonists and antagonists are, and the different types of characters which can play these roles. We will also explore the key elements which bring them alive, giving your manuscript that extra spark which will grab agents’ and editors’ attention from the opening page. What Is The Difference Between Protagonists And Antagonists? We all know every work of fiction needs a hero and a baddie, but how you portray them makes all the difference. An enthralling protagonist, often referred to as the lead, main character (MC), or hero/heroine, can make or break your story. After all, not every book is plot-driven...many much-loved works of fiction have a simple plot but a unique and memorable main character. However, the antagonist – which is also talked about as an opposition character or villain – creates much-needed conflict by getting in the way of the protagonist as they pursue their goals (ie the basis of the plot). The bad guy usually wants the exact opposite of the lead and will do all they can to stop them attaining their desires. Hence, whilst other factors like the protagonist’s own inner fears and turmoils, plus external factors like the environment, institutional bureaucracy and even the weather can all get in a lead’s way, the best means of really generating conflict (which is, let\'s face it, the lifeblood of fiction) is to create a protagonist who matches the antagonist in strength. Making sure your protagonist and antagonist are evenly matched not only gives your lead a great foil to fight, as they travel through their story arc, but it also injects energy into your plot and keeps readers rooting for the main figure. Having equal protagonists and antagonists also allows the main character to grow in a way which is vital to their development as obstacles are thrown in their way. Now let\'s take a look at our good guys and baddies individually, and how they differ.  What Is A Protagonist? A protagonist is the central character of a novel – the one whose journey we follow as readers. If they are the sole lead of the story, it is often their thoughts and actions that influence the \'voice\' of the novel and the tone in which it is told. Usually, the protagonist has the lion’s share of the viewpoint in the book and their narrative aims – which might represent one goal for the main story arc and another for the subplot – dominate the novel, being the focus of the reader’s attention and what they keep turning pages to discover.   The standard plot begins with the protagonist’s world being turned upside down by an inciting incident or trigger event which sets them off on a quest to find a new ‘normal’ by the end of the novel, this journey representing the backbone of the story arc.  Hence what the protagonist wants and why – their character arc – is key to creating an intriguing plot which readers will invest in.   Types Of Protagonists Every book needs a protagonist or lead character, even if other figures are given viewpoints in the plot too, but the nature of this main player can differ according to the particular genre you are writing in. For example, in police procedural fiction, a cop usually takes centre stage, but crime novels also often feature ordinary citizens who have personal motivations to solve a murder. An example of this is Rosamund Lupton’s bestseller, Sister, in which the protagonist is out to find the family member given in the title.   In chick lit or women’s commercial fiction, the protagonist is usually a woman caught up in the drama of her life (work, romance or family). And in fantasy fiction, the lead is often sent on a quest and has to fight many monsters along the way - such as Frodo in Lord of the Rings who sets out to take the ring to Mordor and save his world from dark forces.  Indeed, action and adventure fiction often has a similarly heroic lead who combats an evil villain to stop him/her destroying civilisation (just think of James Bond).  In young adult writing, the lead is often a teen who is either simply navigating the struggles of coming of age (relationships, school, sex, friendship) or who can also adopt the roles of an action or fantasy protagonist (ie the chosen one). In terms of literary fiction though, the protagonist’s identity is more diverse and their goals often more subtle, but they will always be there, often involving themes such as the lead finding redemption or healing, with romance still frequently being the core of the subplot.   Whatever you write about, a strong protagonist with a clear narrative aim is crucial to creating a powerful character. Their story arc is something to really consider and plan before writing the first word as it will influence your entire story (unless you’re the kind of writer who needs to hit the keys to discover one’s plot and characters). Can The Protagonist Be A Villain? This question often pops up as we’re largely taught that our protagonist should be sympathetic and likeable so we can root for them to get their goals. There is some truth to the power of a lead having a noble aim in a novel, but not all lead characters have to be likeable (look at Eleanor in Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, or Martha in Sorrow And Bliss). The key thing to remember is that, although we may not like the protagonist, we must understand and empathise with their motives. Even if they’re badly behaved (or even overtly negative or evil) if we can comprehend why a figure is acting a certain way, we can usually find ourselves drawn into their story. Hence why Satan is, arguably, the most intriguing figure in Milton’s Paradise Lost, and why we’re often drawn to serial