Author: terribleminds (page 420 of 450)

WORDMONKEY

July 22, 2011 / 6 Comments

Penmonkey Incitement: T-Shirt, Unlocked

And, bam.

The CERTIFIED PENMONKEY t-shirt is unlocked now that we’ve reached the “100” mark for the PENMONKEY REEDUC… er, INCITEMENT PROGRAM.

(We’re now at a total of 430 sold.)

What that means is, this t-shirt —

— will be sent to one lucky COAFPM procurer.

That PENMONKEY will be —

*is delivered an envelope by a whirring Doom-Bot*

Holly West!

Woo! *confetti, applause, buzzsaws*

And, because we hit the 100 mark, that also means: postcard.

That postcard goes to —

*drum roll using the skulls of my foes as drums, Ewok-style*

Lynda Kachurek!

If the both of you could e-mail me to confirm your mailing addresses, that would be super-sweet.

Remember: at certain “incitement procurement targets,” awesome things (like cybernetic Dobermans) are released. If you need a reminder, the releases go according to this handy-dandy chart:

For every 50 sales, a postcard.

For every 100 sales, a t-shirt.

For every 200 sales, a copy-edit of your work (5000 words or 50 script pages).

For every 500 sales, a brand new Kindle.

Also, please note that if you haven’t already done so, you need to send me proof of your purchase to terribleminds [at] gmail [dot] com, so the Doom-Bots know to count you in subsequent incitement draws.

Though, if you bought COAFPM as PDF, you do not need to send it to me. I’ve got it covered.

Other Updatery-Doo

If you’re so inclined to know how all the e-books are doing, stick around.

COAFPM (now with 12 great reviews at Amazon, and always seeking more) is doing very well. That $4.99 price point is a strong one. It allows me to see some bill-paying money come in without necessitating epic sales numbers — further, it allows me to do cool contests like the incitement program.

You can read a nice review of COAFPM here.

250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING actually has the opposite going for it — I’ve already sold 350 copies in four days (compare that to the 430 sold for COAFPM over two months), but of course at $0.99 you only get 30% opposed to the 70% with slightly higher prices. But that’s okay. This book is meant to whet people’s appetites and force them to grow addicted to my “Chimp-on-PCP” style of writing and further increase in them a desire to don red robes and drink my hypnotic Flavor-Aid. (Remember, everybody: Reverend Jim Jones did not use Kool-Aid. Is it sick that I envision a wife trying to force feed her husband a cup of cyanide-laced Kool-Aid and he’s like “No — no!” and then the Kool-Aid Man comes cannonballing through the tent-flap and he’s all like “OH YEAAAAHH”…?)

Seems like self-published authors are best served by a diversity of product and price point.

I might just be making that up, though. Don’t quote me on it. You do what you like.

IRREGULAR CREATURES, my short story collection, is continuing its “slow and steady wins the race” approach. Getting near 750 sales, so I’m pretty happy about that. I’m even happier about the incredible reviews over at Amazon (38 of ’em so far, all surprisingly kind).

You can find a nice review of IC over at JD Rhodes’ blog.

And I think that’s all, folks.

If you got questions, comments, complaints, prayer requests, or wedding proposals, now’s the time.

July 22, 2011 / 94 Comments

Flash Fiction Challenge: That’s Right, I Said “Unicorn”

Last week’s challenge — “An Uncharted Apocalypse” — had some amazing stories, so you should go check ’em out. I’m going to take the weekend pick my favorite five and then toss those five folks a copy of my newest e-book, 250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING.

I like unicorns.

I mean, not in the sense that I have hundreds of unicorn collectibles on my shelves — *hurries to drop a blanket over my shelves* — it’s just, dang, unicorns crack me up. A pretty white horse with a big horn sticking out of his head and, boom, that’s it. Instant mythological favorite the world around. It’s an absurd animal.

Real reason I talk about unicorns so much — *quick runs to tear down wall of unicorn posters — is that the “unicorn” represents that kind of bullshit special snowflake precious writer mystique, right? The same people who believe a glittery Muse is going to fill their heads with hot notions are the same people who probably believe a unicorn is how babies are made.

Unicorns are just really weird and really goofy.

*darts to closet, slams door before you can see the unicorn cosplay outfits*

Anyway.

Thus, it seems high time to have a unicorn-themed flash fiction challenge.

I want you to incorporate the unicorn into your 1000-word story.

I don’t care how, but you get bonus points for thinking creatively or doing something different with the creature that we haven’t seen or don’t otherwise expect. Bring some attitude to it.

Any genre will do.

You’ve got one week. Friday, July 29th, by noon EST.

Get on it.

Oh! And this week, I’ll pick one favorite.

That favorite will get all three of my e-books.

Peace in the Middle East, yo.

July 21, 2011 / 15 Comments

Laura Anne Gilman: The Terribleminds Interview

Twitter is serendipitous to me, because without it, I’d not have met or communicated with, well, pretty much anybody. I’d be alone in a clawfoot bathtub with a cat. And I don’t own a cat. Point being, without Twitter I’d not have come into range of Laura Anne Gilman, once an editor, now a “write the hell out of some books” novelist. Writers, you best go ahead and read what she has to say. Let the interview commence. (Oh, and if you wanna follow her on the Twitters, you’ll find her @LAGILMAN.)

This is a blog about writing and storytelling, so before we do anything else, I’d like you to tell me – and, of course, the fine miscreants and deviants that read this site – a story. As short or long as you care to make it, as true or false as you see it.

