Language. It’s how we communicate. Period. Right?

To quote Judd Nelson’s character John Bender in The Breakfast Club: “Not even close, BUD.”

When email and electronic communication first came around, it wound up presenting some unique challenges for people. Up until emails, most communication happened via snail mail—letters. And there were really only two types of letters: familiar (friends and family) and professional (cover letters, etc.). Neither one presented much of a challenge because each had a purpose that was clear.

You wrote family and friends because you loved them, missed them, hated them, had forgotten their birthday, but the language inside the letter was basically the same. Professional letters had (and have) templates for crying out loud. They’re more clear than the day is long. (BOOM, cliche, right out of the blue.)

With emails now, however, we write short, conversational blurbs, even (and especially) in the professional environment. We are having conversations without the added benefit of human interaction. This is HUGE. Herein also lies the rub.

Years and years ago, when email was first showing up in businesses (yes, young ones, just a few weeks after we discovered fire), a co-worker (actually he was even technically a subordinate, though I abhor that kind of language in the workplace, being more of a team guy). Regardless, we had an email discussion near the end of the day about some ridiculously benign subject and he sent “the final word” and scooted for the day. I read his response and I literally wanted to hunt him down and kill him.

I stewed all night. I composed raging response after raging response, deleting them all because they were way too much. I didn’t know what to do. For once in my career I literally did not know how to proceed. I wanted vengeance on this guy and he was one of my own; a teammate. So I decided to speak with my own boss. I told her everything. Showed her the email in question. I did so not to rat but to warn her that when he got in I was going to go speak to him and that she might want to call the police ahead of time.

She thought about it for a moment and said she totally understood; that she probably would have taken his response the same way I had. (I should mention at this point that my boss at that time was a real cutting edge tech person—she’d been using email and this thing called “The World Wide Web” quite a bit more than me.) She said this, and I will never forget (or minimize) it:

“Some people don’t have very good interpersonal skills when it comes to writing emails. They are a whole different breed. I was once in the same situation as you. I went and talked to the individual and found out he hadn’t meant what I thought at all. We worked the whole thing out. You should go talk to (name withheld to protect the email challenged) and see what he really meant to say.

So I did. I laid it on the line with the guy; told him how I took what he said, what an insult it was, and how I planned to take him apart piece by piece and feed him to the first animal I found. (I didn’t threaten him, that was for effect—see how I felt the need to explain that to you? Consider that example number one.)

My coworker was aghast. I mean truly, utterly beside himself. This was a stoic man and he honestly had tears brimming in his eyes that I had taken his words that way. He slowly explained what he had written—every word of it. And guess what? It made sense. I could now see exactly from what perspective he had written it and precisely what was meant by every line and none of it was anything like I had originally thought.

Without the added benefit of human contact, emails (again, a strange hybrid of the letter and personal conversation) can be very difficult to interpret. We humans do not communicate through language alone. Far from it actually. Body language, eye movement, stance, movement, grunts, chuckles, winks, smiles, and at least a thousand more intricacies that cannot be seen or heard in an email can, in many cases, tell all.

I have no trouble writing my books. None. (Well, other than writer’s block and an intense fear that I am never going to find my audience.) But the writing is not an issue. I can (and should) describe all the emotion, facial expressions, and what’s going on in the character’s head. In fact, that’s why I personally love first person; that ability to BE inside the characters mind, share his or her innermost thoughts, beliefs, struggles, attitudes, etc.

But emails? Even this blog? Sometimes I am terrified to hit send or publish. I have my wife read every blog I write before I send it on its way into the unfeeling, uncaring ether. Each time I am notified of a response I don’t think “please agree with me” I think (with great trepidation) please understand what I meant, how I meant it, the humor, the tongue-in-cheek, the emphasis points and why…I don’t care if everyone disagrees with me. (Well, THAT would suck, now wouldn’t it?) But I’m guessing you know what I mean.

People don’t always get it, though. One of my biggest challenges is I am a sarcastic bastard. I mean I LOVE humor. So many times I will write something half-joking, full-on joking, being sarcastic—something that in face-to-face conversation would at least have a 100% better chance of being taken for what it was (whether appreciated or not being an entirely different subject), but a reader will completely think I was serious and comment on a tangent that scolds me for a thing I didn’t even mean and don’t even feel.

And here is the crux: as WRITERS…that’s on us. It’s not the readers job to interpret. We’re suppose to be able to show, not tell. It’s an awesome responsibility when you think about it. That’s why I have become an emoticon FREAK. I hate little squiggly, cutesy symbols (see, someone is going to think I really hate them, as if I am some kind of unsentimental jerk)…I don’t really hate them, but I hate that I feel like I have to end every thought with a wink or a smile or (my favorite, actually) what I call “the REALLY?” symbol:

: |

I swear I am the most open-minded guy you’ll ever meet. Almost to a fault. I fall somewhere between wishy-washy and undecided. But I do have opinions. Thoughts. Ideas. Many of which are off-base or completely infeasible. And I love to learn—I believe we learn MOST from our mistakes, because those burn brighter and hotter in our brains and leave deeper etching on the cavern walls within. Yet I get responses from people who you would think consider my the most opinionated, closed-minded, self-aggrandizing turd that ever dropped a word on a page.

I suppose at some point we just have to accept the fact that no matter what we will be misunderstood. That someone will always find the chaff in our piles of wheat; an inevitability of sorts. So I will finish with this suggestion:

Before you comment, before you make up your mind what someone else is saying, read it again. Wonder if it could have been meant another way. Look for other verbal clues (like winks or certain diffusing words) that might represent less combativeness that you first thought.

Had I not talked to my manager that day, I might be blogging to you now from my 6 x 8 cell.

This is not me. My glasses are thicker and I have less hair.

I ranted Saturday. It happens. Usually I am just getting something off my chest and not too concerned with the ultimate outcome. You know, that “hey, if I reach a few readers and help one or two find their way or feel better that they aren’t alone in how they feel, I’ve succeeded” kind of blog.

But not Saturday. Saturday I really spoke my mind. It was all from the heart and I really cared about the subject matter and most importantly I had been holding this in for a long time. Believe it or not I really don’t like to blog about touchstone issues. Sacred cows are best left to their own grazing is my opinion. You get yourself into hot mustard too quickly on the Internet when you speak your mind. About anything.

But I was AMAZED at the Indie response. It honestly warmed my heart. I’ve been a bit despondent lately and feeling as if we Indies as a collective have lost our way (and each other, in some respects). But I heard from a ton of fellow writers, through myriad social networks. I got emails. I was tweeted. In fact I even heard from writer-pal Edward Owen both here AND on Facebook.

He mentioned a revolution at hand. Many mentioned the good old bandwagon. I say it’s time. We Indies need to start acting (and pricing) our books like we’re serious. Stop watching the Amazon “leader-board” like we’re at the Kentucky Derby hiding beneath some behemoth monstrosity of (what could hardly be called) a hat. We need to be the ones at the front of the mob, pitchforks, muskets, swords, torches, AK-47s, anti-tank artillery, and whatever else it takes to storm the damn castle gates.

John Belushi (as Bluto Blutarsky) my have thought the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor but he still said it best:

WHO’S WITH ME?