killer and Mafia stories in true crime and fiction. After all, every human has a shadow side and fiction is the perfect place in which to explore that. So, yes, you can create what is often called an anti-hero or heroine, so long as you’re able to convey the reasoning behind their immoral actions in a way your readers can easily follow. This can be a delicate and complex act of characterisation though, so only engage in this if you’ve got the will to really delve into the darkness of the psyche and the reasons why bad people do what they do. How To Write A Protagonist If your protagonist is so important then, no matter what kind of book you’re writing, it’s essential to ensure that you create a powerful lead with a compelling need to meet certain narrative aims by the end of the book. You need to know what they want and why and to show them doggedly going after this throughout the story arc, entering each scene attempting to achieve their goal, whether the main one or that of the subplot (these are interwoven throughout with the main plot getting the most narrative space). A protagonist\'s story arc may involve solving a crime, saving the world as the deadline looms, or finding the love of their life. Often the protagonist’s story arc in literary fiction will be somewhat less obvious, but it is commonly concerned with getting freedom from something (like oppression, war, a bad marriage and so on) or freedom to do a certain thing (travel, seek spiritual peace, justice and so forth).   If you’ve got an anti-hero or heroine in play, the story arc may involve them in murder, world domination or other evil schemes, but it will be something which to them – and thus to the reader – makes sense.   The same is true when writing magical realism or fantasy protagonists with magical powers. As long as you can make the reader believe in the lead’s clairvoyant skills or their blue head with a hundred eyes, then they will care. And if they care, they will keep turning the pages! Getting your readers to feel like they are inside your protagonist’s body and mind is key to them connecting with the main character. Making them as human as possible, through the use of backstory, past trauma, flaws and inner conflicts, is what makes even the most unlikeable lead a hero we all root for. Take Hamlet and his notorious indecision, for example. This is a man who allows power, greed and his ambitious wife to steer him into a horrific mess from which he can\'t escape. As a reader we urge him to do better, we stay by his side because we too understand how easy it is to be influenced by our darker side, and we suffer alongside him at every turn. It\'s a huge testament to Shakespeare that, even four-hundred years later, his protagonists remains both relevant and memorable today.  Whether the villain the main character is fighting is external (the environment, a war, monsters), internal (depression, fear, doubt), or a fellow human being (a dark lord, a work rival, the devil himself), the reader need to know whose side they are on. So, let\'s take a look at this all-important baddie figure... What Is An Antagonist? As I mentioned above, an antagonist is the main figure who stands in the way of your protagonist’s story arc goals – the villain or opposition character who adds the most conflict to a narrative by doing their utmost to stop the lead getting their narrative aims. Types Of Antagonists In a mystery, a cop lead will want to solve a murder, therefore the antagonist may be the killer. Or maybe it\'s not, maybe it\'s another cop who wants to beat him to the chase. In a women’s commercial or chick flick novel, the protagonist may be in love with and out to catch a certain guy, but she might find herself face-to-face with an antagonist in the form of a love rival. Or maybe her villain is herself, standing in the way of true love. In literary fiction, where the protagonist’s character and story arcs may be more understated, the antagonist will have to be shaped more specifically to the lead’s particular narrative aims. Hence if they want freedom from a painful marriage, the main figure’s spouse could stand in their way, suffocating their bid for personal liberty and a new life. Indeed, as much as larger obstacles, such as war, can cause huge issues for a protagonists (ie a refugee’s attempt to escape dangerous lands with their child) it’s often important to also embody these issues in a specific antagonist figure. Hence a refugee could be confronted by a cruel or unyieldingly bureaucratic guard at a detainment camp, thus symbolising the broader struggle the lead is facing. This allows the protagonist to face a tangible threat in the form of an antagonist figure, rather than the mere abstractions of a situation, offering way more opportunities for fairly-match conflict. A refugee trekking across a hostile landscape may be impactful, but adding a one-on-one fight between a lead and the opposition figure (who in this scenario could be separating the lead from their children and imprisoning them) will definitely be more memorable. With this in mind, it\'s important you don’t start a novel without knowing your antagonist as well as your protagonist, even though the lead will take up most of the reader’s attention. Your opposition figure is there as a key for adding essential dramatic tension to the story, because everyone loves to see the main character battle with highs and lows (just watch a soap opera to see how many obstacles one character can face!). The antagonist also brings both the main character’s grit and inner issues to the fore, thus making them more three-dimensional