Tag Archives: David Carrico

It’s a Book Review! (Fictorian Style)

I love comics.  And one webcomic in particular has hit the top of my list:  Girl Genius, by Phil and Kaja Foglio.  (If you haven’t tried it, go here.  I’ll wait.)

All of which is prelude to this review of the first volume of the novelization of the comic:  Agatha H. and the Airship City, by Phil and Kaja Foglio, published last year by Night Shade Books.  (Note that the authors are the same creative team that produce the webcomic.)

 

 

First, what it is:  the whole Girl Genius story universe is a fantasy/steampunk extravaganza, laid in what appears to be an analog of late 19th or early 20th century Europe, if you squint your eyes really hard.  There are all kinds of glorious brassy machines of all sizes, incredible monsters of all descriptions, and mad engineers all filled with the Spark, which enables them to create all of these crazy beasts and contraptions.  So it reads a bit like a three-way mash-up of The Prisoner of Zenda and Jules Verne and The Three Stooges.  Slapstick, oh my.  And Murphy’s Law appears to be a universal constant in this universe also:  whatever can go wrong, will.  And at the worst possible moment.

High hilarity is the result.

Now my experience of novelizations of original visual and graphic works has been very disappointing in the past.  But I finally broke down and read this one, and was very pleasantly surprised.  Perhaps because it was written by the creative team that writes the comic instead of by some outsider “adapting” the comic, it captures the flavor of the comic very well.  It does an astonishingly good job of telling the webcomic story arc that it parallels.  And almost all of the balancing-on-a-high-wire suspense and riding-a-speeding-car-down-the-mountain-road-with-no-brakes pacing makes the transition to text extremely well.

Second, what it isn’t.  It’s not dark, or depressing, or grim.  It gets a little tense from time to time, and it’s a little bloody, but most of the blood is green, so that doesn’t count.  It’s just a lot of fun.  I think we need to be reminded as writers that not everything we write has to be apocryphal, apocalyptic, or tragic.  There’s a place in the market for books like this, and kudos to the Foglios for writing it and to Night Shade Books for publishing it.

There’s not much of a way to tell you more about the story itself without committing major snerks, so let me just say that underneath the fun is some well-plotted writer’s craftsmanship.

Okay, so what did I as a writer find illuminating about the writer’s craft in this book?

First of all, I think it’s an excellent model of how to maintain a high energy breakneck pace in a long story.  It’s 264 pages long in hardback, and when I closed the cover I felt like I’d been on a killer roller coaster ride.  I think we could all get some pointers from that.  The writers just never let up on the pace.

Second, as mentioned above, even missing the mugging and double-takes possible in the comic, it’s still genuinely hilarious.  And it’s consistent in its humor as well, which is much harder to do than you might think, especially in a novel-length work.  I’ll be looking back at it for some hints on how to handle humor, as well.

Third, a negative lesson:  there is a class of characters in the story who are presented to the reader with a heavy generic Eastern European/Russian accent spelled phonetically.  I stumbled over this.  I’d have to stop and sound out the words to figure out what they were saying.  This reinforced in me the teaching I first got from one of L. Sprague deCamp’s essays, that dialect and accents need to be treated very carefully, otherwise it can interfere with the readability of the story.  If they had it to do over again, I would suggest to the Foglios that they lighten up on the dialect.  But with 11 years of producing the comic behind them, it’s a bit late for that.  Nonetheless, that was my only problem, and it wasn’t nearly enough to make me quit reading.

To wrap it up, all in all a well-crafted and enjoyable read, suitable for adults and YA as well.

Enjoy!

P.S. – The sequel, Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess has just been released, also from Night Shade Books.

I Haven’t Given Up

The writing business is in an incredible turmoil right now.  It has been for a long time, actually.  And right now, there are doom-sayers and prognosticators all over the place predicting that traditional publishing is on its last legs and the only way to go is independent self-publishing.  Some of them are experienced writers who are intelligent and articulate (see Lawrence Block, or any of a series of posts at According to Hoyt, for example); others, not so much.  Myself, I’m a bit of a skeptic.  If someone indicates he knows for sure what the publishing industry is going to look like in ten years, I put my hand on my wallet.  If he says he knows for sure what it will look like in five years, I put both hands on my wallet, because sure as death and taxes, the next statement will probably be something like “And here’s an opportunity for you to get in on the ground floor of the New World Order.”  Heh.  Lord knows my spam bucket catches enough “we want to publish you” emails to prove that point.

