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Michael Mammay: Five Things I Learned Writing Planetside

A seasoned military officer uncovers a deadly conspiracy on a distant, war-torn planet…

War heroes aren’t usually called out of semi-retirement and sent to the far reaches of the galaxy for a routine investigation. So when Colonel Carl Butler answers the call from an old and powerful friend, he knows it’s something big—and he’s not being told the whole story. A high councilor’s son has gone MIA out of Cappa Base, the space station orbiting a battle-ravaged planet. The young lieutenant had been wounded and evacuated—but there’s no record of him having ever arrived at hospital command.

The colonel quickly finds Cappa Base to be a labyrinth of dead ends and sabotage: the hospital commander stonewalls him, the Special Ops leader won’t come off the planet, witnesses go missing, radar data disappears, and that’s before he encounters the alien enemy. Butler has no choice but to drop down onto a hostile planet—because someone is using the war zone as a cover. The answers are there—Butler just has to make it back alive…

* * *

READ OUTSIDE YOUR GENRE

You often hear that to be a writer, you’ve got to be a reader. I support that. I go out of my way to read new releases in my genre so that I can learn from them, help promote the good stuff, and so I can be fluent when talking to readers and other writers. People notice, by the way. Readers notice that you’re lifting up other books, and authors notice that you’ve read widely. Hey, if nothing else, knowing that you’ll promote them will get publishers and authors to send you free books.

But the book that probably had the most influence on PLANETSIDE was GONE GIRL, by Gillian Flynn, which is definitely not science fiction. I was taking a bit of a writing break after deciding not to further revise a novel I’d been working on, just taking my time and sulking. You know, as one does. I was also reading a lot, and I picked up GONE GIRL on the recommendation of a friend. I hadn’t even read a chapter when it hit me. That voice! Flynn’s first person narrator just hit me in the face in the best possible way.

I’d had a kernel of an idea for PLANETSIDE, but up to that point I’d always written in third person. A chapter of GONE GIRL, and I knew immediately that I had to tell my story in first person. I sat down, wrote one short chapter, and sent it off to a few people I trust. That chapter doesn’t exist anymore, because the story went a different direction, but the reactions of those readers does. I remember one clearly: “Wow! This reads like it was written by a totally different writer! Uh…no offense.” I didn’t take any offense.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO KNOW HOW IT ENDS IN ORDER TO START

A novel has to have a beginning, middle, and end. But it doesn’t have to have all of them when you start writing. If the idea is burning in your brain, sometimes the rest will come to you once you start putting it on paper. I started writing PLANETSIDE with just a character, an inciting event, a setting, and the idea for one of the big twists. The rest came along the way. I started writing in November of 2014, and I didn’t even know the major conspiracy in the book until I woke up with the idea on New Year’s Day. It’s a good thing I came up with it, obviously, since it’s the driving element in the book, but I’d never have gotten there just staring at a blank page. There is no way I’d have dreamed up that twist if I hadn’t put Carl Butler into the environment and had him interact with it. I got to a point where it became clear that people were hiding a key thing he didn’t know, but I didn’t know what it was. Then I did.

Is that dangerous? I mean, maybe. Maybe you start writing and the big idea never comes. But danger is relative. Sure, you may not finish the story. But it’s not like someone is going to toss a box of angry badgers into your car with you if you have to start over. Note: If someone *is* going to toss a box of angry badgers into your car over your writing, you need to get different friends. At worst, you’ll lose some time, but even that isn’t wasted. Any time you’re writing, you’re learning and growing, and that’s not nothing.

WRITE THE SHIT OUT OF IT

So maybe this one is obvious, but I just wanted to say ‘write the shit out of it’ somewhere publicly, and what better place than here? It’s kind of a mantra. In this case, I have a specific application. PLANETSIDE was done, and I was about a month out from querying agents. It was a good book, and I think it would probably have still netted me representation, though I can’t say for sure. Then I had an idea to change the third act and make it better. I noodled it out, then I pitched it to one of my very smart writer friends. I was excited. She was less excited. She told me she couldn’t see it. This isn’t any knock on her. She’s a brilliant writer and superb with plot and pace, and what I proposed didn’t make sense to her. I didn’t let it deter me. I told her I was going to write the shit out of it.

