This month, the Fictorians are writing about the greatest gifts we’ve received as writers. Last month, we wrote a lot about the business of publishing, and the month before that we delved into the tangled web of indie marketing. Just this past Friday, I wrote about a recent experience I had with the launch of my new book. Today, I want to very briefly bring all those subjects together.

Almost seven years ago, well before I made the decision to pursue writing professionally, a close friend of mine, Clint Byars, who also happened to be a coworker, pulled me aside on a Saturday afternoon and told me he had something to share with me. Instead of some piece of juicy workplace gossip, I was surprised (and intrigued) to hear that he had a story idea. He knew that I was a writer, or at least that I had a loose endeavour to become one, and he had a story that he couldn’t tell on his own.

That story took a long time to develop, and went through a number of permutations, but the result was a novel that, five years later, finally got picked up by a publisher. It’s called The Book of Creation, the first installment in The Watchers Chronicle.

If I were to make a list of the greatest gifts ever bequeathed to me as part of my writing career, this particular story idea would have to be in my top five—maybe even my top three. There’s a reason, after all, that The Book of Creation ended up becoming my first published novel. From the moment my friend shared the premise with me, I knew I had to write it. I fell hopelessly in love.

Specifically, what drew me to this project was its combination of action-adventure and mysticism, characterized by the best Indiana Jones stories. Ever since I was a little kid, I had dreamed of writing this kind of book. Well, I had in mind a screenplay credit, but upon reflection a novel credit is very nearly as good, and in some ways better. At stake in the story is the discovery of archaeological artifacts which suggest the veracity of some truly outlandish historical “truths” straight out of the some of the apocryphal Bible texts—notably, the Book of Enoch, which contains some ideas that wouldn’t be at all out-of-place in a sci-fi novel.

The second novel, The City of Darkness, is already released in paperback, and will soon be available in the major ebook markets as well, but that’s an announcement for another day. In anticipation of that release, and in the spirit of the holidays and this month’s theme of writerly gifts, The Book of Creation is now available for free in the Kindle store. Click here to download your free copy.

This book won’t stay free forever, as I’m ordinarily a big believer in charging for my work—even if it’s very little. I think artists are often too willing to give away the fruits of their labor. But for the next three days, I’m making an exception. Take advantage!

On that subject, be on the lookout later this month for a wonderful post by Mary Pletsch about why writers should only give away their books very judiciously. In my opinion, it’s an important lesson.

The Fan Club

December 6, 2013

Evan Braun

Evan Braun Motivation Publishing The Writing Life 5 Comments

The Fan Club On the evening of November 7, a small group of readers gathered at my parents’ home to hear the first reading from my new book, The City of Darkness. This was the pre-launch, and it was reserved not for close friends but rather the people who had responded the strongest to the first novel in my ongoing series, which had been released two years earlier. (An unconscionably long gab between books, by the way, but that’s a subject for a different post.)

It was an interesting mix, to say the least. If I had merely invited close friends and family, this would have been a very different sort of evening from what it turned out to be. We would have snacked and visited… and yes, had a few drinks. We would have talked a little bit about the book, I would have shown them the cover art, and then we would have moved on to other subjects. It would have been comfortable.

Not that it wasn’t comfortable. It certainly turned out that way. But this was a combination of people unlikely to get together for any reason except to discuss my book. Over wine and cheese, they peppered me with insightful questions about the plot and characters, about where the story was heading, about how many books I would publish in the series and when they would be released. It was heady and strange.

At some point in the evening, one of the guests sidled up to me and remarked, “How does it feel to have your own fan club?” I smiled politely and waved her off. This was no fan club. A book club, kind of, but a fan club? Movie stars have fans. J.K. Rowling has fans. Me? I have a few readers, sure, but…

Thankfully, I knew better than to say any of this out loud. As I walked away, I realized how wrong I was. My self-deprecating side had shown up right on cue to downgrade the compliment, but the more I thought about it, the sooner I realized that these were my fans. And all I had done to accumulate them was write a book, and then another book. Some of these people had known me for years, and others I really didn’t know at all, but they all had one thing in common—their appreciation for my writing.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. What a powerful gift it is to have readers—and not just any readers, but sharp and intelligent and engaged readers.