and providing the reader with the expected sense of the protagonist’s personal growth over the course of their character arc. Hence an antagonist injects conflict into a story arc, but facing off against the opposition figure often makes the protagonist grow positively during the course of the novel by forcing them to confront their worst fears or work on their less pleasant personality traits. In this way, the baddie has the ‘side-effect’ of bringing out the best in your lead and thus performs a vitally important function. How To Write An Antagonist If your hero is going to be likeable (or at least someone the reader can empathise with) then, with your baddie, you can have fun creating chaos and a figure everyone loves to hate. Although, I’d also be wary of going over-the-top when creating an antagonist as we have to be careful not to lean on stereotypes of the moustache-twirling villain and, instead, come up with more original figures. You don’t have to recreate the wheel with genre fiction, but it’s always good to bring some freshness to writing as agents, editors and the general reader love to see angles they’ve never seen before, such as unusual and unexpected murderers or love rivals. The Darkling in Shadow and Bone is the perfect example of a dark lord who readers fall completely in love with...before realising he\'s the bad guy! Look carefully at your protagonist’s story arc goals to determine how your antagonist\'s personality and how they should act. For example, maybe they’re a female detective looking to solve a murder in the main plot and to find love with a fellow cop in the romantic subplot – and then create a figure who’s going to make their life hell by blocking the lead’s plot aims as best they can. Basically, the development of the antagonist is the primary means by which the writer puts their protagonist up a tree and then cuts it down, as the saying goes! Looking at our hypothetical cop story above, the antagonist could be the murderer who’s going to fight being caught tooth and nail. Perhaps they threaten the life of the main character\'s love interest as well as continuing their killing spree. You can see then that the protagonist and antagonist are really mirror images of one another, wanting exactly opposite aims and being just as dogged about getting them. The antagonist’s motives for acting the way they do needs to be understandable, so backstory will be needed. The reader needs to understand why the bad guy is doing what he\'s doing, even if their logic is warped. Adding Dramatic Irony When an antagonist is operating secretly against the lead, with the plot building up to a betrayal at the end, and the reader is privy to this while the protagonist is not – that literary device is called dramatic irony. This works really well as the reader is on the edge of their seat waiting for their beloved hero to catch up and see what they can see. In Shakespeare\'s Othello, he shows Iago’s manipulation of Othello, leading to the latter killing his wife, Desdemona, in jealous rage - even though she\'s innocent of committing adultery. As the audience watches on helplessly, they remain transfixed with grim fascination, forever wondering when the penny is going to drop. Dramatic irony often involved conflict behind the scenes - a form of confrontations between the antagonist and protagonist that isn\'t revealed until the end. For those starting out in writing it can be hard to pull off, so I’d encourage you to consider bringing your lead and opposition characters into each other’s immediate orbits, with verbal conflict and machinations by the antagonist standing in the way of the protagonist. Bad Is As Important As Good Whilst your work of fiction will invariably revolve around your lead, remember that the antagonist is also central to making a compelling story. So get to know your baddie as well as you know the protagonist. Without a strong protagonist, a story arc can lose its sense of drama and your lead can be seen to seamlessly flow towards their goals with too much ease - something which may lose your audience’s interest. Readers want to see the lead facing major challenges, preferably having a particular villain to focus our wrath on as the person who’s doing all they can to mess with our treasured protagonist’s story aims. Although we absolutely need to create a protagonist who readers can get behind (and to make it crystal clear what they want and why), an antagonist is a key part of developing the relationship our audience has with the main character. Give them a figure they can see confronting and obstructing their beloved lead, someone they can dread and loathe, but are also intrigued by. Maybe they even have some small sympathy for the bad guy\'s damaged humanity. Know Your Protagonist And Antagonist Well It’s crucial to know your antagonist as well as the lead, giving them good sides as well as flaws to make them more rounded and comprehensible, even if this takes some deep thought about the past or present circumstances which make them act the way they do. Indeed, if you’re struggling to come up with an antagonist to stand in the way of your protagonist, think who is most likely to have the most power to obstruct your lead’s story goals and who represents their deepest fears. Then turn those attributes into a character no one will forget in a hurry. As a writer, you may feel mean doing this to your lead, but remember that this is how you bring plots to life and, ultimately, develop your protagonist and allow them to shine. And when they shine, so does your book!
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