In the months since Chicagoland was first published, I have learned a lot of things. Some of them about editing, some about storytelling, some about marketing. Quite a few of the most valuable lessons have been outside the realm of the book itself, but have affected how I want to tell a story, and what I ought to include in one.
Because of all those things and more, I was convinced to do a round of revisions to the book. It's now shorter, snappier, and more focused on scenes that are emotionally important to the main character. I have simplified a few things, including combining a mess of about forty minor characters into a neatly packaged dozen or so. Finally, I fixed some large issues with the pacing and chronology in the latter third of the book, which hopefully helps draw it to a more satisfying conclusion.
More details to come once the new version is published.
Novels, humor, and self-inflicted ordeals. My newest book, Scott Stokely: Growing Up Disc Golf, is available on Amazon.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Monday, March 3, 2014
'Chicagoland' Excerpt: Rhymes with Silver
Moriarty went back to his guitar, strumming and, noodling around with lyrics. “I will buy you a bracelet of silver … that every thief would want to pilfer … Ah, that’s no good. Hey, what rhymes with silver?”
“Nothing, really. It’s one of those un-rhymable words. Silver, orange, purple.”
“What, really?”
“You never noticed, mister poet? It’s weird they’re all colors. One of those odd groupings that make me wonder about the English language. Have you also noticed most of the words that have the same singular and plural are nearly all animals? Deer, moose, fish, rutabaga.”
“I don’t think rutabaga is an animal.”
I laughed. “Just testing. It also uses a normal plural.”
“And isn’t the plural of moose meese?”
“No, you’re thinking of meeses, and that’s the plural of mice. And it’s not the real plural, it’s a joke cartoon plural.”
“Oh, right. But nothing rhymes with orange?”
“Can you think of anything?”
“Borange, morange, porange … no I guess not. That’s so incomplete. We need to make up words that rhyme so songwriters like me won’t get stuck. Let’s see. We’ll do gurple, pilver, and lorange.”
“But what are they going to mean?”
“Say a couple's gettin' it on. So he puts his gurple in her pilver and reaches for her lorange, which will be her boobs, and—”
“It doesn’t count if you’re just making up slang terms. Besides, we’ve got enough words for genitalia already. You need to use the new word to fill a definition that doesn’t exist yet. Find some new shade of meaning, or a way of relating two things, or wait until we invent a new technology and lobby to have the word used instead of J.A.A.”
“J.A.A.?” Morty asked.
“Just another acronym.”
“Gotcha. But wait, you want me discover some way of describing the world that nobody who speaks English has ever needed so far, but that’ll make sense to everyone once explained?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds hard.”
“Keep in mind, since you’re inventing these words to rhyme with other words, they also need to go together. It wouldn’t do any good to decide lorange is a step-aunt’s second cousin and then still not ever be able to use it in rhyme with orange. Unless she’s been eating too many carrots or something.”
“You know what, let’s just forget it.”
“And that’s why we don’t have any words that rhyme with orange.
-----
This was an excerpt from Chicagoland. The complete novel is Kindle format through Amazon.
“Nothing, really. It’s one of those un-rhymable words. Silver, orange, purple.”
“What, really?”
“You never noticed, mister poet? It’s weird they’re all colors. One of those odd groupings that make me wonder about the English language. Have you also noticed most of the words that have the same singular and plural are nearly all animals? Deer, moose, fish, rutabaga.”
“I don’t think rutabaga is an animal.”
I laughed. “Just testing. It also uses a normal plural.”
“And isn’t the plural of moose meese?”
“No, you’re thinking of meeses, and that’s the plural of mice. And it’s not the real plural, it’s a joke cartoon plural.”
“Oh, right. But nothing rhymes with orange?”
“Can you think of anything?”
“Borange, morange, porange … no I guess not. That’s so incomplete. We need to make up words that rhyme so songwriters like me won’t get stuck. Let’s see. We’ll do gurple, pilver, and lorange.”
“But what are they going to mean?”
“Say a couple's gettin' it on. So he puts his gurple in her pilver and reaches for her lorange, which will be her boobs, and—”
“It doesn’t count if you’re just making up slang terms. Besides, we’ve got enough words for genitalia already. You need to use the new word to fill a definition that doesn’t exist yet. Find some new shade of meaning, or a way of relating two things, or wait until we invent a new technology and lobby to have the word used instead of J.A.A.”
“J.A.A.?” Morty asked.
“Just another acronym.”
“Gotcha. But wait, you want me discover some way of describing the world that nobody who speaks English has ever needed so far, but that’ll make sense to everyone once explained?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds hard.”