Three days ago the second squirrel arrived. We’d been lured into passivity by the first one, I suppose: it had seemed friendly enough, willing to stay on its side of the screen, not tormenting the cats more than normal. The tree-rats in our neighborhood are bright eyed and thick-coated, finding enough food to eat, supplemented by the little old ladies’ bread crumbs and an occasional abandoned sandwich. You don’t think of them as a threat.

That was before the second squirrel. Before we found the window screen cut away, and the peanut butter jar missing. As well as the smaller of the cats.

[some of this story is true. some of it is not. yet.]

How would you describe your writing or storytelling style?

…. um….. the bastard child of a haiku sensibility and a genre-rific childhood, as raised by literary-minded housecats? Beyond that, I leave it to future scholars to argue about it.

In truth, I’ve had so many influences growing up, it’s hard for me to point to any two and say “there, that’s it.” Hemingway and Roger Zelazny, Dorothy Sayers and Robin McKinley, Robert Frost, Dashiell Hammett, Madeleine L’Engle and Raymond Carver were all on my shelves as a teenager. That was also when I started getting interested in haiku, in the idea of conveying something complex in a deceptively simple visual image or turn. So.. terse but lyrical is my goal, I suppose. Although that conflicts mightily with my love of the semi-colon….

What’s awesome about being a writer or storyteller?

Writing. Head down, full-on, discovery-of-story. The kind of writing that makes you do a chair dance every so often, just because you’re having so much fun.

Conversely, what sucks about it?

Everything else? No, really, the only thing that sucks about being a writer is the fact that so many people seem to think “anyone” can do it, that all it takes is an idea and some time. I’m not sure there’s any other profession that gets that kind of dismissal. Maybe teaching. Which is a sad commentary on how literacy is treated, I guess…

Deliver unto us a single-serving dollop of writing or storytelling advice that you yourself follow as a critical tip without which you might starve and die atop a glacier somewhere:

I have this in the sidebar of my Livejournal, because it’s so damn true:

“You sit down. You tell a story. You do it any damn way it comes out that works consistently for you. You hope people like it. You hope people pay you for it. You do it again. And again. That’s all I got. Zen and the Art of Writer Maintenance. You can cheer me on and I can cheer you on, but in the end? In the end it’s down to how you get your getting done, done. So get it done.”

I say that everybody has their own story of “breaking in” and getting published — it’s like we all dig our own tunnels and detonate them behind us. Any interesting tales from your rise to ascendancy as a creative penmonkey?

I find that a lot of people think that, because I was an editor, my route to publication was easy/simple/fast. Not so much. I sold my first short story to the first market I sent it to – Amazing Stories, back in the 1990’s – but that was it for over a year. And my first original novel, STAYING DEAD, went to all the major genre publishers at the time – seven, I think – and got some nice responses, but nobody was putting money on the table. One publisher asked me to rewrite chapters to see if it would work as a YA, but that didn’t go anywhere. Then I was having lunch with an editor at a brand-new imprint, who had put out a call for historical fantasy – and I had submitted another project there – and I mentioned this book to her. “Send it,” she said. A total flyer, and she had to do some fast talking, I suspect, to get it approved. That was *counts* ten books ago, and we have another two under contract, all in the same universe. Right place, right time, right project. And the right editor. That’s pretty much been the story of my career so far.

You’ve got experience as an editor — so, what’s one mistake you see too many writers making in their manuscripts?

Oh, we’re creative, we make all SORTS of mistakes….. Not trusting ourselves and not pushing hard enough, that’s a big’un. No matter what you’re writing, second-guessing the market and trying to keep it ‘familiar’ is always going to hurt you far more than being “too original” or “too …” anything, really. We’re goddamned WRITERS, we CREATE. Even if you’re writing to formula, twist it! Give the story something new, something specifically yours. Or why bother doing it at all?

Whoops. Starting waving my hands a bit there. Never a good sign. Did I knock over your glass?

Favorite word? And then, the follow up: Favorite curse word?

Just one? Without any context? Aww… Verklempt. Mainly because it’s fun to say, and so evocative. Favorite curse word is motherfucker. It’s rounded, with real weight, and conveys so many different meanings depending on the tone of voice used. really, a multipurpose tool.

Favorite alcoholic beverage? (If cocktail: provide recipe. If you don’t drink alcohol, fine, fine, a non-alcoholic beverage will do.)

Wine. A crisp, flinty white, or a red with a lot of complexity and depth… I like my wines to acknowledge their tannins, invite them in and make them feel welcome. I can talk endlessly about wine, so this is your warning to shut me up now or that’s all we’re going to talk about for the rest of the interview…

Yeah, I’m known for drinking Scotch* whisky, too, but that’s my ‘working’ drink, when I want to keep focused. Wine is social, expansive.

*and Irish whiskey and American bourbon and…

Fuck it, let’s talk about wine. Recommend me a nice red, but a red that goes well with summer.

For warm weather reds, I like Zinfandel for picnics – it’s a warm, fruit-forward taste that goes well with bbq (I’m talking real Zin here, not that pink stuff they sell.) But that’s a bolder taste, and most folk prefer the lighter reds, that take well to being served lightly chilled (yes, you can chill some red wines). You want something young, with a lowerish alcohol rating (under 12%), ideally aged in steel, not wood. Rioja (Spain), and Beaujolais (France) are the first I’d think of, and then Pinot Noir (France/NZ/US). You could also try a Pinotage (SA).

