This week has been busy. Apart from picking up “The Cost of Letters”, and of course scribbling away on the new book, The Black Hours (which has hit the 50,000 word mark this week), yesterday I received the proofs for The Horde (sic) of Mhorrer (which has now been changed to “The Hoard of Mhorrer”… both ways work, but semantically “hoard” seems more appropriate - you’ll see why in January 2009).
Over the two years or so I spent writing it, around half a dozen people have given advice or suggestions on The Hoard of Mhorrer. Most of it’s been textual, but there’s been continuity suggestions too, and historical advice. Throughout that time I’ve taken critical advice on the chin with a nod of the head and a workman-like approach. But it’s a struggle. Any revision that isn’t prompted by you is a psychological battle of sorts, because anyone who possesses just a hint of ego initially finds critical advice as… er… a criticism of what they have done.
I’m not immune to that. Not at all.
And the proofs caught me off guard a bit. I think after reading the notes from my copy-editor a few writers would have bit down on their knuckles in frustration, and had I been in a worse mood I might have too. My first response was, “you can’t be serious” and “bloody hell, more work” – a tennis-pro reaction if ever there was one. I’d spent about two years on the book already, and believed I had put it to bed before next January, so looking at the pages of notes I grimaced, winced and shook my head in disappointment.
And then I calmed down and thought about it rationally.
You see, I might have worked for two years on the text, shaping it into a story that was worth telling, but that doesn’t mean I’m immune to mistakes. Likewise, my editorial duo at Macmillan have also being involved in the process for a while, and there are certain things even they might miss – things like historical and strategic context.
The copyeditor has written some bloody frustrating notes. But they are bloody helpful too. Amazingly so. In fact some of the mistakes I would call “school-boy errors” that I surprised myself at making (especially around military strategy). The copy-editor knows his stuff – I know because I checked up on a few facts afterwards, and damn me if they weren’t spot on. My first reaction – that of cursing and muttering like some wino in a bus-shelter – was in the end quite unwarranted, but it did clear my head to see how constructive his comments were.
Finally I decided, “fair-play, I must change this.” Because if I don’t change it, and if I let my ego put up walls against critical advice, someone else will only mention those same flaws once it’s published in a magazine or newspaper, or on the great Who-Hah-machine we call the Internet (and people love a good moan about inaccuracies in books, don’t they?). But by then the cat would have bolted from the barn, and the horse would have been let out of the bag. By then the book would be published and I’ll be damned…
So, yes. More work. A distraction. But why the hell not? It’s taken two years to write this book. What’s two more weeks to get it right? To quote Airplane, “I picked the wrong time to quit drinking…” (And besides, two weeks of distraction with a monkey on your back is nothing when you have to write with cat on your shoulder…)
Friday, May 16, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
The Cost of Blogging
Okay, so this isn’t The Black Hours. I admit it, but hey I reckon it’s a worthwhile diversion. This month sees the ten year anniversary of The Cost of Letters, a mighty fine insight into how much the average author earns or expects to earn, and whether or not it was enough to live on. Over on the Macmillan New Writers blog, I’ve suggested the writers answer the same questions posed by Cyril Connolly in 1946 and then later in 1998 by Waterstone’s in their Cost of Letters publication.
As they say, “money makes the world go round”, and it’s a topic that most aspiring writers turn to eventually. So for the record, below are the questions and my answers to them…
How much do you think a writer needs to live on?
“It depends on their circumstances. If you have dependents and have recently taken out a mortgage in the South of England, then I reckon a personal income of around £35,000 is not unrealistic. This would include expenses such as travelling to publicity events, research, buying books etc.
In Sheffield, I think a full-time writer encumbered by a family and a mortgage in today’s financial climate should be earning at least £20,000 or be part of a 40K+ joint income. If they’re lucky, then the partner can make up the lion’s share. I think it also depends on means – if you’re single and used to living on less, then you can probably get away with earning minimum wage. But it’ll be tough…”
Do you think a serious writer can earn this sum by his writing and if so, how?
