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Thursday, 6 December 2012

Marketing the Marketers?

market 1
market 1 (Photo credit: tim caynes)

Writer? Serious reader? By ‘serious’ I don’t mean academic but interested, enthusiastic, passionate, even. As a writer, I read as much as I can, though time is clearly limited and I need as much of that elusive commodity as I can get to do the actual writing. And that’s the issue I’d like to discuss today.

We write so that readers can read our words. That’s the primary function of a writer. But, these days, we’re also encouraged to market our work.

Once, long ago, in a land of ideals and wonders unknown to mankind, publishers used to take on the task of marketing and selling books for their authors. They valued the creative nature of writers and understood that writing and selling are two very different activities: so different, in fact, that they can, and often do, act destructively on each other.

Creativity requires a degree of sensitivity far deeper than normal human perceptiveness and sympathy. It can, under certain circumstances, become debilitating, as the creator virtually lives through the experiences of characters he’s inventing, describing and challenging for the sake of the story.

Selling, on the other hand, requires a skin so thick that it rivals rhino hide. I know; I’ve worked in retail, been a travelling salesman, a telesales operator and a team leader at a call centre selling holidays and the inevitable insurance that goes with that product.

The two functions are so different, so opposite, that they inevitably conflict with each other. In the end, the person has to decide whether to create or to sell. I know there are individuals who seem able to do both. But an examination of the work of many successful sellers will reveal that much of their apparent creativity is a reworking of old material rather than the production of anything new.

It then becomes essential to the mental health of the individual to make a choice between these two activities. The alternative is to suffer the very real danger of becoming schizophrenic; a mental condition not to be envied.

In the process of learning this simple fact of a writer’s life, I’ve tried various strategies to get my name known, my work talked about, my books in front of readers. The activity is generically referred to as ‘marketing’. And I have nothing against the concept, or the legitimate practice of marketing. It is, unfortunately, a necessary aspect of modern trade in any commodity. But there are thousands of pseudo-marketers out there, ready to accept as much money as any gullible writer is willing to pay them. Now, I’ve no reason for personal animosity to this army of confidence tricksters: I’ve never paid more than a sample amount (£3 or $5, at most, and only rarely) for any marketing activity, usually as a way of ‘testing the water’. I’ve tried instead to do my own thing in getting the necessary publicity. But I’m aware of the many confidence tricksters out there who charge incredible amounts of money on the promise of bringing sales to gullible writers. I don’t, however, know of a single writer who has actually benefitted financially from a liaison with any of these organisations. Not one.

There is a veritable industry in marketing, operating under various different umbrellas, and often supporting one another by telling wannabees how much their services are worth and how they’re bound to utter failure and obscurity if they fail to engage one of their number. Some of these organisations hide the reality of their operations under the banner of publishing activity. Some offer services to ‘produce’ eBooks, usually for a huge fee. I have to tell you that the most technophobic individual can learn how to publish an eBook on their own, with little guidance other than that supplied by reliable organisations such as Amazon (their tax avoidance is a different matter, of course) and Smashwords. It requires a certain amount of patience and determination, but very little actual technical knowledge. I know; I’ve done it. And I’m far from being a techie wizard.

Then there are the vanity publishers, who advertise their skills and expertise to produce print books, usually at colossal fees, but who actually produce a mere handful of volumes for the £/$1000s they charge and then expect the writer to do the actual selling. These organisations frequently do none of the traditional work of publishers: editing, design, proof-reading and marketing etc. And they have few overheads, as they almost always produce books as print on demand (POD), a modern innovation that is wonderful when used properly.

But, and these are my special targets, there is a great army of marketers out there, all waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting with promises of great sales without delivering. They offer press releases, blurb writing, exposure on websites, tweets, and various other techniques supposedly designed to put the writer’s work in front of the reading public. I have to tell you that, by and large, they don’t do the job. The marketing market is primarily designed to support the marketers, not writers.

My cynicism has spared me from entanglement with these vultures. But I know of people who’ve been seriously stung, who’ve spent life-savings on a vain chase of fame and fortune. Often, those who fall for the trap are lacking in real talent and wouldn’t be published by normal means. But this isn’t always the case. Some rare and real talent has been destroyed by unscrupulous money-making confidence tricksters. So, beware my fellow writers. Never accept the word of any organisation that advertises its services. Always trawl your associates and colleagues in this difficult calling and ask for personal recommendations before you spend a single penny or cent on any publishing or marketing activity. There are more scoundrels and charlatans out there than there are genuine experts.