Reader, I wrote the shit out of it. I rewrote two chapters and wrote three new ones. It just flowed. Once I finished, I sent them to the reader. She read them and told me I was going to get a book deal. She couldn’t see it when I pitched it, but once I had it on the page, she knew. It wasn’t a huge risk on my part. I had a finished book, so if it didn’t work, I could always pull up the old version. The point is, I had an idea that I believed in enough to write it even in the face of someone saying ‘eh, maybe not.’ You will face this a lot. You’re going to tell people about an idea, and sometimes they’re going to tell you that it doesn’t fit the market, or that certain genres don’t sell. A lot of the time, they’re going to be right. But sometimes they aren’t. Writing the shit out something fixes a lot of other problems.

LET YOUR CHARACTERS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES

Something I pride myself on is realistic dialogue. I hope that when I write, my characters sound the way that people really sound. One trick I’ve found helps that, and really helped in PLANETSIDE, is letting characters have their say. I fully understand that I might sound like I’m a sausage short of a Grand Slam breakfast here, but hear me out. You can’t force it. If you go into a scene with the dialogue already done, it can come out stilted—forced—because it doesn’t fit. If you go into the scene knowing the character and let them react according to their personality as the scene develops, it reads as natural.

One place this had a big impact on PLANETSIDE is in chapter 7. My main character, Carl Butler, is a grizzled old war veteran, and in this scene he was visiting the commander of the hospital, Doctor (Colonel) Mary Elliot. The way I initially conceived the scene, Butler was going to go in, pull some macho bullshit and get a key piece of information he needed to continue his investigation. A funny thing happened when I put those two characters in a room, though. Elliot wasn’t having his nonsense. She’s a woman who rose to a high rank in a challenging field, and when Butler pushed, she pushed back. The scene ended with Butler not getting his information, and being thrown out. More importantly, though, Elliot, who I thought was a bit player, announced herself as a bigger factor in the story. The story got better because of it.

FIND EARLY READERS THAT YOU TRUST

I use a lot of readers. Some of them are beta readers, some of them are critique partners. Some of them read for me every time I write, some are one time readers. I make a point of trying to have readers with a lot of different backgrounds and viewpoints. I try to get a mix of men and women, experienced and less experienced writers, along with other areas of diversity. I love them all. I’m good at taking criticism of my work. Every time someone says something, it makes me think. I always take it as ‘how can I use this to make my book better?’ The answer might be that I can’t, and I might discard the note. A lot of times, I can.

One specific note about PLANETSIDE that had a major impact was when an early reader, a woman, mentioned that most of my characters were men. I looked at it, and she was right. About eighty percent of the speaking parts were male, and there was no great reason for that. In the next rewrite, I changed the gender of three characters. In two cases, it had very little impact on the story, but the other one changed things a lot. When you read the book (because you’re going to read the book, right? Right? Please?) you’ll meet an important character named Lex Alenda. Originally she was a dude. The thing is, as a male, she wasn’t a good character. The male version served as a foil for Butler, somebody to make plot things work, but he had no heart. The current Alenda is one of the most important secondary characters, and her relationship to the protagonist adds a ton of depth not only to the story, but to his character as well. If I hadn’t made that change, I never would have figured that out, and the story would have been weaker for it.

* * *

Michael Mammay is a retired army officer and a graduate of the United States Military Academy. He has a masters degree in military history, and he is a veteran of Desert Storm, Somalia, and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He lives with his family in Georgia, where he teaches English to high school boys, which is at least as challenging as combat.

Michael Mammay: Twitter | Website

Planetside: Indiebound | Amazon | B&N | Goodreads

Your First Draft Does Not Require Your Faith In It

A nice Twittery person asked me about low confidence during a writing day, and if I had any words of encouragement, and I answered there, but I feel like it deserves a special call-out here, too:

Your first draft does not require your faith in it.

A lack of confidence is a bummer, but a lack of confidence in yourself or the work is so accursedly common that I’m not sure I’ve ever met a writer who didn’t grapple with it from time to time. And if I did, I think that person is probably a sociopath. Or Pierce Brown. Handsome devil, that Pierce Brown. Maybe the actual devil? I present to you the evidence:

More research may be required.

Regardless, my point stands:

The work doesn’t need your confidence.

The work just needs the work.