Seriously. I heard from a lot of great Indie authors. But I didn’t necessarily hear from YOU. Or YOU. You know who you are. I should have heard from 1,000 of you. 10,000. Where are you? Still at 99 cents and bad-mouthin’ your country, I’ll bet (Officer and a Gentleman for those of you who think I am actually questioning your patriotism). What I AM questioning is any of you who really believe you have a great book, are not on some type of official promotion, and are still charging the price of a large Snickers bar for your novel. Sorry, a large Snickers bar costs more. If you’re at 99 cents, you’re saying your book is worth a two-pack of Skittles.

I heard a lot of people this weekend say “the consumers/readers will set the prices”. That’s true. Eventually, they will. But right now that’s like saying a running back will have as many yards as his talent, dedication, hard work, intelligence, instincts, eyesight, and athleticism will get him—and then sending him out into a muddy cornfield with a blindfold on. The consumers in this market have been misled. They are in NO SHAPE to decide what an eBook is worth because for the past two years, like Pavlovian dogs they’ve been conditioned to believe that in the eBook market they are entitled to be entertained for free.

One commenter put it this way (paraphrasing; I’m too bushed to go find the actual quote): “Imagine walking into a concert or a movie theater and saying ‘No, I’m not paying, you should entertain me for free today.’”

But that is what our industry has come to. Writers (including me) have been schlepping their novels for 99 cents for so long that THEY have set the market price, not the reader. The good news is if we set the price in the first place we can set it back!!! It isn’t going to happen overnight. Even if every author on the planet raised their prices from 99 cents to $2.99 overnight, there might still be a market backlash. Sales would probably slow. But they would pick up again and I think they’d pick up damn quick. Because the book-reader would ask themselves “Wait a minute, since when should I have been expecting an entire NOVEL for less than a buck? An Egg McMuffin costs more than that and I also buy a coffee with that!”

If you price it, they will come.

I want to hear from more of you. I am going to blog and blog and tweet and tweet and, well, I’ll think of some other way to get the word out.

And authors, do your readers a solid. Show them how much you appreciate them. DO run 99 cent promotions once in a while (and freebies) and advertise them well. There really are avid readers (and fans of yours) who have a hard time spending $5 on anything right now when it means not buying something more important to sustaining their lives and putting food on the table.

I’m telling my readers this right now: if you are strapped and can’t afford $3.99 or $4.99 (or even $0.99) right now, give me a shout. Let me know. I will give you a copy of my eBook, and I always will. And if you are a con artist and you bilk me out of my $3.99 then I’m okay with that, too, because you are one hell of a shitty crook if a $4 book is your target and need all the assistance you can get, my friend.

All kidding aside, let me know. You don’t have to do it publicly. Click here and tell me which book you want (I originally set up this email address for Black Beast, but let me know in the email which of my books you don’t have and what format you need).

I’ll leave you with a great quote:

If we behave like those on the other side, then we are the other side. Instead of changing the world, all we’ll achieve is a reflection of the one we want to destroy.

]]> http://robonwriting.com/2012/05/06/the-revolution-is-here-are-you-in/feed/ 41 http://robonwriting.com/2012/05/06/silly-sunday-cant-we-all-just-laugh-it-off/ http://robonwriting.com/2012/05/06/silly-sunday-cant-we-all-just-laugh-it-off/#comments Sun, 06 May 2012 17:48:12 +0000 rsguthrie http://robonwriting.com/?p=2724 We all need to laugh more. Take ourselves less seriously. Yes, you, too. All of us, from the highest mountaintop (read: executive cherry wood desk) to the lowest valley (read: the rest of us).

I have this silly habit as a writer/artist/creator. I love those “demotivational posters”—you know, the parodies of the ones that put a different twist on the beautiful sunset picture with a word definition (e.g. “Perseverance: the ability to overcome the doubt and reach the finish line”). I have no idea how a sunset represents a finish line, but you know what I’m talking about. When we were kids, we were HUGE fans of “Snigglets” (popularized by comedian Rich Hall on HBO’s 1980s series Not Necessarily the News.

(Elacceleration: The mistaken belief that the more times one presses an elevator call button, the faster the elevator will arrive.)

Around this time there was a series of books that had become popular. They were titled “Life’s Little Instruction Books”. Not long after came the parody series of books “Life’s Little Destruction Books”. Some of my favorite examples:

• Be first on the bus and grope around for change.
• Assign blame.
• Blow your horn as soon as the light turns green.
• Break hearts, wind, and rules.
• Ask them to name all 54 flavors and then order vanilla.

Clearly you get the point. I have a slight warped (but mostly fun and rarely dangerous) sense of humor. Back to my habit. I create such demotivational posters from time to time. Usually they just come to me. I think some are funny. My wife says I crack myself up. (She’s not wrong.) One came to me the other day after watching the news report about the woman who is being charged with child abuse (or endangerment, who can keep them straight these days?) for allegedly putting her five year-old in a tanning bed. I made the poster this morning. I couldn’t resist. When I saw her it was like a crackhead seeing a pile of really good crack lying in the middle of the table with no one around (or at least I imagine that’s what it felt like).

Then I figured “why not share it, and a few I’ve made in the past, with my readers?”

(Shall I apologize now, or later?)

Look, just be happy I’m not ranting.

A few I’ve made over the years:

Oh, and one for the guys (ladies, mea culpa):

The point is, we really all do need to laugh more. Whatever it is that tickles you, makes you guffaw (a word that’s making a comeback in my opinion, BTW), or achieve the pure nirvana of a good old belly laugh—do it. At least once a day. You will be amazed at the benefits, I promise you. If the above didn’t do it for you, below is a passage from “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” I emailed to my 21 year-old son the other day. Hunter S. Thompson is one of my favorite writers of all time, was literally a genius, and this scene gives me those glorious tears of laughter every time I read it (by the way, if you doubt my devotion to Thompson, see my truck’s license plate here).

“Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side when he sees the big red light behind him…. and then will start apologizing, begging for mercy.

This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. The thing to do – when you’re running along about a hundred or so and you suddenly find a red flashing CHP – tracker on your trail – what you want to do is accelerate. Never pull over with the first siren howl. Mash it down and make the bastard chase you at speeds up to 120 all the way to the next exit. He will follow. But he won’t know what to make of your blinker-signal that says you’re about to turn right.

This is to let him know you’re looking for a proper place to pull off and talk…. to keep signaling and hope for an off-ramp, one of those uphill side-loops with the sign saying “Max Speed 25″.. and the trick, at this point, is to suddenly leave the freeway and take him into the chute at no less than a hundred miles an hour.

He will lock his brakes about the same time you lock yours, but it will take him a moment to realize that he’s about to make a 180 degree turn at this speed… but you will be ready for it, braced for the G’s and the fast heel-toe work, and with any luck at all you will have come to a complete stop off the road at the top of the turn and be standing beside your automobile by the time he catches up.

He will not be reasonable at first.. but no matter. Let him calm down. He will want the first word. Let him have it. His brain will be in turmoil: he may begin jabbering, or even pull his gun. Let him unwind; keep smiling. The idea is to show him that you were always in total control of yourself and your vehicle – while he lost control of everything.

It also helps to have your police/press badge in your wallet when he calms down enough to ask for your license. I had of these – but I also had a can of Budweiser in my hand. Until that moment, I was unaware that I was holding it. I had felt totally on top of the situation…but when I looked down and saw that little red/silver evidence-bomb in my hand I knew I was fucked.”