And me? What will I do, after my sortie into self-promotion? Well, it’s clear I’m no natural when it comes to selling. Far too honest for my own good, was how I was described by my boss when I was a travelling salesman. So I’ll keep up with Twitter, this blog, Pinterest, Facebook and Goodreads and I’ll probably design a website to replace my old one, when I find the time. But I’ll spend the vast bulk of my time in writing. I’ll hope that the quality of my output will be enough to persuade readers to read and review my work and spread the word. I’ll continue to self-publish eBooks via Smashwords and Amazon, and look into publishing paperbacks via POD with one or two organisations I know I can trust, and who charge sensible fees for their production and distribution services.

In a few months, I retire from my part-time day job and will be able to spend more time actually writing. I look forward to that opportunity and intend to use it to the full. Watch this space. There’ll be more stories for you to read, and they’ll be the best I can make them. Any writer who thinks it’s okay to create work that ‘will do’ isn’t worthy of the name. I respect my readers too much to take them for granted.

This turned out to be a longer piece than I envisaged when I sat at the keyboard this morning, but sometimes it can be helpful to examine realities in this fashion. I hope I’ve given writers and readers some food for thought. And, as always, I welcome your input in the form of comments here.

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By the way, look out for a competition here on Saturday. The prize will be some software I recently tried and will review on here. Anyone wanting an easy way to produce personal albums and mementoes should find this of interest. Of course, I’ll be marketing this product. And, no, the irony isn’t lost on me. But, having used the product and found it more useful than expected, I’ve no qualms in letting others know about it. As a result of any purchases made from my site, where buyers will be given a useful discount, I may even earn a little commission, which will help me continue with my writing. After all, even writers have to earn a living.

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Wednesday, 5 December 2012

Featured on Goodreads.



Those who are regular visitors will know of my enthusiasm for a large-membership reading community on the web: Goodreads is an excellent site for writers to interact with readers, for readers to chat about their favourite books, read reviews, gain recommendations, and, in fact, join in almost any activity you can imagine that deals with the world of books. It is, in short, a book-lovers' paradise. If you're not already a member, I urge you to join this community.
But, just for good measure, it turns out one of my books is featured there at present. Ten Tales for Tomorrow is an anthology of dark speculative fiction, which has earned praise from those who've read and reviewed it. You'll find more details, and buying links, on the Published Work page of the blog.
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Thursday, 29 November 2012

The Comedy of Errors, by William Shakespeare, Reviewed


Heresy! Infamy! Thou darest malign the Bard?

The Comedy of Errors appears to be based on a premise that I found impossible to swallow, for two simple reasons. First; why would the twins, both sets, not have been named prior to their separation and therefore have different names? It seems unlikely that these infants were so young as to have been denied such a basic ceremony as naming. Secondly, and perhaps more to the point, why were both sets of twins dressed identically, bearing exact copies of the same hairstyle, using the same manner of speech? So identical, in fact, that they could not be separated by the intimate servants or, in the case of Antipholus of Ephasus, by his wife and her sister. One was raised in Syracuse, a town in Sicily, with, admittedly, Greek influence. And the other in Ephasus, in Turkey, again, with Greek influence. However, the manner of speech in these two widely distant provinces would undoubtedly have been equally wide. Manner of dress, customs, mannerisms etc would all have been very varied, and Shakespeare would have been aware of such regional differences from his exposure to such during his everyday life in England.

A farce, and this play is definitely a farce, requires the audience to suspend their disbelief in order to appreciate the confusions caused by the plot. I found I was unable to suspend my incredulity to the extent necessary to enjoy this piece of comic drama.

I’m an admirer of our national Bard; what writer of English could fail to prize the literary skills of this world renowned wordsmith? But I couldn’t push past what quickly became an insuperable barrier to my enjoyment. This impediment was further reinforced by the poor quality of the poetry of the piece. We’re all used to the subtlety, variety, cleverly composed and richly metaphorical nature of Shakespeare’s dialogue. But in this, one of his earlier plays, he seems not to have quite got the hang of things. The language is unnecessarily convoluted, as if he’s more concerned with impressing the audience than with conveying his meaning. The usual contemporary references aside, I found the meaning often difficult to determine because of the structure of the sentences and the employment of obtuse metaphors. I accept, when reading Shakespeare, that some of the language’s more subtle meanings will be lost on me: I’m not a scholar of the period and I lack the time to delve into references that require lengthy searches to unpick. But, in this play, I felt the playwright was more concerned with fireworks than with substance. Also, although I’ve never seen a production, I very quickly knew the outcome, since this was flagged too clearly in the first act.