What I mean is, if you can manage, push through. Recognize that we all have those days where we don’t believe in the thing we’re writing, but all it takes is to persevere and continue the effort. Your faith in it is invisible and illusory — words on a page are not ensorcelled by how much you believe in it. It’s not a fragile little sprite, it doesn’t require your clapping to come to life. Now, the caveat here is sometimes you still have to take a break and walk away — and that’s okay, too. Don’t walk away too long, but a short, non-permanent vacation from the work is super-cool, and sometimes essential. But then come back to it. Come back to the narrative and renew your effort.

Listen, some days where I’ve had the highest level of faith in what I was writing? The work wasn’t worth the keystrokes required. Sometimes the best days of writing actually result in the crappiest yield of quality words. Sometimes the worst, hardest, hardiest, most miserablest days make the best. Sometimes a bad day means bad words, and a good day means good words. You never know. All you can do, sometimes, is divorce the reality of words made from the unreality of author feels.

We are often the worst judges of our own work. Especially as we’re eyeballs deep in it. It’s like trying to figure out if you’re going to die while lost in the woods. You are or you aren’t; worrying about it isn’t gonna fix your problem. What will fix your problem is picking a direction and moving in it.

Just like writing.

Your first draft can be shit. That’s okay.

You always, always have a second draft if you need it.

And a third, a seventh, a seventh-seventh.

Your faith is not the keystone.

Your work, your thinking, your typey-typey writey-writey fingers?

That is what forms the backbone of the work.

Now go write, willya?

* * *

DAMN FINE STORY: Mastering the Tools of a Powerful Narrative

What do Luke Skywalker, John McClane, and a lonely dog on Ho’okipa Beach have in common? Simply put, we care about them.

Great storytelling is making readers care about your characters, the choices they make, and what happens to them. It’s making your audience feel the tension and emotion of a situation right alongside your protagonist. And to tell a damn fine story, you need to understand why and how that caring happens.

Whether you’re writing a novel, screenplay, video game, or comic, this funny and informative guide is chock-full of examples about the art and craft of storytelling–and how to write a damn fine story of your own.

Indiebound / Amazon / B&N

What I’m Holding Onto In This Epoch Of Autocratic Fuckery

I want to articulate a finer, more poetic sentence than the one I’m about to write, but I find that difficult, so instead I’m going to go with the sentence inside my heart:

Shit is pretty fucking fucked up right now.

I mean, it just is. Look around. This country, and by proxy the world, is a hot, hot mess. It’s like a preschool where all the toddlers are drunk and have been given power tools, oh, and also, they’re not toddlers but actually tiny grifters pretending to be toddlers, and they don’t just have power tools, but also, THE POWER TO REWRITE AMERICAN POLICY AND LAW AND THE JUDICIAL SYSTEM FOR SEVERAL GENERATIONS AND

*has to stop*

*has to breathe into a paper bag*

*has to endure a 72-hour anxiety-and-rage spiral*

*has to punch a Nazi*

*has to binge ice cream and Xanax*

OKAY HI I HAVE RETURNED.

What I’m saying is, things are — whoo, wow, they’re just stupid right now. This continues to definitely, definitely be the Stupidest Timeline — as I have suggested before, a squirrel got into the Hadron Collider or something and tried hiding his nuts (ahem) in the components, he shorted something out, and now here we are. Wilbur Ross stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Asbestos is legal again for building products. Our president went onto Twitter to explain somehow that Democrats are… diverting rivers? And that’s why shit’s on fire? Not to mention, yanno, all the Russian election hacking and the kids in the cages and now they’re going after legal immigrants and not just illegal immigrants and then there’s QAnon and

*paper bag again*

*rage, anxiety, and punching*

*ice cream and pills*

It’s hard to keep it all together.

It’s hard not to succumb to utter hopelessness —

Or rage —

Or sheer crushing anxiety —

It’s hard.

So, I try to have a rigorous menu of thoughts and ideas I revisit from time to time during this ENDLESS TURD CAROUSEL, this TRAM RIDE UP THE DEVIL’S ASS, this FOUL-SMELLING CLOWN ORGY. And I thought I would offer up those thoughts here, for you, today.

1. I can always make stuff.

This is a small point, and I admit, a point of some privilege, but for me, it’s useful to remember I can always make stuff. I can make dinner. I can tell a story. I can take a photo. I can make my son laugh. I can write a blog post like this one. I have options to look away from the — *gestures toward the Hieronymous Bosch painting happening* — and enact my creative will upon the world. Even in little ways. It’s small, but it matters. To me, anyway.