Recommend a book, comic book, film, game: something with great story. Go!

Leverage (the tv show). Great stories, told not only with words but visuals – the body languages of the actors, the camera shots chosen by the directors, even the choice of stories, and the white spaces in-between, where what they DIDN’T do is strongly implied… it all creates this amazing package that kept me – who usually has a very short attention span when it come to tv – fascinated. And there’s an evolving arc – not in terms of “this is the story,” but “these are the people in the story.”

Where are my pants?

That’s between you and your dog. er, god.

Got anything to pimp? Now’s the time!

Two things. okay, four things, but only two am I really going to be pimptastic about.

The first is DRAGON VIRUS. I’m still not sure if it’s a collection of short stories connected by a narrative thread, or a very odd novella spanning 100+ years. It’s SFnal horror with a literary edge, and one of those projects that are only possible because of small presses (in this instance, Fairwood Press). Not for everyone (if you’re looking for puppies and kittens and rainbows it ain’t here), but the people who have liked it have really really liked it.

The second is Practical Meerkat. This is a weekly column I’m doing for Book View Cafe, the full title being “Practical Meerkat’s 52 Bits of Useful Info for Young (and Old) Writers.” Each week, for a year, I approach a different aspect of writing – both craft and business-side, gleaned form my experience as an editor (15 years) and a writer (going on 17 years now, published). At the end of the year all the essays will be collected & polished into an e-book, so you don’t have to worry about keeping up if life (and writing) gets busy.

The other two things, of course, are The Vineart War, my Nebula-nominated epic fantasy trilogy (the third and final book, THE SHATTERED VINE, will be out in October 2011), and the Cosa Nostradamus urban fantasy series (most recently PACK OF LIES), which combines caper novels and police procedurals with modern magic in New York City. Guaranteed vampire-free UF! You can find samples to read on my website and via my publishers (Harlequin and S&S.) (Also, here’s an Amazon link to all her work — cdw.)

DRAGON VIRUS lives on at a small press. (I’m a fan of small presses — I think they can move and turn fast in response to industry shifts.) Publishing right now is in a crazy place. Care to predict where books and authors and publishing will be in five, ten years? In case you choose not to answer that, I’ll remind you that I’ve strapped a bomb to the underside of your chair.

I’ve been saying for several years now (usually into the ears of people saying la la la can’t hear you) that small press, big press, and digital are going to become equal partners, much the same way that hardcover and mass market did, decades ago (Most people in publishing today have always worked with mass market, but I’ve heard stories about how the hardcover folk panicked at this upstart…much the same way trad publishers reacted at first to digital). One format isn’t going to ‘wipe out’ the other, not the way some partisans are predicting. The companies that survive are either going to pick one and specialize, or learn to spread their costs over both print and digital.

Self-publishing is popular right now, and both the process and the market are chaotic as hell, but in about 3-5 years it’s going to shake out and take its place within the overall publishing structure described above, rather than dismantling it.

The one thing I believe will continue is the role of the editor. Self-publishing is the buzzword now, but the larger that pool grows, the more there will be a need for a story to stand out to succeed. You have to be offer something more than average, more than merely “good,” when there’s competition. The much-maligned gatekeepers were one way that happened – now I could easily see the editor coming back into use as that gatekeeper, rather than a publisher’s brand.

I certainly think that would be a good thing, for both writers and readers.

What’s wrong with fantasy and/or urban fantasy today? Anything you’d like to cast a wary gaze at? If a new writer is looking to work in those genres, where could they go wrong?

Too many people coming in, thinking that UF is A, and only A. The wonderful thing about contemporary fantasy is that it’s incredibly inclusive – you can range from the unromantic tough-edged adventures all the way to the overtly romantic, from dark to light, male and female main characters, big cities or small towns, etc. But too often people identify “urban fantasy” as kickass babe in leather, with vampire/were companion,” and that’s only one slice out of the pie. Mind you, that’s the slice that seems to get all the press… but there’s room for so much more, and if we narrow in, we risk becoming a parody of everything that was originally good and fresh and interesting.

Fantasy has an incredible opportunity to be whatever it wants. You’re not stuck to a specific type of story, or a frame of reference. The fantastical elements should be restricted only by the plausibility of your worldbuilding.

July 20, 2011 / 27 Comments

Of Google-Plus And Circle-Jerks, Part II

Google+ grows on me like a fungus. Like a scaly patch of ringworm, I can’t stop itching it.

I don’t really know why. I think in part I’m scratching to peel away layers, to dig beneath the rashy skin and find the potential buried beneath — because, at this point, I’m growing convinced that some real potential is there. But I’m also growing convinced that most of that potential is too hard to see and isn’t yet manifested.

*itch itch itch, scratch scratch scratch*

Let’s rip through the meat with our fingernails and see what else we find.

Caveat: Twitter Is My Main Gal

Twitter isn’t for everyone. I get that. But it’s definitely my one true social media gal pal. It took the formula put out by Myspace and Facebook and flipped it on its ear. Twitter is the beat poetry version of social media. It’s some crass noisy combination of soapbox-shouting, flea-market-hawking, carnival-barking, stand-up-joke-telling, and haiku-having. It’s got the motion and madness of a city street with all its sounds and smells. Twitter is ever the low but persistent hum. I merely need to tune into its Zen frequencies for a time. It requires no massive investment. It demands little of me. I splash about in its waters like a spider monkey who has never before played in the ocean. Splish-splash.