“Earlier this year, Roger Morris – one of the initial Macmillan New Writers - announced he was writing full-time. Roger is either earning this figure now or he expects to earn enough to go full-time, or he’s being supported by someone else. But from my experience so far, this is rare. In this financial year I will earn roughly half the amount I need to write full-time, yet this was mainly due to a foreign rights deal. Sales alone accounts for about a fifth of my writing income at the moment (but then I was only published in January last year). Foreign rights deals come about once in a blue moon, and should not be used as a basis to plan financially. I would say in today’s climate that it is possible to earn about 20K a year from writing, but even then I think you would be fortunate.”
If not, what do you think is a suitable second occupation for him?
“Something that isn’t too taxing or emotionally draining. You don’t want to come home from work and feel the need to veg out in front of the telly for a few hours, or be in desperate need of a drink down at the pub each night. A suitable occupation I would say would be one that doesn’t dominate your life if you’re seriously thinking about being a writer. A job where on the way home you can think about what you’re going to write tonight, rather than what you have to do at work tomorrow.
Shift work is another option. I know some writers who like doing night-shifts and then write during the day, but there is a health-warning on that: working sporadic shift patterns can disrupt the writing routine. Another occupation I was advised to avoid was working in a bookshop (too depressing watching other writers’ books shifting off the bookshelves other than your own).”
Do you think literature suffers from the diversion of a writer’s energy into other employments or is enriched by it?
“Again, depends on the occupation. If you work in an area of inspiration, i.e. the armed services, advertising, other art industries or lecturing, the writing could certainly be enriched by another occupation. I think the rule of thumb is whether a writer can produce great works in the evening after the day-job or only during the weekends. If it’s the latter, then I think the day-job is being counterproductive to their creativity. Personally, I would love to write full-time to allow me to read more in my spare-time – time that is gobbled up by the hours I have left to write. And writers do need to read – it’s a fundamental part of learning their craft.”
Do you think the state or any other institution should do more for writers?
“The government currently has a New Deal for Musicians. It’s a shame that something similar doesn’t exist for aspiring writers. Perhaps if a writer was taken on by a publisher without an advance, the government would supply one instead? It could be refundable or non-refundable depending on the terms the government would grant. But it’s doubtful this will happen. The Arts Council of England has been given less money once again, and with everyone from musicians to actors jockeying for position, writers will be squeezed out from the good cause lists.
Having said that, writing is like any other profession, and with so many of us wanting to be writers, arbitrary financial awards would be a mistake.”
Are you satisfied with your own solution of the problem and have you any specific advice to give young people who wish to earn their living by writing?
“My situation isn’t that bad. I’m earning a reasonable sum from my writing as mentioned above, and I have a day-job that is not too demanding. It also has the flexibility that if I wish to go part-time then my boss would allow that (something that I’m planning for this year). Added to that I’m with a publisher who is taking an interest in what I write, and I’m developing well under their guidance. I don’t feel like I’ve been thrown into the wind to see how far I can fly without any lessons. When they think I’m ready to make that big leap, they’ll tell me.
I think my main advice to young writers is to be realistic. JK Rowling happens once a generation. Writers earn pittance compared to the real world so be prepared to fund your way to publication much in the same way an undergraduate can fund their way through university (i.e. bar work, shop work, something that doesn’t drain the ole brain). And while it might seem heroic to take risks trying to earn everything from your writing, it might be counter-productive to put yourself under all that pressure. There’s nothing worse than writing for a market and having no success. Write about what interests you, not someone else. If you find some success with that, then it’s a bonus. If not, well then at least you have found some enjoyment in the writing itself.”
Okay. Whew. Not sure if there is any wisdom in the above. Make up your own mind. As for me… Well, The Black Hours is calling and she’s been an unforgiving mistress lately…
As they say, “money makes the world go round”, and it’s a topic that most aspiring writers turn to eventually. So for the record, below are the questions and my answers to them…
How much do you think a writer needs to live on?
“It depends on their circumstances. If you have dependents and have recently taken out a mortgage in the South of England, then I reckon a personal income of around £35,000 is not unrealistic. This would include expenses such as travelling to publicity events, research, buying books etc.
In Sheffield, I think a full-time writer encumbered by a family and a mortgage in today’s financial climate should be earning at least £20,000 or be part of a 40K+ joint income. If they’re lucky, then the partner can make up the lion’s share. I think it also depends on means – if you’re single and used to living on less, then you can probably get away with earning minimum wage. But it’ll be tough…”
Do you think a serious writer can earn this sum by his writing and if so, how?
