Tag: writing (page 19 of 33)

1. Everyone Hates It (And Nobody’s Great At It)

Writing a summary of any creative endeavor makes every writer feel like he’s wearing a tuxedo made of bumblebees. It’s a very uncomfortable process and any writer who tells you how much she enjoys writing synopses should be immediately shoved in a bag and burned because she is a robot from the future sent here to destroy all writers. Why would we enjoy the process? We just wrote a whole screenplay or an entire novel. And now we’re supposed to compress it down until it fits in the palm of our hands? Fuck. Fuck. It blows. It’s difficult. Nobody does it 100%. But you gotta suck it up and do the work.

2. Put This Pig In That Bucket

A pig will not fit in a bucket, and yet, that is your task. You must identify all the parts of the pig that you cannot live without. The rest? Chainsawed into bloody gobbets and left on the abattoir floor. You’re not here to explore the whole pig. You’re here to give a sampling of the beast — a taste of pigness. The hoof, snout, squeal and tail are for later. For now you need to deliver a packet of prime cuts only.

3. Excuse Me While I Whip This Out

Length matters. A query letter is never more than a page. A synopsis or treatment is maybe two to 10 pages, though some treatments are as long as 60. A beat sheet for a script is maybe 10% of the total document (or six pages/hour). Identify the length and stick to it. Though, like with a certain dangling male organ, it’s not just how long it is, but what you do with it. For instance: my penis kills hooded cobras, like a mongoose.

4. The Shallowest Reader In The World

On the next Twitter #fridayreads, tell the world you’re reading a fuckload of book jackets and DVD cases. You know how if you’re writing epic fantasy it helps sometimes to read epic fantasy? Well, what do you think this is? You’re trying to summarize your work, so read summaries of other work. And book jackets and DVD cases are exactly that. True story: the book jacket for my upcoming novel DOUBLE DEAD features text pulled straight from my synopsis. The text on a book jacket or DVD case (or video game case or Amazon description) is meant to entice. Which is also your job when writing a query, synopsis, or treatment.

5. Egg Samples

You need to find examples of good — meaning, successful — treatments, queries, and synopses. Grab them from writer friends. Dig them up online. Discover what about them feels successful. Mine and mimic.

6. Get Goofy On Rainforest Drugs And Explore Core Truths

I often phrase this as, What the hell is it about, maaaan? As in, if you were sitting around a fucking drum circle or some shit and you were stoned out of your gourd on some weird powder made from pulverized elk bezoar and someone grabbed you by the collar of your ratty technicolor robe and they asked you that question, what would you say? Not the basic plot, but dig deep for what it’s really about, what it means to you. The essence of that answer must be present in your truncated treatment. Because it matters. It’s one of the things that elevates it from an examination of plot to an exploration of story.

7. Bottle All The Lightning

Another fun exercise: go through your novel or script and start identifying all the things that you think are — caps necessary — FUCKING AWESOME. The knees of the bees, the hat of the cat. Action scenes, plot turns, character foibles. Any of that. Call it out. Write it down. It won’t all go into your synopsis but it helps to have an arsenal of Awesome Things to call out, don’t you think?

8. We Come For The Character…

That sounds dirty, doesn’t it? Well, stop juicing your capris and tenting your khakis, we have things to discuss. What’s true for your overall story is true for any synopses of that story: character matters most. Good characters serve as our vehicle through the story and so it must in part be our vehicle through any treatment. Distill those characters down and make sure we know who they are and what arcs they travel.

9. …We Stay For The Conflict

Readers are dicks. We want to read about bad shit. We don’t want to read about how Sally didn’t study and got an A on her test. We want to see sad li’l Sally put through her paces. “She’s poor and her textbook was eaten by coyotes and the teacher hates her because he’s dating Sally’s mother and she still got an A on her test.” Conflict is the food that feeds the reader. Any query, treatment or synopsis must showcase conflict.

10. Heh Heh Heh He Said “Tentpole”

Repeat after me: “This story doesn’t stand up unless I include [fill in the blank].” No, you’re not supposed to say “fill in the blank.” Are you brain-diseased? You’re supposed to actually fill in the blank. You need to go through your story and find those tentpole items: details that, were they not included, would cause the story to collapse without their presence. When and Where are two you likely cannot do without.

11. Talk That Shit Out

Before you write, vocalize. Sit down with somebody you trust — friend, family member, agent, basement-dwelling cannibalistic hobo — and babble out your synopsis. Have a few drinks. Figure out how you’d sell a buddy (or a man-eating hobo) on your story. Keep pitching it to them. Hone your approach. Write it down. Harness what you learned and incorporate into any synopses you must write.

