BookLifeNow

The Central Clancy Writer for Ubisoft/Red Storm, Richard Dansky  was named one of the Top Twenty Game Writers by Gamasutra in 2009. His game credits include Splinter Cell: Conviction, Outland, and Ghost Recon: Future Soldier. He is also the author of five novels, including Booksense pick Firefly Rain, and his short fiction has appeared in anthologies such as The New Hero, Don’t Read This Book, and Dark Faith.

  So here’s what you have to know about videogame writing. Unlike just about any other form of writing, videogame writing is not about the story you’re telling the reader. It’s about the story the player is creating by inhabiting the protagonist. What separates game writing from everything else is agency—the ability of the player to choose what happens next, even if the choices in question are limited to “do I use the big gun or the really big gun?” Comics, fiction, movies, television—the audience receives the narrative as the creator chooses to present it. Videogames, the user takes what the creator has done and builds their own story. Nobody ever says “Master Chief did this cool thing” after a hot and heavy game session. It’s always in the first person— “I did this."

In other words, you’re writing to help the player build their story, not to tell them yours. Rely too heavily on the player sitting still to hear your brilliance and you’ll lose those same players. They want to be playing, after all, not sitting there receiving your wisdom, or letting NPCs do all the cool stuff, or reading. If they want to do that, there are other media out there they could pick up instead; the point of a game, after all, is that it has a player, and that the player has choices.

That is, after all, the essence of play.

Writing for games also means you need to take gameplay systems into account in your writing and your plot structure. Sign on to write for a game that has a character advancement mechanic and you have to tell a story that reflects the player character’s growth in power. Sign on to write a game that starts with a character who doesn’t build skills and you’re writing an entirely different type of narrative. Level design, AI state changes, level load mechanics, mocap technology—all of these affect the sort of writing that you do, on a deep and fundamental level. It’s not just that the words matter, it’s how the words are delivered, and what systems exist to deliver them, and how those words interact with the systems that comprise the other elements of the player experience.

And if you can’t fit your writing into the data structures, if you can’t recognize that systemic dialog is there to be heard to provide information to the player and thus needs to be brief and to the point and willing to hold up to multiple listenings, then you’re not serving the player, and you’re not serving the game. Most of all, game writing is about writing something fun. Games are meant to be played, after all, and even the ones that carry weighty themes* —Shadow of the Colossus, for example—still must give precedence to the idea that they’re enjoyable to spend time with. If you don’t hold onto that quintessential need for joy, even in the darkest hours when you’re crunching and there are a thousand variants on “arggh he shot me in the face!” to write and a level design just changed so that you need to do a last-minute rewrite, then you’re shortchanging the player of joy as well, and that hurts the game.

So go. Play games. Have fun. And have fun when you write them, so that someone else can have fun, too.

*Obviously, there are games that are not intended to be fun per se, and many of them are remarkable creations. For commercial game writing, however, the vast majority of projects are created with the intention that the game will be fun, so lots of people will enjoy playing it, tell their friends, and get said friends to buy it as well.

Blogging consistently is hard.

It doesn't seem hard on the surface. Pick a topic, hammer out some words, spell-check it, call it a day. And to support this thesis, there are tonnes of blogs out there, on every single topic imaginable. Writing, art, money, knitting, the same picture of Dave Coulier every single day. And they seem to constantly have fresh posts daily, sometimes hourly, post after post about new topics, fresh advice, brand new content. Well, except for the Dave Coulier one, I guess.

With this overwhelming volume of words being put online, wave after wave, it might be hard for someone to continue their own blog. It's easy to ask yourself, "What's the point? Someone else has probably talked about this. They've probably talked about it better. Why should I cover it?" Or perhaps even the more insidious, "Who am I to even blog about this topic? Who on Earth would listen to me?" (I personally deal with this last one quite a bit.)

That first batch of questions, the one where you're wondering why blog about something someone else has likely blogged about before, has some weight to it. It feels right. Why duplicate information? It's all already out there.

But the thing is, sometimes it isn't. Or sometimes it is, but it's too old, too far back, people have forgotten about it. At the speed the Internet works, something that was new a week ago is already old news. And if it's a year old? Yeah, go right ahead, that thing needs a refresher. There are very few blog posts that really survive year after year. So go ahead and write about that subject again, with your own personal take.

Furthermore, when it comes to writing about writing, bear in mind: there are new writers coming up every day, who need to hear these things. They haven't read the blog posts. They haven't been around long enough to know what the veterans consider obvious. They don't know, but they want to know. And maybe you can be the one to teach them about the submission process, about editing, about contracts, about whatever a newbie must learn.

But what about that other question? The one that asks who are you to speak on such things?

Creative-types, we all know this voice. This is the voice of self-doubt. It haunts you in all the things you create, asking you who would care about this story you're working on, who would care to slough through these words. This story has been told before anyway. Nothing new under the sun. Who would bother to read yours?

This is a terrible voice which you have to ignore if you're going to get work done. Fear and self-doubt are killers of the creative process, and that includes blogging. If you worry about not being an expert on a topic, then do some reading, do some research. Draft your opinions and analyze them critically. Discuss them with others, to get feedback. If you put in the energy into developing a thoughtful opinion on a subject, whether through active effort or through experience, then you are exactly the person who should be discussing that topic.

Don't be shy about blogging. If you have a subject you feel passionate, disregard the fact that anyone else has done it. Contribute your voice to the conversation, share your own experience. And don't worry if you're the right person to discuss the subject. If it's on your mind, if you have thought-out opinions and clear, researched information, don't let doubt get in your way.

Originally posted at JeffVanderMeer.com. For information about the ReaderCon incident discussed below, see this collection of links.

SF Signal just posted a podcast dealing with the aftermath of the writer Genevieve Valentine being harrassed at ReaderCon, which included the fall-out from ReaderCon not following its own zero tolerance policy. The panel consisted of Stina Leicht, Mur Lafferty, Jaym Gates, and Carrie Cuinn with Patrick Hester asking the questions. Hester didn't do the best job in the world this time around, in my opinion, but the input from the interviewees is excellent.

One thing that came up during the podcast discussion was a report from a prior World Fantasy Con about an editor trading off of his influence to hit on women writers, especially up-and-coming writers where the power imbalance is very severe. The suggestion being, put up with this because I can help your career.

I mention this because I think it's important that every writer, beginning or otherwise, know that this is absolutely, terribly, awfully wrong and no one ever should have to put up with this kind of behavior. Or any lesser variant of it. And also that no one editor out there has enough influence to have a dampening affect on your career if you have to tell them where to go. And that most all editors out there will be horrified and pissed off to hear of such behavior by a colleague and want to punch their teeth through the back of their face.