2. I can hug a tree.

Seriously, I’ll hug a goddamn tree if you give me a half a chance. The world has trees, and I will hug them. I will hug the squirrels right out of them. Point being, I can go out in nature. I can take a hike. I can watch some fireflies. I can eat some fireflies. *checks notes* I will not eat fireflies. Nature is good. I know it’s partly on fire. I know we’re not always nice to nature. And around here right now the air is so humid it has practically become a non-Newtonian fluid, but it eventually cools down and I can take the dogs for a walk and I can find nifty spiders and I can just… escape the noise and go into the wild for five minutes or five hours and I can see stuff like this.

3. I can plant a tree, too.

Not everyone can plant a tree, but you can buy a plant. If you want to do a good thing in the world — one small, good thing — then buy a plant. Keep it in a pot or put it in the ground. Plants are good. They turn carbon dioxide into oxygen. And if they’re cursed by a proper witch they can be turned into a giant tanglemonster that will totally turn your adversaries into fucking mulch. At least, I hope so. I’m honestly counting on it. Tanglemonster, 2020.

4. Books exist.

So many books. So many books. I have enough books I could die underneath them. If I can’t escape into the forest of actual trees, I can escape into a forest of stories made from trees. And books live in other places, too, like libraries and bookstores, and libraries and bookstores are where BOOK WIZARDS live, and those BOOK WIZARDS can cast their BIBLIOMANCY SPELLS to help you find more and more books in which to bury yourself. Books are amazing, yay books, more books, always books, endless labyrinths of books. Here’s a book you could read that’s very good [print | ebook]. Here’s another [print | ebook]. Because fuck yeah, books. And fuck yeah, coffee. Fuck yeah drinking coffee while reading books.

5. Things have been a lot worse.

I don’t know that they’ve been any stupider, but they’ve definitely been worse. On the whole, the world is okay right now. It doesn’t feel like it, and it sure isn’t good, but I do think it’s valuable to look back over the course of history — honestly, even recent history, the 80s, the 60s, WWII, WWI — and see that, oh, okay, every generation has a huge challenge to address, and somehow the Human Virus keeps on keeping on. This isn’t meant to minimize what’s happening, or minimize how bad it could still get — but it is worth having a longer view of what’s come before, both in context and comparison. It’s hard to have a long view of history; easy to be myopic in the present. Again, this isn’t an excuse not to act — it’s a reason to act before it gets worse. Dig me?

6. We have small power that can be exercised en masse.

One vote isn’t much, but a lot of votes can change history. That is one example of the small amount of power we wield that, collectively, can move metaphorical (occasionally literal) mountains. A vote. A small donation. A kind word to a friend. Some encouragement, some call-in, some expression of your will unto the world. One tree you plant. One owl you save. That owl may go on to be a magic owl, who fucking knows. You don’t know. Magic owls probably exist, shut up.

7. People are messy, and the Perfect is the enemy of the good.

This sounds like a bad thing, like an admonishment, but it’s really a good thing. I think we do this thing were we draw so many uncrossable lines that we end up boxing ourselves in — I think by embracing nuance and accepting imperfections and messiness in people, we deepen our bench of allies and co-fighters in this cuckoo timeline. No, not everyone is going to be 100% aligned with us, but that’s okay. They don’t have to be. We can suss out those details later — for now, we have fascism to fight, frandos. So let’s work together to get it done.

8. And there exist a lotta good people out there.

John Rogers once noted that there’s a Crazification Factor in people — roughly 27% of people will vote for the stupidest, nuttiest fucking thing. I hold onto this like a drowning dude holding onto his floating volleyball pal — it is buoyant and hopeful in this turbulent time. Sure, that means 27% of people will at any time vote for the most delusional, reprehensible shit (“Sure, you should be able to fuck whales,” or “I do believe that individuals are responsible enough to own personal nuclear weapons, yes, liberty is wonderful, fuck regulations, second amendment, wooo”), and those people are rigorously immune to any kind of intellectual vaccination. They will not be inoculated against their ignorance. Sounds bad. But flip it — it means at any given time there are 73% of people who are not this. The glass isn’t half-full — it’s 73% full, which is pretty fucking full. I know when I interact with people on the whole, they’re… pretty great. Online, offline, wherever. It’s easy to get lost in the noise of squawking shitbirds, but that’s mostly just because they’re noisy.

