Tag Archives: Writing Process

Proof that you can read!

A Writer drowning in words.

I’M proofreading my first two publications right now, and I’m aiming to complete around 140,000 words in under a week.

It’s an ambitious task and thankfully I have some assistance, however, as an independent publisher (a fancy way of saying ‘self-published’, which carries a terrible stigma), this is my self-inflicted creative penance.

Cue the violins! Independent publishing is not all it’s cracked up to be!

“It’s no wonder everyone’s avoiding checking their own work – it was always a relatively crap job.”

Sure, it’s liberating when you don’t have to run decisions past anyone, but when it comes time to hit that publish button, where the quality of the finished product is concerned the buck stops with you. What’s worse it that although they pay very little for our books, quality has very high value placed on it by our readers.

If you’ve ever watched TV talent shows you know how risky stepping into the limelight can be for singers who have not been massaged into the public gaze by management and stage training. Quality comes across only when contestants have a decent amount of singing ability.

How cringeworthy is it when wobbly performers compete week after week slightly off pitch or rough on the high notes? It doesn’t mean they’re not talented, but it’s almost a relief when they get voted out, leaving the stage to more assured vocalists.

Art is a bitch that way, and writers have all the same potential to seem extremely unattractive in the public domain. No matter how schmick our book’s cover or what publicists we’re tempted to pay, we are prone to get voted off in the first paragraph.

Part of being match fit is ensuring our words are the best they can be, which means either paying for copy editing and proofreading, or doing it ourselves.

I’ve chosen the latter, because I have the skills, but this week I have wondered if this was the wisest course of action.

All writers have patterns. We use language in wildly different ways, and, despite appearances, there is no one language standard when it comes to the written word.

My particular weakness is hyphenation. If I can manage to slip-in an inappropriate or un-necessary hyphen, I will.

Yes, we have spell check and grammar guides in our word processing software, but do you know which standard of which language yours is set on, and have you ever tried to change it?

Yes, there are dictionaries, but have you ever wondered how many?

5113847621_10e4cbdb2e_bThe factual answer is nobody knows, but that doesn’t stay the judgmental hand of the average Grammar Nazi, who I imagine scanning free samples of eBooks instead of buying them, seeking out the errors as a form of bloodsport.

Language is an organic, ever-changing entity. To successfully proofread something, writers need to accept that they’ll capture the language they’re using for a brief moment before it continues its evolution.

If you decide to DIY your book’s proofreading, doing so consistently within that moment is your job, and that’s the really hard part, especially for the generations of writers who were not taught grammar at Australian primary or secondary schools from the 1970s, when it was deemed unnecessary, a directive that continues to this day.

I know several writers who claim to be unable to proofread their own output – journalists, mainly, who’ve had the luxury of sub-editors for decades.

But sub-editors are being shafted by media organisations across the English-speaking world, leaving journalists to proof our own articles.

It’s no wonder everyone’s avoiding checking their own work – it was always a relatively crap job that should be royally paid for, when at its core it’s basically clearing up the shit written by others.

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I have one tip for writer-proofreaders aware of the reality that self publishing is expensive – shut the windows, put the cat out, tell your partner not to come knocking, and simply read your work so damned well it’s like the last time you’ll ever read it.

And I have one tip for writers willing to pay for proofreading – no matter how much you pay, it’ll never be perfect.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

Check out Michael’s book on indie publishing.

How to write wrong

READY TO POUNCE Survuvung feedback can feel like a game of cat and mouse.
READY TO POUNCE Surviving negative feedback can feel like a game of cat and mouse.

AFTER dabbling on and off ever since I could articulate words, in mid-2009 I started writing full time and haven’t stopped.

Working through plenty of strong emotions (and day jobs), I blasted through my blocks to self-expression and found my voice in fiction, plays, journalism and memoir – genres I had tried but given up hope on long ago.

Along the way I’ve collected a little wisdom about how the world reacts to what writers write.

It’s not always pretty – there are plenty of detractors out there waiting at their keyboards to knock writers into silence.

Writers are generally very observant beings – our art reveals an ability to dig deep inside and tell the stories we find. The easier we make it look, the more it drives people who have trouble expressing themselves into fits of jealousy.

So, ‘you’re wrong about that, you know’, is a very common response to the courage it takes to write.

You’ll get it at social gatherings, on the social media, and sometimes from friends.

But one person you’ll very, very rarely hear it from is another prolific writer. We know the hard slog that goes into the job.

Here are my tips to writing ‘wrong’ …

Use the criticism

After your first few ‘you’re wrong’ experiences, you may find yourself getting a bit upset at someone making a point of being negative. A good way to remedy the shock is to write about it. That’s exactly what I am doing right here, right now. Never go silent for fear of someone deciding you’re wrong. Just keep writing.

Check your sources

Then check them again. This is not just the job of the journalist. Often, an accusation of ‘wrong’ comes from a readers’ need to highlight an inaccuracy, sometimes very publicly. But you’ll be surprised how often you go back to your research material only to find you were more correct than you originally realised. ‘Wrong’ is an easy accusation to make, but it’s harder to wear with confidence in mixed company unless you’ve gone over your sources properly.

Self correct 

Online publishing allows instantaneous correction of just about anything. If you’ve made an error, from a typo to a mistaken claim, correct it! Across the heavily political history of publishing, this ability is an incredible luxury that a writer could argue people lost their lives for. Use it.

