Friday's Finale-The Wannabe & Standard Publishing

We all have a copy of this book, don't we?

I've been working with several authors who are working on their first novel. The inevitable question came up when we were discussing standard publishing versus idie publishing with one of these wannabes. See I'm actually quite altruistic in nature. I'll share my experiences with anyone who listens...like this blog.

She asked me, so why do I want to try and go with a standard publisher. Now, I've got experience with both...the great, good, bad and the ugly.

I know standard publishing is a benchmark most authors strive for. The Big 6 of standard publishing has made a mint of doing things their way for a hundred years or more. So it has become the norm. Why go with standard publishing as a wannabe breakout novelist....I had to pause and think, because I chose not to, but here's my answer.

1) There is a recognizable stature that comes with being a published author with standard publishing. No, more than likely you will not have a PR team who will be working hard to promote your book. Now see if this makes sense to you on the standard publisher's thinking...you have to be famous to get famous. In other words, their money too precious to spend on new authors who may not make them serious money. It's called Return on Investment (ROI). By being published by the big houses, you have bragging rights and creditability. You will be reviewed by the cream of the crop, have blurbs by these famous established authors on your cover, you will be in chain book seller catalogs, which the brick and mortars may or may not buy for their stores. Standard publishers are a BUSINESS and the goal of all businesses is limit expenses and make a profit.

2) You get almost instant money when the contract is signed. Yes, you will get advanced royalties. It's paid in thirds. One third at signing, one third on finishing the manuscript to their standards, and the last third when published about 18 months or more later on. Mostly when wanna-be authors read about royalties, it's the big bucks they hear of and see $$$ signs. So-and-so signed a contract for $1 million. The press really doesn't advertise how many authors get advanced royalties between $1,000 to $5,000 which is pretty much standard...it just isn't newsworthy. It's less glamorous, isn't it?

Another reality check...How long did it take you to write your book? How long did it take you to find an agent? How long did it take for that agent to sell the book? When you divide the time over the advanced royalty...it looks a whole lot less glamorous from a money standpoint.  So don't quit your day job. But still there is the stature of being traditionally published.

3) As far as I know, The New York Times does not have a Best-Selling Indie section on their best seller list, although they do have e-books now. But with being standard published, you do have your shot. It is honestly better to play the lottery even if you write a dynamite book as a first time author. On average most best sellers have five to ten books to their credit before being "known." So keep writing!

Becoming known is the hardest part of being a published author whether it's in standard publishing or indie. Readers have to find you, like your writing, and buy you. Yes, I'm talking about your book not the sleazy stuff. Your book is the product you are selling, but YOU, as the wannabe, are the brand name associated with the product.And there is the stature of being a traditionally published author.

4) Several standard published authors of late have jumped on the indie author bandwagon. I read their blogs and realize...the money their are making is BECAUSE they made it as standard published authors prior to becoming indie authors. There are also a few cases, you may have seen it in the news,  of indie authors signing contracts with the Big 6 standard publishing houses.Why the switch if they have worked hard establishing their brand and product? They are hedging their bets. It is honestly easier with the standard publishing route. Yes, you still wear some hats, but many get taken over by the house. It allows you more time to write AND build a bigger brand. With standard publishing your manuscript will pass through a dozen hands or more to make it beautiful, the words exactly how they should be (sometimes typos do happen), and you lose over all control over your manuscript. It becomes the property of the publisher, but you have the bragging rights and stature of being a traditionally published author.

I hope this gives you a better understanding of standard publishing.
Now that being said, I won't be writing a blog tomorrow. My 20th wedding anniversary. :)

Keep writing and loving the Lord.

Interview and Halloween Fun with ...Nicholas Olivio

I would like all my readers to give a warm cackle and their best chain rattling (in the Halloween Spirit) to Nicholas Olivio. Nick, thank you for joining me today.

Now for some Halloween fun. Muahhhhh! Q &A... 

      1. What's your favorite haunted place?

           Hammond Castle in Gloucester, MA

      2. What's you favorite scary movie?

           I liked the TV adaptation of The Shining they did back in '97.