“Earlier this year, Roger Morris – one of the initial Macmillan New Writers - announced he was writing full-time. Roger is either earning this figure now or he expects to earn enough to go full-time, or he’s being supported by someone else. But from my experience so far, this is rare. In this financial year I will earn roughly half the amount I need to write full-time, yet this was mainly due to a foreign rights deal. Sales alone accounts for about a fifth of my writing income at the moment (but then I was only published in January last year). Foreign rights deals come about once in a blue moon, and should not be used as a basis to plan financially. I would say in today’s climate that it is possible to earn about 20K a year from writing, but even then I think you would be fortunate.”
If not, what do you think is a suitable second occupation for him?
“Something that isn’t too taxing or emotionally draining. You don’t want to come home from work and feel the need to veg out in front of the telly for a few hours, or be in desperate need of a drink down at the pub each night. A suitable occupation I would say would be one that doesn’t dominate your life if you’re seriously thinking about being a writer. A job where on the way home you can think about what you’re going to write tonight, rather than what you have to do at work tomorrow.
Shift work is another option. I know some writers who like doing night-shifts and then write during the day, but there is a health-warning on that: working sporadic shift patterns can disrupt the writing routine. Another occupation I was advised to avoid was working in a bookshop (too depressing watching other writers’ books shifting off the bookshelves other than your own).”
Do you think literature suffers from the diversion of a writer’s energy into other employments or is enriched by it?
“Again, depends on the occupation. If you work in an area of inspiration, i.e. the armed services, advertising, other art industries or lecturing, the writing could certainly be enriched by another occupation. I think the rule of thumb is whether a writer can produce great works in the evening after the day-job or only during the weekends. If it’s the latter, then I think the day-job is being counterproductive to their creativity. Personally, I would love to write full-time to allow me to read more in my spare-time – time that is gobbled up by the hours I have left to write. And writers do need to read – it’s a fundamental part of learning their craft.”
Do you think the state or any other institution should do more for writers?
“The government currently has a New Deal for Musicians. It’s a shame that something similar doesn’t exist for aspiring writers. Perhaps if a writer was taken on by a publisher without an advance, the government would supply one instead? It could be refundable or non-refundable depending on the terms the government would grant. But it’s doubtful this will happen. The Arts Council of England has been given less money once again, and with everyone from musicians to actors jockeying for position, writers will be squeezed out from the good cause lists.
Having said that, writing is like any other profession, and with so many of us wanting to be writers, arbitrary financial awards would be a mistake.”
Are you satisfied with your own solution of the problem and have you any specific advice to give young people who wish to earn their living by writing?
“My situation isn’t that bad. I’m earning a reasonable sum from my writing as mentioned above, and I have a day-job that is not too demanding. It also has the flexibility that if I wish to go part-time then my boss would allow that (something that I’m planning for this year). Added to that I’m with a publisher who is taking an interest in what I write, and I’m developing well under their guidance. I don’t feel like I’ve been thrown into the wind to see how far I can fly without any lessons. When they think I’m ready to make that big leap, they’ll tell me.
I think my main advice to young writers is to be realistic. JK Rowling happens once a generation. Writers earn pittance compared to the real world so be prepared to fund your way to publication much in the same way an undergraduate can fund their way through university (i.e. bar work, shop work, something that doesn’t drain the ole brain). And while it might seem heroic to take risks trying to earn everything from your writing, it might be counter-productive to put yourself under all that pressure. There’s nothing worse than writing for a market and having no success. Write about what interests you, not someone else. If you find some success with that, then it’s a bonus. If not, well then at least you have found some enjoyment in the writing itself.”
Okay. Whew. Not sure if there is any wisdom in the above. Make up your own mind. As for me… Well, The Black Hours is calling and she’s been an unforgiving mistress lately…
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Black Hours Diary Entry No. 4: The Clarity of Fog
Well, it’s week four since I started writing The Black Hours proper, and I’m almost 40,000 words into the book (a third of the way there, folks). Everything is going well, and that’s unnerving ‘cos I’m expecting that inevitable “brick-wall” around one of these corners (call me a pessimist, it’s happened too many times for me to believe otherwise – especially on the first draft).
