she’s a night owl
and I rise before dawn
which gives us both
a few hours alone
to miss each other
Posts Tagged ‘creative writing’
Scheduling
Posted in Poetry, Writing, tagged creative writing, modern poetry, Poetry, Relationships, Writing on 31 Oct 2022| Leave a Comment »
My Sword is Bright
Posted in Creativity, Poetry, Politics, tagged creative writing, modern poetry, Poetry, social responsibility, voting on 20 Oct 2022| Leave a Comment »
My sword is bright
it lights the path ahead
through treacherous times
shining
My sword is sharp
it cuts to the heart
the dissemblers’ lies
seeking
My sword is strong
it survives unfazed
the illogic tide
standing
My sword is my vote
it points the way forward
for right and for rights
singing
——
k
Of Bushels and Lamps
Posted in Creativity, Fallen Cloud Saga, Writing, tagged book marketing, creative writing, marketing, novel writing, self-publishing, Writing on 13 Oct 2022| 2 Comments »
“Has John read your books?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? You guys talk about books all the time.”
“Well, sure. But not about my books.”
The above snippet of dialogue is verbatim from this past weekend, and it is Exhibit A in the case of Why I Absolutely Suck at Marketing.
In general, I do not know which of my friends have read any of my books. Yes, there are some exceptions to this—beta readers for a certainty, those who’ve expressed an opinion about a title—but if pressed, I know of only eight people who have definitely read one (or more) of my titles. And two of them are dead, so I’m really down to only six. That small list gets longer if I include people who I know have bought my books; but have they read them? One acquaintance told me flat out that she bought my books but did not read any of them, so I don’t take equate purchases with readers.
Why am I so in the dark on this topic? Because it is how I was raised. And it’s also my nature.
A big lesson of my youth was, “Don’t show off.” My father was insistent about this. “You have talents,” he would tell me, “but don’t get cocky, don’t show off, because there’s always going to be someone out there who’s richer or smarter or more talented than you are.” The subtext, coming from the grandson of a charcoal burner (yeah, it’s a real occupation), was essentially “Pride goeth before a fall.” Humility, my dad felt, consistently won over more people than braggadocio.
This fit well with my introverted mien. I have absolutely zero desire to “show off” and put myself in the spotlight (this blog notwithstanding), so self-deprecation and “hiding my lamp under a bushel” aren’t second nature; they’re first nature.
As a result, there are people who know me who don’t know that I’ve written nine novels (and counting). I don’t introduce myself, saying, “Hi, I’m Kurt. I’ve written nine novels. Heard of me? Want to read one?” In this age of self-publishing, being an accomplished novelist isn’t as big a deal as it used to be. Folks who learn of my bibliography might smile and nod, but the look in their eye betrays their unspoken reservations about the probable quality of my work.
None of this is to say I’m not proud of my books—I am—but there are just too many variables to the “Hi, I’m a writer” gambit. Nearly 20% of Americans didn’t read any books in the past year (print, e-book, or audiobook), and about half of the population has read fewer than six titles (and which ones do you think they’re going to buy? Mine?). Then there’s genre-preference, with “historical”-anything being at the low end of the popularity scale (and my stuff all being “historical”-something or other). Taken as a whole, there is absolutely no reason for me to expect that anyone I know is going to enjoy my books; the odds are simply against it.
Marketing is essentially nothing but “Look at me!” show-offery, and that is totally antithetical both to my attitude and to my nature. So, I suck at it.
However, this whole cover redux journey I recently began is nothing but marketing. Sort of. So, I’m a little conflicted. And a little anxious about the whole idea.
Still gonna do it, though.
k
What Price Vanity?
Posted in Books, Hi Tech, Writing, tagged atticus, cover art, creative writing, Fallen Cloud Saga, publishing, self-publishing, vellum, Writing on 06 Oct 2022| 5 Comments »
This has been a week of ups and downs—society, family, health, the future—and, to be honest, right now I’m on the down-side of it. So, fair warning.
In last week’s post, I admitted that my Fallen Cloud Saga needed new covers. This led to other considerations about fixing some of the content (e.g., typos, minuscule factual errors, and one extremely overwritten prologue), but primarily I spent this week focusing on the covers. I scanned sites and services. I downloaded several apps. I contacted artists whose work ticked a lot of the project boxes. Also, realizing how it’s been a long while since I formatted content for a novel, I solicited advice on the state of play as regards the best formatting tools for books (print and digital).