      3. What was your favorite Halloween costume and why?

           I have a Clark Kent outfit-shirt, slacks, glasses and a Superman T-shirt underneath. It always gets a laugh and it lets you go from business casual to fully costumed by undoing three buttons.

      4. What weapon does your character kill with?

The raw power of his mind. But he's got a switchblade as a backup.

5. Do you have a Freddy or Jason type character in your novel?

    No, but I've got a bunch of golems and genetically modified gremlins that raise some hell.

Now, that does sound exciting! Tell us about your novel.

Vincent Corinthos leads a triple life. As a secret agent, he handles paranormal threats; as a god, he protects his followers from evil forces; as a stock clerk, he keeps the back room of an antique store tidy.

When one of his fellow agents goes missing, Vincent begins with the usual suspects. His investigation reveals that Boston’s latest supernatural threat is also waging war on his followers, and has diabolic intentions for the city’s paranormal citizens.

Now, with the aid of a new partner and a gremlin, Vincent must locate the missing agent, defend his followers and learn the identity of his adversaries before they can revive a malevolent force that’s been dormant since World War II.

Do you have an excerpt you can share?

Excerpt of “Imperium” by Nicholas Olivio

Begin Coded Transmission

I trust you are enjoying your new-found freedom, Mr. Singravel. I have arranged for your release to go unnoticed by certain individuals, and I now expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain. I require you to procure several manuals on golem crafting. Additionally, you will provide me with any and all information about the various groups that monitor paranormal activity in Boston, including details on any persons of particular note. Send these updates via this secure channel, but do not expect further contact from me. I will be incommunicado while I attend to some pressing matters.

I should not need to remind you that failing to perform adequately will lead to punishments much worse than imprisonment in Ashgate. However, should you prove unsuccessful, I am confident I can find other ways for you to serve me. Your predecessor’s soul was used to fuel the ritual that ensured your release.

-RM

End Coded Transmission

Sunrises were beautiful here on the Bright Side, the realm of fae. And today’s sunrise would’ve been gorgeous if it weren’t for the advancing enemy army, the erupting volcano and the earthquakes. Instead of a cool dawn with sparkling dew and a gentle breeze, a heat haze shimmered in the air. When the winds gusted, it was like a sandstorm of ash. The tremors, which were coming more frequently, toppled people and structures to the ground.

I’m sure the enemy leaders felt smug. After all, it was their mages who were tampering with the environment. Their army, one hundred thousand strong, was three times larger than the entire population of the Urisk city they were advancing on. And the Urisk themselves rarely caused any trouble. They were known for their hospitality, their friendliness and their desire for harmony. To a group of warmongers, that’s like holding up a sign that says, “Please Conquer Us.”

I wondered what the enemy generals thought as they surveyed the battlefield. The Urisk didn’t have an army. Instead, about five thousand of them knelt on the ground, their feather-topped heads bowed, flecks of ash settling on their dull gray skin. Perhaps they thought the Urisk planned to beg for mercy. Perhaps the generals thought the Urisk were praying for some imaginary god to swoop in and save them.

In either case, the generals would be wrong. The Urisk aren’t begging for mercy and they aren’t praying to an imaginary god.

They’re praying to me.

Now pardon me for a moment, I have some swooping and saving to do.

I stepped out among my followers and focused. Their heads turned toward me, expressions of hope on their faces. Their almond eyes, whether orange or green, glowed with an inner light that flickered with anticipation. I could feel their faith in me, and the power that faith gave me swelled. I felt like I could do anything and everything. Save the people, drive off the army and repair the land. I grinned, cracked my knuckles and concentrated on the lava that was rolling in a great red river toward the city.

When I’d prepared for today, the Commander told me I had two goals. One, bolster my followers’ faith by letting them see me protect them. I pointed at the lava and, in a power-amplified voice, commanded, “Stop!” The lava obeyed. I threw my arm out to the side and the lava steamed, cooled, and turned to solid rock.

A gust of ash and grit blasted across the gathering of my followers. I threw my other arm out to the side and shouted, “Enough!” The wind died immediately and the ash vanished from the air. The Urisks’ faith in me increased, and that gave me more power. Having faith in your god is one thing. Personally witnessing that god controlling the weather and landscape tends to make even the most skeptical individual a believer, and it turns a believer into a zealot. My power increased accordingly.