So, not the best of his work, but, hell, it’s Shakespeare, so it must be good, yes? 

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To my regular readers, my apologies for the lack of a piece on writing today. My ME/CFS has returned and it limits my energy and creativity. I'll try to get back to normal next week. Thank you for your patience.

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Tuesday, 27 November 2012

Girl With a Pearl Earring, by Tracy Chevalier, Reviewed

In Chevalier's fictional account, the characte...
In Chevalier's fictional account, the character Griet is the model for Vermeer's painting. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Vermeer’s muse for his famous painting is brought to life in the fictional Griet, who narrates her story in a voice at once apt and accessible. The reader is quickly transported to the Delft of the mid 17th century and plunged into a world where Protestant and Catholic are labels with real meaning.

The place of women in society has long been that of second class citizen, with even the relatively recent progress appearing mostly as lip service to equality. Here, in the Europe of 1664 to 1676, a time when the plague swept through the region and London was all but destroyed by fire, we learn at first hand what it must have been like to be a young woman from a less than wealthy background.

Tracy Chevalier has done her research, gleaned enough information and background to bring alive the times, the fears, the hopes and the dreams of the young woman who is her central character. Griet combines a natural naivety with a worldliness that makes her both courageous and vulnerable. In spite of the almost continuous thread of drudgery and usage, the injustices that visit her daily, her acceptance that this life is what she will live until the end, there is a spirit here that lifts her out of the ordinary, raises her above the mundane and portrays her as vital, intelligent and questing.

The maid’s acceptance of casual bullying and usage is hard for the modern reader to accept, yet it is written with such openness and confidence that the reality cannot be questioned. Her mixed attitude to minimal exposure and maximum concealment echoes the hypocrisy of the church in which she has been raised and which she accepts without question. No modern girl could be so accepting, in light of the many proofs regarding the lies, hypocrisy and dogmatism of the church, but the reader is persuaded that such considerations are not available for Griet. She has no opportunity to question society and its unjust traditions, merely accepting that this is the way things are.

The love story, such as it is, remains understated. Hints alone draw the picture as the self-obsessed painter, drawn sparely and shrouded in a false air of mystery by the skill of the author, finds a way to persuade the shy but willing maid to model for him. Her very willingness to perform difficult and dangerous tasks for him leads the reader to understand the feelings she never expresses. The claustrophobic settings and customs lend menace to a relationship that could lead to only a pair of outcomes. We can hope for the better of the two whilst understanding that the worst is more likely.

The novel explores themes of injustice, bullying, the casual and cruel superiority of the wealthy, familial loyalty and the pragmatism of the poor. I cannot describe this as a happy book, yet it is strangely compelling. And, although the pace rarely alters, there is a quickening of movement in the denouement. I found I was driven to finish the book in a final sitting once I’d reached a certain point in the narrative.

There is a film of this book. I doubt it does justice to the narrative, which maintains an honest and credible voice of the maid as narrator throughout. But I will make the effort to watch it, in the hope that the director illuminates the shadows and borrows the colours of the novel.

This is a book I enjoyed and one I happily recommend to all those who like their fiction steeped in history and character.  

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Sunday, 25 November 2012

Do You Work Best in Chaos or Control?


Stones on the beach at Flamborough
Do you work well in clutter? Does it really matter to you if the desk is covered in piles of manuscripts, notes to remind you, a document stand overflowing with ‘things to do’? Is it no problem for you to step over those things you’re planning to sort out every time you enter the room?

On the other hand, do you have to have a tidy desk, with everything in its place and nothing outstanding. Is that box of odds and sods already sorted for sale on Ebay or ready for the local charity shop? Or does such a box never exist in your life because you always clear these things as they come along? Is your inbox only ever the place where new emails live for the short while it takes you to deal with them? Are you obsessive about the places your things are located, ensuring everything is always exactly where you want it?

I lie somewhere in between these two extremes of chaos and obsessive tidiness.

For a number of reasons, with which I won’t bore you, I’ve had to allow certain irritations to build up over the last few weeks. It’s always a question of priorities. But I do find it difficult to be creative and disciplined in my writing habits when the desk has a pile of correspondence awaiting attention, the inbox has over 100 emails I need to explore further, the room I use as a study is crowded with objects that need some attention before I can either sell them or recycle them via the local Help the Aged shop.

So, on Wednesday afternoon, when I arrived home from the half week I spend at an office in order to supplement my earnings from writing, I decided enough was enough. It was time for a serious bout of deck-clearing. I want to get on with the fantasy trilogy I’m writing, and all these interruptions are getting in the way. The only solution is to deal with them.