Moving on.  I’ve been trying to crack the fiction traditional publishers’ Newbie Wall since 2002.  My first hardback anthology story was published in 2006 by Baen Books, with five more since then.  My first novel, a collaboration with Eric Flint, was just turned in to the publisher, Baen Books in April 2012.  I’m not sure I can say I’ve arrived, but I think I can see the station from here.  (And “arrived” does not mean I’m a name.  It just means I’ve got solid professional credits.)  So my perspective on all this may be a little different from either an established author with an extensive back-list or a struggling newbie yet to make a “professional” sale.

In my skepticism, do I think traditional publishing will survive?  Yes, I do.  There are a lot of people out there who derive an almost physical pleasure from sitting down with a physical copy of a good book anticipating a pleasant evening of reading (myself included), and I think those folks are going to continue to demand hard copy books.  And at this point, I’m not sure that the economies of scale for print-on-demand technology are going to prove truly competitive.  I think the jury is still out on that.

Will traditional publishing survive in its current form?  No.  I think the next ten years will force traditional publishers to find a different business model.  But I do think that there might be a few publisher names you recognize still in business in ten years.  However, I can guarantee that they will be doing business in a very different way.  Forget the governments; Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Apple will force them to it, one way or another.

Do I think traditional hard copy books will survive?  As I stated above, yes, I do.  However, I think the days of the 200,000 copy best-sellers are singing their swan song as I write this.  Once publishers adopt reasonable pricing for e-books and drop the DRM security, which I think they will be forced to do by market and legal pressures in the not-too-distant future, I suspect the sheer convenience of e-books will drive the sales of e-books up, consequently forcing sales of hard copies down.  (But that opinion and $5 will get you a Starbucks coffee.)  What I think will happen is independent publishers like Baen and small publishers like Subterranean Press and Nightshade Books will continue making hard copy books for readers who are dedicated to their offerings and programs.  Surviving big name publishers, if they can get divorced from the bean-counters who are killing them, may do something along those lines as well.  200,000 copies?  No.  500 – 5,000 copies?  Yes.  Maybe by subscription only, but still there.

But what does this mean for the writer?  Do we totally abandon the traditional publishing approach as so many are advocating?  Do we totally embrace the independent self-publishing model?  Do we reject it and cling to the traditional model?  Or does the truth lie somewhere in between those two extremes?

Regardless of what you think, any realistic assessment of the near-future industry is going to contain e-books and a substantial amount of self-publishingThat topic has been and is almost continually being addressed in blogs all over the web, including right here at The Fictorian Era this month.  But what about the writers who still have a desire (for whatever reason) to make it in the traditional publishing world, to see hard copy books with their names on the covers?  What are their options?  Limited, but they all have a common element, and that is getting the author’s name out there somehow in the traditional world.

To do that , I think the future successful new author will have almost certainly have to build a resume of self-published work to serve as a door opener that shows the following:  number of works published, how quickly they were produced, samples of quality, and statistics of sales volumes over time-not just the initial surge, but the longevity of the sales.  Whenever you’re around other significant writers, or editors, or publishers, have those files (constantly updated) on your phone or your tablet, accessible at a moment’s notice, ready to e-mail or present if someone asks for them.  And work on your verbal presentations:

  • The elevator speech:  what can you say in 15-30 seconds that will intrigue an editor or publisher or significant writer with your ideas enough to say “Come with me,” or “Call me tomorrow.”
  • The expanded elevator speech:  1-2 minutes.
  • The conversation.

You never know when an opportunity may arise.  Be ready.

Here’s one final thought:  I found my publishing route by participating in Eric Flint’s grand fan-fic experiment, where he allows anyone who has the desire to write and submit stories in his Ring of Fire universe, the best of which are selected for publishing in the Grantville Gazette e-magazine, with the best of the e-magazine stories selected for the Grantville Gazette hard copy anthologies.  So this is a blended electronic and traditional approach, and it’s produced a number of writers, myself included, who have cracked the Newbie Wall from that platform.  Eric’s approach is unique (although I hear rumors that Thieves’ World may be contemplating something similar).  But the idea of finding some kind of existing program or co-op that has an established presence and fan base may have some merit.  Star Trek/Star Wars/Harry Potter don’t qualify, but there may be something else out there.  Look for it.  Again, the goal is to get your name on the cover of something that will serve as a credential to a traditional publisher, whether New York or small house.