But — but!

Twitter is shit for conversation.

It’s great for banter.

But conversation necessitates deeper investment, complexity, and nuance… and Twitter just doesn’t do that well. You ever see two people have a long protracted discussion on Twitter? It’s like watching two bricks tumble around in a washing machine. And Zeus forbid that the conversation suck in more than two people. Then it becomes the clumsiest gang-bang you’ve ever seen. (“Is someone wearing an oven-mitt on their dick? Is that a nose tickling my perineum? Who let the peacock in here? It smells like peanut oil.”)

Imagine tuning two different radios to different shows and having those shows “converse.”

Doesn’t really work out so well.

And so, I give you, Google+.

The Googlecrucians Want You To Converse

G+ is setup for you to converse. It’s like one big forum — whereas Twitter and Facebook limit the length of updates and comments, Goo-Goo-Plus has no such interest. It wants you to fill the space with your words, and it wants other people to fill the space, too. “GO AHEAD,” the Lords of Google are saying. “SPEAK AT LENGTH WITHOUT RESERVATION. YOU HAVE THIS ENTIRE BLEAK DESERT OF POWDERY WHITENESS IN WHICH TO BLOVIATE. THE LEASH IS OFF. YOU DOGS MAY RUN FREE.”

And that’s awesome.

In theory.

It’s not quite working for me. Not yet. It can! I can see it coming together and working — while the brownies here are definitely soft in the middle, this remains a beta release and is sure to grow and change.

Here’s the first thing that’s not working for me, though: a big conversation is like a fire circle or a parliamentary session. It’s a rock around which you sit — a stable, single location that people come to where they can join into the conversation or just sit back and listen. This blog functions like that. It’s a static location in the digital space-time continuum — you come to me, I don’t come to you.

But G+ doesn’t work like that. It, like so many other social media sites, is a stream, ever-flowing. Which means the conversations are always moving downstream, which means those conversations are hard to grab hold of, hard to track — it’s like I’m constantly trying to grab hold of a slippery length of intestine and it just keeps squidging free from my grip. (“Squidging” is a word. Say different and I’ll sic the hounds upon you.) Imagine if those aforementioned fire circles and parliamentary sessions were all on rafts, and we were all traveling together down a raging river. Yelling at one another.

The conversations at G+ are just plain hard to track — at least, in my estimation. (I’m kind of a dipshit, though, so keep that in mind.) Harder still when they become big, swollen discussions.

Rob Donoghue — the ever-wise — noted that, at present, G+ is built around people, but what if, instead, it were built around conversations? As in, that’s what you tune into more than the people who host the discussion? Right? That’s how forums work, but forums are often craptacular.

Can G+ give rise to The Ultimate Forum?

Maybe. But it’s not there, yet.

Mostly, I find myself looking at big conversations there and thinking, “I’m glad people are having them.” And then I click away and don’t read the conversation because a nap sounds better.

Ways To Enhance The Conversation

Here, then, are some ways that Guh-Pluh can advance the way the site deals with conversation:

1.) The notifications are too much. The site’s like a needy puppy with these things, constantly getting muddy pawprints all over my — well, not my pants, since I don’t wear those, so let’s just go with “hirsute calves.” Half the time the notifications are about dead useless anyway. “Nobody has added anything to the conversation! Look! +1!” Since notifications have become noise, I’ve tuned them out — not ideal for following the flow.

2.) Threaded (or is it nested?) comments. Allow me to reply to a comment, not just the post. Further, let me break away into little sub-conversations if need be. I pull you three and we go into this other digital room disconnected from the main and we sit there and chat about whatever it is.

3.) I want a rope to pull myself back to the conversation. Blogs are great for this. If I know a conversation is going on at a blog post I like, I can just wander back there with a link. I need that here, too. In fact, Rob Donoghue earlier posted that thing about conversations only in Google-Plus, which means I can’t link to it like a blog. I can’t say, “You, dear reader, go look at that.”

4.) Speakawhich, I pray to Internet Jesus and melt a motherboard on his altar that Google+ does not become a source of blogging. First of all, G+ is, at present, so spare it’s somewhat ugly. It’s a Spartan, utilitarian space with all the flavor of a Communist bread dole. I like that blogs are part of the personalities of their keepers. I don’t mind if they’re “connected,” but so far, reading big chunks of text on Google-Plus is about as pleasurable as reading legal documents. (Sidenote: this is true of e-books, too. I long for the day that the Kindle, f’rex, allows books to have their own look again. It’ll happen, I just don’t know when.) A weird little part of me wonders if we go back to the Myspace-like customization within reason. Which leads me to a site that already does that well…

5.) Tumblr needs to get on over here and inject its Tumblrian DNA into the Googlecrucian experience. I actually like Tumblr a lot, but have tuned it out in favor of Google+ simply because of time commitment. That’s a shame, because Tumblr was something different, where for now, G+ is mostly “more of the same.” (I know, people are going to tell me that G+ is a revolution. Not yet, it ain’t. It’s Facebook 2.0.) Tumblr allows the sharing of content lickity-split, and further, Tumblr allows for connected and easily-customized blogs. Where Tumblr fails is — drum roll please — conversation. And so I demand that G+ and Tumblr have SOCIAL MEDIA BABIES. Go on, you two. Here’s a room. One of you is ovulating — I can smell your Internet ovum. Have some lube. Go at it, jungle cats.