9. Yellowjackets get mad as summer ends

I’m reminded of this now: as summer winds down, wasps get shitty. Extra-shitty. They know what’s coming. It’s Game of Thrones time — winter is on its way, and so they grow desperate and aggressive, and they freak the fuck out trying to get as much sugar and meat as possible. But they cannot dissuade this existential threat. Winter is still coming no matter how pissed-off they get. You can draw from this whatever metaphor you like given our current — *gestures broadly* — situation, but I like to remember it from time to time, as it explains some shit, if you let it.

10. When in doubt, dogs

Worse comes to worse, maybe the dogs will survive us and evolve and take over and make this a better place than we did. Until then, we have them in this world, and they are good boys and girls, all of them. And sure, yay cats, too, but cats will gladly eat us given half a chance, and cats are mostly using us for various sinister reasons (which is okay, we deserve it). But dogs are pure, and they exist, and the world is made infinitely better for their inclusion in this and any timeline.

* * *

DAMN FINE STORY: Mastering the Tools of a Powerful Narrative

What do Luke Skywalker, John McClane, and a lonely dog on Ho’okipa Beach have in common? Simply put, we care about them.

Great storytelling is making readers care about your characters, the choices they make, and what happens to them. It’s making your audience feel the tension and emotion of a situation right alongside your protagonist. And to tell a damn fine story, you need to understand why and how that caring happens.

Whether you’re writing a novel, screenplay, video game, or comic, this funny and informative guide is chock-full of examples about the art and craft of storytelling–and how to write a damn fine story of your own.

Indiebound / Amazon / B&N

Macro Monday Continues Its Fond Reminiscing Of The Pacific Northwest

I know, that header image is of a rose with a fly on it, and that has very little to do with the Pacific Northwest but SHADDAP I like it. I don’t know why I like it. Something something contrast, something something irony, or maybe I just really like that Seal song, A KISS FROM A FLY ON A ROSE or whatever.

More PNW photos at the base of this post, if you care to bask in them.

Let’s see, what’s up with me?

I did another editorial pass on WANDERERS — it’s a book that, blessedly, is getting a lot of love from inside the publisher, and my last developmental and copy-edit came from Del Rey. Now it’s gone on to PRH readers, and so they wanted to do another pass on it to tighten it — not the plot, meaning, not a developmental edit, but a line edit that really cinches all the laces and tugs all the knots, in part because OKAY HEY I REALLY LOVE A GOOD METAPHOR, OKAY, and if I like one metaphor, you can damn sure believe I like TWO metaphors, and blessedly, my editor went in with a flashing, gleaming straight razor to cut those extraneous threads.

Thank fuck for editors, is what I’m saying. They have saved my bacon time and time again. Never let me get so big-headed that I believe editors are someone superfluous. Not every editor is amazing, to be clear, but when they’re good, they’re great.

Expecting a cover release soon for that book, bee tee dubs.

Oh and don’t worry, the book is still like, 270-some-thousand-words ha ha ha ohh no what have I done oh god oh shit. Ahem.

What else?

Working on a new novella — Interlude: The Tanager — for an upcoming collection with Kevin Hearne and Delilah S. Dawson. Our last one, Three Slices, has done very well (in no small part because Kevin is amazing and has a wealth of wonderful fans). That collection features an interstitial Miriam Black story set between The Cormorant and Thunderbird, and now this new collection Death & Honey, will have an interstitial Wren-focused story set between The Raptor & The Wren and VulturesVultures, the sixth and final book, comes out in January — and D&H will drop in Feb-Mar. Delilah, also one of my favorite writers, will also contribute to D&H, and may I just take a special moment to say if you need more fun in your life and you have not yet read Kill The Farm Boy, get on it (print | ebook).

I also finished outlines for a five-issue [REDACTED] comic book series.

Hopefully I can talk more about that soon.

Maybe at NYCC, which I’m going to!

Also, I’ll be in NYC this coming weekend —

At the Writer’s Digest Conference!

My schedule:

  • Saturday, 1:45pm, panel on SFF writing with Jeff Somers, Ann VanderMeer, E. J. Wenstrom, Diana Pho, Jennifer Marie Brissett, Jess Zafarris (Moderator).
  • Saturday, 4:15pm, craft workshop session with me on writing a Damn Fine Story — how to focus on character over plot and tell a compelling tale

And I’ll be floating around otherwise, so feel free to find me and there’s a cocktail reception and book signing that Saturday at 6:30pm, so come, drink some drinkies, I’ll devalue your books with my monkeyscrawl, we’ll have a few laughs, it’ll be great.