“Keep in mind, since you’re inventing these words to rhyme with other words, they also need to go together. It wouldn’t do any good to decide lorange is a step-aunt’s second cousin and then still not ever be able to use it in rhyme with orange. Unless she’s been eating too many carrots or something.”
“You know what, let’s just forget it.”
“And that’s why we don’t have any words that rhyme with orange.
-----
This was an excerpt from Chicagoland. The complete novel is Kindle format through Amazon.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
'Chicagoland' Excerpt: Nothing in Common
One reason Dominik and I got along so well was we had nothing in common. That’s not what it sounds like. We had plenty in common, and one of those things was Nothing. Not the Seinfeld nothing, meaning a certain empty pointlessness, but literally nothingness itself, the word nothing, and everything that stems from it.
Nothing is a funny word. Nothing is better, but there’s nothing worse, and there’s nothing like it in all the word. In the immortal words of Queen, “Nothing really matters.” You may whisper sweet nothings at the start of a relationship or be left with nothing when a bridge is burned. Even when you’re bored, you still have nothing to do, even when hungry, you have nothing to eat. And yet, despite its prevalence, it’s nearly impossible to think about nothing at all.
“I want to have a website that sells nothing,” said Dominik.
“Most websites don’t sell anything.”
“No, not just not anything. I want it to sell things, but all of those things are nothing. People will buy it out of perversity.”
“I don’t think credit card processors like empty transactions. And I don’t see even perverse people giving money away.”
“Okay, we’ll sell them something, but they’ll all be representations of nothing. A scribble. A picture of rust.”
“The number zero?”
“No, I’m pretty sure zero is actually something. But anyway, people will meditate on these things that have no inherent value, and in that meditation, they’ll actually discover the truth in the emptiness.”
“So like matter and antimatter particles that pop in and out of the void of space, appearing and disappearing and leaving everything essentially unchanged, but something really happened?”
“Yes! A picture of a particle and antiparticle is a good image; it’s two contradictory opposites, so it’s nothing. They can meditate on that one, too. Like giving someone silence, or space, they’ll produce from within themselves things to fill the void.”
“So when we sell them nothing, what we’re really doing is giving them themselves.”
“Absolutely. That will be our slogan, ‘Selling You Yourself.’ I like it.”
That’s how it went. We compiled a list of thirty or forty different logic-bending ways of using nothing in a sentence, as if it were a sentient agent. For example, when I told Camille I’d rather have her than Nothing, did Nothing’s feelings get hurt?
We collected visual representations. We constructed textual meditations on nothing, the void, emptiness, mu, and the like. Each time we got together, we’d add to the growing collection, bend our minds a little further, and laugh.
In the end, we didn’t get anywhere. It should have been obvious from the beginning that Nothing would come of the idea.
Nothing is a funny word. Nothing is better, but there’s nothing worse, and there’s nothing like it in all the word. In the immortal words of Queen, “Nothing really matters.” You may whisper sweet nothings at the start of a relationship or be left with nothing when a bridge is burned. Even when you’re bored, you still have nothing to do, even when hungry, you have nothing to eat. And yet, despite its prevalence, it’s nearly impossible to think about nothing at all.
“I want to have a website that sells nothing,” said Dominik.
“Most websites don’t sell anything.”
“No, not just not anything. I want it to sell things, but all of those things are nothing. People will buy it out of perversity.”
“I don’t think credit card processors like empty transactions. And I don’t see even perverse people giving money away.”
“Okay, we’ll sell them something, but they’ll all be representations of nothing. A scribble. A picture of rust.”
“The number zero?”
“No, I’m pretty sure zero is actually something. But anyway, people will meditate on these things that have no inherent value, and in that meditation, they’ll actually discover the truth in the emptiness.”
“So like matter and antimatter particles that pop in and out of the void of space, appearing and disappearing and leaving everything essentially unchanged, but something really happened?”
“Yes! A picture of a particle and antiparticle is a good image; it’s two contradictory opposites, so it’s nothing. They can meditate on that one, too. Like giving someone silence, or space, they’ll produce from within themselves things to fill the void.”
“So when we sell them nothing, what we’re really doing is giving them themselves.”
“Absolutely. That will be our slogan, ‘Selling You Yourself.’ I like it.”
That’s how it went. We compiled a list of thirty or forty different logic-bending ways of using nothing in a sentence, as if it were a sentient agent. For example, when I told Camille I’d rather have her than Nothing, did Nothing’s feelings get hurt?