Lastly, here is a list of television programs I suggest that regularly give my wife and I a much-needed laugh:

Nurse Jackie

Modern Family

Shameless

Mike & Molly (for those of you not ready for #1 and #3 above)

The Big C

And the show every English-speaking person on the planet should be watching because it is guaranteed to deliver every time it hits the airwaves and the ONLY thing wrong is that it should be ONE HOUR long instead of 30 minutes: The Soup. Joel McHale and his staff have got it. I mean IT. Damn. Like all shows it has its occasional less-than-memorable moments, but let promise you—nay, I DARE you—watch it and not laugh. Are you sick of “Reality” TV? Then you can’t afford to be missing this show. It is almost like being a sane person living in a mental ward and this is the only contact you have with others who get it—that the world has turned upside down and is busy trying to lick its own anus and no one seems to care.

Joel cares. He understands the insanity. And his mission is to prove it to you every Wednesday night (and in repeats throughout the week for those who are DVRless).

The other thing watching the Soup will give you is an awesome appreciation for how far we’ve sunk as a collective consciousness that the shows Joel and team ridicule (some of which are not even reality shows but “legitimate” news and “entertainment” programs) actually exist.

(Shameful admission: I had already called the above lady’s face a catcher’s mitt at work before watching The Soup that evening, but Joel (and/or writers) added the “Johnny Bench” line, which was just too good to pass up.)

Whatever kind of day I’ve had, The Soup gives me an injection of “fuck it, it can’t be that bad.”

And couldn’t we all use a little dose of that every once in a while?

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The blank page is dead…long live the blank page.

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Author known to use spontaneous satire, sarcasm, and unannounced injections of pith or witticisms which may not be suitable for humorless or otherwise jest-challenged individuals. (Witticisms not guaranteed to be witty, funny, comical, hilarious, clever, scintillating, whimsical, wise, endearing, keen, savvy, sagacious, penetrating, fanciful, or otherwise enjoyable. The Surgeon General has determined through laboratory testing that sarcasm can be dangerous, even in small amounts, and should not be ingested by those who are serious, somber, pensive, weighty, funereal, unsmiling, poker-faced, sober, or pregnant.)

Okay, this is it. The rant to end all rants. I’m warning you here. I’m done being nice. I’ve talked to too many Indie authors who feel the same way I do. I’m saying it. I have to say it. I hope all of you who feel the same as I do will rise up and have my back here. It’s gonna get bloody before it’s all through. It may be like my divorce—I may lose some comrades. I hope not. I am sick to death of this ride—I feel like we Indie authors have been led into a “funhouse” (which are no fucking fun at all: you fall down, look fat and distorted in the mirrors, and they put sticky stuff on the door handles) but we’ve been told how damn lucky we are to be where we are.

I’ve thought about it a lot, but yes, I am certain of it. I recently took a walk through the Dollar Store and saw a fairly standard, crappy hair pick priced at 99 cents. It’s been years since I had a perm (or hair) so I didn’t want the comb but I thought a lot at that moment about my novels. I thought about the durability of the piece of plastic before me.  I thought about the number of hours I put into writing the (almost) three books I have finished. That comb was pure junk. I thought about the person working on the assembly line in China making ten cents a day that may have assembled it, or at least put it in a package, and I felt for them, too.

Then I went home and read about a new book by A.J. Jacobs (Drop Dead Healthy, Simon & Schuster). The suggested retail price for the new hardcover is $26.99. No one is selling it at that price, of course. Amazon has the hardcover for $15.91 (which is pretty amazing because the KINDLE version is $12.99). I have to admit I did wonder a bit about how cool it would be to have Simon & Schuster after my book title. {Pathetic sigh}

Then I thought about that crappy little comb again, and besides being pretty pissed off by that point, I was also still pretty sure my books are each worth more than that chunk of crap. (The comb, not Jacobs’ book.) I did, however, look at Jacobs’ new book again. I like A.J. He writes a lot of stuff for Esquire and he is funny as hell. But he’s not exactly a household author name, like Stephen “I can type the letter ‘Z’ ten million times in a row and as long as they form paragraphs, my publisher will print it and charge you $20, no questions asked” King.

Yet still I wondered. Is A.J. Jacobs sixteen times the writer I am? (Okay, in Kindle math, thirteen times the writer?)

Value. Worth. It’s gotten all screwed up in the book market somehow. Well, not “somehow”—we’ll look at that in a moment. But first I want you to look at the McDonald’s Dollar Menu. I am pretty certain my books are each a far better experience (and last a helluva lot longer) than one hash brown, a SMALL McCoffee, a McChicken sandwich, or a side salad.

One. Side. Salad.

At McDonald’s.

I ordered from Pizza Hut the other night. I don’t even like Pizza Hut all that much and neither does my wife, but they are the only place that delivers where we live. We got a medium pizza that would arrive as soggy as if it’d been steeped in milk by the time it reached us. We received a side of mozzarella sticks that had congealed into mini nunchucks and some chicken wings I prayed repeatedly actually came off a bird resembling a chicken.

Before tip? $24.00. (No, I didn’t use a coupon.)

In the world of books (particularly digital ones) these concepts have become worse than distorted. The market has gone all the way to demented. Fuck John Locke and Amanda Hocking for giving their crappy eBooks away for the price of that kind of toothbrush they offer you at a shitty hotel when you forget yours. You know the kind I’m talking about, where the plastic is so cheap and brittle if you actually try and scrub with it you might be killed when it bursts into a million little blood-red pieces of cheap shrapnel. All this so Locke and Hocking could make themselves a few million and leave the rest of us holding the money bags with the strips of cut-up newspaper in them.

Have you written a book? I mean all the way to the end? Edited it, start to finish? Rewritten it? Published it? How much time did it take you? How hard was it? How much marketing does it take you to sell even one copy? Is your book any good? Even halfway decent?

Are you tired of the implication that your product is worth less than a dollar per unit? Well you can start your objections by not elevating John Locke and Amanda Hocking to the level of book market (and, perish the thought, author) deities. They didn’t do anything good for you. In fact, they are the King and Queen of 99-Centville, and it’s a pretty shitty place to live.

Oh, and another thing you can do? You can refuse to buy any more 99 cent books AND refuse to price your hard piece of work at that ridiculous amount just so you can see a few more sales.

A fellow writer said the other day “I want the kind of readers who are willing to pay $3.99 for a book.”

So do I.

Another writer told me her friend said “tell me when your book is either free or 99 cents and I’ll pick up a copy.”

It’s ludicrous, people. I mean stark raving mad running-through-the-streets-in-a-thong-with-a-blood-drenched-meat-cleaver nutzoid.