12. Act Structures And Outlines

Maybe you did an outline before you wrote. Maybe you didn’t. Doesn’t matter now because you need to grasp the architecture of this thing. Act structures and outlines help you get your hands around a story in terms of summarizing and — behold my brand new made-up word — succinctifying. I always exhort writers to grow cozy with writing outlines because trust me when I tell you: someone’s going to ask for one.

13. The Logline Is Your Best Friend

Learning to write a logline is your first best step. Take the logline. Hold it close. Nuzzle it to your neck like a cuddly ferret. Treat it right, it’ll coo and burble. Treat it wrong, it’ll spray piss in your mouth and bite off your earlobe. Wait, you don’t know what a logline is? Take your story. Summarize it in a single-sentence pitch. But it’s more than that, too — you’re trying to sell the story, trying to give an aura of mystery and possibility. A good logline hits at around 50 words. Go to 100 words and it’s likely too long.

14. Sharpen That Hook So That It Can Rupture A Fucking Atom

A bad hook makes for a bad query, treatment, or synopsis. Every molecule in your marrow resists this: your script or novel is not built on so flimsy a foundation as a single line of marketing text, but I am sad to remind you that life is not fair. Puppies are not immortal, rivers don’t run with ice cream and you don’t get a free blowjob every time you pay your taxes. Life is tough. So learn to whet the hook to an eye-gouging point. The hook must be the promise of the premise. And don’t ignore emotional investment. I’ve seen some loglines for DIE HARD that leave out the wife, and the wife is the core of that film.

15. The “Explode It Out” Method

Summarize your story in one sentence. Then one paragraph. Then one page. Or, do it in reverse: page, paragraph, sentence. Imagine someone’s got a gun to your private parts. You gotta do this or they’ll blow your nibbly bits into the carpet. You’ll soon see what is essential and what is not: pearls versus peanuts, rubies versus shiny pieces of aquarium glass. Learn to pare down until only its heart remains.

16. Embrace The Holy Trinity: Hook, Body, Climax

Open with a hook: a real juicy logline. Then move into the body: your story laid bare. Sum-up the ending in the same way you wrote the hook: a single sentence that delivers the final kidney-rupturing punch. I’ve seen some advice that says some agents or producers don’t want to hear the ending: unless you know this for sure, I’d say make sure you give it to them. It’s a significant piece of the story puzzle.

17. The Saggy Fatty Middle

The danger of a novel or a script is the same danger you run into with a synopsis: the saggy, soggy middle. Tighten that shit up. Find the boring parts and cut them out or rewrite so they’re a dose of meth instead of a mist of sinister sleep gas. Be advised: writing a synopsis can suddenly highlight secret problems in your story. Don’t let that freak you out. Embrace the opportunity to go back and do some repair work.

18. Stick That Landing

The ending should be as lean and mean as the hook. Maybe 50 words. Maybe 100. If the hook is the promise of the premise, then the ending is the fulfillment of that promise pistoned through the reader’s brainpan.

19. Still True: “Show, Don’t Tell”

You’re not standing in front of your intended audience (editor, agent, producer, executive) and reading a menu of options. You’re grabbing their hand, kicking down the door to your storyworld, and showing them what you’ve built. Always write your synopses from a place of wonder and potential, not from a podium where you deliver a sullen reiteration of your work.

20. Your Voice Matters

What’s going to elevate your synopsis from being dull as regurgitated cardboard? Your voice. Specifically, the same voice used to write the novel in the first place. Your synopsis is not the place for a dry recitation of plot points (and then, and then, and then, and then), but rather, a place for your words to bring the story to life in a different context. Put yourself into the synopsis same as you put your heart into the story.

21. Beware Strip Mining

You’ve taken your pig, blown him apart with a hand grenade and fit what you could in the bucket. Suddenly you realize: the value of this pig isn’t the loin chops but rather in the squeal. Writing a synopsis sometimes reveals that you’ve gone the wrong direction. You’ve taken the best parts out. You’ve chosen to embody the wrong emotions. You’ve strip mined the soul out of the thing and now it’s just a hollow exercise.

22. Go Back Over It With A Magnifying Glass And A Scalpel

Always re-read your queries, treatments and synopses again and again. It is your war-horse leading the charge and if it’s an out-of-shape nag with a herniated disc and a bad case of bell’s palsy then it’s not going to survive the coming battle. Read and edit and read and edit. Then give it to someone else and let them read and edit, read and edit. Compress that lump of coal until it is a throat-cutting diamond.

