News such as this is disappointing and disheartening. First, the boat sank before it ever left the harbor; second, I didn’t even know the ship had been built before it sank. (Many apologies for the terrible analogy). On the same note, this is equally unnerving.

Partnerships are hard. I speak with experience because the project I currently call my own has been in many iterations before this one. Some of them have been begun with partners only to find that someone isn’t as dedicated about the idea or even as knowledgeable as they initially claimed. It’s disappointing. It can also be costly.

The lack of professionalism displayed here is beyond reproach. Gabe Chouinard you should be ashamed.

I think the sheer fact that there have been multiple places that seemed to have waited and watched for this idea to sink was shocking. To me there seems to be a lack of community in such a situation. If one man bails, and there are others there to watch the remaining survivor drown, why do they wait on the shore? It just seems a little . . . well . . . disappointing.

I wouldn’t say that these people have been unprofessional (please don’t come around my village with pitchforks), but I will say that there are plenty of other people who could have stepped up to help Mr. McCalmont out in this situation. I think his project is worthwhile, and I think there is a place for it in the speculative fiction community – both for readers and writers alike. I think there’s a serious need for it, too, in the network of editors out there. There are a lot of people who like good stories, but there aren’t a lot of good editors (meaning, those people who have a truly firm grasp on the intricacies of the English language) who are able to critically analyze fiction. this project seems to have been geared towards those people.

Andrew Wheeler will be keeping watch over the situation that surrounds the magazine. I, too, will be keeping a close eye. Best of luck to you, John.

The experience of being an editor is unique. I think many editors feel like people are watching over them – waiting for them to find the next Dickens, or Hemingway, or Vonnegut. It’s a tough business; all we’re trying to do is find good stories. It’s the writer’s job to go out and make a name for himself (or herself).

Writing, just like any other craft, takes a great deal of refinement and honing to truly bring a piece to perfection. Most writers – even good writers – only ever succeed in creating a body of good to very good works. It’s a monumental task to try to sit and write a story that is what critics would say is “classic”. If that’s what you’re going for, though – if that’s what you try to accomplish every time you sit down to write – then you’re in it for the wrong reasons. You should never pander to your audience just to make sales, because then you’re not writing for yourself, and you’re not furthering the art. Classics come in moments of brilliance, not in repeated efforts to produce material.

In the first round of submissions for the Staffs & Starships magazine I’ve begun, I discovered an alarming trend, one which I think can be rectified, but which has been tarnished by the lure of fast-paced film: too few people know how to end a story. It’s a simple piece of the writing process, but it’s one of the hardest parts of the story – outside of crafting a solid introduction.

Some of the biggest ideas that I see come across my desk are these:

• Revelation stories – those stories in which the main character reaches the end of the story and has some sort of epiphany about the situation he or she was in and realizes any number of things (the errors of his ways, the fault in society, etc.)
• Conversion stories – those stories in which the main character changes from the way she was in the beginning of the story; sometimes this can be coupled with the revelation story, but doesn’t necessarily need to be
• The resolution to the problem stories – those stories in which there is a solid, definitive problem and at the end of the story the main characters – or any number of other characters – produces a solution
• The slice-of-life stories – those stories that are really not complete stories; they are moments in time of the character presented and at the end the only thing that happens is that the moment is gone

Yet in all of these, the endings just don’t seem to suffice. Revelations come too late, conversions seem forced, or the resolution appears a bit too dues ex machina. It’s troublesome. I know, as a writer, that stories can get carried away, and I think that is what happens at times with these stories: the author thinks there is more to be told, when there is not.

Without going into a bitter rant, I will say this in defense of these authors: when I went to college, my creative writing courses did little to prepare me for the writing that I eventually produced. I learned how to critique, and I learned how to read, but I never really learned well enough how to truly craft a story. It comes with a lot of practice.

I am trying to get a bit of networking done, so I signed up for a Technorati account. If anyone is interested in adding me to their favorites, I'd much appreciate it.

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In a recent post I read, the author states rather matter-of-factly that it is an author’s responsibility to be more concise and honest with its readers than politicians. Now, while I agree with some of the political points he makes, I will ask this (of both myself and you, the reader): is it really the responsibility of an entertainer to be as politically conscious as politicians?