Let’s say you still aren’t convinced how badly the world of literature has been ruined by this new-age complete devaluation of your art. Here are a few comparisons to whet your intellectual disdain:

Look, if we are talking about the Sudan, I understand the dire worth of a gallon of milk (even a non-organic one). But this is America. Sorry, but it is. And I know guys who guzzle a gallon of milk after a workout. Here’s another one:

Of course, as I mentioned, we are in America, the kind of place where someone like me still owns a V-8 pickup truck, soooo:

Is it starting to sink in? I wish I could somehow substitute copies of YOUR book instead of mine. It’s painful. It SHOULD be painful. Such devaluation is almost unheard of. Honestly I cannot think of one other product that has been so completely devalued and the instigators of the devaluation lauded like heroes. It’s ridiculous. Amazon didn’t offer to publish your book free of charge because of either John Locke or Amanda Hocking. Those two simply decided to show that they could sell hoards of books at 99 cents apiece. Here’s the funny math they used:

When the Wall Street Marauders and Bankers figured out a way to make billions by falsifying loan applications and ultimately devalued our homes by, say, 30%, most of us would have been just fine with a return to pitch fork mob rule. String those greedy bastards up. We didn’t applaud them because they figured out a way to get rich quick. Sure, Locke, Hocking, and a few other Indie authors got filthy rich by lowering the value of a book to that of a plastic comb, proving they could sell millions of them at that price. WORSE, a whole other couple million Indies bought their “how-to” books (either of which should have been titled How I Devalued The Entire Book Industry And Got Filthy Fucking Rich In The Process—sequel to which is How I Forever Changed The Book Price Point So Books Remain Worthless).

Let me ask you a question: if I could come up with a car that didn’t handle as smoothly as your average sedan, didn’t have any luxuries—bare bones—but it could drive you to work and I didn’t need to make any money at all so I sold these cars for a crisp $20 bill, you think I could sell a million cars? Aha, you say, but the only ones who would get screwed in THAT deal would be the lousy auto manufacturers! Well guess what all the readers who work as executives for Ford and Dodge and GM are saying about this little snafu in the book industry?

Screw it, that only hurts those BOOK MANUFACTURERS, oh, I mean AUTHORS.

It’s our industry, folks. And no, I’m not laying 100% of the blame on John Locke or Amanda Hocking. But they deserve a lion’s share. What concerns me more is that we elevate them and emulate them and price our books at 99 cents.

It’s a tragedy. My books are far better than that. They are not 15, 16, or 17 times less valuable than any other author out there, I can guarantee you that. And yes, raising my book price to that of a latte has cost me sales. But I don’t want readers who only put a value of a book at 99 cents, and neither should you. I’ll wait it out. Keep writing great books. Keep them at fair “Indie” prices. No, I absolutely do not expect a reader who does not know me to pay the same for my book as one by Stephen King. But they can pay 33% the cost. I think a 66% markdown from Stephen King is fair.

So I’m sticking to my guns. I’ll wait it out. I’m building a brand here, and I don’t want my brand viewed as the Daihatsu of books.

If you brand it well, they will come.

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The blank page is dead…long live the blank page.

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Author known to use foul language, spontaneous satire, sarcasm, and unannounced injections of pith or witticisms which may not be suitable for humorless or otherwise jest-challenged individuals. (Witticisms not guaranteed to be witty, funny, comical, hilarious, clever, scintillating, whimsical, wise, endearing, keen, savvy, sagacious, penetrating, fanciful, or otherwise enjoyable. The Surgeon General has determined through laboratory testing that sarcasm combined with long rants can be dangerous, even in small amounts, and should not be ingested by those who are serious, somber, pensive, weighty, funereal, unsmiling, poker-faced, sober, or pregnant.)

But only if you fear being both the subject of a blog AND having one of your comments USED as a blog! I find one of the most difficult things—no, wait, THE most difficult thing—about blogging is worrying about the controversy it might stir up. Add to that the fact that the most salacious blogs get the most hits and you could make a great argument for blogging not being a business for which I’m perfectly cut.

It’s not that I mind disagreement. Several blogs back I actually talked about this very thing. Civil discourse. You remember. (Sure you do, because you read every one of my blogs. Right? RIIIIIGHT?). Call it what you will: respectful debate, civil discourse—it all means the same thing. We can agree to disagree and still learn something in the process.

But the Internet. Ohhh, the filthy, blood-caked, low-rent INTERNET. The Internet gets to be like that really quaint Irish pub on the corner downtown with the great bands, twenty outstanding beers on tap, and doesn’t even smell too much like barley-hops urine and vomit—but every other damn night someone (or two, or three) gets too drunk and there it is…a knock-down, tear-the-place-apart brawl. Never fails, does it? Right hooks, left uppercuts, gut punches, and even some good old fashioned cheap-shot eye-gouging…it’s ugly and the more you fight the worse it becomes.

You know the old saying. Want to start an argument? Express an opinion on the Internet.

Well a funny little thing happened on a stroll down Binary Lane the other day. I blogged. A commenter espoused. I blogged in response. The commenter wrote a SECOND comment worthy of a blog itself…and during NONE of it was anyone disrespectful, derogatory, disparaging, or disreputable. It was glorious. Honestly. It was everything I think a respectful exchange of thoughts, suggestions, agreements, disagreements, and practical discourse should be. In fact, the second comment from my beloved commenter (named Jericha Senyak, by the way, a lovely woman, artist, model, mind, and spirit you can—and should—get to know right here) was so incredible I wanted to use it as a guest blog, all on its own. We should all be able to talk, communicate, and yes, even argue, with such eloquence, grace, intelligence, and outright civilization. Here is Jericha’s comment in its entirety (reposted here with her permission):

Okay, let me just fess up right here and say yup, that was me, and okay, Rob, I am guilty as charged, or mostly. I was unfair to your post – because after reading it (which I did, thoroughly, four times, before I commented, and I took a few days to think about what I wanted to say) and the comments as well, I did a bad thing – I used your post as a soapbox. And I apologize. That was not good of me. You didn’t deserve it, and your readers didn’t deserve it. And I’d like to thank you for this post, which very gently and thoughtfully points out the flaws in what I wrote, and made me think VERY hard (and with a startled jolt of guilt!!) about what I’d said.

I DID make a sweeping statement about “what writing is.” That’s no good. I should totally know better than to do that. I also used a lot of “you” in that comment, and that was bad too – I didn’t mean it as you, specifically, Rob, I meant it in the sense of “one,” but it shoulda been a red flag: whoa, Jericha, start making some I-statements here. I do think you quoted it out of context – the context being that fame and fortune are things involving a hefty dollop of chance for almost all creative people – but then you did, also include a mention of the mild dramatization of what I said (In order, I assume, to illustrate its impact on you?) and that was nice.

Here’s what I meant, said another way: if I met a kid who had started writing a novel because she thought novel-writing was a quick ticket to fame and fortune, I would need to stifle my uncontrollable urge to pee myself laughing. But I said “you,” and going back to reread it, it DOES look like I’m pointing fingers. I didn’t mean to! I swear! I was generalizing! It was bad!

Now, I did NOT say (and do not believe!) that writing to sell books will make said writing cease to have heart. I know you noted that those were your words, not mine, and I appreciate that – because what I meant, and what I did not say well at all, was not “writing for money is dumb and awful” but rather “it’s pretty hard to make money writing, and if you’re in writing for the dolla dolla bills you might want to look into a better-paying profession.” Not because it’s impossible to make money as a writer, or because writers who make money are sell-outs, or because the quality of our writing necessarily suffers when we make money. Just because writing, and especially writing fiction, is not exactly a hot ticket to a paycheck, and yes, I DO get puzzled when folks get upset about not making money off their art, of ANY kind, because although it CAN happen and as far as I’m concerned OUGHT to happen a lot MORE, it doesn’t happen very often and if it did there wouldn’t be blogs like this one. (Sudden thought: am I just wildly, idiotically wrong about this? Is it actually relatively easy and I just have some stupid romantic notion of the starving artist? Uh oh…) Sure, the JK Rowlings and the Damien Hirsts of the world exist, but so do lottery ticket winners, and they kind of serve the same function: they’re part of the grand story of success, like the white picket fence and the self-made man and the bootstrapping college student. I didn’t mean one shouldn’t enjoy the monetary benefits of one’s labor, or strive to obtain them. I just meant that if money is your driving motivation, there’s a problem, because it’s rarely the outcome – of good writing (or any kind of art) OR bad.