Another thing that disturbed me in the account Genevieve Valentine gave concerned panels, and in particular one in which she was heavily condescended to by the male moderator. This is also not okay, should never be okay, and I don't think it's entirely out of bounds for audience members to address such an issue as it comes up—or other panelists to do so. The other general issue being men talking over women panelists, not listening to them, etc. Also not okay. Which should be obvious. (For my part, I tend to get into manic modes that sometimes coincide with being on a panel, and I will happily shut the fuck up if told to shut the fuck up, should I forget to stop going on and on. Although I also do try my best to self-regulate and be a responsible member of all panels I'm on - a good moderator is always appreciated in this regard, too.)

Monica Valentinelli is an author who lurks in the dark. She has over a dozen short stories out in the wild, two novellas, and more on the way. Recent releases include “Don’t Ignore Your Dead,” which debuted in the anthology Don’t Read This Book and Redwing’s Gambit, a science fiction adventure novella.

There are a few ways to shape the promotional plan for an anthology.

1) Editor - No guts, no glory. Editor is in the spotlight for the antho and all PR is shaped around him/her. He/she decides who he/she wants to spotlight.

2) Joint - Make a plan, then ask the authors to volunteer to take part in whatever efforts they wish. Usually best responses come if you can stick to one initiative at a time rather than wow-ing them with PR-ness.

3) Select - Pick your "named" authors who have the biggest audiences and primarily work with them. Yes, people do promote this way and yes, it's a fine line to walk. I'm of the mind that you never want to treat any author poorly -- because they'll remember you fondly the further they go in their career.

The Technical:

I cannot stress enough how important it is to use a calendar for book promotions. When you plot out when stuff will appear, you will be able to ensure you're getting the right coverage. Either a) drop the bomb ll at once b) eke it out slowly over time or c) both.

Sample ideas:

* Blog Carnival - This is basically a fancy way of saying on "X" day all of the authors write about something specific (e.g. interview questions, design notes, etc.) on their websites and link to everyone else. So you get 13 (15 if you add Publisher plus Editor) articles that all go live on the same day. It's content saturation and it has an effect on all boats.

* Interviews - Keep it small and you'll get a better response. Answer me these questions three usually works really well. See Maggie Slater and what she did for me here: Three Questions: Monica Valentinelli

* Link Bait Contest - So the anthology has the potential to reach outside of the gaming industry because it's about insomnia. Ask for people to share their experiences with insomnia to win a copy.

* Book Plates / Digital Signings - If you want to go crazy, create book plates for each author and send them twenty or twenty-five. If you want to go REALLY crazy, invite artists to design book plates based on their stories. Otherwise, offer a simple one for everyone that can be mailed around to get the authors'/editor's/publisher's signatures on them.

* Online Readings - Set up a Google+ Hangout where the authors read from their stories. They don't have to read the hole thing and you can stretch this out over several episodes.

* Story of the Week - Feature and promote a different member of the anthology team (Yep, this is how *I* roll!) for fifteen weeks. Many readers appreciate that sort of thing because they view anthologies as "samples."

Amy Sundberg is a writer of science fiction, fantasy, and YA. Her short fiction has appeared in places such as Redstone Science Fiction and Daily Science Fiction. She blogs regularly at The Practical Free Spirit and is currently working on a book about social media strategy for fiction writers. She lives in California with her husband and a ridiculously cute little dog. You can follow her on twitter @amysundberg.

Maybe your agent (or editor, or writer's group) has been pressuring you to start a blog, or maybe you’ve seen what other writers are doing with their blogs and become intrigued. Maybe you’re interested in building community or connecting with your readers in a closer way. Or maybe you already have a blog, but it collects dust most of the year or could use a reboot.

Here’s what you need to consider before getting started:

1. Commit. Decide up front on a period of time to really devote energy to getting your blog started. You won’t attract readers overnight, and if you’re revamping your blog, it takes time to feel comfortable with the change. It also can take time for you to find your own unique voice for the blog. I recommend committing to at least six months.

2. Assess your time and energy. Are you willing to devote the time and energy necessary to maintain a blog? Because if you absolutely hate the idea, you might be better off putting the majority of your online time into other social media platforms. Readers can tell if you’re dialing it in on a blog, at which point it might not be worth the time grudgingly invested.

3. Choose a platform. The two main blogging platforms right now are Wordpress and Blogger. Many writers use Wordpress.org because it can be incorporated directly into their author webpage. If you want to try blogging out and don't already have a blog-enabled webpage, you can start out with Wordpress.com and port all that content over to a future website that uses Wordpress.org when and if you need something fancier. Blogger is a bit simpler to get started on, if you find the technical aspects of beginning a blog to be intimidating.

4. Decide on a schedule. How often are you going to post? It doesn’t have to be every day, but you need to think of an ideal posting schedule before you get started. Be ready to adapt that schedule if it doesn’t work with the rest of your life, but otherwise, make your best effort to stick with the plan. When starting a new blog, it is often better to post at least once per week; two to three times a week is fabulous. More than once a day can be a bit much for some readers. When you have an already established blog with a loyal audience, you can dial back the frequency.

5. Keep a balance between promotional content and the main focus of your blog. It’s fine if you want to use your blog to promote your work: letting people know about your published stories, upcoming novels, exciting reviews, guest posts elsewhere, and scheduled appearances. However, if you are only ever talking about you, you, you, and buy, buy, buy. that can be a real turn-off to prospective readers. So keep a careful eye on how much time you’re talking about promotion vs. how much time you’re running other content that will interest (and maybe even captivate) your readers.

6. Let people know about your blog. It is okay to promote your blog. Otherwise, how will people know to read it? Make sure you include an easy-to-locate place on your blog where people can sign up to receive your posts via email and via an RSS feed. Let your Twitter, Facebook, and Google+ followers know when you have a new post. You don’t want to be obnoxious about it and post the same link several times, but one time (or two times on Twitter--some people like to tweet their blog post once in the morning and once at night) is perfectly okay.

7. Decide on your content strategy. This is one of the most critical steps in blog creation. Think about who your desired audience is, and then figure out ways in which you can add value to their lives. If you already have an established fan base for your work, your strategy will be different than if you’re a new writer just starting out. You also want to think about how you can make your blog original, the blog that only you could possibly write. For example, many writer blogs out there have very similar and repetitive content about writing. It's important to either find a niche for yourself within the writing blogs if your desired audience is other writers instead of readers (see Chuck Wendig's or Juliette Wade's blogs) or figure out what you can blog about that is not exclusively writing. (If you're having trouble wrapping your head around this idea, here is a primer to get you started.) Finally you want to consider what you’re comfortable talking about, what you’d prefer to keep private, and what tone you’d like to set in terms of appropriate behavior in the comments section (or if you even want comments).

We've only just begun the conversation about blogging, and about content strategy in particular. Blogging does require a certain commitment of time, energy, and willingness to experiment. But at its best, it can be quite a fulfilling and impactful experience.

Mercedes M. Yardley wears red lipstick and poisonous flowers in her hair. She has been published in several diverse publications, and her first short story collection will be released this fall. She is a member of the SFWA, the HWA, and is represented by Jason Yarn at Paradigm. Mercedes is the nonfiction editor of Shock Totem magazine. You can contact her at www.mercedesyardley.com or follow her on Twitter as @mercedesmy.