I think that’s it for now.

Here, have some more fond visual reminiscing of the PNW.

Nope, no macros in here, but… yay pretty?

(You can find the full album here, with a ton more photos. I add to it daily as I process pics.)

Amanda Cherry: Five Things I Learned Writing Rites & Desires

Ruby Killingsworth relies on magic to keep her entertainment empire on top. When a ritual gone wrong robbed her of this magic, she wasn’t about to take it lying down. Enlisting Loki’s aid and commanding the band of supernatural henchmen he’s proffered, Ruby embarks to capture the magic of an ancient African gem.

While endeavoring to regain her powers, Ruby must also contend with the daily business of Goblin Records, her romantic designs on her billionaire neighbor, and the unwanted attention of the newly elected U.S. president. The return of her power and a relationship with the city’s most prominent citizen would give Ruby all she ever desired. But magic comes with a price, politics are a dirty business—doubly so when a trickster god gets involved—and Loki is never on anyone’s side but his own.

EVERYONE’S THE HERO OF THEIR OWN STORY, BUT VILLAINS ARE SURPRISINGLY RELATABLE

In genre fiction, the hero is always easy to spot. He’s the guy (usually) who always acts in the interest of the greatest good. He’s selfless, he’s altruistic, he’s interested in doing the right thing for the world at large no matter how much or how little he stands to personally benefit.

Oftentimes, villains are built to be nothing more than anti-THAT. They are there to serve the purpose of antagonist. They wake up in the morning, twirl their moustaches and wonder what eeeeeevil they can perpetrate on the world before the sun sets. Villains tend to be built only to serve the hero’s narrative.

But that’s not the kind of villain we see in the real world. Having a villain as my protagonist allowed me to really examine what constitutes wickedness when it isn’t borne of antagonism—when the villain serves her own agenda instead of just hoping to foil the hero. What does a wicked person do when left to her own devices? Modern day, real life bad people are apt to be shrewd, unscrupulous, self-centered, and lacking empathy. They act in their own self-interest with no regard for what the fallout will be for anyone else. They spend their time, money, and energy furthering their own agenda irrespective of the greatest good or the bigger picture.

In a way, I think, that’s far more insidious. When a person is unaware they’re doing wrong—because by every measure that matters to them they’re doing right—their motivations can resonate with the worst in all of us. I think you’ll recognize shades of many well-known billionaires in Ruby Killingsworth.

THE JOB OF AN AUTHOR, IT TURNS OUT, ISN’T JUST TO WRITE A BOOK

When I first set out to do the authoring thing, I thought I was just going to be writing a book. Ok. Sure.

I needed to craft a relatable character, place her in compelling circumstances, figure out what she wants and how badly, craft interesting obstacles for her to meet along the way, and determine the resolution of her story. Then I needed to write all that up in an approachable and entertaining way, all the while weaving in a cast of supporting characters and a few intriguing sub-plots.

I didn’t think it would be an easy job. But I thought that was the job. It turns out that’s like… half the job.

Because: yes—obviously as an author you have to do those things. But what nobody tells you (well, what nobody told me, but I’m telling you so you’ll be ahead) is that then you have to go back and do it again. What you wrote the first time, you sweet summer child, was not the book. It was the First Draft—the proto-book as it were.  Primordial word ooze.

I had to go back to the beginning—and chapter-by-chapter, then sentence-by-sentence, then word-by-word—take stock of everything I’d written and make decisions about it. Some scenes got moved. Some scenes got added, a wonderful exchange about the recurring bass line in Jesus Christ Superstar got cut altogether. Things changed. And then… then… just when I finally thought this book was perfect and super duper ready for primetime, I sent it to my editor. Who thought differently.

So then I had to go through the whole book again, this time reading and accepting (or not, there were a few cases of not, but I’ll get to that later) changes and comments. And I sent that back. And she sent it back. And so on and so forth until we agreed we had a book we could both live with.

And then it was on to back cover copy, acknowledgements, dedication, author bio… the list goes on. This author stuff is hard work, y’all. After that it’s been guest blog posts, interviews, convention appearances, and all the things it takes to sell the book to readers. It’s been some serious on-the-job training!

DARLINGS SHOW UP WHERE YOU LEAST EXPECT

Every aspiring writer has at some point been given the advice “kill your darlings”. And I get it. I do. Nothing is sacred. Every element of the story—from favorite characters to favorite lines of dialog—sits on the perpetual chopping block in service of the overall narrative.