But yes, mea culpa, I got on my high horse. Sorry. I’m off the horse and humbly apologizing, because I DO see how my comment (which was genuinely meant to say “gee, Rob, yeah, it sucks to not be able to write full-time, but I think you’re having a pretty awesome impact despite that!”) could be read as “people who write for money are sell-outs who don’t make AHT” (cue noble strains of violins here). I just get mad, not at you, Rob, not at other writers, but at the system that tells us that we can be wildly famous and successful or be nothing. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with not getting famous – with being where you are right now, for example, reaching readers, starting conversations, etc – a place I’d love to be myself, certainly. Yes, it would be nice for anyone making art to be able to do it full-time, whether from sales of said art or from being independently wealthy or any other way, because we need artists and it’d be really a much nicer world if we valued them as much as we do our investment bankers. And yes, having a different job DOES take away from your creative time – god knows I’m aware of that. I did NOT mean to imply that we should all just, you know, be in it for the general spiritual good of humankind and we should be thankful for being thrown the financial equivalent of scraps.

Artwork courtesy of Paul Basye

I guess it just made me really sad and frustrated to think of you reaching these hundreds of people, getting into the thousands, every year, and feeling like it’s not good enough. You were writing about wanting to reach the masses (ah, the elusive masses!) and I wanted to put in a vote for the masses maybe just not mattering as much as we think. Again, not because reaching the masses means YOU’RE A SELLOUT ZOMG, but because it’s awesome that you’re reaching anyone at ALL within the galactic vastness of the internet, and I just get bummed out at the idea that we’re all – creative folk generally – being sold this idea that IT’S NOT ENOUGH UNTIL YOU’RE TOTALLY FAMOUS. I do not have the impression, Rob, that you’re writing in order to get rich; as far as I can tell, richness would be an extremely nice perk as far as you’re concerned (am I right about this?) but isn’t the driving motivation, or you wouldn’t have made the comment about continuing to write if you were independently wealthy.

In short, I was writing a grumpy, somewhat self-righteous stop-feeling-sorry-for-yourself-you’re-doing-pretty-awesomely-I-think-anyway diatribe, but as with any time someone tells you to stop whinging and keep a stiff upper lip, it came across as less encouraging and more just plain snobbish. Um, whoops. Trying to learn my lesson here. I do really appreciate the thoughtful way you presented your feelings about my comment from your perspective (and the compliment to me as a person – geez, that was unnecessarily nice of you) and hopefully it will soothe your injured feelings a little to know that reading what you’ve written here did genuinely impact me and make me reconsider what I’D written. (Guilt twinge, guilt twinge!) You got me thinking hard, and I’m grateful for having my tactlessness and generalizing pointed out in such a genteel fashion. I’ll think a little harder before I post next time, honest.

Author Beth Elisa Harris

I am so happy today to host my good friend and accomplished author Beth Elisa Harris (Vision Trilogy) in promoting her newly released book Soul Herder!! Beth was kind enough to answer a few interview questions so that some of you who don’t know her can get to know the author a bit.

Her first book, Vision, the first in the Vision Trilogy, was one of my favorite books of 2011. I don’t want to give anything away for those who haven’t read it, but the protagonist has a special ability that really makes her fascinating. I am of Scottish heritage and my own first books explore this lineage a bit, and there is a Scottish historical connection in Beth’s trilogy that really made the read a great one for me. I cannot wait to dive into the second book in this series!

Without further self-babbling, here is my interview with Beth:

Q: Where did the idea come from for the VISION trilogy?

A: About ten years ago, we discovered some family history from Colonsay, an island off the coast of Scotland. We learned about our clan and others. From there my imagination took over. I’ve always been fascinated with the power of the sixth sense and human connection. The trilogy was because I needed the time to tell Layla’s story over a period of time and the spans large periods of time.

Q: SOUL HERDER, the second in the trilogy is set for release May 1. What can readers expect?

A: In VISION, readers are introduced to Layla, her family, her boyfriend and learn about her history. Her Clear abilities—the profound capacity to read thoughts and predict events through dreams—create danger and geo-political interest and bad things happen. She has a unique relationship with her mom and with a woman from Colonsay that blows the lid off life as she knows it. She discovers her connections and why she can no longer have a normal life. In SOUL HERDER, Layla is transformed. Without giving the story away, it’s a game-changer. Layla goes from isolated bookworm to a significant global citizen almost overnight. My hope is when readers finish SOUL HERDER they will recognize this is a story about transformation, connection, power, and fulfilling destiny. The geo-political component adds complex dimension but most important, Layla is not the same girl who left Portland the previous year. There is also tons of action in SOUL HERDER including an intense battle scene.

Q: What can we expect in the final book and is there a release date?

A: WRITTEN IN TIME will conclude the trilogy and go further back in history to unveil how Layla’s prophesy came to be. It will also reveal origins of the Bane revenge for power and land. ‘Nuff said! We are aiming for a release toward the end of the year. It’s ambitious—two in one year, but I have other projects I’m working on and I really want to have the full trilogy out there for readers why I turn my attention to other partially written books. As much as I love the story and characters, it will be time to say goodbye after the third and final. I am sure I will cry as I did with the others!

Q: Tell us about a typical day as an author.

A: First thing I do is check emails and social media to see if there are any hot or issues to tend. Then I either work on whatever book I’m writing, or I’m editing or formatting. I write well in the morning through noon, and prefer minimal conversing during that time. After that, I work on what seems most pressing. I don’t need inspiration or a particular place or a particular song playing to write. I don’t get writers block. I just need require time, and maybe some caffeine!

Q: What inspires you to tell stories?

A: Yikes! Well, when I was just learning to speak, my mom used to tell the story of how I would not leave her alone to use the restroom. She would hear me breathe under the door and I would beg her to let me in so I could tell her a story. So, the inclination started early. I am not sure where the inspiration comes from—people always ask me how I ‘come up with this stuff’ and I can only respond by saying ‘it just does.’ I can create a story around just about anything—the challenge is determining if that story can be expanded to a book and an interesting one people will want to read. I want interesting things to happen to my characters. I admire fearless story-telling, when authors go to a place others dare to tread. I can handle dark places, but give the reader something that is redeeming, that inspires or connects in some way. Otherwise, I think it’s a let-down and a negative experience. Fiction has the power to uplift and change people. I can finish a book and be a little sad, but I don’t want to be angry or feel the situation didn’t resolve well.

Q: What can we expect after the trilogy?

A: There are a few projects on the burner. One I started awhile back called FLYERS—about a young woman and others with the ability of flight. I am really excited about getting that published. I’m also working on a story about a mother who judges her daughter’s boyfriend based on appearance, and the fallout caused by her actions. Those are just two. It’s exciting!

