So the votes have been tallied: aside from a few suggestions that I might crowdfund or Patreon – I think sadly my reach is a bit limited to raise any significant funds in this manner and I’m loathe to take money off my friends – everyone who responded thinks that I should self-publish. So I shall. Or, at least, I’m planning to at this moment in time.
Self-publishing is not quick, or easy. Nor is it necessarily cheap, not for a relative pauper like myself. I shall have to go for budget options pretty much across the board. I’ll also – and this is the big thing for a ditherer like me – have to trust myself; to back my belief that New Gods truly is the best thing I’ve written so far.
I also don’t have much of an idea of what I’m doing – not at the moment, at least. I know things like an ISBN and legal declarations are needed. I know the novel has to be typeset and formatted properly for Amazon/Kindle (I’m assuming I’ll go with Kindle Direct Publishing as it has the widest reach, but that is something else to look into). I know how to do none of these things at the moment.
So my next task is to research and examine and explore. I have the product, that’s one thing I’m happy(ish) about. The rest is a mystery wrapped in an enigma.
Thankfully I have plenty of friends who have self-published and, like most authors, they’re eager to help. I’ve already had offers of assistance and a quote for a cover. I can do this.
So that’s the plan. And, in the meantime, I’ll keep working on my other writings and I’ll try and get my next novel published traditionally, because why not have both? Hybrid authors: the coming generation goes both ways, don’t you know?
Thank you to all who commented/advised/reached out to me after last week’s post. You’re all wonderful people and I look forwards to buying you all drinks when we can travel/meet up/go to places where they sell drinks safely.
Now the dust has settled, it’s time for me to consider what to do next in my writing career. And, specifically, what to do with New Gods, the third in my Antarctic trilogy.
Having been dropped by my publisher after two books, it’s not an easy decision to make. No publisher is going to take on a single book in a trilogy – they wouldn’t have any share in the intellectual property (so no potential film/television rights, though that’s a very distant dream) and, with diminishing sales a massive probability, really what’s in it for them?
So my choices seem to be pretty much one of four. I can:
Abandon the novel. This would be gutting, not only for me – I’ve put a lot of work into it and, as I’ve said before, I really regard it as the best in the series – but for the few fans who’ve persisted and really want to see the finale. But it’s perhaps the most realistic option
Wait seven years. In seven years’ time I regain the rights to the first two novels. I could then try and find a publisher willing to take the series (though heaven alone knows how) as a whole and issue the whole lot as a reprint. Or I could self-publish the trilogy as a whole
I could self-publish Book 3 now. There’s nothing to stop me doing this, as far as I’m aware – nothing except cold-hard economics. I’m under no illusions as to either my appeal or my abilities as an illustrator. I’d have commission someone – hell, I have to find someone – to do the cover art and that would cost money (all artists should be paid for their work. To hell with exposure). And even if I do all the typesetting and publishing and editing myself – a risky business, publishing without professional editorialness – there’d still doubtless be costs. I don’t believe that I’d ever cover these with sales as – at the end of the day – who am I? I’d sell maybe a dozen to family and friends, maybe a few more through this blog and via Twitter, and that’s all, folks
I could release it free of charge, possibly serialised through this blog. I haven’t really thought this option through, yet. But I want to get this novel out there. It’s good. And, if I spend anything I’ll lose. So why not just save the costs and let you lot read it anyway? One potential downside is that my seven-year plan of reclaiming my rights and then seeking a fresh publisher might be harmed by this; I will have shot my bolt somewhat
So what would you do? All opinions gratefully received – and any options not yet considered would be appreciated also.
In the meantime, what do I do? Well, I’ve got Oneiromancer to flog. I’ve got Our Kind of Bastard to edit. I’ve got an as-yet un-thought-through new novel to start thinking through.
In other words, I need to get back into the word-mines. It’s what I do.
Howdy, blog fans. At the moment I’m buried both in boxes – a consequence of moving house – and in copy-editing, a consequence of taking on more than I can chew.
I just wanted to say a big thank you to all of you who have read over the last couple of posts I’ve put up here and have given their support, either through the medium of likes, comments, DMs, retweets, or the simple act of still being here to read this now. I really appreciate you all because you’re great.
I’m currently sitting back and mulling over my options, which are somewhat limited but do, indeed, exist. I’ve been convinced of this by some of the glorious people I’m lucky enough to call friends, and by the people they in turn put me in touch with as a result of reading said posts.
Life is not an empty, ruinous black hole vortex of doom and despair. Being dropped by my publisher could, in fact, end up being a good thing. And I am reassured that I’m not a horrible bigot. There is sunshine and bunny rabbits and good Scotch and all of these things – and yet more – will keep me fighting.