I have a few thoughts, some of it is in response to other comments.

First, as a writer – because I won’t claim to speak for any other type of entertainer – I don’t believe there is an obligation for me to write about things that affect my political affiliations or even to write about my affiliations in any capacity. I am here to entertain, to tell a story that others will enjoy.

I have only the duty to write a story that fulfills that requirement.

Second, as a writer of Science Fiction – a genre which has seemed to gravitate towards the politically charged for the past few decades – I tend to agree that we, as authors, are hoping to teach our readers something or at least bring up a solution to what might be a growing problem.

“. . . one of the points brought up was that authors should generally refrain from pontification and empty rhetoric and that we should use the events and actions in the story to demonstrate and illustrate how political acts influence society and people and what those effects will be.”

This I agree with, too. Too many people are unacquainted with the politics that guide their lives, and yet those same people are readers (or even writers). An author can be a valuable teacher in showing what could go wrong in a given situation regarding political decisions. Indeed, I believe many authors are very politically or socially aware and they use the venue of their art to get their ideas out to the world. We as writers want to be heard after all.

But is it our responsibility? Are we as writers held to a higher standard simply because there is an expectation of a realistic ending? In a way, I suppose, but I don’t believe that the politics that underlie the story are really the issue in that case. I think that it is the story itself. The politics could be a façade for all the readers know, but the story that surrounds them is what they want to be believable. If, in the end, the politics wins after a story about rising against ‘the authority’, then you’ve failed as a writer, not as a political commentator.

I think that politics and religion are two of the most debated topics in any society. As a writer, you have to be careful when approaching these subjects. Don’t shy away from them, but be certain that you stand your ground and know what you’re talking about. We do teach some – or perhaps enlighten them – but we have no responsibility to our readers politically, only a responsibility to tell a story that completes a thought.

When I receive a submission, I expect at least two things: politeness and professionalism. Politeness in the sense that someone will know my name, speak in very personal – but not overly so – language, and give me the respect of being the editor of the magazine they’re submitting to. Professionalism in the sense that when the submission is received, the guidelines have been followed.

On my end, I know who comes and goes, and I know who’s done these things. As for Jason – my Fantasy editor – he doesn’t always tell me these things. I do get them through the grapevine, though. It is disappointing that so many people that are interested in getting their work published don’t take the time to look through guidelines – or even ask questions when they arise – to make their chances that much better with an editor.

Most people are polite enough to address me or Jason as “editor”, which is fine. However, I have received feedback from authors that was a little less than acceptable on my scale of politeness and professionalism. Most of the stories I’ve received and turned away are based on just not fitting with the idea I have for my premier issue. Some, though, are stories that were just not good. One of them in particular wasn’t even Science Fiction, and I told the author this when I sent it back. The response: “then you don’t know what Science Fiction is, and you shouldn’t be an editor”.

Now, someone might have that opinion of me – or of anyone else – and that’s fine, but you don’t tell the editor that. You get blacklisted, and believe me, they have. It’s just terribly unprofessional and extremely rude.

When you’re speaking to someone via email or chat, you have to keep in mind that the beauty of tone or inflection is completely lost. Your words have to be carefully chosen. The last thing you want to do is offend the one person that has the power to toss your story in the trash. Or even worse – as is the case with this author – start spreading the word about his poor choice of response to a rather truthful rejection. The article mentioned above isn’t related to this topic specifically, but it’s relevant nonetheless. People need to watch what they say in a medium without the privilege of a voice.

As I mentioned last week, submission guidelines for a press are not there as arbitrary rules to annoy the author. They’re put in place to streamline the process of getting your story back to you or published as quickly as possible.

Some quick rules – and I believe most editors would agree with them:

1. Always be polite
2. Always be professional
3. Follow the guidelines
4. Know your market
5. Never be argumentative with an editor

At the last meeting of the Milwaukee Writers Workshop, the lot of us sat together and wrote down the goals that we’d like to set for our writing for the rest of the year. Some of us extended beyond that, but most stuck to December 31st. It’s a useful tool, in my opinion, because instead of only having the goals in your mind, you have them in your group’s mind, and they can be your support in times of trouble or a kick in the pants if you’re feeling a little unmotivated.