With the Urisk out of danger from the elements, I concentrated on the army. My senses were amplified so that even at this distance of three miles, I could clearly hear the murmurings and confusion of the mages. They’d never seen anything like what I’d just done. Then again, I’d bet they’d never fought a god before.

And that brought me to my second goal for today: spank the enemy and spank them hard.

I had no desire to get up close and personal with the army. The soldiers were hobgoblins and trolls, and even from this distance they smelled awful. So instead, I conjured a giant avatar of myself. There was panic among the ranks as a hundred-foot-tall human appeared at the head of the army. I concentrated, willing the avatar to raise its giant foot and crush a cluster of soldiers beneath a size three hundred Reebok high-top.

Disciplined as they were, the soldiers scattered. I made the avatar laugh, and the sound rumbled the land and threw the soldiers to the ground. I played Godzilla for another few minutes, enjoying the squishing of the hobgoblin and troll soldiers. My avatar opened his palms and waves of flame bowled forth, turning half a mile of the landscape to black ash.

I smirked when I realized there were no survivors. I suppose should’ve left a few of the enemies alive so that they’d carry word of what happened back to their superiors. Then again, when a hundred thousand soldiers disappear, that sends a message, too.

I dismissed my avatar and focused on repairing the land. I opened my hands and spread my arms as wide as I could, sending power forth. Tremors rippled along the ground as I smoothed the ragged land flat again. The world shook as I crushed the volcanoes back into the ground and converted the magma to healthy soil. Blue grass sprang from the earth and silvery trees stretched toward the sky. I made months’ worth of growth happen in minutes. I made the ground sink in some places and filled the depressions with fresh water.

With the land healed, my next task was to ensure my people’s safety. I raised my arms and brought a thirty-foot wall of stone up around the city. I turned to the mass of short gray forms behind me and basked in their faith. Their eyes, glowing orbs of orange and green, flickered like strobe lights. This was the equivalent of joyous laughter. Their faith struck me again, so strong it staggered me. I took an involuntary step back as I ran a hand through my hair. It was slick with sweat. Channeling that much power was taxing for anyone, even a god.

Lotholio, my high priest, came forward and knelt before me. “Lord Corinthos,” he said. His words were telepathically communicated in his native tongue, but I understood him clearly. “You have truly performed miracles today. Our people owe you everything.”

I placed my hand on his thin shoulder and bade him rise. I looked out at the crowd of Urisk, all kneeling before me. Okay, playtime was over. I had to put my formal god-face on now. I spoke then, using the power so they could hear me as if I were standing in front of them. “You are safe now. Let no Urisk feel fear.”

We walked into the city, my followers telepathically cheering. Their eyes flickered with joy and relief. I resisted breaking into a celebratory dance; a god needs to command respect, and I doubted my lousy rendition of the Macarena would loan itself to that. We came to my cathedral, a massive stone structure that the Urisk had fashioned for me with the raw power of their minds. I turned back to the crowd. They immediately fell silent.

“I must leave you for a time, but I will watch over this realm and its people. While I am gone, Lotholio speaks for me. Heed his words as you would mine. You have my blessing.” I sent a wave of health and warmth into them. Any who had injuries, mental afflictions or physical illnesses would be healed. I could feel their faith building again. It was getting too powerful. I needed to leave.

I turned back to Lotholio. “Be safe, my friend,” I said with a smile.

“Lord.” He caught me by my shirtsleeve, then seemed abashed that he’d touched me. “Lord, are you sure you cannot stay? Your presence will be reassuring as the people rebuild.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and stared into glowing green eyes. “The people need to stand on their own, Lotholio. You know that. Do not be afraid, I will always hear your prayers when you need me.” He seemed uncertain, and I knew it was because of the high priest role he’d found himself in. “Loth, you found me, remember? You risked traveling through another dimension, made contact with outsiders, and found the help your people needed. You are the best person to lead while I am gone.” He set his narrow jaw and tried to look strong. “Loth, do you believe in me?”