Well, my fan club is small, but I am so grateful for what they have given me. It’s now impossible to do any kind of writing without thinking about them, and the thought of them spurs me to write faster. And hopefully better. When I’m sitting on the couch watching TV, the thought invariably occurs: I should be writing. These people are waiting for me, and I shouldn’t make them wait a moment longer than necessary.

Just two nights ago, all of my marketing efforts culminated in my actual launch. It was held about forty-five minutes away from the small town where I live, at a big bookstore. I had worked hard to ensure an exciting turnout. My fans, too, were exerting a lot of pull to draw people in. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that they were willing to do all this legwork for me, but nonetheless, the work got done, and I could sense that the launch was going to be a big success.

When I woke up on Wednesday morning, all ready to do my final preparations—practice my reading, gather my notes, decide what to wear, etc.—I heard the sound of a keening wind outside my bedroom window. My heart began to race as I ran to the front door and looked outside. Snow, snow, everywhere snow. There was a storm advisory. More than a foot of snow had already accumulated on my driveway, and I knew it would be hopeless to try backing out of the garage through it. Worse: I knew it might be hopeless to drive forty-five minutes through open countryside to get to my launch. Even worse: Assuming I could get there, would anybody else brave the trip?

Over the day, the emails and Facebook messages poured in: “So sorry, Evan. I was planning to come, but I’m snowed in! Good luck this evening!” After about a dozen of those, I was good and truly discouraged. I wanted to hide in a dark corner and just forget the whole thing. How embarrassing it was going to be to venture into this big venue and sit in an empty room after months of preparation.

But I practiced my reading, anyway. I gathered my notes. I decided what to wear. And I made the drive, though it took a bit longer than usual. Certainly, the turnout would be down from what I had anticipated. I feared being alone. I feared being a complete failure.

Well, the turnout was down from my original expectations. Down by two-thirds. Maybe more. But something wonderful also happened. As the minutes ticked by and I waited nervously, people started to arrive. First just a handful, then a dozen, then two dozen. Three dozen. Four. On an evening when I didn’t think anyone would care enough to brave some of the harshest winter conditions imaginable, more than fifty people came. And among them were so many members of that fan club—not to mention many new members, who will surely be invited to my next pre-launch soiree. A few feet of snow, high winds, and barely navigable roads weren’t enough to stop them from having to wait even one more day to read my book.

Talk about humbling!

I’ve often said that writing is reward enough. If need be, I would write for the sole purpose of entertaining myself. I’ve said those things and I will continue to say them. But as of today, I can say a new thing: from now on, I don’t have to write just for myself. I’ve got a fan club—and they have my back.

The Friends Who Stayed

December 5, 2013

mary

The Writing Life 3 Comments

“If you don’t need to be a writer, don’t.” I’ve heard this advice and found more than a little merit in it: writing as a career involves long hours, hard work, constant uncertainty, and sometimes worse.

Sometimes, it hurts.

When I went to Superstars in 2010, having come to a point in my life where I no longer found fanfiction fulfilling and hoped to create and sell original stories, I was working a night-shift security job, 11 pm to 6 am. My duties were simple: assist customers who needed help, answer the phone, and tour the building once an hour. The rest of the time? Do what you like, as long as it’s quiet and keeps you awake.

Writing fit the bill. So did role-playing, and social media, and chatting online, and all sorts of other things. I had time to burn, time in which I got paid, wrote thousands of words each night, had an active online social life, and still had family time on my off hours.

This whole scenario changed when I took up an office management job. Suddenly, every hour of my workday was spent…doing work. I no longer had long swaths of paid time when I had nothing else to do. Suddenly, writing and socializing were in direct competition with family time and housework.

Suddenly, sacrifices had to be made.

I didn’t want to be a hobby writer. I didn’t want to be that person who only writes when he feels like it, or who puts writing at the bottom of her to-do list and wonders why she never gets around to it. I had to carve out dedicated writing time to focus on my goals. That meant I had a lot less time for role playing and marathon video-game sessions and movie-watching parties and fandom.