Sadly, rather than this activity working to ratchet up my enthusiasm, the reverse has happened, and the Black Dog has come to visit.
The reason? The costs.
Artwork, software, hardware, I’d need to license/commission/purchase/upgrade almost everything, and for what?
For vanity?
Brass tacks: Money spent refurbishing the covers of my Fallen Cloud Saga will never be recouped. The idea of making them more attractive to the passing eye and thereby increase my readership is, of course, a real and possible goal, but the money spent will not be earned back, not when taking past sales into account. Then, I have to add in the cost of decent formatting software. Everyone swears by Vellum, but it’s Mac-only, and it isn’t cheap, so I’d need the software and either a Mac-mini or a subscription to macincloud (and I loathe subscription-based software models). Alternatives to Vellum, like Atticus, have their adherents, but as with most charts that compare the enthusiasm coefficient of Apple-heads vs Windows-thralls, the Mac comes out orders of magnitude above.
So, in large part, it comes down to this: How much am I willing to spend to indulge my vanity?
My wife, bless her, has encouraged me to recast the discussion in several ways.
—I’m not buying covers, I’m buying artwork (something we’ve done plenty of times in the past).
—This would finally raise my Fallen Cloud Saga to the state I’ve always wanted it.
—Software and hardware could be used for future projects, as well as all my other titles.
—If she’d asked for something similar, I’d have already written the check.
. . . and the kicker . . .
—”I’ll be mad if you don’t.”
I’ve never been good at spending money on myself, at least not beyond a the cost of a good bottle of whisky. This, though . . . it’s different. Where a bottle of whisky is sipped into extinction, a professional presentation of the entire Fallen Cloud Saga would be something I would enjoy until the day I die, even if no one ever bought another copy.
Vanity? Perhaps.
Or perhaps it’s love, love for the saga I spent years creating, the love that drove me to write the fifth and final book even after the publisher had dropped the project, the same love that is shared by a small but ardent group of readers. It’s not something I owe myself or those readers, and it may not be something we even deserve.
It is, though, be something we would all enjoy.
Isn’t that enough?
Onward.
k
Voices
Posted in Poetry, tagged creative writing, media, modern poetry, Poetry, quiet living on 22 Sep 2022| 3 Comments »
the ether screams
headlines blare
so many voices
shout
warning taunting
upscale vaunting
always wanting
me
to fear to hear
to see to go
to buy to know
as if
my happiness
my meaning
my purpose divine
needs
their secret their special
their proven hack
their inside track
when
what I really want to do is
stop
lean back, feet up
feel the cat’s rumbling purr
taste the wine’s memory of summer
smell the coming rain
hear my lover’s laugh
k
The Climb
Posted in Creativity, Poetry, Seattle, Writing, tagged creative writing, modern poetry, Poetry, Seattle, Writing on 25 Aug 2022| 2 Comments »
From waterfront to high market
the climb wends upward through the city’s memories,
from old brick painted with faded names
to new concrete laid at the feet of giants.
Gulls cry below, scudding along the shore’s hungry limit,
wings suspended on the taste of salt and kelp,
while above, the rumble of metal and power
and the chatter of caffeinated urbanites.
My breath rasps with each tread
as I climb the twisting caverns,
Orpheus returning to the light
through tunnels rank with piss and sorrow.
From beyond the turning, a note sounds,
pulled, tightened, anxious, lonely,
until another twangs in, rising too,
birthing tentative harmony.
The notes repeat, nearer as I climb,
others come to shimmering life,
intervals congealing out of tortured dissonance
as sympathetic strings pull into focus.
At stairs’ end, a cavern of poured stone;
a sunbeam paints harsh shadows of two men,
one seated, one who steps close,
beckoning, wide-eyed, his smile broad.
The seated man shifts,
and his guitar catches the light,
its varnish a Renaissance craquelure,
its strings twelve lines of fire.
I draw closer to the player, unsure;
his companion encourages me
and with beatific confidence instructs,
“Listen, and believe.”
When the chord is struck,
the world retreats, sirens stop,
pistons grow still, the machined ostinato
becomes a heartbeat bass.
We three form a tableau,
the creator, the disciple, and the skeptic,
as the divine is released by dirty fingers
and earthen hearts are lifted.
Stuck
Posted in Creativity, Poetry, tagged creative writing, modern poetry, Poetry on 18 Aug 2022| Leave a Comment »
just put up a poem
she said
when I complained
of having no ideas
as if it was
the easiest thing
to do
and so
I did
Kurt R.A. Giambastiani 