Q: In your blogs, you talk a lot about the business of writing. Is being an author worth the time spent on the business side of the industry?

A: Ideally, I think most authors, if given a choice, would opt to write all day. The business side is unglamorous and requires a ton of daily attention, but it’s necessary to connect with readers, grow sales and promote your work. There is no way around it, unless you are not trying to make a name for yourself and earn a living. So, yes it’s worth the time and energy and effort, because selling books allows you to continue writing. It’s all connected.

Q: What is the most difficult part of the writing process for you?

A: Honestly, I agonize over every word, sentence and paragraph. I lay in bed re-phrasing something I’ve written and can’t relax until I’ve made the change or at least jotted it down so I remember. There are countless ways to say something. Then I consider how the character speaks. Is it true to their speech pattern and vocabulary. When you write a series, the voices become second nature because you know the characters well. In the VISION trilogy, Layla grows, matures and changes through the books, so her voice evolves. Stuart, on the other hand, is steadfast, although in SOUL HERDER we see more of his thick dialect influenced by years of living in proper times!

Connect with the author: Web site, Blog , Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads

Here’s a Sunday Suggestion for you: pay attention to the cadence of your story when you write. I’ve said it before: there’s not as large a gap between literature and music as one might think. Oh I know, whenever I say that a couple of neanderthals crawl out of their caves, grunt, laugh, and wonder at how any sane writer can possibly compare writing to song. (Actually it’s more like a scratching of the underdeveloped skull and a tilting of the head—”wonder” gives these shortsighted folk too much credit).

Heck, the military has been using cadence for centuries. If it can make a fifteen-mile bivouac half-tolerable, just think what it might do for your story.

I’m not sure but it’s been said,
Shitty writers write with lead.
Yeah that’s true, but I’ve been told,
Write with song you’ll write like gold.

All kidding (and my own little ditty) aside, great writing has many of the elements of music: tempo, cadence, crescendo, diminuendo, a beat, etc. In fact, in screenwriting a “beat” means a pause before speaking.

For some reason I woke up this morning thinking about the terrible writing I have witnessed recently. I download samples quite frequently, particularly from other Indie writers, because I want to know what’s out there. How are we doing as a collective?

The news is not as bright as I’d like it to be. In fact, as a bunch, we’re beyond rotten. If the collective of Indie books I’ve sampled recently were a bunch of bananas, a starved monkey wouldn’t give it a second glance. He’d eat his own feces first. Seriously.

So I’ve decided to devote more of my blog time to suggesting ideas for improving one’s writing than worry about book rankings, marketing tools, promotional magic, and anything else related to selling more books. Except for writing better books, that is. Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop sharing whatever it is I think I’ve learned out there in the marketing war. If I find a field full of land mines or an easier way to scale a particular cliff, I promise, I’ll share. But I think it’s high time we writers thought more about the collective quality of our writing than the best way to pimp a sale.

Back to cadence. I am telling you, short of detonating 98% of the adverbs in your text, I’m not sure there’s anything that can improve your prose more than paying attention to the way your writing flows. I do think some of the ability to hear how your writing flows is actually somewhat innate (in other words, I think some people just feel it easier than others—just like some people can feel the music and beat and others dance like broken scarecrows). The good news is, I believe pace and flow and beat can be learned. Just as a person can learn to dance better (please DON’T think “Footloose” but if you do, think of the late Chris Penn, not Miles Teller in the 2011 remake that should never have been done).

The point is, your writing must have a flow. Too much of the crap I read is not unlike someone ate a dictionary and barfed words all over the page. Seventeen words, period. Eighteen words, period. Sixteen words with way too many adverbs, period.

New paragraph.

The words read like an old typewriter used to sound. Tap, tap, tap, tap, CLING. Return. Tap, tap, tap, tap, CLING. Return.

Seriously.

Let me ask you this: as an author, do you ever read your words aloud to yourself? I do. Well, I actually hear them in my head. When I read the words (mine or others) I hear what it sounds like to read them. No, I’m not special. I just do. I also hear music in my head. Trust me, it’s not always roses; when I get a song stuck in my head,  I really get a song STUCK in my head. It’s excruciating. But however you do it, you need to HEAR how your words read.

And here’s a little secret: want to know exactly how you don’t want your writing to “sound”? Just go find a textbook. Any textbook will do. Or the technical manual that came with your new trackball or wireless router. You’d be shocked at how many novels read with the identical flow of some writer trying to tell you how to program the IP address and subnet mask into their new home WI-FI hotspot.

Unfortunately there’s no magical solution to offer up that will suddenly make your prose brilliantly transformed. The best advice I’ve come up with is to look at your writing as a whole, on the page. Are all the sentences about the same length? Paragraphs all roughly the same size? Does your dialogue look like paragraphs or a screenplay? (If you’ve never read a screenplay to help improve your dialogue, do so—NOW) Have any two-word sentences? One?

People, a novel isn’t a textbook. I’m not saying your hard-boiled Mystery has to sound like Emily Dickinson or Mozart. But I am saying that I believe that’s where all great writing originates.

Now I thought and thought this morning how to get my point across and then, an epiphany. It’s actually so simple (for me) that I’m amazed it wasn’t looming around my frontal lobe all morning while writing this piece. My favorite book of all time is Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad. A friend gave me a trade paperback version of it twenty years ago and told me it was the greatest book ever written. Here’s the twist:

I never read it. I tossed it aside into my “yeah, one day I’ll get to these books” pile and now I couldn’t tell you where it is.

I’ve still never read it cover-to-cover. But I have listened to it at least twenty times over. I mean LITERALLY listened to it. Several years ago I bought it as a “book on tape” (it was the MP3 version from audible.com, I believe). The point is, to listen to this book, by this particular narrator, is to know what all writing should sound like. Heart of Darkness, if you haven’t read it, is no fairytale. The movie Apocalypse Now was based on the text, though a bit loosely if you ask me. The point here is that such a poetic flow is not necessarily to imply some kind of paranormal romantic lovemaking. You can write wonderfully about death. You can make torture sound downright pleasing to the ear.

Here is my challenge to each of you: go out and buy the audio version of Heart of Darkness I am about to share with you. And buy this one. I’ve listened to others over the years, and I’ve never heard one read so perfectly. I have no doubt Conrad would agree.

Listen to it in the car. On the treadmill. Walking the dog.

It will improve you as a writer, I swear to you. The funny thing is, you really don’t even have to worry about the genre. Oh, I don’t LIKE stories about this or that. Don’t worry. Just listen as if you were playing chamber music. Honestly the first time I listened to it, had I not already known the plot, I might have gotten so lost in the flow and cadence and beauty of the story that I would have missed it. That’s not to say it isn’t a great story. It’s a classic. A SUPERB tale. Chilling, actually.

Here are two links to the exact version to which I am referring (narrated by Scott Brick; IMO, that’s the key):

Audible.com
The Audio Book Mart (which may just take you back to Audible.com anyway)

Here’s a little sample for those of you who are still skeptical: click here.

As to your own writing: listen. Look at the composition of the words on your page. Read your prose aloud. Break up sentences. Fragment. Expound for a while and be unafraid of the long (even run-on worthy) sentence for it may be your best tool in conveying the emotion, depth, candor, gravity, or volatility of the moment. Then shorten up again. The beauty of writing fiction is that the song is yours to compose. Only you know its final ending. How each note titillates the next.