   

Success Is Like Lightning: Preparing Before It Strikes

The literary world is feast or famine.  Either you’re beating the bushes in order to drum up work, or you’re tied, screaming, to the front of a locomotive as it heads for a cliff.  I have seldom seen an author say, “Why, yes, I am absolutely comfortable with my satisfying, impeccably-balanced work load.”  When success strikes, it’s most likely going to hit fast.  You had better be prepared.

  Have your work ready to go.

It may seem fundamental, but you’d be surprised how many writers are still, and forever will be, in the process of writing.  I stumbled across my agent as a fluke, and had to pitch my novel on the spot.  He said, “This story is intriguing. Is it ready to submit?”  Not only was the novel polished and ready to go, but so were the query and synopsis.  It was in his inbox immediately after he requested it. Thank goodness I was prepared, because this gentleman is now my agent.

Have a marketing plan ready.

If somebody picks up your novel, you won’t have time to breathe, let alone plan a marketing campaign from scratch.  You’ll be hitting deadlines like a beast, so it would behoove you to already have your grunt work done.  Will you do book signings? Blog tours? Is travel a feasible option? Do you have any marketing contacts? This can all be roughly planned ahead of time so you can avoid your deer-in-the-headlights moment when life is at its busiest.

Collect ideas for your book launch.

When your editor shrieks out, “Go, kid, go!” you’re going to hit the ground running.  Having an idea of what you’d like to do for a book launch will save you time.  Not to mention that when you’re trying to make five million decisions in two days, you’re not going to be doing your best thinking.  Serving smelly fish sticks with paper mermaid tails at your launch probably isn’t your best idea, no matter how brilliant it seems at 2:00 am.

  Scout out other opportunities in advance.

Would you like to have your work considered for awards?  Are there grants or contests that you have in mind?  There are many small awards that have very specific criteria.  If you’re a Nebraskan writer of color coming out with a second book of poetry, for example, there may be a monetary award for you.  But will you have time to search this out when you’re coordinating your book launch?  No. This is the sort of thing that you find in advance and tuck away for later. Mark the application submission dates on your calendar so you can submit on time.  Even better, have your application mostly filled out in advance so you can just add the additional info. You’ll have enough on your plate during your feasting times, but it would be a shame to let these delightful opportunities pass you by. Work on them during your famine.

Remember you’re doing what you love.

When you’re down to the wire, the stress can get completely overwhelming.  It seems the things that normally mean the most to you and bring the most joy (your family, your book, and the things that you’re doing to get your work out there) become so heavy that they’re unbearable.  Don’t forget to take days off.  Don’t let the responsibility suck the beauty out of what is ultimately your moment.  Everything is a choice and you’re choosing to invest time in something you believe in, and something that will bring you happiness and fulfillment.

Deborah Lacy likes to collect handbags inspired by books and frequents speakeasies. She blogs at Mystery Playground and Criminal Element.

Writing excellent fiction is hard. This is an obvious fact to anyone who has attempted it.  Never fear because help is on the way. Many of the best crime fiction storytellers have left you clues to assist and inspire, if you know where to look. Here are a suggestions from greats in the genre.

“If you have a story that seems worth telling, and you think you can tell it worthily, then the thing for you to do is to tell it, regardless of whether it has to do with sex, sailors or mounted policemen.” — Dashiell Hammett

The king of the hard-boiled school of fiction, Hammett is best known for The Maltese Falcon and The Thin Man.  His Sam Spade character brought grit and the tough guy back into storytelling in a way that is still imitated today.  His stories didn’t shy away from tough subjects.

“There always has to be a lapse of time after the accomplishment of a piece of creative work before you can in any way evaluate it.” — Agatha Christie

Christie is not only known for her enduring characters, such as Hercule Poirot and Miss Jane Marple, but also for her intricate plots. Who can forget the precision of And Then There Were None where ten criminals are brought together on an island to be murdered one at a time matching a nursery rhyme? Or the serial killer in the A.B.C. Murders who sends a clue to Poirot before each killing?  If distance helped Christie hone this work, it could easily work for you.

More of Christie’s writing advice as well as details from her life can be found in her uncreatively titled autobiography, An Autobiography.

"Stories are nothing but mystery boxes" — J.J. Abrahms

A few years ago the king of the boffo premise, J.J. Abrahms — creator of Lost, Alias and the latest Star Trek movies — gave a great talk at the TED Conference where he compared storytelling to an unopened box (You can see the entire talk here). Abrahms talked about how once the box is open, the mystery ends and so does the suspense. He keeps an unopened box on his desk as a reminder. This is another way of saying – as you write, ask dramatic questions instead of answering them. Of course, in a traditional mystery readers will want to know the answers in the end.

"One thing that helps is to give myself permission to write badly. I tell myself that I’m going to do my five or 10 pages no matter what, and that I can always tear them up the following morning if I want. I’ll have lost nothing—writing and tearing up five pages would leave me no further behind than if I took the day off.” — Lawrence Block

A Grand Master of Mystery Writes of American, Block is known for his two series: one featuring recovering alcoholic Matthew Scudder series and the other featuring gentleman burglar Bernie Rhodenbarr. He’s won multiple Edgar, Anthony and Shamus awards and has published more than 50 novels and 100 short stories. He’s written five books for writers including Telling Lies for Fun & Profit. Block’s permission to let himself write badly gives way to him writing well and being prolific and has stopped writer’s block from stalling his writing career.

"A good story cannot be devised; it has to be distilled." — Raymond Chandler

Chandler’s masterpiece character, Philip Marlowe was carefully developed in novelettes for the BLACK MASK pulp magazine until he was ready to write his first novel, The Big Sleep.  All of those stories helped Chandler learn how to refine and reduce his work in a way that is still admired today.

(Best selling author of the Lincoln Lawyer and Blood Work, Michael Connolly agrees with this advice on revising.)

Chandler’s Phillip Marlowe character was strongly influenced by Hammett’s Sam Spade, and both have been often imitated. Even the late great Robert B. Parker said he modeled his most popular character, Spenser, after Marlowe. But as Spenser may have sprung from Marlowe, he quickly became his own man as Marlowe was his own.  It’s important as we take lessons from the greats that we use these ideas as a starting point for something new, rather than just copying what has succeeded in the past.

I’m a writer. I’ve been at it for as long as I can remember. Although you probably don’t know me, I’ll bet that you’ve read some of my stuff.

Growing up in the suburban wastes of Kansas City in the 1970s, most kids I knew spent their free time playing softball on the schoolyard lot off Mission Road. Others went fishing down at the lakes between Manor Road and Meadow Lane. Me? That wasn’t my thing. On a hot summer day, I loved nothing more than to stretch out on the carpet of my living room floor near the air conditioning vent and scribble all over the pages of a Big Chief tablet with a Flair pen until my fingers went stiff. I wrote all kinds of junk. The earliest piece I can remember writing was a fake brochure for some kind of rocket ship / Chevy van hybrid. I was eight years old at the time. It was a bi-fold brochure with color illustrations. I was pretty proud of myself then. Still am.