His eyes dimmed and brightened from top to bottom, a sign of shock. “Of course, Lord.”

“Good. Because I believe in you.” I grinned and turned away from him. I moved to a pylon just in front of my cathedral. “Aviorla, open to home.” A portal opened in the pylon before me, tall enough to step through. Smells and sounds that were totally alien to the Bright Side drifted in from the other side. I grabbed my leather bomber up off the ground and turned back to the people. “Today we have won a great victory. Now it is time to celebrate. Let the festivities last for a week and a day.” I made fireworks and a rainbow appear in the sky.

As my people’s eyes flicked with amazement and joy, I stepped through the portal. It led to a world that only Lotholio had seen, to a city that served as a hub of paranormal activity. The city I call home.

It’s called Boston.

And where can readers get a copy of your novel?

You can purchase IMPERIUM from the following locations:

Amazon - Smashwords -

Nick, if my readers wanted to stalk you, how could they find you?

Twitter = @NicholasOlivo

Blog/Website = www.nicholasolivo.com

Goodreads = http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5018856.Nicholas_Olivo

I understand you are participating in this blog hop giveaway with a copy of your novel.
Yes, if readers will go to http://angel-haze.blogspot.com/2011/09/halloween-blog-hop.html there are instruction on how to enter.

Nicholas Olivio, thank you for popping in to the Murphey Saga for this spooktacular event!

My readers can help support this author by visiting his sites and buying his novel. And as always...

Keep writing and loving the Lord.

 

    

Word Power Wednesday & the Indie Author

in·de·pend·ent
 
adjective
1. not influenced or controlled by others in matters of opinion, conduct, etc.; thinking or acting for oneself: an independent thinker.
2. not subject to another's authority or jurisdiction; autonomous; free: an independent businessman.
3. not influenced by the thought or action of others: independent research.
4. not dependent; not depending or contingent upon something else for existence, operation, etc.
5. not relying on another or others for aid or support.

Rosie the Riveter has to be my most favorite poster from WWII. It shows a woman doing what is necessary to get the job done. Independent of the male influences for the most part. At least that's what I think when I see this. I figure if she can do it so can I.

In the beginning of 2010, I made the decision to self-publish. Good or bad, it was one of the few choices I have at this time in my life. No, that's not exactly true. While I have standard publishers and agents wanting to represent me, I chose a different path because of my current home life. That's the part that doesn't allow me to travel, do a lot of book signing and promotion tours for any of my books. I HAVE to be home. This is unlike quite a few other indie (independent) authors out there.

I had planned to self-publish for this year to see how it went. Yes, I actually had a plan. This time around it was fiction rather than nonfiction. Fiction in standard publishing has a short shelf life...about three months. I wanted more. I guess that's my major problem. It's not really greed as much as wanting more. More time, more experience, more whatever.

I look at the definition for independent and find the only definition which fits the indie author is #1. As indie authors when, what, how, and why we publish is our own decision. It doesn't really matter what others think. Of course we would all life everyone to buy our books, but in reality the market is so segmented in genres...do we really have a choice?

I write suspense. As a suspense writer you are expected to fall within certain guidelines to keep in that genre. The ticking clock, the espionage, the thrill. It has to be there. In suspense horror, you have to know what the standard is for zombies, vampires, or other creatures that go bump in the night. You can slightly bend the rules, but it may come back and bite you in the rear. There are some pretty die hard fans out there who expect certain truths for these creatures to be maintained. So the question comes to mind, how independent are we really as indie authors?

Yes, we can decide what we write and can even break the rule of one genre per author like I do. Of course writing multiple genres does mean multiple market segments to sell to. But like above, there are limitations to what we write.

Yes, we determine how we write within the guidelines. We have nobody actually standing behind us going "You HAVE to write this way." Unless you have an editor like me, who will catch you on all your little trip ups like comma splices, typos, tense, POV shifts, grammar and assorted other things. But that's different, those type things make your book better on the whole.