FYI: several years ago the text of Conrad’s masterful condemnation of imperialism was converted to Kindle format by a community of volunteers and is FREE.

Enjoy.

Listen.

And WRITE.

I blogged the other day, at times tongue-in-cheek as usual, about the risk of marketing like a caveman. The point there (if you didn’t read the blog) was that so many Indies are out there reading (or writing) the next “John Locke” book about overnight success. Hell, the whole THEME of my blog was that success requires hard work, lots and lots and lots of binary street-pounding, and that expectations need to be forever kept in check, etc, etc, etc.

All I did was admit I was having one of those frustrating days where you wish it would happen faster, that tons of hard work meant a larger impact to sales than it sometime does and that I felt downtrodden and self-pitying (yet I still followed that up by saying yes, yes, I would keep forging ahead, I just wanted to see more results and was wallowing a bit).

Most commenters seemed to get the point toward which I was striving. Or multiple points. Whatever. One commenter, however, more or less implied that I was seeking overnight fame and fortune and that my writing was going to suffer if I kept up that kind of a quest.

I have to say, I felt a little gut-punched. I write constantly about the hard work, the angles, the little things that can make (even a small) difference. I re-read my own blog three times I was so freaking pissed off. Where in the hell did I claim I was some kind of fame-chaser?

Now I’m not here to write about the commenter or debate. I actually respect her quite a bit and everyone is entitled to their own interpretation of the song and are free to write as much about that personal interpretation as they wish. And yes, I admit, I am dramatizing what she wrote a bit.

NOTE: We writers are wont to dramatize (and sometimes, God forbid, sensationalize) to make our pieces more appealing. I know. I hate it, too.

My commenter really is someone I like. She was not disrespectful, nor did she say anything personal or untoward. But the implication was in there; subtle maybe, slinking underneath the leaves. Maybe not so subtle.

Here’s a quote, and out of context though it may be, it does a fairly good job of exemplifying one of the writer’s points:

“If you are writing in order to get famous, you’ve been seriously misinformed about what being a writer is about.“

Firstly, who exactly was it that did declare to all of humanity “what being a writer is all about”? I missed that one somewhere along the line, or maybe I was absent that day in What Being A Writer Means class.

Myself? I’d guess it’s different for just about every individual writer in one way or another. But let’s stick to the idea of “writing in order to get famous”.

I am no fame-chaser. Would I take fame? Yes. And I can tell you that the commenter would, too (by her own admission). But there is an underlying theme in her comment that I’ve seen before, not just in what she was saying but many time by other artists, and it really comes across more like this:

As “artists” we are somehow turning our back on our craft or degrading our work if we want (or need) to make an, ahem, BUSINESS out of our writing.

I can hear you all now:

BLASPHEMER!

I swear, to hear some writers talk (which is a weird twist of media, I realize), you’d think there was some kind of shame in seeking success. Call it what you will (fame, notoriety, success, acclaim, esteem, popularity, estimation)—I believe wholeheartedly that many of us are trying very hard to make a living at this business we call “writing. The commenter said that if we write to sell books our writing will cease to (my words) have heart and that no one will want to read us anyway. I get what she’s saying, but it’s a razor sharp slope she’s playing along and I don’t like where it leads.

Of course I write to be sold. I also write to reach acclaim and station. I am a driven person. Whatever business venture I undertake, I will do everything within my ability (and ethics) to succeed. But all too soon when we play along the sharp, slippery slope of “Writing for…” we come across those tattered old words that have pissed me off since the first time I ever read or heard them:

SELL-OUT.

I have news for you all: my writing is what it is, whether I decide to write a few faster-paced detective thrillers to put some money on the table or spend four years working on my magnum opus—that book that I care about more than any other. Are the styles different? Of course. Could one be called more “literary”? Probably. But do I write the former with any less love for my readers or do my words come any less directly from my heart?

Abso-freaking-lutely not.

Writing for a living and writing well are nowhere NEAR mutually exclusive things and I am tired of people who consider themselves “in it for the art” belittling those who want a paycheck. You want to know the truth? If I was independently wealthy, I would still write. In fact, I would write more and I would write better because I would not be spending 50-60 hours every single week in a soul-crushing, life-sucking job that makes my muse want to put a pistol in her mouth. And THAT, to any of you reading, is why I want (fame/acclaim/status/renown): because it will allow me to write full time so that I can BETTER write from the heart the stories that reach people, touch people, and make them want to read more.

“Fame” or “Sales” do not necessarily beget crap. That said, I could name a dozen bestselling authors right now whose work is pure monkey manure. I could name another dozen or more who are currently read by only a handful of readers but whose writing gives me chills, brings tears to my eyes, and makes me want to read more and more and more. Brilliant writers. Geniuses, even.

Clearly CRAP and FAME have almost no discernible relationship anymore. I’m not sure they ever really did. As my commenter pointed out (and as she seems to have missed I also said) most geniuses gain their fame long after they’re gone.

My point is only this: don’t say things like “you are misinformed what it means to be a writer”. (And by they way, fill in “writer” with a blank line and don’t ever say that either.) People who think they have the lock on “what it means” are further from the core truth than any of us because they have the audacity to believe “they know”.

Don’t do that. If you write simply because you have a story to tell and even just one soul being touched by your words is enough to sate you for a lifetime and is YOUR definition of success, God bless you. I get it. But don’t you dare tell me whence my words come or how they will or will not be affected by my driving for success. Because then you are treading in unfamiliar waters with nary a paddle.

And there is no maxim for “what writing is all about”, no more than there is one for what love, war, cruelty, life, truth, or death are “all about”. We are each unique. Stop trying to cram your view down the craws of the rest of us. Write for the reasons you write. I’ll write for the reasons I do.

And may we each gain what it is we seek, whether fame, money, or, simply, solitude.

Ednor’s written a lot more than I have, though as you’ll find out he’s still in that marshland we authors all like to call The Backwater Swamp of First Novels Unfinished.

Oh hell, I know of no such swamp. But there’s damn sure a quagmire each of us who are published novelists (however we are published) has waded, swam, backstroked, face-floated, and nearly drowned in. In today’s guest post, my friend takes a look at humor’s role in all of this silliness we call writing. And I know of NO ONE better to address it.

Do me a favor. Follow his links. Read his other articles. Get his book on back road Montana towns, quaint personalities, and AMAZING memorabilia. I swear you will not be disappointed. And oh yes, check out the country-slathered, bluesy, badass honky tonk masterpiece that is the music of Bob Wire, the band (Their first album is entitled American Piehole and one of my favorite songs is “Too Tired To Cheat”). This cat is one of a kind I am telling you. Take it away, my friend:

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Is there such a thing as too much funny? You bet there is, and I’ll give you a sterling example in a bit. But first, one question: how important is humor in your writing? And who decides where the line exists between edgy and tasteless? How can you hit a common funny bone when humor itself is such a subjective thing? And didn’t this guy say, like, one question?

Of course the answer to all these questions is: it depends. As a humorist, I’ve written more than five hundred columns for a variety of online news/blogging sites over the past several years. Writing under my nom de guerre, Bob Wire, I have been free, with extremely rare exceptions, to decide on my own what’s too offensive for public consumption. I’ve also been given free rein to choose whatever subjects I think my readers might find entertaining. (I’ve been meaning to call both of them and find out.)