Subject ‘experts’

Many have invested time and money into becoming experts in certain fields, and they sometimes feel they have cornered the subject against every other writer. Expect little support from such people – they’ll get upset and angry if you write on ‘their’ subject, or close-up altogether. Explain your use of their source material, sure, but never be afraid to add to the story without their approval or permission. They’ll tell you you’re ‘wrong’, of course, but you’re getting used to that now, right?

SSSS
IT’S EASY to knock others from behind your keyboard.

Old fashioned knockers

There are few things more hurtful for writers who use the social media than the throwaway dismissal or casual drubbing from one of our ‘peeps’. Facebook has become a tender trap for their ‘friendly’ fire. Knockers are the hardest critics to recognise, because their message can be slow to dawn on us if delivered in a sustained manner over a long period of time. Deleting a few of their condescending, corrective comments is usually all it takes to deliver firm return fire about their lack of form.

The right of reply

Pieces I’ve written have attracted polar feedback. The same works have been called ‘uplifting’ and ‘undisciplined’; ‘powerful’ and ‘hurtful’; ‘insightful’ and ‘misguided’. I try not to soak up either praise or criticism, which is easy to say and hard to put into action. In the fine balance between listening to a reader’s feelings and honouring my own, I tend to listen to myself, because to assimilate the opposites in my readership might end in this writer silencing himself, and I stayed silent for long enough.

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If all else fails …

What I am still learning is how to adopt that iron-clad ego it takes to put my work into the public domain, and leave it there despite the wall of wrong. But I am developing a suspicion that all a good writer needs is the brio of a damned good judge. Objection? Overruled!

An extract from Write, Regardless!

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

Pitching practice for writers

SERVED UP Making a meal of your hard writing work.
SERVED UP Making a meal of your hard writing work.

WHEN I was a teenager with a head full of writing dreams and acres of my very own fantasy novels in my wake,  one of my favourite pastimes was designing the covers of my latest books, long before I’d even written a word.

Despite the fun of emulating the great cover designs of the day, this process was a handy short-term distraction from the long-term graft of capturing ideas and writing them into shape.

When I returned to fiction writing five years ago, I was determined to avoid this salacious trap and eschewed all musings on titles, covers, blurbs and similar ego-massaging pastimes.

I just wrote, and wrote, and wrote. Then I read, and read, and read.

When I eventually began making submissions to publishers, who asked me to describe, define and sell my work to them, I reached the point of forming what’s known as a pitch.

Time for a little dreaming, then. Here’s what I learned …

Titles always change

Manuscripts need to have a file name on your computer, so you (and anyone you submit them to) doesn’t lose them, but that’s all they need. Nailing that one great title for our work is a great way to inspire us to create a whole pitch-ready work, but don’t get precious about what it’s called if a publisher or agent has other ideas. Jane Austen’s working title for Pride and Prejudice was, simply, First.

Blurbs are best

The sales tool used by publishers on the back cover of printed books, traditionally known as a blurb, is the benchmark for pitching language. Strike a balance between the raw courage of “it’s Jurassic Park meets Star Wars” and the blandness of “this is the best novel written about dinosaurs in space”. Go back to the storytelling strategy of your plot and work that into your blurb, with all its tensions, turning points and battles.

Give away the ending

Publishers and agents know good storytelling, but don’t expect them to suspend their disbelief about yours. The main difference between your pitch and the eventual blurb of your work is that you must let the publisher/agent into its secret. This takes courage, because when we reveal our work’s one big secret, the thing we feel will make people love it, it feels like giving away all our power. Be brave and let it go, because your plot’s turning point may be the key to keeping your work out of the slush pile.

Keep images to yourself

One heartening and inspiring tool I make use of is imagery. I like to find one strong image which I imagine would work on a book cover. It evolves through the writing process, of course, but sometimes I find images so arresting they end up informing the story and characters. I never submit these images as part of my pitch, but I work with them,  keeping them in mind whenever I am asked what my story is about.

Have an answer ready

Family and friends love to know what we’ve been spending our writing time doing, and they’re  a great test audience for verbal pitches. Most writers squirm when asked about their work, but a little preparation and practice helps to have an answer ready when someone asks: “So, what’s your book about?” As with the blurb, go back to your plot. If you can’t answer this question to a friendly audience, you are probably not ready to pitch it to a publisher.

There are only seven great stories

The great Arthur Quiller-Couch was one of the first modern writers to maintain there are a limited number of story archetypes embedded in human existence. Other thinkers have fleshed-out his approach, but the basic premise has not altered. What you are writing will be found in one of those story brackets. It’s your job to stretch the medium into new territory. That’s possibly what being original means.

What’s it like?

Publishers and agents often ask for a few examples of existing titles our work is similar to. Don’t snap straight to “it’s entirely original”, have a look at the marketplace, both the new titles and the classics. There will be echoes of your work in there. Use them to define what you’re writing. See what major genres the publishing industry has divided the book trade into, and work out where you fit. If you don’t know, publishers probably won’t waste their time working it out for you.

Break the rules, a little

WRITE REGARDLESSCreating and sending multiple pitches can get very boring. Have some fun and break the rules a little. I recently sent a pitch to a publisher who said “no unsolicited material”, and they looked at it! Doing this each and every time is probably not a great way to get a book published, but now and again, mix it up. There is really nothing to lose when you think about the crazy odds of the publishing trade.

An extract from Write, Regardless!

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.