So what now? Well, after this copy-editing is done with, I will return with a vengeance to the short story of alleged bigotry because I still believe in it. I will continue to consider what to do with New Gods. I will continue to turn over ideas for a new novel, because it’s what I do.
I am a writer. I may not, at present, have a career, but the fundamental fact remains.
Note: this post was written at the beginning of 2021 but got delayed because writing about my publishing problems seemed more immediate. Sorry to begin the new year with two fairly downbeat essays, but that’s the writer’s life for you: ups and downs all the way. Hope you get something out of this; hopefully I’ll be able to present more positivity next week.
This isn’t meant as a moan or a whine; apologies if it comes across as one. But I was told at my last writing group meeting that I’d been imbibing – and regurgitating – racist, sexist and homophobic tropes, and… well, it’s been on my mind.
It’s not just one piece; it is, apparently, in my work in general. The accusation was made by the person who accused me of being racist – or at least colonialist – in my treatment of slum clearances, and this scene was certainly in her mind as she, once more, took me to task.
So what do I make of this? Has she got a point? She didn’t directly accuse me of being the ‘ists’ but she might as well have, as I flatter myself that I am a modern, well-balanced human being who is, if not immune to racism and sexism, then at least am aware of my flaws and my ignorances and try to work on them. The accusation stings and I’m not sure what to do about it.
First things first: is she right? This latest criticism came to over a short(ish) story that involves a central female character who is viewed through the lens of a narrator who idolises, almost worships her. My critic says that there is nothing to her but her looks and here she may have a point; I’ve almost deliberately not gone into her spirit and agenda as I want her to be ethereal, almost mesmerising, rather than grounded and gritty.
As for her looks, I wasn’t even aware that I’d portrayed her as good looking (there’s certainly no paragraph of description that could appear in the Men Writing Women twitter feed) but, looking back, I suppose I had managed to give that impression.
So I can just about see where my critic is coming from. I just don’t know if I should make changes based on her opinion.
And now I’m shaken. I have many, many flaws, but I didn’t think I was a bad person. I’ve reviled groups like the Sad Puppies for their right-wing agenda. Am I now to see myself in such company? Hell, have I been lying to myself – and the world – all this time? How do I become the person I imagine myself to be?
Writing is an intensely personal business. That’s why criticism hurts. We lay ourselves out there on the page and receive what slings and arrows come our way. I’m constantly afraid that my Antarctic trilogy, in particular, will fail one of these acid tests because it’s consciously multinational and I’m writing outside of my own experiences.
Now I’m being told that my writing in general fails. And that means I’ve failed as a person.
I don’t think I’m in the best position to evaluate my flaws, but I’m not sure there’s anyone else. If anyone out there feels they’re better placed, I’d love to hear from you.
I’m currently listening to an audiobook that I started at the beginning of the first lockdown, so it’s fair to say that it’s not entirely grabbed me. A gap of over six months is partly explicable by my discovery of certain podcasts, which eat into book-listening time, but that’s not the whole story. And firing it up again has sharpened my discontent and made me try and put my finger on the problem.
I think it comes down to this: the whole thing feels slow.
It’s not that nothing’s happening. There is action and there is drama and there is mystery, and it’s also fair to say that, at two and a half hours’ in to a 14hr story, I’m still only scratching the surface.
But the whole thing seems slow. There is little room for nuance as everything is spelled out for us. All decisions are shown, clearly and without room for error, and in a way this is a good thing. But it really does sabotage any sense of momentum and imperative.
Perhaps recognising the condition in other writers is a sign that I am learning. I am seeing in others what I am guilty of myself, and the first step towards solving a problem is to admit you have one in the first place. In a way, this particular story has come at the perfect time for me, when I’m examining my own flaws and looking at paring back my writing in general.
Perhaps it’s just that this audiobook has flaws sharp enough for even me to scrape my numb feet upon, but I don’t think so. It’s not bad, not that I would like to determine it thus.
Anyway, isn’t it possible to learn from weaker stories just as it is to find inspiration in masterpieces? I think so, though I don’t go so far as to seek out bad books in place of quality; I have (sadly) limited reading time and my primary focus is on pleasure, even in my non-fiction.
And, on that note, let me recount my experience with 50 Shades of Grey. Whilst walking to work one morning I chanced upon a copy sitting on a bench by the river. Aware of its reputation, and in search of cheap (free) thrills, I picked it up and started to flick through it as I strolled onwards.
I abandoned it on the next bench I came to. That was enough for me.
I happily imagine the life of that copy as it journeys along the riverbank, one bench at a time, as it passes through many hands from sea to source, and then, and then…
What next adventure can a poor lonely copy of a truly bad book have? That, dear reader, is entirely up to you.
It’s not quite imposter syndrome but it is close. I’m having a crisis of confidence because I fear that I’m the worst writer in my writing group (five people) and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
It doesn’t reflect well on me. I should be grateful for being shown how much I have to improve. I should be proud to have room to grow – and I am, I promise. And that’s good, and humbling, for I am not without ego and it does me no harm to be shown the emptiness of my rhetoric.