But, dang, y’all: this is much harder to say than to do. Because just when you think it’s safe to go in for edits, a darling appears. Maybe it’s a side character, a sub-plot, or a super-adorable scene between the protagonist and the love interest wherein they discuss their oddly-similar backgrounds to the strains of Jesus Christ Superstar.  These are things you LOVE, things that you thought really, really added to the story when you were furiously poking keys hoping to turn your various ideas into a readable manuscript (and maybe they even did!).

I got seriously blindsided by what one of those darlings turned out to be.

The authors in the crowd will be unsurprised when I disclose that the title of my book is not the title I wrote it under. I, however, was devastated when I was encouraged strongly to change it. Nobody warned me that book titles as conceived by the author are subject to change (seasoned authors are rather cavalier about this—I was a wreck). This was the biggest change to the whole book, and it turns out I was really married to that old title. Alas, that darling was indeed ripe for slaughter. And the book is better for it. That’ll teach me to get attached!

BUT NOT ALL DARLINGS HAVE TO DIE; SOME OF THEM ARE WORTH FIGHTING FOR

Yes. Really. “Um… but Manda, didn’t you just talk about killing your darlings? What the bleep is this?”

Look: darlings must be on the chopping block in order for the story to find its best iteration. But that doesn’t mean everything you love has to be struck down. This is true even if your editor tries to cut it.

Seriously.

There is a line in the book, in the protagonist’s inner monolog, that my editor DID NOT WANT. But I knew it belonged there. It’s a terrible thought. TERRIBLE. But this is a woman with a Terrible Mind (see what I did there?). This line was one of the greatest examples of how truly awful this woman is. I felt very strongly that the line needed to stay.

We went back and forth a few times, but I ultimately won. The final exchange of comments went as follows:

EDITOR: you can keep the line, but I hate it

ME: good. And you’re supposed to hate it

Learning what to chop and what to fight for, what’s a darling that needs killing (see above mentioned scene with the Superstar soundtrack involved), and what hills to die on is a skill I did not have prior to this undertaking and I’m super glad I developed it in time to get this book out the door.

“THAT” IS A FOUR-LETTER WORD

We English speaking humans tend to use the word “that” a lot. A lot lot. A sort of ridiculous amount. And I, perhaps, am chief among the offenders. I was told early in the process that my editor would be going through my manuscript and cutting nearly every instance of the word that. So I thought that I’d just go ahead and do it for her. I went through the manuscript once during the rewrite process (long before I ever let my editor clap eyes on it) and cut that out. I felt strongly that every instance of “that” that remained was a critical and proper use of the word.

Ha!

There were still 1280 instances of that. I was allowed to keep 1259. I cannot tell you how many instances that I cut before sending in the manuscript, but it was no small number. The fact is that even after the personal purge, I was still 21 thats over the necessary number.

So if you’re looking for a way to improve your narrative prose: THAT is my best piece of advice.

And that is all I have to say about that.

* * *

Amanda Cherry is a wife and mom, an actor, and an author loving life in the suburbs of Seattle, WA. She’s an alumnus of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas whose biggest claim to fame is having once co-starred with a Gecko in an insurance commercial. Having made several short fiction sales in 2016-2017, Amanda dared to try her hand at novel writing. It turns out, she was kind of good at it. Her debut novel, Rites & Desires is on sale as of March 20th and she is still pinching herself. Amanda is a giant nerd, and a contributing writer to the Star Wars and geek culture blog Tosche Station (www.tosche-station.net). She still enjoys performing and hopes to one day be as comfortable reading her own words in front of a crowd as she is with other people’s.

Amanda Cherry: Website | Twitter

Rites & Desires: Indiebound | Amazon

Oh Shit, I Jumped The Gun (Again), by Tracy Barnett

New project ideas are amazing. They’re addictive because there’s nothing there. It’s all light and smoke and doesn’t solidify until you take the time to make the idea into something real. Ass in seat, fingers to keys real. When you’ve got the creative juices flowing it can be really tempting to dash something off and call it good. Done, finished, ready for the world to see. It’s something I’m guilty of on a number of fronts and I’m gonna talk a little bit about how to (hopefully) counteract that.

So. Here’s a story.

