A thing happened yesterday.

A woman said on Twitter that she was selling a book of inspirational quotes by writers.

I was one of the writers with a quote in the book.

Alongside Stephen King, Ray Bradbury, Austin Kleon, Lisa Cron, Chris Baty, and, well, presumably another 90+ authors. I don’t know as I’ve not seen the book.

I am obviously flattered that anyone things anything I say is inspirational.

I did, however, comment on Twitter that while I found it flattering, I also found it a little strange that a person was trying to make money off other people’s words. Not just, say, borrowing a quote here and there to bolster a book about writing but, instead, a book of curated quotes said by other people. Regardless of the legality, I found that a bit baffling — charging three bucks on Smashwords to sell what amounts to other people’s content.

Upon commenting (and not naming the person), said author demonstrated a somewhat… aggressive attitude, attacking me and revoking my potential exposure from the book (?) and telling me I “sicken” her (?!) and — well, on and on. I obviously touched a nerve. I’ve since heard from other authors (I’m so tired I originally typed that as “author others” which perhaps works, too) that she’s given them some problems in the past — so, hey, whatever.

Point is, it escalated quickly.

Her defense of using my quote was “fair use,” which it may be — I don’t know because again, I have not seen the book. (She’s reportedly cribbing a quote of mine from 250 Things You Should Know About Writing.) One assumes I am expected to pay for the book to be inspired by myself? Is that a good deal? It doesn’t feel like a good deal.

Let’s talk about when you can use another author’s — or artist’s — work.

Assume the answer is “not without permission,” especially when you’re profiting from the use.

Now, that’s not necessarily functionally true. “Fair use” is a real thing, but it’s very rarely as cut and dried and one would prefer. The author’s dead, so it’s fair use? The estate may yet be involved. It’s before a certain date so it’s fair use? Again, the estate may be involved or there may be other legal entanglements. It’s just a quote, so it’s okay? Maybe. Maybe not.

This is a pretty good look at fair use, from NOLO.

It asks whether or not you’re contributing new content or just repurposing old content. It notes, too, that the amount of material cribbed is less important than the quality and value of material cribbed. Lots of little vagaries and legal eddies you may get caught in, which is again why I say:

Always ask the author or artist. It’s just good to be safe.

I have people sometimes repurpose entire terribleminds posts, and I usually ask as politely as possible that they excerpt the post and link back. (To be clear, I don’t fight if they don’t back down, generally. Is that really the hill I want to defend? Probably not.)

For the record, I’m entirely supportive of folks using quotes or excerpted material in blog posts or across social media or in educational material — long as the author isn’t making money off me or my work, I’m pretty loosey-goosey with how my stuff gets out there. If you’re not sure if your use falls on the right side of this, you can always email me at terribleminds at gmail dot com and I’m happy to chat. I won’t bite. Unless cornered. Or paid handsomely.

Some really nasty business went down in Boston yesterday, as I’m sure we all know. It’s tough stuff, and as I said yesterday on Twitter, it becomes easy to fall into the trap of cynicism and suspicion, fear and finger-pointing, but for me it’s about trying to pull away from those baser instincts and look to the people doing so much good immediately after the shit hits the fan. (That proven Mister Rogers quote about “looking for the helpers” is one I’ll share with my son when he’s old enough to parse this sort of thing.

Yesterday I said a related thing, which was, “The evil of a handful of fuckos cannot be allowed to outweigh the love the lion’s share of us can and do feel for one another.” Patton Oswalt said a similar thing (I’d link but I’m writing this from my iPad in a hotel room in Florida): “So when you spot violence, or bigotry, or intolerence of fear or just garden-variety misogyny, hatred or ignorance, just look it in the eye and think, ‘The good will always outnumber you, aand we always will.'”

I ruminated a little too on the images of violence that spring up after this sort of thing — on the one hand, I think seeing the realities of war and violence is useful if only so it turns us away from any potential bloodthirst we may have. On the other hand, I don’t know that it works that way, particularly when images that trend toward gore porn end up in front of us without warning — stuff like that can trigger some deep emotional responses in people, including depression or PTSD

Someone then responded on Twitter with an interesting question of whether or not I feel bad about the violence in my fiction, and my thought then and now was, well, that’s a bit different, isn’t it? Violence in fiction is, first of all, fiction. But it’s generally expected — we read a crime novel or a horror novel, that violence is usually part and parcel. And in the realm of fiction, violence can be framed by context and informed by consequence.