But I’m the published author. I should be better than I am; I shouldn’t be an over-writer. I shouldn’t be struggling with quiet scenes. I should be better than what I’m showing.
I should also be better at giving criticism. Lord knows I’ve had enough practice at that, what with being an editor to boot.
It doesn’t help that I’m finding it hard to mesh on a personal level with the other members of the group. Not that there’s any animosity or unpleasantness, but remote meetings make it harder to express empathy or to communicate in any ways other than through direct speech. In such a small group these things seem magnified.
So what do I do? I don’t want to leave because these people are, as I said, damn good writers and I should be learning from them. I’m determined to be as good as I can possibly be.
I guess I just suck it up, grit my teeth and take the slings and arrows of outrageous criticism.
Time makes fools of us all. And time is very much on my mind at the moment, as mine has suddenly become a premium commodity.
Yes, I have just started a new phase in my life of paid employment. Or, to put it another way, I’ve got a new job. This is for reasons which are sound and very much justified and, indeed, employment will hopefully be pleasurable. I’ll be working with books and with readers, and that can never be a bad combination.
But it means I’ll have less time for writing, for editing, and for managing life beyond the paying of the bills. This causes me a certain amount of anxiety. I have commitments, the ones to myself not the least amongst them. I want to write and to edit and spend time on Twitter; I want to communicate, in one medium or another and my new life status threatens that.
So what will I do? Well, I’ll take around a fortnight to stress and then I’ll settle and work out new working arrangements. Because that’s what we do when life changes; for a while the shift seems all-consuming and we don’t quite know where the time is going. Then we settle down and what’s important to us will reassert itself.
So at the moment I am all of a quiver: I have a new editorial job upcoming and I fear for when it’ll get done. I have a short story to tinker with and a whole damn novel to edit. When will I find the time for these things?
The answer will come. Things will settle and new working patterns will develop – hell, with a different type of stimulation I’ll almost certainly write better for it. I will work out all the answers because I have to.
But for now I am all of an anxiety; and it’s not just the new job fears.
Just because I have a book out doesn’t mean I’m immune to rejection. I still regularly get turned down by agents – an agent is still what I desperately want – and now I’ve received an inkling as to why.
My most recent rejection came with actual feedback, which is very rare in the world of publishing and agency. It said that my writing is good, but they didn’t get a good enough idea of the story from my cover letter and synopsis. Too diffuse, were the words used: the story had too many competing elements and it was difficult to know where the story would sit.
I’m very grateful for this feedback, disappointing as it is. It’s clear I have more work to do in an area I felt I had down. What that work should be I’m not exactly sure at the moment. I have, after all, written an ensemble piece with a lot of voices; how do I simplify and still accurately communicate what the story’s about?
An agent’s opinion is subjective and what might turn one agent off might attract another. I know that. But being granted an insight into their thinking is a real plus. I’d be a fool to ignore it.
I’m also confident that I’ve written a quality novel. I just need someone to read the damn thing. So, after the high times of last week, it’s back to the grindstone: there’s work to be done and nobody’s going to do it for me.
Getting close now! Just 11 days until Human Resources is unleashed on an unsuspecting world! So here is the fourth and – unless popular demand makes me write more – the last in my special blog-posts on different aspects of the novel. If you missed the earlier parts you can read about my characters here, my ideas about plotting here, and all about the novel’s setting here.
This week we’re looking at point of view – POV. A bit more esoteric, perhaps, but hopefully just as interesting and with as many insights about my writing process as the other posts.
I really hope these articles have got you as excited as I am for Human Resources. As ever, if you want to comment please feel free, either below or on Twitter @RobinTriggs. I do my best to give good advice to all who ask.
Also, I suppose I’d best say that you can buy Human Resources from any half-decent bookshop, or even Amazon. But let me link you direct to the publishers, and also to Hive.co.uk which is like Amazon but without the evil, working with indie bookstores to hopefully benefit everyone.
There’s no getting away from it: Human Resources, like Night Shift before it and New Gods after, is in first person. It’s a pretty rigid first-person too: no sneakily popping out into someone else’s head for a crucial reveal or simply to provide a bit of variety. No, it’s stuck-with-the-same person all the way.
So why did I choose that, and what does it mean for the story and its telling? Well, the reason I originally chose it is because, without it, the payoff for the first book wouldn’t have worked. It really is as simple as that. And I suppose I feel a little guilty about it – like the whole device was just a cheap stunt.a
But first-person is a venerable tradition and works well for me. Previously I’d worked only in third person, but I made the shift to really get inside the head of Anders Nordvelt.