We collected visual representations. We constructed textual meditations on nothing, the void, emptiness, mu, and the like. Each time we got together, we’d add to the growing collection, bend our minds a little further, and laugh.
In the end, we didn’t get anywhere. It should have been obvious from the beginning that Nothing would come of the idea.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Writing a Blurb Request
Since I just published my first novel, I am now pursuing my first blurbs. I'll be honest here. I've only written one blurb request, ever. That may not sound like it makes me the most qualified to teach others how to request a blurb, but when a famous person tells you to do something, it's difficult not to comply. Because the response to my request was an enthusiastic, "I think you should write a blog post about how to ask for novel blurbs, because this is far and away the best one I've ever seen. Is your novel as funny as this email? If so, I'm going to love it."
With that kind of endorsement, I figured I ought to follow through. If blurb requests were a game, I would stop right now and revel in my perfect an untarnished record. But that's not how the blurb game works, so I know I'll be writing more requests in the near future.
Backing up, I should clarify something. Novel blurbs are those quotes, usually by someone famous, telling you why the book you're looking at (by someone you may not have heard of) is worth reading. Authors pursue these quotes to give their books a stamp of respectability. Even the best blurb may not sell a book by itself, but it may nudge someone who's on the fence, and it gives us authors something to talk about when we plug the book in social media, beyond just repeating, "You should read my book. Please read my book," over and over.
This is going to be a two-part post. Today I'll talk about the mechanics of writing the request. My next post will include the actual request, to serve as an example (and because it's funny, and I want to share it with people).
Here, in six deceptively difficult points, are things you should consider as you write your blurb request. They're not written in any particular order, but you should cover all of them.
1. Establish a connection
Give the author a way to relate to you. This might include mentioning times when you actually corresponded or met in person, or might be as simple as explaining you read and enjoyed their books. Let them know why you think of them as a good blurbing authority. (And no, never actually refer to them as a "blurbing authority." That just sounds wrong.)
2. Be clear about what you're requesting
Make sure you actually tell them what you want, i.e., a blurb. Believe it or not, I almost forgot this step in my first request. It's easy to get caught up writing to someone who's a bit of a celebrity, trying so hard to make a good impression that you leave out the thing you're asking for. Don't do that.
3. Be nice, considerate, understanding, obliging
This should be obvious. You're asking for a favor, and both of you know it. So it behooves you to show good manners at all times. Don't presume to send a copy of your book with the blurb request, wait for them to agree first, and then be sure to ask what format (print, digital - and which type of digital document) makes things easiest for them. They may also tell you that it's a three-month wait list for blurbs, and you will have to decide whether to accept or decline politely.
4. Offer them something
I'm not talking about a bribe here. Blurbs are supposed to be honest quotes, so you're not buying their endorsement. But there's plenty of room to put into your request something they can appreciate. This might go back to just telling them how much you've enjoyed their work, or how it relates in your life, but it could also mean including humor or a little creativity, for instance. There may be a delicate balance here, but I think if you can present something enjoyable to a busy author, it makes it easier for them to say yes to finding time for your request.
5. Speak to your audience
As a writer, you darn well better already know how to speak to a specific audience. With a book you're writing for a large audience, so the lines may be fuzzy, but with a blurb request you're speaking to one person, and this is an excellent opportunity to fine-tune your message to that person. Don't be bland and generic.
6. Offer your thanks
This should be obvious. It's included here because it's so important you don't want to forget it. Express your gratitude with each correspondence, too, not just the first one.
With that kind of endorsement, I figured I ought to follow through. If blurb requests were a game, I would stop right now and revel in my perfect an untarnished record. But that's not how the blurb game works, so I know I'll be writing more requests in the near future.
Backing up, I should clarify something. Novel blurbs are those quotes, usually by someone famous, telling you why the book you're looking at (by someone you may not have heard of) is worth reading. Authors pursue these quotes to give their books a stamp of respectability. Even the best blurb may not sell a book by itself, but it may nudge someone who's on the fence, and it gives us authors something to talk about when we plug the book in social media, beyond just repeating, "You should read my book. Please read my book," over and over.
This is going to be a two-part post. Today I'll talk about the mechanics of writing the request. My next post will include the actual request, to serve as an example (and because it's funny, and I want to share it with people).
Here, in six deceptively difficult points, are things you should consider as you write your blurb request. They're not written in any particular order, but you should cover all of them.
1. Establish a connection
Give the author a way to relate to you. This might include mentioning times when you actually corresponded or met in person, or might be as simple as explaining you read and enjoyed their books. Let them know why you think of them as a good blurbing authority. (And no, never actually refer to them as a "blurbing authority." That just sounds wrong.)