Although much has changed over the decades – my writing skills have improved, I think – I still write commercial copy. During the daylight hours, I write about lawn mowers and deburring machines and satellite TV. As I said before, you’ve probably read some of my stuff. Planned a trip to Louisiana for Mardi Gras recently? You’ve read my work. Frequent a popular dating website? That’s me too. Spend any amount of time online researching orthodontists, equestrian supplies, building materials, self-storage facilities, or high fashion? I wrote some of that stuff.  I run my own little “content development” company. We’re writers and bloggers for hire. After hours, I write supernatural horror and science fiction. The commercial copy pays the bills, and that’s what this article is really all about.

Since I subscribe to a number of writer’s magazines, I get a lot of junk e-mail about books, DVDs, and seminars where you can quickly learn “how to make a six-figure income writing advertising copy.” Let me say – right here and now – that some of you can. Most cannot. Sure, if you can string together words and phrases and clauses with a fair grasp of sentence structure, punctuation, and grammar, you have a talent that can command a fair income – if you know what you’re doing.

In this age where text-speak has spread like Ebola from cell phones to term papers to casual conversation, many under the age of twenty-five appear to be incapable of putting a convincing argument for one thing over another to pen and paper (my personal opinion, not that of anyone else here at BookLifeNow). And since most marketing – whether in print or online – is driven by written content, there’s a great need for those who can write well. But you have to know the rules – those rules above words and phrases and clauses. Marketing copy is not written like fiction or journalistic articles. I won’t go into deep detail here, simply because there isn’t enough room to spell it all out in a single blog article.

But I’ll give you a peek. Here we go.

1. If you’re writing copy that sells window treatments, roofing supplies, invisible braces, air handling units, bug and tar remover, party supplies, liquid face lifts, or financial products, you have to first identify your audience. Ask yourself: WHO would want this? If you can come up with an answer, you’re well on your way to some compelling copy.

2. Always write to the business purposes at hand. Your client wants to convince the market that they need to pick up the phone or fill out a form or set up an appointment. What you write must gently nudge the readers toward acting on this suggestion.

3. Keep it interesting, engaging, and brief. Most people can read about 350 words (a single page from a paperback novel) in about a minute. They read whole pages because they’re invested in the characters and story. As a writer of commercial copy, you have none of that to your advantage. The average time a reader will spend on any page of content on a website is a whopping 33 seconds. Interesting, engaging, and brief, yeah?

4. Sell! If you’ve never sold anything in your life (cars, computer software, shoes, whatever) you may not have the experience needed to craft compelling sales copy. Selling is more than listing features, advantages, and benefits. It’s about creating an emotional connection between your reader and the product. In sales, we talk a lot about building commonalities, discovering needs, leveraging pain points, and overcoming objections. And it all works beautifully – with practice. Lots of practice.

5. And you must sell without selling. If this sounds like some twisted Kung Fu technique, you’re right. You must strike without being seen. Truly compelling copy leads the reader to believe that their needs are in direct alignment with product features, advantages, and benefits. You can almost see them nodding their heads in agreement as they ponder the words on the page.

6. Learn to write for robots. Pick up a book on the basics of Search Engine Optimization (SEO). Online, everything is driven by search engines (Google, Bing, Yahoo!). Every piece you write for a website is going to be seeded with keywords and phrases and links. Why? Every search engine employs search bot software to scan every web page for its content and then adds that data to a searchable index. This is how the web works. If you’re writing a page about chocolate chip cookies, you’d better mention “chocolate chip cookies” a few times in the copy.

You can earn a living as a writer. Like many, I’ve had a number of cube farm jobs. Long ago, I decided that I was unsatisfied with corporate life and made a decision to bail. I spent years building a book of business for my content development company. I’m a full-time writer now. It’s a sweet gig but it has its drawbacks. When 5pm rolls around and you’ve been killing yourself to crank out 10,000 words for a plastic surgeon, it isn’t easy to switch gears and be creative. Somebody once said that the worst day job for a writer is as a writer. Some days, I fully agree.

Cheers!

I have been medicated for over a year now, to treat mental illness. I've been medicated in the past, but I said I was stronger than medication. I was better than that.  I was trying to write while enduring panic attacks, suicidal depression, generalized anxiety, manic highs and disorganized thoughts. Terrifying hallucinations.

I was coaching myself through a panic attack in a bathroom stall at the newspaper I was working at, when I decided I wanted to be able to actually eat lunch on my lunch break. Not hide in a bathroom stall having a panic attack. I had started to take honest, successful steps with my career. People were starting to hear my name. And I had fallen in love.

The way I saw it, my choices were to try treatment again, or keep losing the battle. If treatment was successful, I'd hold onto words, the love of my life, and actually start living. If I didn't get treatment, I was going to drown. I didn't have the mental or emotional bandwidth to keep going.  And you can only hide in a bathroom stall for so long.

That was in 2010. I've written through tapering off the pills that didn't work, through starting new medications, and the awful adjustment periods. There are entire phases of projects that are just a coloured smear of memory. They got done, but goodness knows some bits are fuzzy. If you're just starting medication, I can tell you that yeah, it's not easy, but it'll get easier.

Many of my peers, who are also your peers, are on medication. Slowly, some of them have started to be public about it. About being suicidally depressed. The blown deadlines. The litany of agony and self-medication many of us experienced for years. People I love and respect are medicated. They still struggle, but they use whatever resources they have to stay some measure of sane. And now that I have some small measure of success, and things I love and never want to lose...I emulate that. I do what it takes to stay healthy and sane. I am far from perfect or normal, but I don't spend every single day panicked, and every morning regretting that I didn't die in my sleep.

Sometimes success, even the start of it, crushes writers. I've lost friends to that moment, when their resources surpassed their ability to hold on.I nearly lost myself to that.  I was lucky enough to get treatment I needed before I could try a second time. The path back from that has not been easy.  I don't think it is easy, for anyone. I still struggle, often daily, to write around the remnants of an illness the pills cannot cure, to keep fighting through what they call incomplete recovery from my mental illness. But every day I sit down to my laptop, pop the cap on the bottle next to it, and take the pills.

I don't regret going back on medication. You couldn't pay me to give up my life, or the things I've written, since clearing that hellish fog.

Jason Heller is a Denver-based writer who contributes regularly to The A.V. Club and Alternative Press. His debut novel, Taft 2012, and his Pirates of the Caribbean tie-in, The Captain Jack Sparrow Handbook, were published by Quirk Books.  Heller is also the nonfiction editor of Clarkesworld Magazine.

In my alt-history novel Taft 2012, a fictional scholar named Susan Weschler—America’s foremost expert on William Howard Taft—is given her dream job: being an advisor to Taft after he wakes from a magical, hundred-year slumber and runs for president in 2012.