Or, more to the point, it should be. And that, I think, is what I want to say, here — in fiction, violence even in silly pulp material is best when it has some sense of consequence behind it. It isn’t just candy-floss or cartoon fun — a fist thrown always hurts the hand. Things happen as a result to violence. Sometimes good things. But something always bad, too. Even in the Dinocalypse series I try to inform the pulp action with a sense of cause-and-effect; the pulp heroes aren’t violent because they like it, they’re driven to it because that’s sometimes how you stop the bad guy. But even still there exists a kind of lightly erosive, corrrosive component to it — like I said, even if that is just so simple as a hand that hurts after throwing a punch.

Anyway, random thoughts here — apologies for the slap-dash nature of it, but such is the way of hammering together a post while on a trip. I’ll be back home later today (well, much, much later today), so, see you on the other side.

EDITED TO ADD:  If you want to do something for Boston, beware scam charities or “RT this and we’ll donate” nonsense. Best option right now is to donate to the Red Cross or donate blood — though I don’t suspect that the blood will go to Boston.

I’m traveling, at present, lost in the Mangrove wilds of the Florida Keys, my shirt stinking of rum, a cormorant dogging my every step, a new (and stung) tattoo of an anchor on my left ass-cheek.

I’m here doing research for the next Miriam Black book, and this is my first official “research” trip. (It’s done wonders. It’s very hard to write about a place without ever having been there. Particularly if the book is set in just such a location — you can maybe get away with a scene or a chapter or two, but 3/4 of a book? Not easy, at least, not for me.)

So, it seems apropos that today’s question should focus on travel.

But, in particular, writerly travel.

Let’s say you can go anywhere in the world, but it’s for your writing. Whether to serve as inspiration or as research.

Where would you go, and why?

So, last week’s challenge was for you to write a kick-ass opening line.

And the post got over 400 entries.

*blink blink*

Holy crap.

And tons of really great stuff, too.

(Though, some less-than-good ones, too. People: it’s like ten, twenty words. Spellcheck!)

Curiously, three motifs showed up with… perhaps alarming frequency:

Blood.

A gun.

Someone about to die / someone already dead (future corpse / current corpse).

Y’all are some twisted little word-wranglers.

Anywho!

I’ve posted below a handful of the ones I really liked. Fourteen(15?)  of them, as a matter of fact. These are not all “winners” in terms of the contest — I still have to whittle this bunch down:

Once James accepted that he had no choice but to burn the books, the question became which to burn first. — Valerie Valdes

Prima donnas aren’t born.
 — Mari Bayo

The ghost of a sparrow flitted through one wall and out the other.
 — CJ Eggett

I was born beneath a black veil of mourning, a dark bud blooming deep in its shadow. — 
Gina Herron

It’s always midnight somewhere.  — Andrew Jack

My brother’s birth was preceded by three distinct and inexplicable phenomena. — Jason Heitkamper

Max sat amongst the dead, whistling to himself.  — Brad

For the second time in a week, I come over Shatter Hill at midnight and see fire at the crossroad below.  — Bill Cameron

I never trusted that statue in the garden behind the house.
 — Cat York

Larry was on the toilet, shitting his brains out, while cleaning his gat.
  — The Philosophunculist

The problem with the ringing phone wasn’t how loud it was, or that it hadn’t stopped ringing for an hour, but that Tom didn’t have a phone. — Jake Bible

When the last cherry blossom falls, so will my axe.
  — Delilah

“You must walk three paces behind me,” she said. “And never raise your eyes to mine.” — Nathan Long

Tommy beat him with a kiss, and the crowd hated him for it. — Hector Acosta

Which will be our final three?

Here we go:

The ghost of a sparrow flitted through one wall and out the other.
 — CJ Eggett

Some quick news-flavored news-bits (dip them in pot de creme!):

Blackbirds has deals to be published in brand new territories!

Panini France will publish a French edition.

Muza will publish a Polish edition.

Lubbe will publish a German edition (which comes out this month).

Other Miriam Black news is percolating, too, but those are for another day!

Tomorrow I go to America’s Hot, Moist Land-Wang (Florida) to do research for Miriam Black, Book #3 (The Cormorant), and to remind you all, I’ll be in Fort Lauderdale tomorrow at 11:30AM, Stranahan House, doing a ninja author hangout and pantsless dance-off*.

* — may include no actual dance-off and also, actual pants.

Details of that ninja author hangout right here.

(Thanks to DMLA — in particular, thanks to agents Stacia Decker and Cameron McClure.)

Robert Brockway writes regularly for Cracked, penning hilarious lists and indictments of culture (pop and otherwise), which means you’re probably already familiar with his work even if you didn’t know it. Brockaway penned a guest post about what it took to drop-kick his new DIY novel, Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity, through time and space and into your face.