6.) Circles haven’t really worked for me yet. Well, correction — they work to let me break apart my social media flow into littler “radio stations,” so on that front? Total success. But in terms of enhancing conversation, not so much. Part of it is that in terms of broadcasting, I have no guarantee The Circle I Choose is even listening. Going back to that fire circle or parliamentary session image, I’m at the podium but I’m blindfolded. My audience might be nowhere to be found. Sometimes it’s be nice if circles operated like “opt-in” groups — “Hey, this is my book club circle, and we’re all in, and we can all see one another.”

7.) I hate to say it, but I want Wave back. Wave was a great idea that failed to perform. It was like saying, “I’m creating a teleportation device” but what you got was a giant catapult that “teleported” you into a concrete wall. But what Wave promised was actually pretty awesome — “Hey, let’s you and me and whoever else get into this little pocket of Internet space and just fucking communicate.” It was some gallumphing mutation featuring strains of chat, e-mail, and social media — it just failed to come together. I want that back. I want it jacked into G+. I want to be able to pull people into that space and have those kinds of conversations that are disconnected from the larger stream. We shouldn’t have to “follow” each other as circle-jerks to have a conversation.

8.) Bring all parts together. Right now, to me, G+ is a Frankenstein Monster of limbs welded together with lightning but the bolts, staples and solder-marks still show. I don’t know what these pieces are doing together. In a conversation I need the ability to say, “Fuck it, we’re doing a Hangout right now, just you people in this discussion.” I need the ability for Sparks to generate from the chatter I’m making, not from topics I choose. I need the ability to hand-pick people and say, “Let’s get into a space where we can draw on the digital walls like white-space and collaborate on some stuff.” I need it to be more than Facebook.

It Will Be, If The Lords Of Google Will It (And The Creek Don’t Rise)

My estimation of Baby Huey’s Gooey Kablooey (Plus!) has risen considerably since I posted my last rant — but that estimation is based almost solely upon speculation. It’s built on the promise of the site more than the current incarnation. Because right now? It’s just more of the same. I know, I know — IT’S A REVOLUTION IN SOCIAL MED… stop that. Just stop. You can’t make something a revolution just by saying it’s a revolution. I can’t just say, “There’s a revolution in my pants!” and when you get there, it’s just a plain old dangling wang down there. No worker’s rights or health care for everybody — just a regular penis doing regular penis things. Like playing badminton. Or watching the BBC.

Right now Google+ is stumbling around like a newborn fawn because… well, it is a newborn fawn. Again: that bitch is in beta. I have confidence that, if the Googlecrucians continue their devotion to the site, in a year’s time you won’t use it like you use Facebook. It’s just… right now, I’m using it like I use Facebook. Outside of the Hangout (with my Wangout), I don’t see anything all that special at present. That means we’ve a pretty significant redundancy in the system.

I suspect the way we make Google+ better and help them bring these disconnected pieces together is by telling them what we think. The Lords of Google have been responsive so far.

Which is a good sign, and another glimpse of promise.

I thought about putting together a “Google-Plus For Writers” post, by the way, but once again, outside the Hangout, I don’t know if there’s any there there, yet. (Though, it may be worth asking what G+ could become for writers… what would writers want out of it?)

We shall see.

In the meantime, you will continue to find me on Twitter.

Anyway. Feel free to add your thoughts. How’s Gee-Plus doing for you?

July 19, 2011 / 45 Comments

25 Ways To Defeat The Dreaded Writer’s Block

Switching gears from the “25 Things” series (which is now neatly compiled in an e-book cheaper than a bottle of water of a hobo handy) and segueing into a more practical “25 Ways” list.

I do not believe in writer’s block. I believe it shares the same intellectual space as the bogeyman in your closet, as the serial killer under the bed. The more you fear it, the more it gains power. To be clear, I do believe that writers can be blocked, that writers can have bad days where the intellectual plumbing feels gummed up by an old diaper filled with soggy fruitcake — I just don’t believe this is unique to the writer. Everybody gets blocked. Everybody gets frustrated. Everybody can have a bad day where the brain-squeezin’s just won’t get squozen.

Even still, while the problem may not be unique, the solutions often are.

And so that’s what we’re tackling today.

Ready? Let’s crotch-kick writer’s block so hard, it tastes the poodle crap we stepped in on the way over.

1. Write Through It

You are confronted by a tangle of jungle vines and Amazonian thicket. The only way forward is forward. You have a machete. What do you do? You chop, motherfucker. Take the blade. Start hacking. Won’t be fun. Won’t be fast. But it’s the only way to gain ground. Your first way through writer’s block is just to write. Clench your jaw. Tighten your sphincter. And write. The key is to write badly if you must. Write without regard for quality or care. Flail about with your word-machete until the tangle is clear.

2. Write Through It, Part II: All Work And No Play

This is the same as the first but bears special mention: sometimes it’s not even about writing words in your story, sometimes it’s about just writing. Writer’s block is often about jarring loose stubborn bullshit — it feels like you’re trying to pull teeth out of a meth-cranked raccoon, but that’s an act of finesse. Put down the pliers, get out the hammer. Start swinging. Write crazy. Write big. Write insane. All work and no play makes writer-monkey a twitchy serial murderer. Write one word over and over. One sentence. One paragraph. Don’t worry about what you’re writing. Turn on the spigot. Let the madness flow.