I wish I could say there was something of myself in Susan. But there isn’t. Before writing Taft 2012, I didn’t know a damn thing about Taft.

I did research, of course. As it turns out, Taft is one of our least chronicled presidents. That was part of the reason I was drawn to him as a subject. Unlike so many of his fellow presidents—including his immediate predecessor, Theodore Roosevelt, and his immediate successor, Woodrow Wilson—Taft is not considered important. That’s speaking relative, of course. He was still a president. But the fact that most people had only the haziest image of Taft—you know, the boob who got stuck in the White House bathtub—made it that much easier for a layman like me to write about.

That said: At no point in Taft 2012 am I writing about the real Taft. It’s alt-history. Fantasy. A folktale. In my version of events, Taft disappears in 1913, on the day of Wilson’s inauguration. In most alt-histories, such a huge event—the disappearance of a president!—would change the course of history. Not so with Taft. Barely anyone notices. In real life, Taft had an impressive post-White House career, including becoming Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. (Did you not know this? Don’t feel bad. Neither did I.) To underscore, or perhaps caricature, Taft’s unimportance in the grand scheme of our collective consciousness, I chose to make him a forgotten figure. Most of his history, as we know it, never happened.

Which made it pretty convenient for me to muck up that history.

What did I get wrong? What elements of my character, William Howard Taft, contradict the actual, flesh-and-blood president, William Howard Taft? Good question. I wouldn’t know, right? Okay, I’m trying to be cute. I learned quite a lot about Taft as I did research in preparation for Taft 2012. I learned he was a Yalie, a Unitarian, a Progressive Republican (back when before the species became extinct), and a man deeply influenced throughout his life by two women: his beloved mother and his devoted wife. I tried to get to the heart of the man, the root of the guy. What was his motive? His lack of motive? His hopes? His fears? His faiths? His appetites?

Okay, so his appetites weren’t that hard.

My point, though, is this: My Taft wasn’t going to be our Taft. Awakened in 2012, armed with today’s knowledge about dietary needs, the food industry, and the psychology of self-image, he was going to struggle with his weight in a way that was—hopefully—far more profound than how he struggled back in his day. And struggle he did; a stress-eater, in today’s parlance, he gained a large amount of weight after entering the White House in 1909, and he lost much of it after he left. He was an unhappy, reluctant president pushed into the office by his wife, who had always dreamed of being First Lady, and his mentor, Teddy Roosevelt, who had pledged not to run for a third term, and hoped to install Taft as his surrogate.

The more I learned about Taft, the more complex of a man he seemed. Complex and sympathetic. I wanted the reader to latch onto that feeling. How would a man who seemed to be always out-of-place—in his own skin and station—react to the 21st century? I asked myself that question every day as I sat down and wrote Taft 2012.

In doing so, I’m sure I fucked up.

Did I exaggerate Taft’s progressive tendencies? Perhaps. Then again, wouldn’t any good politician—and Taft, in his own idiosyncratic way, was an excellent politician, and don’t let history tell you otherwise—adapt and keep up with the times? Even if those times were a hundred years in the future? The bottom line is, I didn’t feel to guilty about exercising artistic license in my reimagining of Taft. Plucked from our native habitat—our native century—and left with almost no living links to our past, would we necessarily act the exact same way we do now?

Taft doesn't. Taft wouldn’t. After all, Taft 2012 isn’t about his past. It’s about his future. A future he would never, could never know. In other words: At its best, my book is a decently informed piece of bullshit. I say that proudly. Even though I know for a stone-cold fact that Susan Weschler would vehemently disagree.

Kathe Koja’s books include The Cipher, Skin, Buddha Boy, Talk, Under the Poppy and its sequel, The Mercury Waltz. Visit her at http://underthepoppy.com and http://kathekoja.com.

Listen, if you’re planning to write about gay characters, all I can say is Don’t. OK? Because what you must know from the start is that there really are no such things.

What there are are humans, all kinds. And that’s how we write about them, our paper people that we try so hard to create, as we seek to render by careful and judicious and passionate word choice, word order, and punctuation the full and transcendent experience of what it is to be alive: doing the things that humans do, behaving well and badly, falling in and out of love, going out to get coffee, going out to save the world.  Their sexuality is a part of who they are, those characters, just like with real live people.  But there is no more a gay character than there is a straight character than there is an Asian character than there is a white character than there is an Earthling character. And when there is, it’s because the writer involved has either no ambition, or no talent.  One of these can be fixed.

All characters, even the smallest walk-on spear carrier dude whom we’re only going to meet for a minute – if your fiction means to recreate that transcendent life experience, that walk-on dude has to be alive.  No real people aren’t, even the dead ones. We can’t know everything about him, we may only see the briefest wink of detail, but it has to be real.  Otherwise, why is he there at all?

So your character who is gay, let’s say, he’s alive too, and one of the endless ways your story may choose to indicate this is by giving the reader a look into his heart, or his underwear drawer, or both. Maybe both at the same time! And his sexual orientation may even be the fulcrum around which the story turns.  But that’s not because he’s gay.  It’s because he’s human. If he, or that girl over there who likes girls, or the trans or bi character who drinks Darjeeling tea and has flashy taste in t-shirts and really can’t deal with waiting in line, if those characters are being celebrated or persecuted or transported physically off the planet, any planet, because of the whole gay thing, that’s not because of the whole gay thing either.  It’s because other humans, who themselves have underwear drawers and issues with lines, have hates and fears and sadnesses that they choose to address in that way, are addressing them in that way. And what your persecuted character does about it, all of that, altogether, is what humans do.

And PS, your qualification for writing those gay characters, those human characters, do not include your own sexuality; just like they do not include your own gender, native language or ancestry, current temporal situation, or ability to wait patiently in line. Your first qualification is that you’re a writer.  And your second is that you’re a human, too. Give yourself the gift, as a creator, of the full palette of humanity, then make your people as real as you can, story after novel after film after whatever it is you’re writing, make them gay if they’re gay and bi if they’re bi and straight if they’re straight, let them tell you who they are so you can tell us, you can allow us to enlarge our own experience of life by reading about theirs. Because humans can learn from other humans, if they listen with attention to a story told with that same attention, with the creative rigor that is love. It’s one of the best things that humans do.

Lev AC Rosen is the author of All Men of Genius, a steampunk novel inspired by both Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, and Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest. The novel follows Violet Adams as she disguises herself as her twin brother to gain entry to Victorian London’s most prestigious scientific academy, and once there, encounters blackmail, mystery, gender confusion, talking rabbits and killer automata.  Rosen received his MFA in creative writing from Sarah Lawrence College.  He lives in Manhattan.

So you’ve read my love letter to my writing group and now you want to know more – how our group works, and how it’s lasted so long.  Well, here are some more advanced tips, for once you’ve found that special writing group, and you know you want to make it last.

Respect.  This sort of goes without saying, but if you don’t respect everyone in the group, then you’re not going to get much out of critique.  You’ll just be like “eh, what does that schlub know?” and ignore them.  Pro-tip: If you find yourself doing this with everyone who reads the book, your problem isn’t them.