One of the goals that I set for me was the send a story for submission once a month at least. At the moment, it should be relatively easy, as I have a number of unpublished works that are polished, and I can send those out. However, it forces me to think of the future when those stories won’t be able to be sent out (no simultaneous subs at most places), and I have to write new material.

In preparation for said submissions, I’ve been going through the host of my work and formatting all of my stories to fit with the most common format standard: Times New Roman, 12-point font, with double spacing.

Why the formatting?

When I was just a writer, trying to get my name out there, I thought the idea of formatting was just a way to weed people out (and it is to some extent). Now that I’ve worked on the other side of the fence, I understand some of the reasoning behind it.

1. It does weed out those people who know how to follow guidelines and those who don’t. When you’re looking through 50 submissions, and there are 10 that haven’t done that, then you breeze through your slush pile a lot more quickly.
2. Using strange fonts makes a story harder to read, especially if it’s midnight, and you haven’t had any coffee.
3. Also, if everyone has the same font and setup, then everyone is on equal ground. It’s better to give yourself that foothold and lessen your chances by not following the rules.
4. It makes it easy if you have all of your information in multiple places. Editors can get distracted (and things can get thrown away), and it’s beneficial to have contact information at the ready if the need arises. If we don’t know your name, then how can we pay you?

It’s not a standard meant to aggravate people. It’s there to make things go more smoothly, because the quicker you get word back about your submitted story – the better. Having the formatting makes it easier, as an editor, to do that.

So what are some of your goals? Do you have any? Post some of yours in the comments. It’s always good to have a community to support and advice.

I seem bent on rants lately, but this is something worth some merit. Within the short span of three days, a few bits of information have come out. The links are posted below, but first I must say: what happened to professionalism?

1. First, there was this.
2. Then, I saw this.
3. Which obviously led me to this.

So I repeat: is there some professionalism in the house?

Now, I have only been in the business for a little over two years, but it seems to me that there has been a steady decline in the quality of publication within the larger houses for some time. I’m all about big names with catchy titles – it’s good marketing; however, there is a sincere difference between marketability and quality writing. To have both is pretty stellar.

It’s in poor taste to pull something like HarperCollins/Spectra did to Paul Kearney, though. Not every book is going to be a best seller; not every best seller is really all that good. If a book doesn’t do well, can you blame the author? What happened to the publicist? Why don’t they can him, so they can find someone better to promote the author’s work? That’s what large houses used to do. Now, it’s up to the author to go out and find a publicist who can do the best for their book. Isn’t it the author’s job to write the thing? If I have to also work on marketing it, promoting it, advertising it – all on top of writing it – then I might as well open my own print house and cut out the people just doing the printing.

To the second posting – the blog article – I only have this to say: corporate enterprise doesn’t mean corporate greed. Yes, there are a lot of large companies that are that way, but the precedent that Simon & Schuster is setting is very bad form. For anyone who wants to make real money as an author, the big companies are the only way to go and if they’re going to start pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, then the quality of literature as a whole will decline because the good authors will seek to keep their soul and publish elsewhere.

As a side note, there’s always the option of a university press. If there’s a group of people you can at least put some trust in, it’s educators.

Lastly to Simon & Schuster: you’re kidding, right?

You’re going to keep an author’s work indefinitely – even if you stop printing it – just so you can retain sole custody of it. That’s like holding someone hostage even after a ransom has been paid; in this case, the ransom is author’s work. What about short stories to some of the big publishers like The New Yorker or Reader’s Digest? If they decide to do the same thing that Simon & Schuster have done, then the profits that an author can get from reprints is gone. A lot of authors wouldn’t be where they are now if it weren’t for reprints. Again, it’s just bad form and sets a very bad standard that others might very well follow.

Ok, end of rant. Oh, wait, nevermind, one more thing: the US Postal Service wants to do good by the small press industry, too, by raising periodical rates. Be sure to do what you can to nix that.