As indie authors, our writing schedules are ours to command, sort of. We write when we have time to sit at the computer. Like most standard published authors, we have day jobs, families and assorted other distractions like life getting in our way because we really can't afford to give any of them up. Once you self-publish, then comes the marketing you have to do to sell your books...books DO NOT sell themselves. It's the blurbs, the reviews, the cover art, the promotion you do that sells your books...so do you really have control over your writing schedule? The luxury point of self-publishing is that you don't have any deadlines except those you put on yourself. You can write, edit, and publish a book at your choosing.

That brings us to the why of independent publishing. Why would you want to wear all the hats and juggle like a crazy person to get it all done to make the sales? Why put yourself through the torture of writing for the sales of a few hundred copies sold? Is it to be rich? You're in the wrong business about 1% of all published authors can quit their day jobs. Is it a legacy thing? Something that shows "Killroy was here?" Yes, but if no one buys it will anybody know you were here? If I write it they will come? They have to find you first.

Probably the best answer I've heard is because it's me. I have to write. Not because of sales, but for the love of writing a good story. The thrill of putting words on a page that will move another person, transport them from wherever they are to some place else, to make someone think "Hey at least I'm not this poor schmuck." If it lightens the burdens of every day life. High ideals, yes, but truly isn't this what being a writer is all about?

So how independent are we as independent authors?

Keep writing and loving the Lord.

Tuesday's Trash & the Idie Author

Picking up the Pieces

Quote of the Day"If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again."– Flavia Weedn

I read this quote of the day in one of my emails today and it got me thinking about how many times we make lemonade and applesauce in our lives. Not sure of what I'm talking about? When I was a child, when something bad happened my grandmother always said that you take the rotten apples and make applesauce with it. The premise was taking something broken, rotten or bad, and making it into something useful or good out of it.

I've lived by this principle my whole life. Writing is another way for me to make applesauce out of what life dishes out. On my other site, I used to use the heading, "Where Murphy's Law and the Luck of the Irish Combine in Writing." Now, I'm only Irish by marriage, but Murphy's Law reads...whatever can go wrong; will go wrong. Luck of the Irish is self-explanatory. When you combine the two you reach a status quo between bad and good. Sort of. It takes a little extra effort to look for the blessing or good stuff in everything bad that happens. I look at it as grist for the writing mill. Everything that has or will happen to me gives me first hand experiences to incorporate into my writing.

For example, I was in a head-on collision a couple of years ago. That is a very bad thing, I'm sure everyone can agree. Both automobiles were totaled. Here's my view on the situation. All the vehicles were totaled, but everyone walked away from the accident with a few broken bones and bruises. Cars can be replaced; people can not. Sure broken bones are a royal pain as they heal, but you can not heal from death.

The hospital did a CT scan because the x-rays showed something strange and they wanted a better view. The CT showed tumors in my abdomen. I've had some pretty major surgery in the past few years. Now, everyone hears tumor and thinks cancer. I was one of those also. I cried. I pitched a fit big-time. I prayed. Then I chose action and a proactive stance over self-pity. Now don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with sitting on the pity-pot, but just don't make it a life long ambition. It's just not what I'm about.

I finally reached a point of peace with the whole issue. I figured if I didn't wake up from surgery then my job here on Earth was complete and I could go on to a place where Murphy's Law didn't existed. Not a bad thing considering my life. If I woke up from surgery then my job here on Earth was not complete. Something was left undone. Either way it was out of my hands. So many people scramble to pick up all the pieces of the problem or their lives to keep control. An example of the shattered glass or shattered dreams. Inner peace is more important than control.

I had surgery, complications, and the healing took months instead of weeks. It was a growing experience. If I had not had my accident, the tumors would still be in my body...growing and making me ill. Considering my heart stopped twice during surgery, I'm still here writing. The shattered dreams and glass of the accident are past. There it will remain until forgotten. What is important is that I am here, doing what has to be done. Writing, learning, advocating, teaching, and loving everything around me. So my pretty car is gone. It was replaced. The other people involved are living their lives to the fullest. Let's be honest here, not too many people walk away from a head-on collision without permanent damage. The three of us had a wake up call. Look at the shattered pieces of your dreams, stop trying to pick up ALL the pieces, pick one and create something wonderful.

Keep writing and loving the Lord.