The “I feel” rule.  Especially when first starting out, it can make a big difference to remember to express all critique – positive and negative – with “I feel” or something similar.  Make it clear you know it’s only your opinion, not some greater truth and the writer must obey you.

Positive and Negative – this goes with the above, but don’t forget to say nice things, too!  Encouraging people to continue is important.  I always find the more “this needs work” sections of critique more useful (obviously) but those positive ones lets me know what’s working and makes me feel good about what I’m doing and want to continue it.

A quiet, private space to meet.  We meet at someone’s apartment.  Lately it’s been mine, since I’m sort of centrally located, but when our friend had a small child we met at her place so she didn’t need to get a sitter.  Peoples houses are good – if you’re not comfortable, or don’t have the space, there’s also places like schools and churches which might rent a small space to a group.  I mentioned above once being in a group that met in a restaurant.  I cannot tell you how awful this way.  People talking, you’re trying to eat and critique at the same time, sauces on pages, taking notes while your food gets cold.  It’s chaos and it doesn’t foster easy flow of conversation the way you’d think a restaurant would.  Eating with writing group is great, but do it after the critiquing period.  Like your mother said, it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.  The key is to have a quiet, intimate space where you can really hear each other.

The Grain of Salt.  This is what I call the knowledge that when you give someone critique, they might not agree or take your advice on everything, or some days, anything.  Everything you say is taken with a grain of salt; you come from a place on that day at that time and the author comes from a place and maybe those places don’t meet.  It’s still important that they hear what you have to say, but don’t get offended if they nod and say “well, I don’t want to make the protagonist more sympathetic, I sort of like that you’re angry at her.”  It’s their story, after all.  In grad school, we’re taught not to write for the other person, that is, to give advice, or response “I didn’t feel I understood why she killed him” vs giving specific suggestions “if he said he was planning to blow up the city a page earlier, then I’d get why she killed him.  Also, she should kill him with a bomb, not a gun, because it’ll have more resonance.”  This is important in grad school.  In writing group, we ignore it.  But when we do go into the world of making specific suggestions, it is either at the writers request (“I want the reader to get why she’s killing him here, and clearly you guys aren’t.  How do I fix that?”) or with a caveat (“Okay, so I’m totally writing your book for you here, but what if she killed him with a bomb?”).  This is risky business, and I don’t recommend it til everyone feels really comfortable.  But then it can be the most useful sort of brainstorming ever.

This isn’t a competition.  If you’re concerned with doing better than the people in the group, if you’re comparing yourself to them, or you find them comparing themselves to you, then stop.  You should all be trying to help each other.

The Letter.  I recently discovered not all writing groups did this and I was shocked.  Obviously, when you read the pages you’re critiquing, you should be red-penning it, if you have a red pen.  But more important than that is the letter!  It can be written on the back of the pages, it can be bullet-point, but write to the writer saying what you liked and didn’t like in the piece.  That way they have a file to consult.  They should be taking notes, of course, but those letters help them remember who said what and why.  So write a letter.

In case you’re wondering about the logistics of my group in particular, we meet every other week, we critique one person a week, and we usually don’t hand out more than 100 pages.  So everyone has 2 weeks to read.  Sometimes, one of us will have a finished draft of a novel and they’ll want to hand the whole thing out (so it can be read in one fell swoop).  When we do this, the writer asks the rest of the group how long they’ll need – usually 4 weeks – and hands it out 4 weeks ahead.  We still do group and critique others in the meanwhile, but the pages have been handed out early.  Also, if you can, I highly recommend printing out large works and binding them for group.  They will appreciate it, and so will you when you go back over their notes.

So that’s our formula.  You have to find your own, of course.  But again I say find yourself a writing group.  They will make you a better writer.  Possibly a better person.  And if you’re lucky, they’ll also become a little family.

 Jeff Grubb is a game designer and writer living in Seattle.  He's worked in a wide variety of shared universes, including Dragonlance, Forgotten Realms, Guild Wars, Marvel, and now the Star Wars Expanded Universe.  His Star Wars novel Scourge came out in late April of 2012.

There are two glasses of clear liquid on the counter over there. One is tonic water. The other is gin. But until you cross the room and taste them (and hopefully smell them first, if you are wise), they are apparently identical.

Similarly, there are two novels on the shelf. One is a self-contained story, unique to itself. A traditional novel. The other is part of a shared-world universe. But until you investigate, they are identical. Schrödinger’s books, if you prefer.

This is not to say that one type is superior to the other (that water from the previous example may be pristine or crawling with nasty microbes, and that gin may be gentle or toxic), but merely that that there are two different processes that lead to the same point – just as there are marsupials that evolved into niches held by placental mammals in places that are not Australia and thereby show similar traits. Two different thought processes bring these similar-appearing volumes, containing words and thoughts, bound along the long edge with pages that turn. Yet each tend to have marked differences in origin.

[And as I continue this, I’m going to use the words “tends to” when I mean to say “often is the case, though I don’t doubt that you can come up with an exception”. So let the exceptions test this general rule].

The traditional novel (and by that I mean the one you normally think about as being that type of book, be it Moby Dick, Tom Sawyer, or the Hobbit) tends to come out of the writer’s mind like Athena springing from the forehead of Zeus. Such a novel tends to be a completed work before it sees the interior of a publisher’s office, or even feels the gentle caress of an editor. It may represent a lot of work on the part of the writer without recompense for his time. It may be rejected numerous times, or be written without a clear idea of who will publish it (an editorial friend once noted “It is called the SUBMISSION process for a reason”). The traditional novel may see transformations in the journey to print, but it tends belong to its own universe – Dickens set many novels in England, but each one belongs to its own version of England. The origin of most of that universe is hatched from, or at least strained through, the writer’s mind.

[And I can think of specific examples that cross each one of those above points, but none that invalidate all of them. For example, sequels abound among traditional novels – Huckleberry Finn and Lord of the Rings comes to mind, but they still from that same origin point of the author’s private universe.].

The shared world or licensed novel has a different heritage. It has a universe already in place when the writer of the book approaches it. Indeed, the WRITER tends to be approached for a book about a certain concept in that world, as opposed to author generating that concept. The shared world novel tends to have a predetermined delivery date, and may often have a cover already in the works while the writer is in the process of writing. And the shared world novel has something that seems much rarer in traditional novels – at least traditional novels by previously unpublished writers – money up front. The writer is doing a recognized job, at a particular word count and deadline, and is being recompensed (through an advance on eventual) for that work. It is a little more secure in that way.

But the big difference is that idea of origin. A traditional novel has but one parent powering its genesis (though it may have a host of well-meaning aunts and uncles trying to transform it from duckling to swan). A shared world novel has a number of other authors, all contributing at the same time, and the genus of control shifts from behind the writer’s eyes out into a cloud of individuals, bibles, previous continuity, and the well-meaning aunts and uncles.

