Writers in the Storm

by Kathryn Craft

I’ve written here before about the importance of community in carrying our writing careers forward and I stand by that advice. You’ve only gotten where you are because of the hands you’ve held. But no one community may be able to carry the upwardly mobile among you all the way to your goal.

Is it time for you to leave your communal nest? Consider the following.

1. The organization may no longer be a fit. Everything about the publishing industry is in flux, so why not writing groups? The group that supported you during the decade you sought an agent may now advocate for self-publishing. The programming on story craft you signed on for may now be devoted to marketing talk. If majority rule means you are not progressing toward your goals—and especially if your needs feel sidelined, or belittled in any way by the people masquerading as your comrades—the culture of your organization has become a poor fit. It’s time to get out and try another.

2. Your critique group may be holding you back. When critiquers are secretly flummoxed about what a writer is trying to accomplish, they’ll often focus on minutiae when the root problem may be weak story architecture that a one-chapter-per-month analysis won’t allow them to identify, even if they knew how. The writer walks away from the group relieved that the session has gone so well—but carrying a well-worded, perfectly meaningless story. While critique groups can be a great place to gain early workshopping experience, there may come a time when you’re trading your valuable time for advice that is holding you back.

3. Growth happens outside of your comfort zone. The creative mind thrives on new experiences and alternate ways of thinking, and you can’t acquire those if you stay in the same place with the same people doing the same thing. Your writing organization may feel like home, but there may come a time when you need mentors with more depth in the industry to inform you, challenge you, and open new doors for you. To do that, you must reach up—not back.

4. Even empty luggage causes drag. Remind yourself of your goal in joining the group in the first place. I doubt that it was to make friends, even though that may be a valued side benefit. If you find that that marketing cooperative you joined does more drinking than retweeting, it may be time to cut ties. You could try to adjust your expectations and stay—your friends are still sparking joy!—but it won’t work for long. A writer only has so much time in her life, and she needs to surround herself with similarly dedicated colleagues who can help her career.

5. A big fish who stays in a small pond casts a large shadow. Leaving a writers’ organization can be fraught because we worry about hurting people’s feelings. But what if you are hurting others by staying? Others may benefit from the opportunity to fill a leadership role you’ve vacated. Annual contest wins and self-published anthology entries may feed your ego, but may not equal the career advancement you seek. Meanwhile, you’re standing in the way of others who need the chance to shine.

If you are getting all you want or need from your writing group and are satisfied with your career as is, I’m not trying to suggest you leave behind a valued resource.

But if your needs aren’t being met and you think it may be time to make a move, please don’t worry that you’re ditching your friends. In this business, you need all the friends you can get, and those who really care about you will find other ways to keep in touch.

No two writing paths are the same, and you’re simply seeking to further yours—and that was always the point.

Is it time for you to leave the nest? Have you ever had to leave a group that was no longer serving your needs? Did it end up being a good move? Were you able to preserve valued relationships?

Laura Drake

I read a recent article from Electric Lit. As a professional writer, or aspiring to publication, you need to read it. It's HERE. Go ahead, we'll wait.

The facts the article was based on came from the Authors Guild 2018 Survey (you can read that HERE) which said that, "American authors ... incomes falling to historic lows to a median of $6,080 in 2017, down 42 percent from 2009." (Based on a survey of over 5k authors)

Wait! Before you run off to flush the flash key of your work, start a bonfire in the back yard, or give up, let's discuss this.

I have also noticed a trend (which was verified by an agent I spoke with), that NY publishers are abandoning the romance market (excepting the top sellers) to the indies. And I imagine this isn't unique to romance. Publishers can't compete with the indies' ability to price cut. This is not new news--the trend has been advancing for years; it started with midlist authors, and is moving UP the food chain--meaning what was considered a good print run has declined steadily, and the number of copies you need to sell to be offered a new contract is increasing.

New York (the Big 5, or 3, or whatever they're down to) is still buying debut authors, but only in hopes of discovering a winner. If your first book or two aren't blockbusters, you're most likely not invited back to the party.

I don't blame the publishers. They're in this for the same reason you and I are--to make a profit. That's just reality.