3. The Blood Must Flow

Science lesson. Blood carries nutrients to your brain. One of those nutrients is imagozen, the vitamin that governs our imagination. I may just be making that up. But there’s some truth there: we do need good blood-flow to the brain to think clearly. Been sitting on your ass a while? All the blood and sweet, sweet imagozen is pooling in your ass-parts. Get up. Move around. Take a walk. Exercise. Do some push-ups. Hell, have sex. You gotta love a guy who will tell you to solve writer’s block by “banging it out.” Right? No, seriously, you have to love me. Take off your pants. Mine are already on the floor. LOVE ME.

4. Stick Energy Drink Up Ass, Tighten Buttocks Until High-Octane Enema Occurs

I am not actually recommending an energy drink enema, just so we’re clear. I will not be held liable for the embarrassing X-rays that make it onto the Internet. What I am saying is, caffeine? It’s your buddy. Caffeine can give your brain a much-needed jolt, as if from those electrified paddles. CLEAR. Bzzt. Start with tea. Tea has a mellower edge than coffee. That doesn’t work, try coffee. Mmm. Coffee. Speaking of — *slurrrp*

5. Booze Booze Booze Booze Booze vomits

Caffeine creates tension. But maybe what you need is recoil. Could be that you’re just too ratcheted up to write. No problem. Switch your chemical dance partner. From caffeine to liquor. I’m not saying you should make a habit of writing drunk — in fact, I’m suggesting you write merely tipsy. Whatever amount of alcohol lubricates your social gears may also lubricate your writing gears. Just this once. Just to ooze past this block. To get your mind chatting up the birds at the word-bar.

6. Chatty Cathy, Don’t Clip Those Strings

Talk to yourself. Seriously. Use your mouth. Vocalize words. Have a conversation with yourself. Talk about the story. Talk about what’s clogging the pipes. Yammer away like a crazy person. (For bonus points: do so at a public bus terminal.) If you’re so inclined, record the conversation. Label the file, “MY MANIFESTO.” E-mail to all the newspapers.

7. Reach Out And Touch Somebody

Perhaps a masturbatory chat with yourself isn’t quite enough. Fine. Find another human being (or, if you’re reading this after the year 2018, find a sentient appliance bot, like the Dishflenser 500, or the Toast-Aborter v2.0) and have this chat with them. Talk out your problem. Get their input. Human interaction can go a long way toward jarring loose whatever grubby suppository is stuck up inside your narrative butthole.

8. Converse With Your Imaginary Friend

This one will make you certifiable, so don’t perform it in front of any sensitive family members. But take one of your characters, and talk to them. Out loud or on the page. Do a little role-playing. (And any writer who hasn’t engaged in a little role-playing — either the kind with dice or the kind with a librarian’s outfit and an orangutan mask — is missing out on learning how to let your fiction find its path.)

9. Fuck With The Feng Shui

Get up off your ass. Pack up your writing. Go elsewhere. Across the room. To the kitchen table. To a Starbucks. To a Jersey rest-stop. Hell, wander outside, do some writing there. Sometimes just the change of scenery is enough to free the word-demons from their restrictive cages.

10. Tinker With The Guts

You ever get lost while traveling? “We’re supposed to be at the Aquarium. And yet here we are, atop an ancient hill, trapped inside a giant wicker effigy, surrounded by torch-wielding cultists. I think we took a wrong turn somewhere, honey. Sorry, kids.” Sometimes you have to backtrack. Find out where things went awry. So too with your fiction. Read back. Find where you fucked up. Your reluctance to continue writing may be born of the unconscious discomfort that something in your tale is wrong, like a picture hanging askew on the wall. Go back. Straighten the picture.

11. You Need A Motherfizzucking Map

It can be hard to see the forest for the trees when writing a big project. You feel like you’re wandering in the swamp, walking in weeds as high as your ears. Do you have a map? Probably not. Listen, some writers are pantsers. They love to operate off the narrative grid. You may not be one of them. Go back. Write an outline. Beat out the story the way you’d beat a confession out of a perp. Know where you’ve been and discover where you’re going and then go back and write. Sometimes writer’s block is just you missing the big picture.

12. Throw The Map In A Bag And Burn It

Alternately, maybe you need to pants it a little. Maybe you’re too married to an outline that just isn’t tickling your pink parts anymore. Fine. Fuck it. Throw caution to the wind. It’s time to do something dramatic. Christa Faust has a killer tattoo that cuts to the heart of it: “When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand.” That’s a specific example, but you can blow up the story however you choose. Fire! Death! Betrayal! Cataclysm! Deception! Adultery! Whatever it is, take the map you’ve written, wrap it around a hand grenade, and shove it up the story’s ass. CHOOM. Harvest the sweet story blubber.

13. Put Lipstick On That Monkey

Sometimes, a cosmetic change goes a long way. Me? I’m a font whore. I like to find the right font that fits well with my story. Yes, this is ludicrous. Yes, this is a waste of time. Yes, I do it anyway. And once I take 30 minutes to find the right font, the story’s style locks for me. Try it. Or maybe you mess with margins. Or line spacing. Or you choose to write long-hand. Or carve your story into the back of a hooker corpse. Your call.

14. A-Scripting-We-Will-Go

Depart from your narrative, and turn your fiction into a script. Just for now. Just for the part that’s blocking you. Of course, if you’re already writing a script, then do the reverse — switch it up and move into the more languid and longer form afforded by prose. Again, this “switching of gears” can uncage the story-bears. By the way, “uncage the story-bear” is the metaphor I choose when I proclaim I am about to make love. I walk into the room, I scratch my beard, unmoor my pants, and I announce that in a booming voice. I just wanted to let you in on that part of my life. Thank me later.