23. You Are Not A Pretty Pony

Different recipients want different things. If an agent specifies that she doesn’t want an author bio, then do not include an author bio. If guidelines say, “A 10-page synopsis,” then it’s your job to give 10 pages of straight-up synopsizing. You’re not the only pretty peacock in the room. Don’t stand out by giving your middle finger to the rules. Stand out by writing a kick-ass query for an even kick-assier story.

24. Vaporlock Is Your Enemy

Paralysis of the analysis: writing synopses will freeze a writer’s brain like a moist dick pressed against an ice-frosted flagpole. You can try all manner of thought exercise, but in the end the only way to the other side is the same as it is with any project: write your way through the swamp no matter how stridently the mire sucks at your boots. Stomp forth sloppily: remember that it’s okay for your first synopsis to suck. You aren’t beholden to just one draft. You get as many at-bats as you need, slugger.

25. In The End, It’s About Making People Want More

This is really where writers buck at their chains: a query, synopsis or treatment is a sales tool. You’re trying to get people to buy what you’re selling. It is enticement. It is tantalization. You’re dangling lush grapes, trying to lure someone to take a bite. In the end you think, this is not what I do, this is a distillation of my work and isn’t what I signed up for. Only problem? It is what you signed up for. Storytelling is always an act of enticement and, further, is frequently an act of whittling and winnowing until the best of the story remains and the worst is burned to ash. Sometimes it just takes a reconfiguration of thought: look at your query as just a smaller version of what you already do, which is to say, look at it as yet another act of storytelling. Because that’s what a synopsis is: it’s you telling your story. Except instead of 300 pages you get, say, ten. Or five. Or one. Hey, nobody said it was going to be easy.

* * *

Want another booze-soaked, profanity-laden shotgun blast of dubious writing advice?

Try: CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY

$4.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

Or its sequel: REVENGE OF THE PENMONKEY

$2.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

And: 250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING

$0.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

Time again for another list of 25, this time about the trials and triumphs of self-publishing. This article could be titled, Things I Think About Self-Publishing, or, One Penmonkey’s Ruminations Upon The Subject Of Self-Publishing, and is not meant to be an end-all, be-all list, but rather, little nougaty nuggets of contemplation. Feel free to drop down and add your own if time and inclination allow.

1. A Sane And Reasonable Part Of The Ecosystem

Self-publishing has become a real contender. Major authors are self-publishing now. And self-publishing has its own scions who have attained epic success in that space. Self-publishing is now a very real part of the ecosystem. Some truly excellent self-published storytelling is at work. Anybody who turns their nose down automatically at the practice should be kicked in the junk drawer.

2. Not Better, Not Worse, Just Different

Publishing your own work is no magic bullet; it guarantees nothing and is not a “better” or “smarter” way to go than the more traditional route. It’s also not a worse path. Each path has its own thorns and rocks, just as each path offers its own staggering vistas and exhilarating hikes. Self-publishing gets you out there faster and tends to give you a better return on every copy sold. But it’s also a more self-reliant path, putting a lot of work onto your shoulders. The self-published author dances for every dinner.

3. Self-Publishers Can’t Just Be Writers

This is true of all writers, really: these days, every author must contribute a deeper share of editing and promotion. But the self-published penmonkey does even more. You’re a carnival barker, web designer, customer service agent, CEO, porn fluffer — wait, maybe not that last one. Point is, you’re now a publisher, with all the responsibilities that come in the package. Don’t want those responsibilities? Don’t self-publish.

4. Some Doors Are Presently Shut

Media reviews? Major and not-so-major awards? Foreign and film rights? Libraries? Book signings? Sexy book signing groupies? Not so much. Self-published inkslingers will find that many of these things are not necessarily opportunities that exist for them. Not yet, at least.

5. This Is Not The Path Toward Credibility And Respect

You will not find a great deal of credibility and respect in self-publishing your work. Part of this is due to old prejudices. Part of this is due to the fact that self-publishing still represents a vibrant and virulent catalog of glurge and slush. Of course, if you were looking for credibility, you wouldn’t be a writer in the first place, would you? You want respect, go be a zookeeper or a sex worker.

6. Most Self-Published Books Suck A Bucket Of Dicks

This bears special mention: you’ll still find that a lot of self-published books are basically canker sores on the prolapsed anus of good writing, good storytelling, and good publishing. Contrary to what some will say, this crap can and does sometimes float: I will from time to time peruse the Kindle Charts and gape in amazement at how superheroically buoyant some garbage can be. And yes, I acknowledge that legacy publishing offers some real stinkers, too. But I thought the  goal was to be better than that, yes? And for the record, I have every confidence that the fucking Snooki book at least meets minimal standards compared to some of the piles of midden that pass for books amongst some self-published authors.