Now I’m done.

For my full-time job, I work in the print industry doing blueprints. So every day I work with mostly architects and engineers. These are people who have gone to school for a considerable number of years and are very learned people. However, going through a piece of material that they sent across my desk yesterday, I was stunned by something: terrible grammar. In just one bit of text – giving information on materials to be used in the building of some structure – the grammar was atrocious.

And I quote:

Aluminum: provide alloy, and temper, recommended by aluminum producer, and finisher, for types of use, and finish indicated, and with strength and durability properties for each aluminum form required, not less than that of alloy, and temper designated below.

There were two reactions I had to this. 1) Where was the proof reader when this was put to print? 2) Am I in such a position to be able to tell them that their wording of things is terrible?

The answer to the second one was ‘no’, so I decided to make this post.

Grammar says something about how you present your work and your person. If you’re a professional, and you don’t take the time to go through a piece of material to make certain that it sounds good, that it’s not ambiguous, and that it’s all-inclusive, then you’re doing your company a disservice. And while most businesses are able to have someone edit and proofread in-house, some aren’t. It may cost some extra money, but when in doubt, hire out. If your company needs something to be presentable, and it doesn’t have an in-house editor, it’s better to get it done professionally and pay the money, then to risk someone with only limited knowledge of grammar to try and fix any mistakes.

Editors are important. A great many people look at editors as being bottom-feeders, eager only to try and capitalize on pointing out errors that may or may not be in someone’s writing. Anyone who has decided to be an editor has done so because he or she has spent a considerable amount of time in and out of school learning the intricacies of the English language. And while most people would be able to point out that something may “look funny” with a misplaced comma, they can’t rightly say why it’s wrong. If you can’t explain why it “looks funny”, then are you certain it’s wrong?

It’s good form to have business material look clean and polished. Most businesses are smart enough to have a qualified person able to make that happen. For those companies that don’t, there are people like me.

Oh, here’s what that paragraph should look like:

Aluminum. Provide alloy and temper recommended by aluminum producer and finisher for type of use and finish indicated and with strength and durability properties for each aluminum form required not less than that of alloy and temper designated below:

No commas necessary.

One of my regular blog reads is Freelance Switch. It’s a good site with a number of good tips and resources, as well as links to various other blogs or articles that are of great use. It kind of depends on what you’re looking for, though. The other day, Cyan (a pen name), posted a few links to other sites – as they typically do.

One of them caught my eye – mostly because of this:

5. Assuming a signed contract will be honored.

I’ve made this mistake more than I care to admit. I’ve had signed contracts with supposedly reputable corporations, and they weren’t worth squat when the CEO decided he wanted out of the deal, even for completely dishonorable reasons. Sure I was in the right, but did I want to go to court to enforce it? No, I’d rather continue doing meaningful work.

A signed contract is just a piece of paper. What’s behind a signed contract is a relationship. If the relationship goes sour, the contract won’t save you. The purpose of a contract is to clearly define everyone’s roles and commitments. But it’s the relationship not the paper that ultimately enforces those commitments. When I understood this, I focused more on relationships and worried less about what was on paper, and my business deals went much more smoothly. [...]

The italicized portions are what concern me the most. Now, one must first take into consideration that this is written about software contracts having been breached, but it certainly applies to anyone else who works freelance and works on a contract basis.

Here’s why it bothers me: why sign the contract – or for that matter use one – if you’re not going to enforce it when the buyer (meaning the person you’re working for) breaches it? A contract isn’t just a statement of who’s who and what they’re doing; it’s a means for a freelancer to back up their claim if someone decides to stiff them. It’s a vital part of a freelancer’s life.

In my contracts, I have a clause that specifically states what happens if the buyer backs out of the contract without following the necessary means. If your contract doesn’t have this, then you’re seriously handicapping yourself as a freelancer. You always – always – want to have a way to support yourself when something goes wrong. Because it can and will happen.

Yes, people will screw you over sometime. Yes, you will have to suck it up sometime. However, if – when the time comes – you sit around and just say “it’s not worth the effort”, then you’re saying that neither is your time or your skills. We know that’s not true.