So far, I’ve reduced the inbox to 13, and 12 of those are required for future action I can’t actually take at the moment. I’ve updated the Writing Contests page on this blog and therefore removed from the desk the pile of magazines, leaflets and other printed matter I consult for this task. I’ve restored my daughter’s old computer to a working state, which took some 10 hours of attention, reformatting and re-installing of software, so I can see if that will sell on Ebay. Along the  way, I’ve dealt with all new emails (I get around 70 a day), posted a couple of items on the blog, kept up to date with Pinterest and Twitter and Facebook and LinkedIn, all of which are social sites I use to keep in touch with readers. But, as a happily married man who wishes to remain so, I’ve also spent some real quality time with my wife, who is a great support to my writing activity. An earlier post on here describes our day in Hull to see the Da Vinci drawings and watch the latest Bond film. And we also managed a longish walk along the local cliffs near Flamborough. I love the sea and find it refreshes my spirit. Took some pictures along the way, which I’ll add to the albums I have on Facebook when time allows.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, the lesson of the last few days has been that I work better without clutter. And, if I’m able to keep it at bay, I’ll get a lot more writing done. So, I’ve found my ideal working situation. Have you found yours, or are you continually in a state where you’re either fighting against a chaos over which you have no control, or are you so busy keeping everything tidy that you have no real time to do what matters most; you writing?

There you go. I’ve even found time to write and post this piece on the blog. So, here’s your challenge: if you’re not already working in your ideal environment, do something about it and sort it out so you can work in your optimum way and actually get that writing done.

Good luck, and have fun!

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Thursday, 22 November 2012

A Day of Cultural Contrasts


I want to share with you a strangely satisfying day of contrasting culture. This morning, my wife and I travelled to our nearest city, Hull, to view some of Da Vinci’s drawings on exhibition at the Ferens Art Gallery. Hull is not noted for its culture, though both Philip Larkin and John Godber produced some of their best work in the city. And, of course, it is the birthplace of William Wilberforce, whose influence on world culture through the abolition of slavery must be considered great.

To get back to the Da Vinci: A few weeks ago, we were in Paris and spent some time in the Louvre, where, over the heads of the multitude, we saw the Mona Lisa in its original form. It was distant, because we were unwilling to elbow our way through the throng, and it was protected by non-reflective glass to protect it against the assaults of the multiple flashes from the tourists’ cameras (the signs asking people not to use flash have little or no effect on those who haven’t a clue how to actually use their cameras, of course).

Today, in Hull, we joined a much smaller number to walk in peace and quiet around an exhibition where we could get up close to the drawings made by Da Vinci. The subtlety of his technique, the detail captured by his eye and the skill of his translation of reality into pictorial form were aspects I will treasure for a long time. That we could actually examine them as closely as if reading a book, spend uninterrupted time before each of the ten examples, study and absorb the brilliance, was wonderful. Information boards enhanced the experience and the gallery staff were on hand to enthuse and guide where necessary.

An exhibition I urge you to visit if you’re anywhere near the city. It’s on until 23 January 2013. The drawings are on loan from the Royal Collection, by the way.

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Because we are not city lovers, we rarely visit without a specific purpose. Today we also decided to go to the cinema to watch the latest Bond movie. Skyfall is a very typical Bond film with plenty of chases, improbable action scenes and occasional sexual encounters, understated so that the films can be watched as family entertainment. Though it’s always puzzled me that film classification allows extreme violence to be witnessed by young children, yet prevents youngsters seeing the natural state of human beings. Never understood why nudity should be considered bad for children when violence and killing is apparently considered acceptable. But that’s maybe a subject for a different post.

The film is the best of those starring Daniel Craig. There is a great story and more interaction and narrative than the previous efforts. The film is also full of surprises. Naturally, James wins most of his unlikely fights, defeats his enemies and gets the girl. I won’t spoil the story for those who haven’t seen the film. But, if you’ve been less than impressed by the previous outings of Craig’s Bond, you will find this one a real improvement.

As I say, a day of cultural contrasts. But a very enjoyable day in spite of, or maybe, because of, that.

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What Do You Love/Hate About Traditional Publishers?


Way back, in the fogs of the ancient past, when men were apes and women were damned glad to be fleet of foot, traditional publishers took on a role in the world of books. They sought out and nurtured talent. They actively encouraged good writers. They sold their authors’ books. It was a dream world, where writers could actually spend their time writing, learning technique, coming to grips with the process of telling stories, unburdened by the constant need to expose themselves to their public like some lurid music hall act.

