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Posts Tagged ‘creative writing’

Pursuant to my earlier post on self-promotion, I want to share what happened to me yesterday: a prime example of what NOT to do.

I am very well aware that, these days, writers must promote their work. I also know that, for the self-published, all promotion is, by definition, left solely to the author’s efforts.

But there are limits, both to what is effective and to what is appropriate.

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Coffee and NewspaperWhen I visited my school guidance counselor to discuss my future careers, the term “creativity scientist” never came up. Then again, neither did “musician” or “novelist” or even “computer programmer,” all of which I have used to describe various aspects of my “career.”

But “creativity scientist?” Wow, that sounds like a good gig. Of course, “zookeeper” sounds great, too, until you realize that it’s mostly shoveling poop. Come to think of it, “shoveling poop” describes every single job I’ve ever had, to one degree or another. Sometimes it’s my poop. Most times it’s someone else’s. No matter what, it’s poop. Everyone shovels poop.

Anyway…Jefferson Smith, who runs the Creativity Hacker website and blog, obviously attended a different school district than I did. He is a creativity scientist and novelist, and he’s got some interesting ideas and thoughts on all things creative, and especially about creative writing.

One of his ideas is his “Immerse or Die” program: Take a book, get on the treadmill, and see how long the author keeps the reader immersed in the world of the novel. (more…)

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Self-Promotion: the crude and unappealing practice of marketing one’s own work; in British slang, often called “flogging.”

I’ve only met one writer who actually enjoys flogging his books. He travels up and down the coast, reading excerpts, glad-handing, meeting people, building an impressive network. For every other writer I’ve met, mention the word “promotion” and watch them wince.

We hate promoting our books. HateitHateitHateit. Some writers hate it so much, they don’t do it at all.

But according to ND Author Services (aka NDAS, run by bestselling authors Barb and J.C. Hendee, who–believe me–know what they’re talking about), there’s some good news. As with everything else in the publishing industry, self-promotion–the very nature of it–is changing.

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Stack of BooksEmbedded within this paragraph is an “error.”  Can you find it?  Is it glaringly obvious?  I’m guessing that it isn’t.  In fact, I’d bet that until I point it out to you, you won’t realize it’s there.  Want a hint?  It’s not grammatical.  It’s not punctuation, either.  It’s . . . Wait for it.  Wait for it. . .

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Bath Abbey Fan VaultingSometimes, the word “interesting” isn’t enough.

This weekend past, as well as being sad, stressful, productive, lazy, and maddening, was also interesting.

It was the 31st anniversary of my wedding. It was the yahrzeit of the death of my wife’s mother. It was a weekend of plans, and of disrupted plans. It was a weekend with three reservations to the same restaurant, each one made and canceled in daily succession. It was a weekend of editing, rereading and rewriting my latest short story (“The Book of Solomon”), proofing it, polishing it, and then sending it off to a paying market.

It was also the weekend when I got an email from the Senior Librarian in Sumner, WA, asking if I’d be interested in participating in a panel, this October.

Yeah, “interesting” doesn’t really cover it.

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NikeLast weekend, the Seattle Times ran two opposing op-eds on the Amazon/Hachette contretemps. Frank Schaeffer wrote in favor of Amazon, while Nina Laden countered in favor of Hachette, creating a “debate” of sorts. I put “debate” in quotes because, from a purely debating standpoint, it was no contest.

Unfortunately, both pieces missed the main point.

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Lupine Hi-RiseI’ve never really been one who lost things. (Except for gloves. I used to lose gloves all the time.) And I’m especially good about computer files. After once losing the first three chapters of a novel, I got really strict about my file management methods.

So, back in the mid-Naughties, when I “lost” a handful of poems, I was pretty mad at myself. Granted, I had a couple of “vascular events” during that time, brought on by workload and stress, but still, I was disappointed. I mean, how can you “lose” a computer file? Luckily, I was able to recreate most of them from offsite storage, but a few were lost and gone forever.

Then, two days ago, while editing my latest short story, I noticed a folder in my “Writing” directory. The folder was labeled: Poetry.

Guess what I found in there.

Here’s one of them: Non-Euclidean Geometry

k

Chamomile

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