15. Dear Missus Frittershire

Familiar with the epistolary? Any story that takes the form of a series of documents is considered epistolary. The novel might manifest as a collection of letters, e-mails, newspaper clippings, diary entries, tweets, the ravings of an impudent spam-bot, etc;. Try this out. I don’t mean for the whole story. But for today, try writing through your writer’s block by embracing this form. “Today, my character will write a blog entry.” “I will use the art of the takeout Chinese menu to tell this story.” Shit, you never know.

16. Wander Down An Alley

Er, not literally. I will not be held responsible if you are captured and eaten by Oscar the Grouch. (You gotta watch that guy. Terrible hungers.) Let’s say you’re writing a novel. Let’s say you’re banging your head on that novel the way a bumblebee bats his head against the window-glass. I want you to take the protagonist, or some aspect of the storyworld, and deviate. Write some flash fiction, maybe a short story, some ancillary, tacked-on, doesn’t-connect-directly-to-the-novel story. Indirect, yes. Direct, no. Take today and write only that. It may open doors for the larger project at hand.

17. Kill The Shiny

As modern souls we are besieged by distractions. Text messages and tweets and spam-bots and porn and TV-on-demand and cyber-LSD and digital cupcakes and only the gods know what else. Escape the gravity of your own distractions. Turn it off. Power it down. Use a program like Mac Freedom or Write Or Die. Close the door on all the piffling, waffling, middling bullshit and make sure it’s just you and the word count.

18. Hear A Buzzer, Start To Drool

Tell yourself, “If I write 1000 words, I get [fill-in-the-blank].” Doesn’t matter what it is. Ice cream? Another cup of coffee? An hour of television? A jet-boat made of pony bones? Like I said: whatever. But establishing a reward gives you motivation to do the one thing that really defeats writer’s block: writing through the anguish and coming out the other side. Covered in blood. And smiling.

19. The Penmonkey Diet

Carbs are great if you’re going to be, y’know, using that energy for something like, say, moving your laggardly slugabed body around. But writers live a sedentary existence, at least while working, and so it behooves you not to hoover a bowl of Corn Pops into your gut. Do that and the carbs will only drag you down, make you mentally foggy. Stick with protein while writing. By the way, bacon is protein. Just saying.

20. Hop Around Like A Coked-Up Jackrabbit

Nobody said you had to write your work in order. I like to write in sequence for the most part just because it keeps me on point — but if I’m at a section I’m just not “feeling” that day, I’ll skip around, write something else. “I want to write a fight scene between two stompy robots,” I’ll say. Hell, you’re the god of the story. You may experience it in whatever order you so choose.

21. Get Visual

I like to take photos. Or fuck around with Photoshop. You think I haven’t been vain enough to do up fake book covers for my as-yet-unpublished books? Oh, I have. Point is, sometimes writer’s block is just about flexing those creative muscles on the right side of your brain. Hell, you fingerpaint poop on your Plexiglass enclosure like I do and that counts. Seriously. Look, I drew a monkey! The flies are his eyes.

22. Down The Rabbit Hole Of Research

Research can be a trigger to get you moving again. No matter what you’re writing about, you will always find more to know, and in this case research qualifies as a “good” distraction as long as you keep a relative focus. You play it right, research can be the key that unlocks whatever mental door got slammed shut.

23. Recognize Why You Don’t Want To Write This Part

Sometimes you get stuck on a part and are too stubborn to do anything about it, so you just stand there and stare it down, growling and stomping your feet. Here’s a secret: maybe that part you’re stuck on is a part you just don’t want to write. And if you don’t want to write it, what are the chances that someone might not want to read it? You know what you do? Skip it. Kill it. Move past it. Find another way through.

24. Fuck Off For A Day, Willya?

You get one day. One. Free pass. No writing today. Just flit away, little butterfly. Flit, flit, flit. Clear your head. Have some fun. Tomorrow the work returns. The block, undone. Or it damn well better be.

25. Deny The Existence Of Writer’s Block

If you’re being skewered by a unicorn, the secret is: tell the unicorn he doesn’t exist. If you do that, he’ll disappear in a puff of Lucky Charms cereal. That’s true. That’s fact. Same thing goes for writer’s block. If it’s assailing you, an incubus clinging to your back, you just tell that mythological being that you don’t believe in him. You do that, you steal his power. Suck his breath away. Make him turn to so much vapor. You have to harden your heart and your head against it and believe that the one way through is that old saw that everybody repeats but they always forget: writers write. That’s the one tried and true way through writer’s block. Because a writer who writes isn’t blocked, is he?

* * *

Like this brand of booze-soaked, caffeine-addled, salty-tongued writing advice? Then I might recommend you take a look at 250 Things You Should Know About Writing and Confessions Of A Freelance Penmonkey, both available now. Please to enjoy.

July 17, 2011 / 33 Comments

250 Things You Should Know About Writing: Now Available

Psst.

Psssst.

*gesticulates wildly in or near your field of vision*

I HAVE SHAT ANOTHER E-BOOK INTO THE WORLD.

*receives notes from handler*

Oh. I’m supposed to be more upbeat? More market-savvy? Oh. Oh. That makes sense. Let’s try this.

I SQUATTED IN YOUR DIGITAL TRENCH AND BIRTHED ANOTHER ELECTRONIC WORD BABY.