2. Be clear about what you're requesting
Make sure you actually tell them what you want, i.e., a blurb. Believe it or not, I almost forgot this step in my first request. It's easy to get caught up writing to someone who's a bit of a celebrity, trying so hard to make a good impression that you leave out the thing you're asking for. Don't do that.
3. Be nice, considerate, understanding, obliging
This should be obvious. You're asking for a favor, and both of you know it. So it behooves you to show good manners at all times. Don't presume to send a copy of your book with the blurb request, wait for them to agree first, and then be sure to ask what format (print, digital - and which type of digital document) makes things easiest for them. They may also tell you that it's a three-month wait list for blurbs, and you will have to decide whether to accept or decline politely.
4. Offer them something
I'm not talking about a bribe here. Blurbs are supposed to be honest quotes, so you're not buying their endorsement. But there's plenty of room to put into your request something they can appreciate. This might go back to just telling them how much you've enjoyed their work, or how it relates in your life, but it could also mean including humor or a little creativity, for instance. There may be a delicate balance here, but I think if you can present something enjoyable to a busy author, it makes it easier for them to say yes to finding time for your request.
5. Speak to your audience
As a writer, you darn well better already know how to speak to a specific audience. With a book you're writing for a large audience, so the lines may be fuzzy, but with a blurb request you're speaking to one person, and this is an excellent opportunity to fine-tune your message to that person. Don't be bland and generic.
6. Offer your thanks
This should be obvious. It's included here because it's so important you don't want to forget it. Express your gratitude with each correspondence, too, not just the first one.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
'Chicagoland' Excerpt: Trust Issues
Moses seated himself in a papasan chair. The drugs must have been still messing with me, because every time I looked, it seemed like the papasan was slowly melting. Then it suddenly dumped Moses onto the floor, and I realized the chair had actually been broken and sagging all along. I couldn’t stop laughing at the reverse irony.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Moses asked.
“I didn’t think you were really sinking; I thought it was a hallucination,” I tried to explain.
“You know I have trust issues with chairs.”
“Yes, I know how three chairs once collapsed on you in a single day. I was even there for the third one.”
“Right. So you should know what a big deal this is for me.”
A couple of years later, I would turn up the volume on a softly spoken background reading in a Moses Marx song, trying to really catch the words that had so far eluded me. “We start in a womb and end up in a tomb and in between we deny the doom,” it said, before diving into a long list of misfortunes we pretend won’t befall us. I nearly lost it when I heard the words “and every chair you sit down on will be sturdy.” This was something that went all the way to Moses’s core.
Disgruntled, Moses shuffled over and took a seat atop a gigantic piece of stereo equipment. “Allow me to introduce the speaker of the house,” he said.
-----
This was an excerpt from Chicagoland. The complete novel is Kindle format through Amazon.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Moses asked.
“I didn’t think you were really sinking; I thought it was a hallucination,” I tried to explain.
“You know I have trust issues with chairs.”
“Yes, I know how three chairs once collapsed on you in a single day. I was even there for the third one.”
“Right. So you should know what a big deal this is for me.”
A couple of years later, I would turn up the volume on a softly spoken background reading in a Moses Marx song, trying to really catch the words that had so far eluded me. “We start in a womb and end up in a tomb and in between we deny the doom,” it said, before diving into a long list of misfortunes we pretend won’t befall us. I nearly lost it when I heard the words “and every chair you sit down on will be sturdy.” This was something that went all the way to Moses’s core.
Disgruntled, Moses shuffled over and took a seat atop a gigantic piece of stereo equipment. “Allow me to introduce the speaker of the house,” he said.
-----
This was an excerpt from Chicagoland. The complete novel is Kindle format through Amazon.
Friday, December 6, 2013
'Chicagoland' Is a "Hot New Release" on Amazon
Not sure how long it will last, but Chicagoland is listed as a hot new release in Amazon's literary humor section. While it may be more properly filed first under just plain literary fiction or coming of age, humor is a big part of the book.
See here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/new-releases/digital-text/7588850011/
See here: http://www.amazon.com/gp/new-releases/digital-text/7588850011/
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
'Chicagoland' Published
Chicagoland is now complete and available for sale in Kindle format through Amazon.
http://www.amazon.com/Chicagoland-Aaron-Rath-ebook/dp/B00H37PTXQ/
http://www.amazon.com/Chicagoland-Aaron-Rath-ebook/dp/B00H37PTXQ/
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