But for me, the more disturbing part in the article is the entitlement issue it raised. I have seen this as well. I began a Facebook group for readers 3 1/2 years ago and it's grown to over 11k members. There was a discussion begun there a week ago, about where to go to get free books...the poster basically bragging that they almost never paid for books anymore. They weren't talking about pirate sites, either. We founder/moderators jumped into the discussion, explaining the relationship between paying for product, and the continuing availability of it. Many readers were shocked to hear how little authors make on their books. They thought (when they thought) that the fat cat publishers wouldn't notice to loss of a book sale here and there. I hope we enlightened a few readers.

It began innocently (yikes, an adverb!) enough, as a marketing strategy. A way to get more readers by making the first of a series free, or almost free. The plan is to get the reader hooked and they'd go buy the rest of the author's series, then backlist. For the author, it was taking a gamble on their own talent. And it worked brilliantly (Ugh, another). For that author. Not so much the market.

Then, giveaways. Also a great marketing tool, with the same philosophy as above. But soon there were readers roving like packs of coyotes, skipping from group to group, only there for the free books. Many of them resold the books on Amazon below the publishers cost, which was a double hit for authors--they gave away the first, then a reader who might have paid, bought the discounted 'used' book, and the author got zero money on that, either.

Then came Amazon's Kindle Unlimited. A subscription service where a reader pays a monthly fee and can read an almost unlimited number of books. The majority subscription fees are put in a 'pool', and participating authors share in it. I was a CFO in my career; this never made sense to me as being in the author's best interest. And it's had the unforeseen consequence of cheapening the worth of the product in the reader's mind.

I'm not bemoaning the 'commoditizing' of books. We write as art, but if you've sold to a publisher, or offered your book for sale in the market, you know your book becomes a 'widget'--a commodity the minute it goes up for sale.

However we innocently we got here (3 adverbs in one post. I must really be upset), we're not going back. A market trend like this doesn't reverse (with the exception of innovation, and then, the majority of the price increase goes to the innovator).

Bottom line is black and white in the Authors Guild survey; excepting the few at the top, writers can't make a living writing fiction anymore.

So why am I being Debbie Downer, dumping salt in your morning coffee?

Because writers are angsty insecure people. I know many (and I count myself in the tribe) who were whispering to each other. I've heard it at conferences and group meetings: 'Are your sales down?' 'How was your last advance?' 'Did you sell through?' And that's after we chewed fingernails for months, trying to get up the guts to ask. See, it's bad form to ask about money if you're an artist. It's like asking a coworker how much they make. Also, payment is more than a living; it's a way of keeping score. And you want to know where you fit in the hierarchy, as much as you don't want to know. AND you sure don't want the person you're asking to know!

Facts is facts, and now they're out. In a weird, twisted way (hey, we're authors, right? We're used to that), it's a relief. I hear the whispers in the wind. It's not just me.

I wrote this post for a reason, not just to pee in your corn flakes. What can we do about all this? Two things:

1. Don't quit your day job. The odds of you making a living wage, writing, though possible, is not likely.
2. Know why you're doing this: There are a lot more reasons to write than to make a living. Is your reason enough to keep you going? Mine is.

If you came looking for answers, I don't have any. But let's discuss it.

Have you noticed this trend? How are you dealing with the reality? Have you thought about quitting writing? What keeps you going?

---

Laura is teaching her, 'First Five Pages' class online at Savvy Authors, beginning April 29 through May 12. Come polish those pages to a high shine, and learn advanced craft tips at the same time! Click HERE for more info!

by Tasha Seegmiller

About two years ago, my husband got the idea to start a cotton candy business. We bought a machine, played around with flavors and techniques and materials and during the local Fourth of July parade 2017, we opened for business. 

Not quite two years later, and we are merging that in with a soda shack (think Starbucks for sodas and shaved ice — they’re all the rage in Utah). And we are launching a grand opening on Saturday.

There are a lot of things that we have learned over the last two years, most of which tie nicely in with writing (really, you knew this was coming). 

1.     Get a solid idea of what you’d like to do.

To go from “I think we could sell cool cotton candy” to business implementation is a bit of a bizarre journey, but probably not any more than coming up with an idea, and making up people, and seeing what is out there, and what we can do differently. When we were starting, we (aka my husband) spent A LOT of time looking at what other cotton candy makers were doing. We talked about what we liked, what we didn’t like, how we would make our product unique. 

