To Self Publish or Not? That is the Question.

Having finished my novel KUNDELA I have sent out samples to different publishers. Having religiously followed their submission guidelines in the hope that someone would chance upon my masterpiece, I have checked the e-mail inbox daily with dissapointment. Weeks of waiting and with response times now passing I have to face the possibility of not being picked up on this first round of enquiry letters.

I have been through most of the self publish websites and now have would be publishers from all over the world willing to publish and market my book for a fee, in some cases a rather large fee. I don't have that kind of money to spend, and I'm not sure that Francis from Frisco can be bothered with the marketing plan my novel needs. I think it's an opportunity for them to make money from the author rather than the other way around.

Taking the view that I'm a trades person with a commodity to sell takes the marketing of  KUNDELA into an area I know well. I've spent all of my previous career in sales and marketing so I have the skills. What I don't have is the contacts, therefore I will need an agent or at the very least the contacts an agent has. The first question raised now, is how do I do I gain that knowledge. Therefore I started to research the people who have been in a similar situation to me and gone on to become successful and published authors.

From my research I find that it is necessary to embrace rejection as something that teaches you a lesson, and to learn from it. Another point I found helpful was to create a business plan for your proposal. To sell anything you need to know everything about it, what it is, what products it competes with, the strengths and weaknesses of both yours and your competitor's product.

Now I am on a quest to structure a business plan for KUNDELA, complete with a marketing plan, sales strategy and finance plan. Now I find that I'm on familiar ground with a product to sell.

Proving that writing is a business.


One of the sites I found helpful was a Youtube Interview  by Stacey Cochran with John Fuhrman as his quest. It is over 50 minutes long but contains some wonderful information.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKLr9eWucrw

Time to start tapping into my inner teenager.

Writing Toby Farrier has caused me to rethink many things not the least of is the way we talk today. I guess any novel sets the time and place by the words that the characters use and Toby has thrown up the occasional challenge as I don't spend a lot of time with people of his age.

Maybe I should get out more, I have plenty of contact with those either side of their teens but with Toby I'm having a bit of trouble with dialogue used by the modern teenager. If it wasn't so hot today I'd park myself on a bench at McDonald's or one of our many other fast food outlets and scam some of their dialogue with some selective eavesdropping.

Writing tends to make you question everything we do and say. Sometimes when words like AWESOME,  EPIC and LIKE outnumber the nouns in a sentence I realise our language is a changing thing and I need a different approach. Just trying to understand today's young people speak made me think about the way we speak within in our different groups. Often for the same people this will vary and the use of swearing is demonstrative of this.
Among a rough group of mates out fishing or hunting I will find myself swearing along with the other members. Believe me we can fill the day with profanities that would make a shearer blush. IN another instance I might be with the very same people at a seminar or similar and we are all contained or restrained in our speech, demonstrating to those around us that butter wouldn't melt in our mouths.

There lies my conundrum I need to picture time, place and people as I write dialogue. Not easy but can be done.

Hang on McDonald's do ice-cream and I can justify it with research. Now where are those
keys to the air conditioned car.

Pat Baird's Story

Check out today's interview with Pat about his time in the tractor industry by clicking on this link: http://machinerymen.blogspot.com.au/

A Well Deserved Kick in the Pants

You have to keep your readers happy.

While attending a friend’s coming of age party today her husband pointed out to me that when writing for the NaNoWriMo challenge I asked everyone to keep the pressure on and let me know if I was falling behind. Alan did just that. It seems he got caught up in the adventure Toby Farrier was on and is hanging out for another chapter or two. Better still I was told to finish the book.

I must say it has been on the back burner for a couple of reasons.

One, I’m stuck, I have Arthur and Charlie winning a major lottery prize. They have won enough money to take them to all of the places they have wanted to see since they were kids, Gallipoli, France, and Egypt. Charlie is not well and his doctor has told him to take the trip now, while he can.

Two, what can I do with almost 16 year old Toby while they are away. I know it’s absurd. I can change the storyline and rewrite the whole chapter or maybe I can recycle it with a few minor changes.

I’m open to ideas to get over this hump and finish Toby Farrier, if not for me for my mate Alan.

Oh and by the way his suggestions were of no help.

Busy, Busy, Busy time for a writer

Following advice during the novel writing courses I attended this year, I started to build a spreadsheet to log names and contact details of publishers agents and anyone who is connected to the literary world.

Putting my previous life skills to work I dragged up an old mailing list and applied a mean resolve to edit it. transferred the data to our desktop and then went through the e-mails to remove all of the old useless ones, upgrade others and remove those who requested it.

Suddenly after removing the ones that had been recorded twice my list is down to about a quarter of it's original list. Ah well I can always work through my old contacts and ring them and rerecord their details. Nah, I could here the broadcast of the cricket coming from the neighbour's shed.

Time for another plan, the cricket was calling.

Fast forward to today and then I steeled my resolve. I had to get into the thick of this spreadsheet today would be the day. New headings, new pages all copied pasted and edited to reveal infinite detail. Vic Writers magazine open I began first with the publishers, sorting those who were traditional publishers ad others dedicated to self publishing. This is going to be a great reference for all of my other writing and required dedication perspiration and application. Then it happened, I opened the window and heard the neighbour's TV again and the cricket was on.