So, that’s my thoughts.  They may be good prognostications, or they may be as wildly out in left field as the flying cars that were predicted in 1950’s science fiction.  It will be interesting to look back in five years or so and see how they stack up.

Anatomy of a Collaboration

I recently passed a milestone in my professional career as a writer.  I collaborated on a novel with Eric Flint, and the manuscript (well, the Word file) was just turned in to the publisher (Baen).  Unless the publisher changes the title, it should see print as 1636: The Devil’s Opera.  I’ve made professional level sales of several shorter works, but that’s the first full length novel (165,000 + words) that will come out with my name on it, second billing though it will be.  To say I’m somewhat exhilarated about this event would be a serious understatement.

When will it come out?  I don’t know for sure; possibly in late 2013, more likely in 2014.  There will be both a hard copy edition and an e-book edition from Baen.

What’s it about?  Well, there isn’t a short answer to that.  It’s a new alternate history story in the series that began with 1632, the first novel in the Ring of Fire series.  There are over five million words in print in that series right now, between the novels and the anthologies and the Grantville Gazette e-magazine issues, all dealing with how approximately 3000 residents of a blue-collar West Virginia town survive and thrive when they somehow get dumped back in 1631 Germany in the middle of the Thirty Years War.  This is just another episode in that extended story.  Most of the novels in the series roam all over Western and Central Europe:  large canvases, in other words, with correspondingly large time frames.  1636: The Devil’s Opera will be somewhat unique, in that it’s focused in a single location-the German city of Magdeburg-and it only covers a time frame of maybe four months.  And there’s something in it for everyone:  murder, music, boxing, financial irregularities, taverns and dives, tragedy, guns, humor, skullduggery and skullthumpery, more music, police procedural, a dog . . . oh, and a little romance as well.  If you like video allusions, there are resonances with Rocky, On the Waterfront, Wall Street, The Sound of Music, and NCIS.  Stay tuned; as soon as I find out, I’ll tell you when it’s going to be published so you can check it out.

Okay, enough about the book.  I want to spend a little time talking about what I learned during this collaboration.

Why authors collaborate should be a separate post, I think.  I will note that there are a number of different methods for collaboration in writing.  Almost all of them start out with the collaborating authors doing any requisite world building, outlining the story to be told, agreeing on major characters, etc.  Once all that preparatory work is done, the writing can progress in several different ways.

  1. For example, if sections of the novel require certain knowledge or expertise, one author may write certain parts while the other writes the remainder.  This approach seems to be most commonly used when both authors are of similar levels of skill.
  2. More commonly, one author will write the first draft, while the other author will do the second pass.  If one author is newer to the craft (like me), he will usually write the first draft while the more experienced/skilled writer (Eric) will do the final polish/draft.
  3. And sometimes one author will look at another and say, “You start,” and the story is built somewhat like a tennis match, with no prior planning to speak of and the authors volleying responses back and forth.  A lot of “letter” stories are actually written that way.

And all of those approaches require that one of the authors then do a second pass to tighten up the prose and smooth out any cracks or joints or bumps in the text.

So, yeah, I’m not ashamed to admit I was the junior author in this collaboration.  I’ll play second fiddle to Eric Flint any day.  And yeah, we used option 2.  I wrote the first draft.  I had a small group of alpha readers who I asked to give me feedback as I wrote it during a really rough spell in my life.  It took over a year to write a book that should have taken me no more than four months.  But I finally drove it to a conclusion, and gave the results to Eric.  There was some back and forth between us-he fixed some issues, I fixed some others- plus a final polish pass by Eric, and a round of beta readers in there somewhere.  I think it was the fourth draft that went to the publisher.

Now I definitely learned some things during the writing of the first draft.  I learned a lot more from Eric in the weeks that followed; watching over his shoulder as he worked and reworked the subsequent drafts.  I have a tendency to overwrite, so I expected him to throw away whole scenes and passages, but he really pitched very little, comparatively speaking.  Eric did add some new material, as well, but what he did a lot of was rearranging of the text:  moving blocks of text around, changing scene progressions and chapter structure and sequences.  For example, theoretically I knew that chapters don’t all have to be about the same length.  Eric made it real to me when he carved out single scenes from some of my existing chapters and made them chapters on their own.  Five hundred word scenes became chapters.  A single telegram became a chapter.  And along the way, I discovered this was a technique that would make a particular scene or elements in that scene stand out and be more memorable than they would have been had they been buried in longer chapters.  Just watching that exercise was worth the price of admission.