I’ve also written dozens of articles for local and regional publications, all with different standards of decorum. Our local weekly alternative will abide the occasional F bomb, but I rarely feel the need to open those bomb bay doors. The persona I’ve cultivated for Bob Wire (I’m also a musician) is quite a bit coarser and more profane, but no less articulate than my own true self. Bob, as I like to explain, is willing to blurt what everybody’s thinking but doesn’t want to say aloud. So when I’m writing in his voice, the humor is frequently over-the-top with bold opinions, indulgent wordplay, and jaw-droppingly overwrought similes and metaphors.

What I’m aiming for with Bob Wire is material that a sophisticated reader’s inner hillbilly will love. That’s the no-holds-barred end of my writing, and I adjust the level of outrageousness to the publication or site where it will be published.

(One example of a humor piece that my blog host, www.makeitmissoula.com, deemed too racy to appear was my completely fabricated account of my torrid affair with Herman Cain. It can be seen at my own site, www.bobwirehasapoint.com.)

The Bob Wire “brand” of music and writing has become well-known enough that I find myself having to struggle to get my real name out from under its lengthening shadow. An odd situation, to be sure. Although “Bob” has had numerous articles and cover stories run in Western Montana newspapers and magazines, my first book was published under my real name.

“Montana Curiosities” came out on Globe Pequot in 2010, one of a series of irreverent roadside attraction guides produced by the Connecticut publisher. It’s designed to be a humorous read, but my tone was noticeably gentler than when writing as Bob Wire. The book’s humor still has an edge, and reflects my interest in pop culture with numerous references to cult movies and classic rock. But, as per the publisher’s guidelines, there is no profanity. It’s PG at worst, the kind of humor that is more likely to be over a kid’s head than to offend him.

The book had sold several thousand copies by the end of 2010, doing better than G-P’s expectations. This bodes well for my having the inside track at the second edition, which should come up for grabs within a couple of years. (Ironically, I was offered the original contract by an acquisition editor who was a fan of Bob Wire’s blog.)

Having the good fortune of being published should help me get my foot a little further in the door with my first novel, currently in its sixth draft. I’m finding that putting humor into a novel is an entirely different kettle of wax than writing to entertain with my own (or Bob’s) wit. I’ve come to the daunting realization that I have to imbue each character with his own sense of humor!

This task makes writing a smartass humor blog look like a tiptoe through the dandelions by comparison. Hell, I can’t even transfer my own sense of humor to the protagonist; he’s a nicer guy than I am! So in this novel (a comic crime caper intertwined with rock ‘n roll historical fiction), the humor is executed with nuance and consistency. It’s far more difficult than crafting a standup routine or simply sprinkling jokes throughout.

Besides, if I’ve heard a joke, chances are the reader will have heard it by the time the book hits the shelves (or the discount bin). I’m thinking of James Cameron’s egregious “unobtanium” groaner in the movie Avatar. I mean, a 10-year-old gag from the realm of nerds and engineers? King of the world, my ass.

I guess what I’m getting at is that humor is not just important to most writing, it’s crucial. A laugh gives the reader a little break, a little breather, and a little insight into the characters that just can’t be delivered through straight exposition. Saying a woman is funny isn’t nearly as effective as putting some wickedly funny dialog in her mouth.

But being funny or outrageous for its own sake can backfire like a popcorn fart at a barbecue. I’m a fan of crime fiction, especially books that take place in South Florida. The paperback bookshelves are stuffed with writers working that turf, and the ones I like most drop in a few laughs with the mayhem. Some of my favorites are James W. Hall, Randy Wayne White, and the master of wacked-out, WTF black humor crime fiction, Carl Hiaasen.

I started reading another writer a few years ago, hooked by the wild, colorful covers of his paperbacks. I was halfway through his third novel when I saw it. This guy was trying to out-Hiaasen Hiaasen. If Hiaasen had a character with a golf club for a prosthetic arm, this guy had an Eskimo dwarf who was born with a dorsal fin and a penis that shoots lightning.

It’s difficult to bail on a book part way through, but I decided this guy had taken enough of my time. The writing itself was decent, but his style was so “look at how outrageous I am!” that its loony implausibility completely distracted from the story itself.

That’s a mistake I’m working hard to avoid with my own writing, be it the R-rated bloviations of Bob Wire, or the (hopefully) fluid narrative prose of Ednor.

Missoula’s honky tonkin’ “man about town,” Bob Wire’s main mission is to entertain. Bob is a prolific songwriter, and has recorded four CDs of Maximum Honky Tonk since 2006. His latest release, “Off White Christmas,” will surely be a holiday classic. His first Montana band, the Fencemenders, was voted Best Local Band twice by the Independent readers poll. Bob was voted the Trail 103/Missoulian Entertainer of the Year in 2007.

Bob is also a successful writer, having published more than 500 humor columns for regional websites over the last five years. His articles, usually about music, have appeared in the Missoulian, the Missoula Independent, Montana Magazine, and other publications.

His blog is posted at bobwirehasapoint.com. You can hear his music at bobwiremusic.com, or download it at iTunes, Amazon, and other online music providers.

“Oh, yeah, I remember that name.”

It’s human psyche. If they remember it, the name MUST mean something, right? Whose book are they going to click on? The book by the “no-name” or the book with the author’s name they remember seeing before? It’s called impressions.

Recently I read a book by (and had a few conversations with) author Sevastian Winters. His book, How I are Becomed a Much Very Gooder Author, addresses some very interesting theories regarding writing and publishing, particularly from the perspective of the independent author. It’s a very good book and I’ll plug it here by saying I really enjoyed it and was actually already doing many of the things it recommends.

The one thing I was not doing had to do with cover design. Sev recommends that especially for the Indie author, it’s all about name recognition and branding and that very little really matters with your cover from a “buy” perspective than YOUR NAME. I have to admit, it really did get me to thinking (but not enough to change my cover designs).

At the risk of paraphrasing Sev, what you want the buyer seeing when there is a page full of thumbnails (using the current digital example) is your name from across the air space. Yes art is cool and naming our books is one of the best parts (at least for me)—but in the end, particularly once you have fans, it is YOU they are looking for, not your title or the artwork you had done.

Now this is me speaking: I still care about my artwork and the title of my book. And I’m not suggesting (nor do I believe Sev was suggesting) that you not care about either of those. But the other day he read one of my books for the first time and he messaged me saying he was thoroughly impressed with my writing and as soon as I fixed my covers I was going to be “swinging for the fences”.

That was it. I bit. I’d agreed with most of what he said about covers and I decided to take the plunge and build a name (author) branding for my books and go with it. I have to tell you, whether you agree with me or not, I believe the book covers now cry PROFESSIONAL instead of INDIE, which is the main point of Sev’s theory.

So for your consideration (because I always include my readers in both my learning, suggestions, AND my own decisions) here are the old/new cover comparisons for your review. Feel free to comment. As I said, I agree with Sev: if I am looking at these books on the shelf (digital or otherwise), the name-branded book is the one I am accustomed to seeing. Oh, and here was my main argument against using my own name (as opposed to Dean Koontz or Stephen King or James Lee Burke using theirs) used to be?

No one knows my name. And do you know what I realized?

That’s exactly the point.