To be honest, the change wasn’t as great as all that: my third person writing had always been very tight, very limited in its perspective – no omniescentising for me. So the switch to first-person wasn’t that much of a jolt. Nor has it felt too weird going back to third person in its aftermath – yes, my post-Antarctic writing is back in third-person, if only to give myself a bit of a break.
*Emphatically doesn’t mention the brief snatches of second-person in the series finale*
What does writing in first-person mean for the story? Well, in being as strict as I have been for the Antarctic trilogy, it means that we’re going to become very intimate with a single personality and perspective. That puts a heavy weight on the main character to be interesting, to not alienate the reader with a whining, dull companion.
It also means you have to be aware of what other people are doing, that you don’t leave your other characters standing around and waiting for the main character to come around before they ‘switch on’. Indeed, there is, in a way, more potential for surprise with first-person as things happen off-stage, so to speak: the character is as ignorant of others’ actions as the readers are.
That, I suppose, means there may be more potential for jump-scares as opposed to a slow build-up of tension. But maintaining tension is part of the craft of the writer, and I find that different tellings merely encourage the writer to stretch themselves in different ways. Nothing is impossible, not with any mode of telling.
Of course, the difference in perspective makes a big difference to the reader; it’s not just a case of the same novel in different clothes. I have heard of people who won’t read a novel written in first-person (and I deeply hope this doesn’t include you, dear reader). I like to write in first person or third according to what feel I want to give a novel – it’s hard to quantify or to explain exactly why, but I feel like first-person gives more of a sense of the lone film-noir-esque gumshoe whilst third person is more cinematic with a cast you can check in and out of.
That might just be me, though. As I said – hard to quantify.
If you’re interested, I wrote more about point-of-view right back in 2015, which just goes to show for how long I’ve been a) keeping this blog, and b) gnawing away at the same subjects. Check that article out if, as I said, you’re at all interested.
And that’s me for now. Expect more ramblings about Human Resources through the next few weeks but that’s the end of these themed articles about the writing of the benighted thing. Hope you’ve enjoyed them; and stay happy and healthy in whatever you do.
Salutations! Here we are in part three of my series of ramblings in celebration of Human Resources. It’s due out on November 10th, available wherever books are sold. I think it happens to be rather good and you might like it too.
Today’s ramble – I mean interesting article – is on setting. If you missed the previous editions, you can read about my character creation and development here and about how I came up with the plot here. All are spoiler-free and May Contain Interest (but no nuts). There’s also the entire rest of the blog if, after reading this, you’d like to know more about me and my work.
There are two aspects to setting: one is environment, the other is worldbuilding.
Human Resources is set in the Antarctic, in the bleak environment of all-day or all-night. More specifically it’s set in a brand new city, and a lot of my preparation went into imagining what that city would look like; the practical considerations of survival in such an atmosphere and the most sustainable architecture.
The background to what has led humanity to occupy this last outpost of the planet’s surface is never explicitly gone into in the story, but as far as I’m concerned, Human Resources – and the whole Antarctic trilogy – is an exploration of what will happen if population keeps expanding, if climate change is not arrested, and if the planet’s natural resources start to run dry. What will humanity do to survive such a collision of circumstances? It’s not an apocalyptic novel – indeed, in some ways it’s rather optimistic – but humanity has these obstacles to overcome.
So Human Resources is set in a virgin city, and, with the aside of a few scenes set out in the frozen land, this is essentially an urban, underground novel. Here I admit that a lot of my influence is born out of the fifties, sixties and seventies, both in the utopian world of town planning (I did A-Level Geography, for my sins) and in science fiction.
As for the Antarctic itself, setting a novel there meant incorporating practical measures: the warmsuits that everyone wears when they go out into the wilderness and the airlock-like vestibules that all buildings have.
Setting scenes out in the icy wastes was one of the most enjoyable parts of writing the novel, where I could give my poetic side full rein. As well as the city and the wilderness we have scenes in the mine that gives the city its raison d’etre and in a semi-legal bar set up by the miners.
I have to be careful here to talk about Human Resources and that alone: I’m deep in the editing of book three and I’m doing my best not to conflate the two. In the third, for example, there’s a big combat scene out in the wastes that I resolutely shall not mention here.
So: HR. We have urban planning on a grand scale and I used a map – three-dimensional as the majority of the structures are set underground to avoid the worst of the climatic challenges – to help give myself an idea of how the layout would work practically. I’ve not replicated that map for the readers as I don’t think it’s necessary – indeed, it was only a scratty little thing in a notebook – but it did help me visualise the setting and distances, as well as reminding myself of what the city needed to function.
Perhaps the setting of the Antarctic trilogy will be what the novels are best remembered for – if, indeed, they are at all. It’s what makes the series unique and I’ve spent a long time working on it. I hope it stands up – I think it does, but, as with so many things, it’s the readers that will decide.