The first thing you should know is that I am an author with a new book out, and you should not trust me. Everything an author with a new book says to you should be regarded with the same wary eye you might cast on an unsolicited email extolling the virtues of “PENIS DEMOLISH YOUR FOE!1!!.” Yes, the content may indeed be helpful to you — it may well contain information on how to destroy other human beings with an unyielding and merciless dong — but it also contains a sinister agenda. That link to wangholocaust.cz will certainly infect you with malware in the interest of making a cheap buck, just like every word you read from an author exists to infect you with the desire to check out their awesome new novel. It’s insidious, underhanded, impure, and if you want to write for a living, it’s going to be you.

You’re going to develop Marketing Tourette’s. Apropos of nothing, you’ll find yourself spewing:

“Hey, have I told you about my new novel, Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity? It’s about a dystopian skyscraper-city where the chief form of entertainment is a custom hallucinogen that simulates time travel and-“

Oof. Shut up.

In the abstract, writing is all about character, structure, metaphor and meaning. In reality, that’s the easy part. It’s easy because you want to do it: You want to tell your story, you want your characters to be compelling, and you want your story to impart both entertainment and meaning. And so the work, no matter how technically difficult and exhausting, comes easy. What does not come easy is finishing that book and finding out that you have to whore yourself out every single day for a paltry dozen sales.

“-the protagonist, Red, is a mixer: He assembles high-end custom drug cocktails for discerning customers, and tests new corporate prototypes on the side. After beta testing a mysterious new strain, he finds himself slipping away to-“

Stop!

If I sound bitter, I promise that’s not the case. It’s worth it, of course. If you’re lucky and persistent, you may get to write for a living, and reporting to Imagination Land without pants every morning sure beats dragging yourself into a sickly fluorescent office while being strangled by a necktie. But I’m fairly new to the publishing game, and the biggest jolt for me wasn’t how hard it was to write a book – I was mentally prepared for that – it was the realization that all those gross marketing and promotion duties fell squarely on the shoulders of the author.

“-with his disturbing and increasingly real hallucinations literally tearing him apart, Red must find the truth about this new drug, a truth that could topple the entire cit-“

GOD DAMN IT.

My first book was released via traditional publishing. They put forth a good initial marketing effort: Got me a few guest blogs, some tie-ins on a little sci-fi site, a handful of guest spots on small town morning radio shows. And all of that lasted…about a week. I have not heard a word from them since. It’s not that my publisher was bad. I spoke with other authors and that seems to be an industry standard effort – maybe even a little above. It’s just the unspoken rule that, beyond a small initial effort, all promotion (and therefore the ultimate success or failure of your book), is up to the author. I didn’t even know I had to build my own book’s website until a week before launch. I thought somebody would do that for me.

I had no idea how to build a website.

I did not know that particular skillset was part of being a writer in the modern world. I did not know I’d be staying up late looking up book bloggers and emailing them at random, trying to get reviews, pull quotes, or cross promotions. I did not know I’d be soliciting guest posts and trading feedback and researching distributor pricing schemes. And that was with a publisher. For my latest book, Rx: A Tale of Electronegativity, a mad, relentless charge through a post-cyberpunk nightm-

Ahem.

For my latest book, I decided to explore self-publishing. If I was going to do it all myself anyway, I might as well have complete control, right? This time I did it right. I exploited every avenue. I released Rx as an inexpensive serial novel to build momentum, and incorporated reader feedback into the final product. I held a Kickstarter to provide pre-order awards. I scoured review sites; I networked; I made contacts. I could have written an entire other book in the time I’ve spent promoting this one, and I’ve only just this month released the final version.

I don’t say this to dissuade you, or to complain about how difficult it is being an author. I worked at a gas station; I worked breaking down rundown buildings with a hammer; I even worked in customer service. I know how rough a real job can be, and I’d take writing any day.

I only say this in case you’re like I was: My conception of the modern author was somebody holed up in a romantically derelict office, banging away at a typewriter (never used a typewriter in my life, but it’s so much more authentic looking in my imagination) until they collapsed from exhaustion. And then, when it was done, they trudged to the open window and let their beautiful newborn book flutter away into publishing ether. When in reality, being a modern author is more like Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard. When it’s all done, you pick your beloved novel up in your arms, wade out into the angry, uncaring crowd, and kick down everything in your way until you reach the relative calm and safety of success.

Or else you get distracted, and the apathy of the oversaturated market tears that novel out of your grasp. In which case you walk back to the beginning, spend a few years pouring your heart into another book, lace up your kickin’ boots, and try to hold on a little tighter this time.