Currently, the book is writing itself, adding its own characters, making it easy for me. I’d say the hardest part is making it feel authentic enough. As usual I’m researching as I go, and there’s always little nuggets of authenticity to dig up, forcing me to back-peddle a few pages to add a paragraph of description here and there. But that’s fine, I can go back, I can go forwards, or sideways. Whatever helps to get those words on the page, right?
At the moment my London is like a Monet painting – an impression more than stark images. I can feel it, almost taste it, and I can definitely hear it, but my London needs to be in “1080p” (a TV techie term, my apologies) before I get the book finished. I don’t want it to be abstract. I want the reader to feel the grime of the metropolis, tasting the bad air and the filthy wintry fogs.
The second draft should get under the fuzziness of that hulking city and bring it into clarity as well as its people. With more detail comes added focus, and I can luxuriate in that detail adding colour and textures and the vibrancy that the greatest city in the 19th century world could offer.
That’s the hope anyway.
And besides, there’s only so many ways you can describe a "peasouper"…
Currently, the book is writing itself, adding its own characters, making it easy for me. I’d say the hardest part is making it feel authentic enough. As usual I’m researching as I go, and there’s always little nuggets of authenticity to dig up, forcing me to back-peddle a few pages to add a paragraph of description here and there. But that’s fine, I can go back, I can go forwards, or sideways. Whatever helps to get those words on the page, right?
At the moment my London is like a Monet painting – an impression more than stark images. I can feel it, almost taste it, and I can definitely hear it, but my London needs to be in “1080p” (a TV techie term, my apologies) before I get the book finished. I don’t want it to be abstract. I want the reader to feel the grime of the metropolis, tasting the bad air and the filthy wintry fogs.
The second draft should get under the fuzziness of that hulking city and bring it into clarity as well as its people. With more detail comes added focus, and I can luxuriate in that detail adding colour and textures and the vibrancy that the greatest city in the 19th century world could offer.
That’s the hope anyway.
And besides, there’s only so many ways you can describe a "peasouper"…
Friday, May 02, 2008
Dreams of a Luddite
For the third week running I don’t have e-mail. Sure, I have at work (not to have it there would be simply preposterous, wouldn’t it?), but at home I’m un-contactable, which is good because I don’t have to deal with that ridiculous amount of spam that spews over the monitor each time I log-on, but not so good if anyone is trying to get a hold of me.
So this weekend I’m crawling out of my luddite skin to upgrade the ol’ PC tower to the home’s third laptop*, and get myself broadbanded (yes, I told you I was a luddite, but there’s only so much of BT Pay-as-you-go I can stand!). Hey, I might even get mobile broadband; become an ultra non-luddite while I’m there.
I suppose this is all a little non-newsy, except if you’ve been trying to contact me via the website. No, I’m not ignoring you, I just didn’t know you were there. Hopefully in a couple of weeks I’ll be all ears… eyes and perhaps fingers…
*Before anyone asks why I have three laptops, the answer is simple: one to write on (yes, I’m that paranoid of viruses), one to surf the net on and play DVDs through the telly, and I’m also the new recipient of a writer’s best friend, an ASUS Eee PC – the finest smallest laptop 200 quid can buy. It’s replaced the various notepads and pens dotted around the house, and I can carry it around without getting a hernia… Priceless.
So this weekend I’m crawling out of my luddite skin to upgrade the ol’ PC tower to the home’s third laptop*, and get myself broadbanded (yes, I told you I was a luddite, but there’s only so much of BT Pay-as-you-go I can stand!). Hey, I might even get mobile broadband; become an ultra non-luddite while I’m there.
I suppose this is all a little non-newsy, except if you’ve been trying to contact me via the website. No, I’m not ignoring you, I just didn’t know you were there. Hopefully in a couple of weeks I’ll be all ears… eyes and perhaps fingers…
*Before anyone asks why I have three laptops, the answer is simple: one to write on (yes, I’m that paranoid of viruses), one to surf the net on and play DVDs through the telly, and I’m also the new recipient of a writer’s best friend, an ASUS Eee PC – the finest smallest laptop 200 quid can buy. It’s replaced the various notepads and pens dotted around the house, and I can carry it around without getting a hernia… Priceless.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