There are a lot of writers who think they don’t want to read what they want to write because they might be influenced by it. During drafting, fair enough. There are certain authors I can’t read when I’m in certain parts of my stories, whether that is because the genre is similar or because I’m writing several emotional scenes and I’m hoping to channel a unique, authentic voice. But I also know the only way that a writer can get better is by reading what they want to emulate in their writing. If you write historical fiction, you’d better be reading them, both those that deal with the time period you are playing with and others from times neighboring your desired era. If you dabble in magic, break out the notebooks and jot down how your writing heroes craft theirs. Study, study, study, and then decide what you’d like to emulate and what you’d like to do differently. 

2.    Get feedback.

As you might imagine, we had a lot of people who were interested in giving us feedback on our products.

We’d set up our machines in our front yard and send some texts out to friends, adults and children alike, to see what they thought of certain flavors, jot down the ones people wanted more of, make notes of those that people tossed away. While my husband and I have diverse palates (he likes the really sweet, me not so much), we needed a broader sense of who thought what. We especially leaned into the feedback from people who said they didn’t like cotton candy. 

There are all kinds of theories out there about who should critique what when. I say follow your gut. If you can take a critique when you are drafting, and keep going, do that. If the thought of someone reading your new pages before you’ve had a chance to make them as shiny as possible makes you reach for a brown paper bag, don’t. But realize two things: 

1. You will never get your work as good as you’d like it without someone else giving insight. 
2. There is a very real danger of looping through a story so many times that it becomes a vortex for your drive and creativity. 

It’s the scariest thing, to take something you’ve thought about, worked on, got to a point where you feel good about it. But writers are courageous, and I know you will benefit greatly if you will just let others read and listen to what they are saying. 

3.    Your product will improve the more you make it. 

When we look at some of our first products, we can see things, now, that we would have done differently. We struggled to regulate the temperature of the machines (it needs to be around 400-425 degrees), we weren’t sure the best product to spin them onto, some flavors sounded like a good idea and they just weren’t (looking at you, black licorice). 

It is not fair to the writer you are now to look back at when you were beginning, published or not, and berate yourself for the product that it wasn’t. You can’t go back in time. You shouldn’t want to go back in time. Instead, you need to look at what you wrote, what you knew at the time that you wrote it and congratulate yourself for everything you were able to do with what you knew. And then keep learning. Keep practicing. Keep getting better. 

4.    Stretch and grow. 

During the beginning phases of business building, when we were deciding on a name, we realized that we didn’t want to be committed to just cotton candy forever. My husband has been brainstorming business ideas since we got married almost 20 years ago. We didn’t want a business name that would lock him into just that. And since launching, our little cotton candy business has tried edible helium balloons (super fun and yummy, super inconsistent) and toyed with the idea of custom gummies. We often return to conversations surrounding waffles, and as I’m writing this post, my husband is seeing if he can make shaped, tricolored marshmallows in my kitchen. It costs a bit of time, a small bit of money, and then we know if a thing works, if it could work, or if that idea isn’t sustainable.

Just because you started writing in one era or genre doesn’t mean you have to lock into that forever. It’s one of the reasons all the business professionals suggest authors build a brand around themselves and not a particular book. If you look at your favorite writers, I bet most of them have dabbled in different things, even if they have a particular genre that is their bread and butter (Brandon Sanderson comes to mind – his Alcatraz series is very different from his epic fantasies).

And that’s okay. 

Writing the same genre over and over can feel clichéd, the tropes that were once fun might even start feeling like barriers boxing in your creativity. So dabble. I have a folder called My Sandbox, where I just play with ideas, not that are necessarily the serious work that I’m doing, but a place where story ideas can hang out, a place where I can test my prowess on a different kind of thing. 

This is how we grow. 

And sometimes, when we allow ourselves to grow, a fun little idea can manifest into something that brings us a bit of joy. 

What practices have you put in place to help your writing grow?

About Tasha

Tasha Seegmiller believes in the magic of love and hope, which she weaves into every story she creates. She is the current president of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and studying in the MFA in Writing Program at Pacific U. The former high school English teacher now assists in managing the award-winning project-based learning program (EDGE) at Southern Utah University. Tasha married a guy she’s known since she was seven, is the mom of three teens, and co-owner of a cotton candy company. She is represented by Annelise Robey of Jane Rotrosen Agency.