Monetary Monday & the Indie Author

What Writer's Risk

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."– T.S. Eliot

Every writer risks something when writing anything. Time is the biggest since writing a book either nonfiction or fiction is a publishing gamble. A writer can spend hours, days, weeks, months and some even years writing. The gamble is whether an agent or publisher will accept it or not and whether or not the reader will buy it. It's like jumping off a cliff with an air foil. You will either catch the upward flow of air or spin down to a horrible death.

I've never met a good writer who didn't believe in what he was doing and put his whole heart into it. Notice I said good writer. Bad writers are in it for the money and rarely see any. Who wants to read a bad writer...come on now, raise you hands. Ah ha, just what I thought. Nobody. I have critiqued quite a few budding writers whose project needed serious work and thought, but that's not necessarily bad, if they are willing to risk the hard work it takes to make it better. There is a wide gulf between good and bad. There are some writers who straddle the chasm.

This is the second risk...hard work. Writing never comes easily. It takes a concentrated effort of the part of the writer. You take a seed of an idea, expand it, make it creditable...you make it creditable because readers are not naive, they question everything. Don't believe for a second that a writer can make something up to fill in the gaps with erroneous information. I guarantee there is at least one reader out there who will call him on it. It's a difficult task to make sure continuity remains throughout the 100-400 pages of a novel or nonfiction. Just make one slip up by saying your character's eyes are blue when you previously said they were brown and watch the emails and letters fly in. Nitpicking you say, but the reader is particular and can make or break a budding novelist. No sales, high returns and the writer becomes a possible one-hit-wonder.

Another risk, I do quite frequently is change genres. As a novelist or nonfiction writer you decide you want to write about something else and watch your sales drop. I remember when Tony Hillerman changed from writing his Indian-detective type novels to one about Vietnam a few years ago and kept the same name on both genres. It was a disaster...sales plummeted and the book ended up on the sales table at a highly reduced price. Although I take the risk and write several genres, I use pseudonyms for each change. Although I run the risk of being a "new author," readers and lovers of my espionage stories are not disappointed when I change to nonfiction in a totally different area, or southern fiction. The copyright is still listed under my real name, but not too many people read copyright information in the front of the book. All they really care about is reading a good story and that's what I give them. It's a tightrope at best.

Still for other writers there is a financial risk involved. The simple fact is the chances of becoming traditionally published are small. Too many authors and too few printed books. It's a buyers marketplace. Investments in writing can be as small as the purchase of some writing books, paper, envelopes and stamps, and some investments are quite higher. Unpublished writers spend their days creating text in the hopes of being published forsaking standard paying jobs to fulfill their dreams. Others invest hard earned greenbacks in book doctors and scams to still seek their vision of seeing their work in print. With the advent of Print on Demand (POD) publishers, many writers who have received enough rejections letters to wall paper a living room, find their dreams realized at a cost.With e-publishing there is little up front cash, but the hours spent drawing attention to your work is costly.

Times have changed in the publishing world. An old dinosaur like me remembers a time when editors really edited books. Books were written on typewriter with carbon paper. Publishing houses were small and plentiful instead of the huge conglomerates they are now with all the mergers. You could even approach publishers without an agent and if you felt you needed one, the publisher would pick up the telephone and recommend one to you. Now, the writer is stymied by "don't call us, we'll call you." Even literary agents want referrals from other published writers, and a long list of credential. They want to reduce their risks which is understandable...but difficult for the writer who waits and wades through the mire of rejection and indecision. So the current trend of e-publishing has blossomed. While there is a lot of trash out there to be had, there are some really precious gems out there in cyberspace.

So is it ultimately worth the risks to become a writer?  To me, yes. There is no greater fulfillment for a writer than to see what you wrote in print. What's even better is to hear from a reader they enjoyed your novel. Whether you start out small with letters to the editor of your local paper. Catch an updraft into blog writing and soar into being published. There is no greater thrill than seeing what you can accomplish in writing. The sky is the limit and although there may be a downdraft or two, continue to take the risk to achieve new heights. A risk not taking is filed away and sometime in the future can become a regret. Me, I want no regrets so I stretch farther across the abyss. Soar high, my friends and ...

Keep writing and loving the Lord.