7. Your Book Is A Boat Which Must Ride Upon Sewage

Those ass-tastic self-published books are your competition. But they’re the competition of any author. It just bears mentioning that, whether traditionally published or whether you DIY, come to the field with the best motherfucker of a book you can bring. Don’t half-ass it. You’re here to tell stories, not pleasure your ego. Let your book rise above all the effluence.

8. Pinocchio Wants To Be A Real Boy, Goddamnit

Treat your book like a real book. Not like it’s some part-human mutant hybrid, some stumbling thing with half-a-brain and a bison’s heart. Send out review copies. Get blurbs. Make it look nice. Sound nice. Read nice. Force the book to command the credibility and respect that others of its ilk are lacking.

9. Two-Fisted Team-Ups

A good self-published book does not need to be the product of some lone weirdo in a closet jizzing his foul-skinned word-babies onto the Smashwords marketplace. It comes to fruition with the help of a good cover designer, editor, beta readers, and others within the self-published community. It’s why I don’t like the phrase self-published — you should rely on others beyond yourself to bring your book to life.

10. Money Out Before Money In

For the record, that might mean spending some money. It’s worth it. The reward of having a professional-grade product and not the remnant of some amateur hour karaoke will earn out.

11. Please Don’t Let Your Cover Look Like A Three-Fingered Smear Of Dog-Shit

So many ugly covers. So many ugly covers. Once more for the cheap seats: SO MANY UGLY COVERS. Listen, I know — a cover does not make a book. But it’s the first line of offense at a place like Amazon, where I’m almost universally seeing the cover before I’m seeing the description. I will click a kick-ass cover because, I dunno, I’m an attention-deficit raccoon who likes shiny trinkets? A great cover shall be your standard-bearer. If you use Comic Sans or Papyrus on your cover, you should be drowned in a washtub.

12. E-Book Designers Are Non-Essential

The e-Book designers out there are probably mad — let me get ahead of that and say: you may find them useful. They do good work. But for many DIY authors, you may not need one (and may not be able to justify the cost). Formatting an e-book for the major services (Amazon, B&N) can at times be an exercise in soul-squishing agony, but over time you figure out the tricks and learn how to make it work. And once you do that, it’s not even all that hard. (For Amazon, can I recommend Mobipocket Creator? Free software, totally useful.) Hell, for the basics, Amazon and B&N will auto-format.

13. Editors Are Your Bestest Friends

Get a good editor. Can you self-edit? Sure. Is it a good idea? Not usually. Bare minimum: seek the advice of people you trust, and implement their advice in some way, shape, or form. Give them wine and chocolate and hookers and four-wheelers and kites made from the skin of their enemies and anything else they ask for. Pay their price. A good editor is your best friend.

14. Traditional Legacy Publishing Is Not Your Enemy

You will find little value in slagging those in traditional publishing, particularly authors, agents and editors. They’re not your enemy. We’re all part of the same ecosystem, swimming around in the pond where we a) tell stories and b) hope to not starve and die in the process. Most of us are here because we love what we do, so hold hands, kiss each other on the cheek, and stop casting aspersions.

15. Agents And Gatekeepers Are Still Your Friends

Iconoclasts love to hate on those that keep the gate, but those that keep the gate aren’t universally bad people. Further, they’re trained to a certain standard. Agents in particular don’t deserve scorn, and can, in fact, still help the self-published author. They may know when a book is right for a published market. They may be of aid in selling rights (print, foreign, film) that you otherwise might not have had access to. And, let’s not mince words: many self-published authors would jump like a cricket at the chance to have a book on bookshelves with a big publisher. For that, you will find an agent potentially quite helpful.

16. Amazon Is The 800-Pound Gorilla (And He’s Got A Gun)

If you sell anywhere, you’re going to sell at Amazon. Start there. Talking to other self-pubbed authors, the majority of their sales come through Amazon. And, since we’re talking, if Amazon is the big-ass gorilla in the room, I suppose that makes Smashwords the anemic marmoset who keeps scratching his balls and falling asleep in his own waste. Uhh… yeah. I might not be a fan of Smashwords.