Better? Excellent.

I give unto thee, 250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING.

Let’s right now just get your options for procurement outta the way…

Kindle (US): Buy Here

Kindle (UK): Buy Here

Nook: Buy Here

Or, buy the PDF ($0.99) by clicking the BUY NOW button:

(Note that buying the PDF is through Paypal. Paypal will tell me you’ve procured the e-book and then you’ll get an email from me — usually within 15 minutes — with the book attached. The only caveat is, if I cannot access a computer — like, say, when I’m asleep? — then the file will have to wait until I can drag my draggy ass out of bed and send it to you.)

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way…

What In The King Hell Is This?

Remember those “25 Things” lists I’ve been doing? This is those, compiled. With four new lists.

You may be saying, “Gee whillikers, Wendig, that’s not enough to convince me. Can’t you do better?” I can, and will. And also: don’t say gee whillikers. This is a NSFW site, and I demand you use proper profanity like the booze-brined penmonkey you’re supposed to be. Instead of “gee whillikers,” let’s try, “By the fuck-hammer of Odin’s bastard cock, Wendig, that’s not enough to convince me.”

1. A Sticky Faceload of Value Adds

Contained within you’ll find, “25 Things You Should Know About…”

… Being A Writer!

… Writing A Novel!

… Storytelling!

… Character!

… Dialogue!

… Plot!

… Editing/Revising/Rewriting!

And you’ll also find four brand new lists, comprising roughly 10,000 words:

“25 Things You Should Know About…”

… Writing A Fucking Sentence!

… Writing A Screenplay!

… Description!

… Getting Published!

Features such new “things” as:

Beware The Sentence With A Big Ass, I Want To Buy The Semi-Colon A Private Sex Island, The Publishing Dog You Choose To Be, Atmospheric Description Burns Like Alien Syphilis, Too Many Characters Foul The Orgy, and Pricking The Reader’s Oculus With This Grim And Gleaming Lancet.

Now, those pesky mathologists among you will do some quick accounting on the abacus that is your “fingers and toes,” and you will discover that this equals 11 lists, not 10. And 11 x 25 is not 250.

It’s actually 275.

Which means that, yes, the title is a total lie. But let’s be honest — “250 Things” sounds much better. Right? Right. Plus, that way I can say, “25 bonus tips to penetrate your quivering eyeholes!”

Everybody likes bonus shit. You know who doesn’t? Al Qaeda.

2. Cheaper Than A Dollar

You can’t buy much for a dollar in this lifetime. It costs more to buy a jar of goddamn jelly. And if you’re like me, that jar of jelly isn’t going to last long. You’re a jellyhead. I can smell the pectin on you. Look at you twitching for your next fix. Sticky fingers? Mm-hmm. I know the signs. “C’mon, man. I’ll take store-brand! Store-brand! I’m Jonesing for my jam, bro.”

That jelly is temporary. But my Red Ryder wagon full of writing wisdom is forever. Or, at least, it is until the Great EMP of 2016 wipes out the electronic memory of All Computers Everywhere. Oops.

This book is one cent cheaper than a dollar. That’s cheaper than a Lady Gaga single.

(Also note that eventually, I’ll raise the price to $2.99. So get in while the gettin’s good.)

3. If You Don’t Buy It, I’ll Eat This Baby

No, seriously. Look. See that cute cherubic baby? The one who looks terrified? Yeah. You don’t buy it, I’m going to have to eat him. Gobble him right up. Won’t be difficult — he’s very small, and so cute and sweet he probably tastes like a Jolly Rancher candy. Or maybe a churro. Mmm. Churro. Anyway. The point is, I’ve got a baby. A baby who needs to eat, not a baby who needs to be eaten. You can help make that call. For just the price of a cup of cheap gas station coffee, you can prevent me from cannibalizing my own progeny.

If You Are Compelled By Black Magic To Do More, More, More

As always, the two biggest ways of supporting the book are as follows:

a) Tell people via the various social media iterations (Twitter, Facebook, Google+, and whatever other social media site comes popping its head out of an Internet bolthole).

b) Leave a review, whether at Amazon, B&N, GoodReads, or your own blog.

I would also be obliged to remind you that I have another book about writing advice, COAFPM, or CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY. I would also remind you that currently my Whirring Doom-Bots have a “Penmonkey Incitement Program,” where the more copies I sell of that book, the greater rewards I give out. For every 50 sales, I send out a postcard. For every 100, I give away a t-shirt. For every 200, I offer a copy-edit of someone’s work. For every 500, I will give away a Kindle. If I sell a billion, I will eat my weight in gold medallions.

What Comes After This?

COAFPM is selling well, and if this also sells well, you’ll probably see more books on writing from Yours Truly. I may also cobble together a small book of humorous essays if I find that interest exists. Finally, I’ve got a series of novellas I plan to self-publish — the first draft of the first is done, now working on edits and an outline for the second novella.

In November, I’ve got DOUBLE DEAD coming out with Abaddon. Then in May I’ve got BLACKBIRDS with Angry Robot. The follow-up to that, MOCKINGBIRDS, will hit… er, sometime thereafter.

My Gratitude Gambols About Like A Randy Goat

Regardless, just wanted to say thanks to any who buy the book and continue supporting me not eating my baby. I mean, supporting my ever-growing bourbon habit. I mean, supporting a lone penmonkey just wriggling through the publishing trenches. You know what I mean.