Way back then, the publisher took on the tasks of marketing and sales, jobs requiring entirely different skill sets from those needed to produce creative fiction. Sales people are a breed. They are driven by money and the idea of reward. Creative people are artists, driven by the need to express themselves and living in hope that someone somewhere might enjoy their output sufficiently to pass a positive comment and maybe even recommend it to a friend. Publishers organised the production of the book; engaging and paying for skilled cover artists to draw attention to the work, hiring editors to iron out inconsistencies and grammatical errors, choosing the font most suitable for the text, taking a pride in turning the creative work into a marketable product. Publishers negotiated with booksellers and others in the book trade to get the volumes on the shelves of stores and libraries. They produced publicity material and arranged for signings and, sometimes, tours by their authors.

All this activity released authors from the need to worry about a side of writing mostly foreign to the creative nature. It allowed writers to spend time actually learning their craft and developing into practitioners with insight, depth and experience. Their writers grew in talent and value to their readers. The authors were protected from day to day anxieties regarding deadlines and targets and sales list positions. They could actually get on with the job of writing; the role for which they were best fitted.

Of course, there were downsides, for both writers and publishers. Occasionally a publisher would encourage a promising prospect only to discover either a lack of real talent or a lack of discipline, which resulted in the one-book author or the procrastinator who promised but never actually delivered. For the writer, there were restrictions in genre. Publishers would light on the first novel and then drive the writer along the same route time and time again, trying to turn their protégée into some sort of word machine churning out endless versions of the same, once-successful book until both the writer and his readers became disenchanted with the whole business. Readers then turned to some other talent whilst the writer went off to be a plumber or park warden instead.

We have reached a stage in publishing today where the potential for a better deal for all is possible. Because it costs almost nothing to produce an ebook, financial risk for publishers regarding that first novel is no longer relevant. The only potential loss involves their time. The monetary layout is negligible and there is no concern for overheads with a warehouse full of unsold books. The publisher can devote time and effort to marketing the books and, should the ebook prove successful, can then produce a POD, again at little cost, but with the confidence that the book is likely to sell well. This is a win/win situation for publisher and author. The writer is spared the time-consuming and destructive work of marketing and can get on with the actual creation of a really good book. And the publisher can return to the role of nurturing mentor and guide, taking care of those tasks most authors find so onerous; i.e. marketing and sales.

So, why are so few publishers doing this? Why are so many locked into the recent cycle of backing pointless celebrity with huge advances only to lose these enormous sums when the product fails the first test of quality? I suspect it’s because publishers, along with most other businesses, are now run by bean counters rather than by those with imagination, flair and taste. As long as money is seen as the only worthwhile outcome for publishing, traditional publishers will continue to fail and decline. Once they start to understand and return to their original role of mentor and protector of talent, there is a strong possibility that they will flourish as never before. I just hope they discover this fact before I’m too old and decrepit to benefit from such services.

As always, I value your thoughts. Please comment freely and pass on this piece to as many of your writing/reading friends as you can.

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Tuesday, 20 November 2012

The Tales of Beedle the Bard, by J.K.Rowling, Reviewed.


Just over a hundred pages of delight in this slim volume from the queen of fantasy. Many may be convinced that this book is exclusively for children. It most certainly isn’t, though most children will undoubtedly take great pleasure in the tales. The commentary, in the voice of Albus Dumbledore, is so good that the reader hears it in his mellifluous tones. There is humour and real magic in the words of wisdom dispensed by the ancient Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The stories themselves are wonderful little fairy tales, paying homage to the traditions of the genre whilst carving out a new niche in fantasy. There is morality here, side by side with great humour and lessons to be learned. I won’t give away the plots, or the messages that lie at the hearts of the stories, but I must express my admiration for the storytelling skill shown in each of them. To proclaim such moral messages without preaching and, at the same time, providing the reader with amusement, is a rare and valuable feat.

It’s great to know that by buying this book, recently produced as a Kindle for those who no longer handle paper books, you will not only treat yourself to some first class entertainment, but will support Children’s High Level Group, a very worthy charity. It’s typical of J K Rowling to be so generous; her support of this charity, which she set up with Baroness Nicholson of Winterbourne MEP, brings hope to children all over the world who would otherwise spend their lives neglected and abandoned.

I spent a pleasant lunch time reading this book and urge you to indulge. If you have small children, read them the tales; they’ll love them. And, if you don’t, well read them yourself and enjoy Dumbledore’s pithy narratives as well. I thoroughly recommend this book to adults and children alike.


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