17. The Term “Indie” Makes Some People Vomit Fire

Indie has been a term used in publishing for a while now, meaning a publisher who is not beholden to a Big Faceless Corporation. Thus there is some scorn at those who would use that term — “indie” — to describe self-pubbers. Of course, everybody just needs to pop some quaaludes and calm down. Language changes for better or for worse: the definition of “indie” is a moving target, and has been in film, music, and now publishing. We can all share the language. If we can’t agree to share, you’ll have to fight in the arena with poison-tipped fountain pens.

18. Beware The Insidious Whispers Of Froth-Lipped Zealots

Eschew false dichotomies. Avoid loaded promises. Spurn those self-proclaimed oracles who claim to know the future. Nobody knows what the truth is regarding self-publishing or traditional publishing, and anybody who thinks you need to jump one way and not the other may not have your best interests at hand. Make your own call as an Informed Human With A Super-Computer Inside Her Head Called A “Brain.”

19. This Is The Time For Bold-Faced Brave-Ass Experimentation

So much of self-publishing is doing what’s been done. (Another Twilight rip-off? Tell me more!) But the advantage of DIY publishing is that you are beholden to no one but an audience — so why not go big? Fuck the rules. Hell with the genres. Experiment. Play around with storytelling. Do something different instead of traipsing the same paths, la-la-la-lee-la. Got a picaresque cyberpunk novel loaded with ciphers and clues in your head that links up to some kind of bizarre geocaching transmedia experiment? Fuck it. Why not? You want to write penguin erotica? Transgender adventure tales? Bible II: Son Of Bible? Find those things that no major publisher will touch but you have passion for, and put it out there.

20. A Future Found In Format

The future of self-publishing isn’t merely in storytelling. It’s in the format. The format now is a clumsy foal stumbling around on wobbly legs. Find ways to break free from that. It’ll be up to the DIY authors to find new formats — transmedia initiatives, app-novels, stories told across social media. Do not be constrained by the formats that exist. Story does not begin and end with a physical book. It doesn’t stop at e-books, either.

21. You Are Not A Spam-Bot

Self-publishers have a lot of their own promotional work to do. That means it’s very easy to accidentally become naught but a megaphone hawking your wares. While you should never be afraid to ask for sales or market, you need to market as a human being. Connect. Be funny. A lot of this is going to succeed based on that most ephemeral of market drivers: word-of-mouth. The way you generate that? Nobody knows. But it starts with writing a kick-ass book. Well, that and human sacrifice. But you can’t make an omelet without killing lots of innocent people in the name of dark literary entities living beneath the earth.

22. Do Not Buy This Book

Let me just be frank: you don’t need this book. Anything it contains can be found elsewhere. For free.

23. Embrace A Vibrant And Active Community

The self-publishing community is a helpful place, for the most part. Can be quite helpful and vocal in support. Discover through this community the best practices. Return the favor. Communicate and converse.

24. But Don’t Be A Cheerleader For Crappiness

On the other hand, some elements of the community can be toxic, and further, can act as cheerleaders for self-publishing’s own worst instincts. Don’t champion a novel because it’s self-published. How it got there is irrelevant to the end result. If it’s a good book, then talk about it. If it’s shit, then forget it. You have the freedom to self-publish; there’s no need to vociferously defend that right. But if you want self-publishing to be real, to earn the respect and credibility you think it deserves, then it needs fewer cheerleaders and more police — people who will call a rat-turd a rat-turd and not pretend it’s a Rice Krispie treat. Self-publishing also needs more sexy groupies, since we’re talking. Call me.

25. Calm Down, Twitchy McGee

Got a novel? Don’t self-publish it. Not right away. Give it time. Sit on it. My advice to you is to run it up the flagpole with agents and editors, with friends and readers and other writers. You need to know if it’s worth a shit, if it’s worth putting out there — do you want to contribute another bucket of crap to the ocean of effluence? No, you do not. Further, you want to be aware of the pluses and minuses to self-publishing. Some books have a shot at going big with traditional: you might earn a good advance and have a chance with film or foreign rights. Do not be hasty to ignore these benefits. Other books will do very well on the Kindle marketplace despite not having a great shot at traditional. Self-publishing can be transformative — and lucrative — if you put the right work, your best work, out there on the block.

My advice is the same I will continue to give when it comes to the fake bullshit battle between self-publishing and legacy publishing: do both. Write books for each — plant a foot in each world so you may reap the harvest of each. What say you, authors? What are your thoughts on self-publishing these days?

* * *

Want another booze-soaked, profanity-laden shotgun blast of dubious writing advice?

Try: CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY

$4.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF

And: 250 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING

$0.99 at Amazon (US), Amazon (UK), B&N, PDF