The shared world novel has numerous advantages. You get the power of a brand behind it. In raw marketing terms, if you are writing a Werewolf Musketeer novel, you get to stand on the shoulders of the previous Werewolf Musketeer writers. Their success feeds into your success. You didn’t write the previous ten novels, but your initial sales (and popularity) would be higher than if you were launching an original novel by a talented newcomer (or even an established professional). The brand holds strength.

A shared world also has someone else doing the heavy lifting at worldbuilding. Major characters, locations, and items may already exist. Someone else may have established the core ethos and ethics of the universe. You get a big toy box to root around in, as opposed to being given a block of wood and asked to carve away everything that doesn’t look like a race car.

The big disadvantage for shared worlds comes from the name – you have to SHARE them. There are other creatives. There are other worldbuilders. In many cases, there are fans who knowledge of long-running series will outstrip both your knowledge and that of everyone you will ask while writing the book (“I cannot believe that the author had the Werewolf Musketeer reach for the wine glass with his right hand. Everyone who read the 14th novel in the series knows that such a gauche action is cause for immediate banishment”). Your creative universe is a little more tightly constrained.

Finally, shared worlds are treated as ugly stepchildren, looked down upon even in genres that regularly rebel against being looked down upon themselves. Lacking both the journey of the traditional novel and benefiting from established (and often monitored) setting, they feel a little bit like cheating, and their success comes from marketing tricks as opposed to real suffering on the creatives’ parts (though there is suffering there).

The thing you haven’t seen me argue here is a difference in quality between the two. There are great novels in the traditional format and horrible ones. You can find excellent writing in a book from a shared world and execrable manglings of the English language in books of the same series. To say that one type has the inside track on the other is problematic at best, though for literary crimes a traditional novelist may disappear, taking his world with him, while in a shared universe, that particular volume gets excised and the rest of novels proceed.

And all of this is “inside-the-beltway” – worrying more about the process than the result. It is entertaining, no doubt, but in the end it is the quality of the writing, the characters, the plot, and ideas within a novel which gives it its shine, not the provenance of its origin. In the end, you, the reader, are looking at two similar glasses of clear liquid from across the room.

So what is it going to be. Gin? Tonic? Or a perhaps mixture of both?

The Central Clancy Writer for Ubisoft/Red Storm, Richard Dansky  was named one of the Top Twenty Game Writers by Gamasutra in 2009. His game credits include Splinter Cell: Conviction, Outland, and Ghost Recon: Future Soldier. He is also the author of five novels, including Booksense pick Firefly Rain, and his short fiction has appeared in anthologies such as The New Hero, Don’t Read This Book, and Dark Faith.

  Once upon a time, they showed Bugs Bunny cartoons that featured a character named Killer. Killer was a vulture of an excessively bashful and self-effacing strain. He wasn’t particularly interested in doing vulture-ish things, he sang “Bringing Home A Baby Bumblebee” when he flapped gracelessly along, and his reaction to his mother’s suggestion that he get off his feathery ass and bring home some food was always an embarrassed “Doh, nope, nope, nope, not gonna do it.”

Killer, as you might expect, is not a terrifically successful hunter. He is not what you’d call a great role model when it comes to career aspiration. And yet, he’s the guy so many burgeoning creatives reference when they get a compliment, or an opportunity. Instead of taking the compliment, they hang their heads. They blush. They stare at their shoes and mumble about how they’re really not all that good, and then they change the subject. It’s painful to watch, especially if you’re the one saying “nice work” or “do you have a story” or “you are a recognized professional, you know.”

And yet, too many smart, talented people turn into Killer the Vulture when faced with the slightest possibility of success. It doesn’t matter how good their work is, how original it might be, how salable it might be in the marketplace. Confronted with the chance to take the next step, they devolve into paroxysms of “Nope, nope, gawrsh, nope, ain’t gonna do it.” Hell, half the time Killer comes out, it’s not even in relation to a particular project or story or whatever, it’s at the mere thought that someone might be taking the next step in their career, that they might be recognized or noteworthy or, God forbid, a reputable pro.

And this, my friends, is moosepuckey. It’s a cutthroat method of self-sabotage disguised as humility. Because as long as you tell yourself that nope, that ain’t you, that can’t possibly be you, then you don’t have to try to be that person or achieve that success - and you don’t have to risk not achieving it. It’s far better, sayeth that little vulture-ish devil on your shoulder, to stay in the minor leagues. To be a big fish in a brandy glass. To listen to everyone tell you how good you are and how you should be playing to a wider audience, without ever having to run the risk of finding out that maybe the bigger audience isn’t all that interested.

Don’t argue with me here. I know it’s not a particularly charitable interpretation, but we’re past charity here and we’re on to paying work. And if I know one thing, it’s that you’re not going to get paying work, or succeed at it, if every time someone offers you an opportunity you aww-shucks it into the gutter.

So, you have to kill the vulture. Every time he rears his head, you need to wrap your hands around his metaphorical neck and squeeze, because if you don’t, he’s going to do the talking for you. He’s going to say that you’re not worthy, and you couldn’t possibly, and gosh, you have so many other (inevitably less productive/profitable/interesting) projects that suddenly became high priority to do, so you can’t. Don’t let him talk, because once he starts, he never shuts up. Clamp that beak closed, wrap duct tape around it, and throw poor old Killer in the trunk of your car.

Now, figuratively speaking that sounds easy. Nonexistent vultures don’t put up much of a fight, at least not the sort that results in broken furniture. Breaking a lifetime habit of putting yourself down before someone else can, that’s a little tougher, but for your own sake, you’ve got to do it. You need to teach yourself to think of yourself in a new way, as someone professionally and creatively worthwhile. And the best way to do that is to look at yourself like you’re someone else.

Seriously. Separate yourself from your resume, or, better yet, have someone else do it. Then run down your accomplishments, your publications, your awards. List them out. Watch them add up. Odds are, by the time the recitation is done, it’s going to be a pretty formidable list sitting there.

Then take a look at that list. Squint a little. Regard it objectively. Do not, for the love of all that is holy, start nitpicking those accomplishments or finding all the myriad ways you can diminish them. The fact remains, regardless of any caveats you can throw on there, You Accomplished Them. Then ask yourself, “If this track record belonged to someone named Elmore Q. Gherkin, would I be impressed?”

The answer should be “yes”. If people are willing to say nice things about you (and mean them) or offer projects or opportunities, it is because they are impressed with your track record and/or talent. That’s because there’s something there to be impressed by, which, if you are following my instructions, you just agreed objectively is impressive.

Which leaves the hard part: taking that “yes” and applying it to yourself. Realizing that you don’t need the goddamn vulture to protect you from success. Owning your achievements and accepting the recognition that comes with them.

It’s not easy. It’s always tempting to denigrate the stuff that you’ve done, to haul out “Oh, I knew the editor” or “I was a last-minute replacement so they couldn’t be choosy” or whatever. But that’s a sucker game. Once you start picking at one of your achievements, you won’t stop until you’ve torn up every last one, and then you’re right back where you started.