Paraphrased observations from Eric along the way:

  1. “If you’re going to write a murder mystery, it’s best to have the body on the first page if you can manage it.  It makes a great hook.”
  2. “For a modern mystery, if you want a gritty tone, the city needs to be one of the characters.”
  3. “For modern mysteries, tone down the melodramatic descriptions.  Modern mysteries work better if the descriptions and the speech tags are a little flatter than, say, fantasies.”  (I mentioned I tend to overwrite.)
  4. “You’ve crossed the line with this hero-he’s getting way too hard.  You’ll lose reader sympathy with him.”  (That one was about balance of characterization.)

Eric once told me that a novel collaboration requires almost as much work from him as if he had written the entire novel himself.  Because he’s the senior partner in most of the collaborations I’ve seen him do, that’s probably true.  However, I suspect the nature of his work in a collaboration is very different than when he is working a solo project.  From what I could tell in this collaboration, Eric spent much less time and energy in the creative part of the process and much more in the editing and revising part of the process.  And I suspect that, overall, he spends less personal time in arriving at the final product.

Setting aside polite modesty, my first draft was good.  Eric made it noticeably better.

1636: The Devil’s Opera by Eric Flint and David Carrico.  A novel that is different than either one of us would have written alone.  I’m proud of it.

I Read, Therefore I Am

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve found that one of the biggest drawbacks to being a professional writer is that all of the time I spend at the keyboard, or staring at the wall, or walking around in a seeming daze as I work out just how high up a tree I’m going to chase my character and how sharp the rocks that I throw at him are going to be-well, let’s just say that it really cuts into my reading time.  (How’s that for a first sentence?)  And that puts me on the horns of a dilemma, so to speak:  because I really really really want to write, and I also really really really want to read.

I’ve always been a reader, for as far back as I can remember.  Partly genetics-Mom was a pretty avid reader-and partly environment:  for a lot of reasons, I typically didn’t have many friends growing up, so I turned to books to fill the void.

I’ve said before that I came to a desire to write relatively late.  I was not someone who knew he was going to be a writer at age 8, or 12, or 18, or even 28.  But my reading prepared me for it nonetheless.  I estimate I’d read 2000-plus novels by age 21, and kept on at an increasing pace.  Somewhere along the way I soaked up a lot about writing, so that when I did finally begin writing, I had observed many examples of the craft, good and bad; all of which stood me in good stead.

When I finally did begin writing, I also began to read writers writing about writing.  It wasn’t too long before I ran into a comment that worried me:  an author stated that when he was writing a novel, he didn’t dare read anyone else’s fiction, because he didn’t want to run the risk of his work being affected by another author’s work and style.

I was new enough in the craft, and the author who made the comment was someone I liked well enough, that I accepted it as almost gospel.  I immediately tried to change my habits so that I only read non-fiction while I was writing.  And it didn’t work.  I don’t mind non-fiction-I occasionally go on non-fiction binges, in fact.  But I can’t live in non-fiction.  I can’t lose myself in a story in non-fiction.  So I kept sneaking away to some of my favorite authors and reading favorite chapters over again, feeling guilty, and all the while worried that I was somehow ruining my writing by doing so.  (Truth is, I wasn’t good enough to sell yet so it didn’t matter, but my mind didn’t know that.)

Then some time later, I read an interview with another author I liked who was asked if he read other fiction while he was writing novels.  His response was words to the effect of, “Sure!  Doesn’t everyone?”

Great relief!  My guilt evaporated, and I started enjoying fiction again while I was writing.  And the take-away I got from that experience was that there is no One True Way when it comes to writing methods and styles and practices.  Whatever works for me is what will work for me, and it may or may not work for you.  What matters is that we find what works for each one of us, and that we write.  To quote Kipling:

There are nine and sixty ways
Of constructing tribal lays,
And every single one of them is right!

So I still read lots of fiction.  Not as much as I used to, though, because the writing really does take away a lot of the time I used to devote to reading.  And sometimes when I’m reading I do still feel a little guilty, but it’s usually because I know I should be pounding the keys to finish my current project.

I’ve concluded that the reading provides the loam from which my stories sprout.  Or maybe a better metaphor is the reading is what the muse uses to charge up the batteries of my writing engine.  If I don’t read, I don’t write.

Pardon me; I just bought the latest novel by Elizabeth Moon.  I need to go charge up my batteries some more.