At close of play the Australian cricket team still has a lot to do but not as much as me. I guess I have been busy on research, it will come in handy if I ever need to use a day at the cricket in one of my novels.

So as you can see, I have been busy, busy, busy.

Happy New Year

To all of my friends who have visited and commented about the stories posted on this blog, Happy New Year.

2013 is going to be an exciting year with a couple of projects to complete and one or two to start.

Stay safe and healthy my friends.

Alzheimer's Christmas Surprise

 

A couple of days before Christmas I was bemused that my wife couldn't remember that we'd arranged to go to our daughter's for Christmas lunch. Each trip to the supermarket we bought another ham, more bread, extra sausages, and additional mince pies. Assured that her very own case of Alzheimer's disease had set in, but not wanting to mention her obvious loss of memory, I kept quiet.

I became even more worried when a day or two before my mother arrived from interstate, the purchase of a new Christmas tree and decoration was discussed. Wasn't it my wife, who when we first met reluctantly purchased a small tree sparsely festooned plastic ornaments to pacify my pleas to decorate the lounge room.

About six months ago our daughter had discussed her mother's lack of ability to remember what she'd told her a few days before, it was worrying her, and would I talk to my wife about it. Great, I can hardly remember what colour socks I have on today and now she wants me to go where no sane man would willingly go. To speak about subjects my generation consider taboo. There might be something in all of this dementia stuff though so I'll soon be taking the test myself. I reckon it's the easiest way out, and if the report is positive I have a good reason for everything I forget to do.

Back to our provisioning for Christmas. We were to meet with friends for a dinner and Christmas get together, tell some lies, discuss our families and be home before eleven. It used to be before dawn but now we fall asleep after a feed, so eleven is curfew. Our task was to supply a dessert and fruit salad was the sweet of choice. A syrupy sweet perfume filled the kitchen as a trolley load of fruit was diced sliced sugared, and drenched to perfection.

'Are you sure we are going to need all of that tonight?' I asked trying not to sound too concerned about an obvious over catering situation.

'We can always have the leftovers for breakfast, and besides I will put some in the fridge to have later. And your Mum's here, she likes fruit.'

A confident wave to shoo me out of the kitchen indicated it was time for me to do something somewhere. I left and only came back into the kitchen in time to see the last utensil go into the draw and the tea-towel being hung in the rack as the last of the water gurgled as it drained from the sink. Perfect timing I thought.

Our phone rang early next morning, the grandchildren would be staying home today. Their father having strayed next door early the previous afternoon had been invited to pass an expert opinion on the quality and taste of the neighbour's Christmas home brew. Apparently a difficult task, and the afternoon and much of the evening was lost. She would leave the kids with him while she had her hair done, part punishment, part opportunity.

I'd been looking forward to the grand-kids coming, after all it was Christmas Eve and they’d be full of questions. I'd found a new red-back spider residing behind the shed to show them, a couple of sunflowers were poking their shoots up and they could also keep my Mum occupied for an hour or two. All of my boxes were ticked yesterday, but now my plans were screwed. I'd have to find something else to do and I'd promised to leave the computer alone over Christmas. So dragging my bottom lip I mooched about the garden, kicking the occasional stone off the lawn and pulling a few weeds. I even opened the caravan sat at the table and dreamed of a campsite overlooking a creek filled with fish, yeah that would be good.

Maybe next Christmas.

I felt a couple of arms close around me, warm in their embrace and my wife’s kiss on my cheek as I turned the key in the lock. My dreams would remain inside the van for another time. I know my kids would go la la la la la la, but to my wife I said. 'No point in feeling frisky Mum's still here.' She just shook her head and laughed.

We picked a miniature weed or two from the garden that had been well weeded a week ago. Boredom had morphed into apathy and I'd lost a bit of enthusiasm for Christmas, a call to my daughter working interstate went to message. My son phoned to confirm a postal address. Both calls had been short and sharp, I knew they would call Christmas night when they had more time. Oh well I could catch up with a mate later in the day that would lift my spirits, but then nah that wouldn't work. Mum would wonder why I'd snuck out without her. After all she was only here for ten days surely her only son could entertain her for ten days.

A four wheel drive rolled into the drive way and wanting to know how sick my son in law was I was keen for our daughter to spill the goss. The woman riding in the passenger seat looked familiar but I didn't recognise her at first. Thinking it must have been a friend from the school run, there were kids in the back but the tinted windows hid their faces.

'G'day there.'

I recognised the voice immediately and the face I knew, but my mind was still confused. The time and place was all wrong. My eldest daughter and her family had come for Christmas. Those melancholy thoughts of earlier in the day immediately fled and Christmas cheer filled our home for the next three days. I'm not sure what happened over Christmas other than my family had been able to keep a secret to surprise me for over six months. Time to talk disappeared among laughter, food, movies and the Boxing Day Test. Too soon it was time to get everyone to the airport and send them home.

With them gone, the house is much quieter and I'm waiting for my wife to return from her shift at work. And yet every room is full of joyous memory moments that will last until we meet again next Christmas. Today I'm back to writing again and have a million anecdotes and stories from the last few days to draw on over the next twelve months.

To the secret keepers, many thanks for a very merry and surprising Christmas, you blew my socks off.