Yes, I lost friends.

Friends who felt I wasn’t giving enough to the friendship. Friends who complained that I wasn’t available enough, that I was too hard to get ahold of. Friends who thought I wasn’t any fun any more. Friends who didn’t understand when six-hour visits turned to one-hour visits.

There was a point when I was on the verge of asking myself whether writing as a career choice was worth it. Maybe I should do what other people did, work my 9-5 and let my evenings and weekends be my own. Maybe I should be a hobby writer, get my friends back and spend my spare time hanging out and chilling out. Was it worth being a writer if I lost touch with everyone I cared about?

Then I made a list of who stayed.

My husband stayed. My best friend stayed. Several of my online role-playing friends stayed, telling me that “no game was more important than real life” and that they supported me. We’d play more slowly, that was all, posting every few days instead of multiple times a day.

A former co-worker and some local friends stayed, telling me that yes, they absolutely understood that I had a previous writing commitment when I couldn’t accept a last-minute invitation or declined to attend an event. And no, they didn’t stop inviting me to things. They just understood when I had to say no. It wasn’t about me not liking them any more, or losing my previous interests, or “getting an attitude.” It was about me having a job, just like they did. A job that sometimes has to come before fun.

When I looked at the list of people who stayed, I realized that I wasn’t driving away the most important people in my life.

I still miss some of the friendships and good times that my writing career has cost me, but I know that I still have the people who care about me and support me.

This Yule Solstice, I’m thankful for the people who stayed. For the friends who stood by me when writing became a job, not a hobby. For the people who understand when I have to put in the long hours. You are the reason this need of mine hasn’t cost me everything else I care about. Your understanding–and support–is my greatest gift.

Backing

December 4, 2013

Colette Black

Business Colette Black Marketing Publishing Starting a Career No Comments

I had a long list to think about when presented with this month’s theme: The Greatest Gift I’ve Received as a Writer. Numerous people have helped me along my chosen path, giving me the kind of gifts you don’t buy with money, but with time. There have been a lot of conventions and seminars, paid for from our family budget in lieu of my birthday or Mother’s Day presents, which have influenced my direction as a writer. But the most recent gift I’ve received, and the most touching, has been the support from friends, fans, family, and even strangers in supporting my recent Kickstarter project to publish Noble Ark. Not because of the money.

The gift of friendship: The fact that within minutes of announcing the project, I had my first two backers, both of whom pledged for the highest-cost items, left me dumbfounded. Both people are friends and fellow-writers, I don’t think either cared about the reward, but they wanted to support my efforts and jumped at the opportunity to do all they could. I have amazing colleagues and friends.

The gift of fans: One of my beta readers has become particularly encouraging about my work. Not only did she pledge for the Kickstarter, wanting all the books in the series when it’s finished, but she also asked if she could do preliminary editing. She reads a lot, and the fact that she considers my books to be among the best she’s ever read, let’s just say, I feel the love.

Family and the Widow’s Mite: Of course, my family stepped in, and some of my family members contributed in huge ways. The amounts didn’t matter, but I know that some of them have very tight budgets right now. My children could have waited until the books were finished, buying them at cost, but didn’t. My oldest son, living in the Ukraine, found the Kickstarter and donated funds he didn’t have. My oldest daughter, in college, threw in funds as well (though I’m not sure if that means it was her money, scholarship money, or my own money coming back to me). Perhaps the most touching, my twelve year old spent the last $7 in her spending-money account–and she doesn’t get much–to show her support. I can’t easily express my reverent appreciation for the people who sacrificed, despite their difficult economic challenges, to show me encouragement. I’m in awe.

Strangers: One of the funnest aspects of the Kickstarter was having total strangers contribute, sometimes finding me on fb and asking to join my fan page. How cool is that? I’m eager for the opportunity to put my book in their hands, hoping they’ll love what they read as much as I love writing it. They give me hope that someday my writing can reach beyond my small circle of friends and family, and be read by people around the world.

The best gift of all that came from my Kickstarter was not the funding, but the belief in myself and the path I’m pursuing. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? As they say in The Polar Express, “BELIEVE.”