So embrace what you’ve done. Kill the vulture. Because if you don’t, you’re exactly what a vulture likes: dead meat.

Tammy Brackett is the owner of Moonstruck Promotions, a solo publicist, consultant and writer,  booking agent and former tour manager and performer. Over the past 16 years, she's crafted a business from the music industry. Tammy is the author Another Nightmare Gig from Hell, Fifty Ways to Tour Without Getting in the Van, Fifty Rules of Rock, Backstage Pass: Organize Your Band, and Backstage Pass: Book Your Band. She's an expert in practical music matters and writes blog for musicians at http://alunatunes.wordpress.com.  She can be reached at [email protected].

The art of marketing, whether your product is a piece of music or a new novel, is essential to increased sales and visibility. Without proper publicity and promotion, your work of art stands a chance of remaining in packing boxes or on store displays growing sad and dusty and terribly alone.

A good publicity plan doesn’t have to include the expense of a professional publicist.  Consider how the music world promotes and publicizes events, adapt their marketing model, add a dash of your own creativity and you’ll be promoting yourself like a rockstar in no time!

A bare-bones publicity plan should include the following:

A brief press release. Be sure to include contact name and information. A great press release is short, informative and appropriate for publication. Many publications no longer staff dedicated reviewers. Keep in mind, your press release may be printed verbatim. Keep it short and simple and interesting. Follow up your email press release with a phone call to ask about setting up a review or interview. Be sure to have sample books on hand to send to interested writers and reporters.

Flyers, posters, quarter page handbills still remain a staple in getting the word out for bands and musicians. A simple informational poster or flyer works wonders and is inexpensive and easily distributable. A small table tent announcing your new book can be easily placed in coffee shops, restaurants, museums, art galleries and other non-traditional outlets.

Explore radio possibilities. Many NPR affiliates have book-related programming. Take time to explore sites and find contacts. Radio is still a viable medium in many markets.

Don’t forget wonderful social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter. The trick here is to not slam followers and friends with constant information about your new work. Post quotes from your book, interesting tidbits but eschew the desire to continually try to get people to purchase. The Facebook and Twitter communities are invaluable marketing.

Collect quotes and reviews and create a one sheet to slip into your new book as it’s mailed out. For you to talk about your book is one thing, but for other people to be talking about it is quite another. Collect your quotes and reviews and make them work for you.

Innovative marketing ideas can also include cross-promotional opportunities. Consider sales outlets outside terrestrial or online bookstores. Many art galleries, museums, natural history sites, and local attractions have gift shops. Put pen to paper and really explore the angles of your new work. An exercise book may have a market outside the fitness community. Maybe it could be marketed to belly dancers or boomers. A new cook book may be attractive to the powerful market of stay at home moms. Learn to explore and develop new markets and new customers outside a target audience.

With a bit of thought, a creative publicity plan is easy to conceive and implement. Have fun finding new customers and fans. Give yourself a round of applause for a job well done. Heck, you deserve a standing ovation!

Sarah Chorn is a Speculative Fiction blogger, reviewer, and founder of the website Bookworm Blues. Her series of articles "Special Needs in Strange Worlds" drew over 20 authors, critics, bloggers, and fans to write about how Speculative Fiction addresses the issue of disabilities, and what that means for the capabilities of the genre. 

There is a line in Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin in which Tyrion Lannister says, “I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things.” It is probably one of my favorite quotes from any book I’ve ever read, because it resonates so strongly with me. And it’s notable that of all the actors in the HBO series, Peter Dinklage, who of course plays Tyrion Lannister, is the most talked about and celebrated.

There’s something there, something about disabilities that pulls at the reader (or viewer, as the case may be), and helps them relate to a character and even make them or the plot more interesting. My husband has never read the books, so I was surprised when he heard that line and turned to me and said, “Wow, that’s powerful.” It’s interesting how one line in a show or a book can resonate strongly with so many people.

What is even more interesting is how disabilities in literature are almost never talked about. In fact, when I was organizing my Special Needs in Strange Worlds event, a large chunk of people backed out saying they were uncomfortable discussing this issue. It’s a sensitive topic, and perhaps that’s why, but disabilities in literature should be noted and celebrated. Disabilities add depth and a very human perspective to any plot, but they so often overlooked in literary discussions.

My oldest brother is disabled. He was born without part of his brain, the corpus collosum, to be exact. For a long time my brother was labeled as high functioning autistic. The symptoms fit, but there is more to my brother’s disability than meets the eye. He has a hard time distinguishing between what’s real and what’s not real. He also has seizures and some physical limitations. My brother has always felt like the odd man out, and in many ways he is. He lives in his own little world. In all honesty, I can’t imagine how isolated he feels. He has as hard of a time connecting with the real world as the real world does with him. This makes it hard for him to work, to have friends, to connect with family. He really struggles, and as his sister, that’s hard to watch.

My brother is the person who got me into fantasy. I’ve often wondered if the reason he likes the genre so much is because it’s a genre where his mind can run wild. It doesn’t have the rules and restrictions of most genres. I can see where that would be appealing to someone with his condition.

A few years ago he had a fever of 109. He was in the hospital for days. Doctors thought he was going to die, but somehow he pulled out of it. However, this incident basically fried his short-term memory. My brother can’t read books anymore. He can’t follow complex plots or keep the characters straight. He was a true bibliophile. He lived in his books, and now he can’t. However, his long-term memory is fine so we often discuss books he has read sometime in the past.

It was during these discussions that my brother started talking extensively about how isolated he often felt while reading fantasy due to how ignored disability often is in literature. He told me numerous times (and left plenty of comments during my event) that disability brings reality and depth to books. It makes them more real, because disabilities are so humbling, so human and so prevalent in our own world. When I put the idea of Special Needs in Strange Worlds past my brother, his exact words were, “Finally, someone is going to talk about how people like me can be important, too.”

My brother is the reason I did Special Needs in Strange Worlds. He walked me through the annals of speculative fiction through a disabled person’s point of view, and showed me how incredibly isolating it must be to struggle so much in reality to connect with other people, and then have to struggle for that same connection in literature as well. My brother can’t read and enjoy books anymore, but he’s not the only disabled person on the planet. Disabilities are incredibly common, ranging from depression to far more serious conditions. Disabilities are all around us, and I wanted Special Needs in Strange Worlds to highlight the importance of disability in literature.

What amazed me was how hungry the Internet seemed to be to read a series of posts featuring disabilities in literature. I didn’t expect more than two weeks worth of posts, but instead I had enough to fill an entire month. In fact, I had so many people offering to write posts for the event, I had to turn several people down. Furthermore, this event received more visits than my blog has ever received in one month in its two years of life. Special Needs in Strange Worlds clocked in at 50,000 unique views. Not only was my brother hungry to hear about how disabled individuals can profoundly influence literature, but a massive amount of other people were, as well.