Back in 2013 I came up with the seed of an idea. Ragnarok, yeah? But in the form of massive, metal dwarven destroyers rising out of the ground. The Viking-type folks in this setting, they don’t know how to fight back against that, so they cry out to the gods for help. Loki–yeah him–gives them the means to bond the spirits of their bravest warriors to the bones of dead giants. Nothing could go wrong there, could it?

That seed became Iron Edda. I wrote the first portion of this thing as a stretch goal for someone else’s tabletop RPG Kickstarter. 8,000 words, felt pretty good about it. The idea wouldn’t leave me alone, though, so I expanded it. Turned it into a mostly standalone game called War of Metal and Bone. Also wrote a novel in the setting called Sveidsdottir because why not make more work for myself?

This is where the part about pushing things out too early comes in. I’d never written a game of this scope before. (Same goes for the novel, so just assume the mistakes I’m about to outline apply to that, too). I wanted it done. Life around this project was tumultuous. I was recently divorced, in a fresh relationship, a new apartment, and damn it I was going to Kickstart this project. I did. It went well.

What followed was a series of missteps that saw me with 500+ copies of each of those two books sitting in my basement. Both projects had been through the hands of editors, had been playtested some, but (as I came to learn) weren’t really ready for primetime. Add to that I was trying to do the entire self-publishing thing with them. I was my own marketing department, my own shipping department, my own personal assistant, the whole gig.

(Oh, and during this period, I was also working to put out other projects. Suffice it to say, the center didn’t hold).

This whole time that I have an RPG and a novel not selling to much of anyone, I’m still running games of it at conventions. People are reacting well to it. More importantly, I can’t get the setting out of my mind. I know it’s not done yet. There was more there, and I wanted the world to have access to it.

Fast-forward to now. Right around the time this post goes up, a new Kickstarter is going for a new version of the game: Iron Edda Accelerated. About a year ago I approached a publisher with a pitch for a second chance at making this something commercially viable and they liked the idea. It’s the second chance I hoped for, dreamed of, and I’m thrilled to have it.

At the Origins Game Fair last month, I was talking to a fellow designer and they clued me in that all of their games–we’re talking TTRPGs, card, and board–have a five-year development cycle. I laughed and said I haven’t ever done that until I realized that with Iron Edda, I’d done exactly that. I just convinced myself that what should have been a polished first playtest was a final draft when I ran the first Kickstarter.

With Iron Edda Accelerated, I got very lucky. Someone else believed in the game enough to want to help me make it a reality. When I look at what we’re going to publish, I’m really proud of it. It’s the game it’s supposed to be. It’s the Iron Edda I’ve dreamed of. It took me five years, a ton of missteps, and a major second chance to make it happen.

So what are the takeaways? What actionable advice can you walk away from this post with? The only real thing I can give you–a lesson I’m struggling to re-learn every day– is this:

Slow down

There are a lot of places where you can hear someone tell you that time is fleeting, strike while the iron’s hot, YOL-fucking-O, etc. etc. And if you’re in a position where you’ve been dragging your feet on starting a creative project, by all mean get your ass in gear and begin.

But in finishing a project? Especially one where you’re beholden to no deadlines save those you set for yourself? Slow. The. Fuck. Down. It may not feel like it, but there’s no prescribed moment where your success can happen. There’s no magical window of opportunity which closes forever if you miss it. You may miss perceived opportunities like interviews, conventions, cross-promotion gigs, stuff like that. But different ones come along.

You need to release your project when it’s ready. When it’s actually done.

In school, I was a last-minute kind of person. My first draft was my final draft and I got enough confirmation that my work was good enough that I didn’t see much reason to change. Out here in the terror-stricken wilds of the world we live in now, my first drafts are definitely not good enough. I get great ideas, but most of them are just dust and they blow away quickly. The good ones get some words put towards them. Some of them I do just release after a first pass. Sometimes I need to get it out of my head. But the big projects? The Iron Eddas, the ones that won’t let me sleep because I can’t stop exploring the world or the mechanics? Those deserve time.

Do yourself a favor: treat your projects–and by extension yourself–with the respect they/you deserve. Give them time to breathe and grow if that’s what they need. Yes, it feels like the world is burning down around us, and maybe it actually is. But if you want to bring beauty and joy into the world, it needs to be nurtured. Find the space in your life to do that if you can. It’s so hard to do, and so worth doing. I encourage you to try.

I’ll be over here, trying to do the same.

Click here to support the new Iron Edda Kickstarter!