Novels vs. Screenplays (Joys & Challenges)... a Co-Written Post

Joys and Challenges of Novel Writing—Chrissy Clarke

@Chrissy_Clarke, www.chrissyclarke.com

Immediate gratification (sort of)

You’ve fantasized about writing the “Great American” novel for ages, produced character profiles and doodled a fantasy world. Maybe you meticulously outlined every scene. Now, after months (or years) of writing and editing—oh, the editing!

If it’s a novel, now it’s ready for the masses. You can send a pdf to all your friends and relatives and print hard copies for grandma and that woman at the grocery store who expressed interest. People can enjoy your work of art immediately.

If your dream includes being published in hardback by Simon and Schuster, there is the matter of writing a brilliant query letter, synopsis, tag line, and pitch, querying agents, being well received, sending manuscripts for review, basking in adulation, signing with a NYC agent, being out on submission (think Fight Club; you don’t talk about sub club), and hammering out a fat contract. But I digress.

A screenplay, on the other hand, is nowhere near ready for the consumer. Van can explain better than I, but the journey from on paper to on screen takes time, effort, and money.

Creativity

Creativity is key in all varieties of fiction, but a novel is the most freeform. For short stories, I’ve heard up to 30k in length is acceptable, but if you want it published in a periodical, a short shouldn’t exceed 7500 words. A novella is typically 30-50k; you have some flexibility, especially since you’ll likely e-publish. And novel length can be anywhere from 70 to 100k. Sure, there are exceptions, but under 70 will make for a skinny trade paperback and over 100k costs considerably more to produce, so don’t go nuts unless you’re a King or a Brown, capische?

For a novel, you have 300 pages or so to write whatever you like, with as much or as little structure as you choose. You can break it down into scenes—ala screenwriting—or meander through chapters. Go back in time, throw in a dream sequence, add a secondary plot, thwart your character’s goals with a dragon, a werewolf, or some C4. I’m a fan of structure, but structure is secondary in novel writing. Story comes first.

Unlimited Budget

Aside from the aforementioned need to stay within 100k, budget doesn’t concern novel writers. Will your epic sweep across all seven continents and span three hundred years? If you’re making a film, cost comes into play, but in a novel, there are no rules governing how many settings, costumes, characters, or monsters are practical.

Anything you imagine can find its way into your novel. A new family of mythological creatures that live in Marianna’s Trench? Go for it. Space travel, time travel, dinosaurs, a robot messiah, an army of mutated bananas—not my kind of book, but doable. If you’re writing for screen, only a Spielberg would warrant the budget to produce it.

Novel-writing Challenges:

Interior Dialogue

It’s considered poor form to use a voiceover to convey what a character feels or thinks in film, but we expect a window into one’s thoughts in a novel. But with freedom comes responsibility. As with many techniques at a novel writer’s disposal, less is more. Sure, you can delve into your main character’s head throughout a story. They share their innermost thoughts and feelings with the audience. There are problems that can arise:

a.     If a reader doesn’t gel with the character—appreciate their distinctive voice—then the book won’t be enjoyable.

b.     Being in someone’s head has an air of immediacy. The emotional impact may be positive, but I don’t want to hear all my own thoughts, frankly, so the sum total of another person’s is a LOT.

c.     Tension in fiction is glorious. If the reader knows everything, then there’s no anticipation. It’s what you aren’t told that makes for great storytelling.

However, done skillfully, using first person POV or limited third allows for intimacy. Your character can reveal what no one else knows: fears, secrets, needs. But be stingy. Reveal only enough to keep readers wanting more.

Focus

The flip side of having structural flexibility is it’s all too easy to get lost. You’re not writing a 100-page screenplay but an 80k-word novel, perhaps three times as long. Sure, you want an inciting incident and rising tension, a climax is a given, but how you fill in the remaining pages is up to you. Secondary plot lines are common. Personally, I write an intertwined mystery and a romance, often with another mystery element that doesn’t connect to the rest, a sort of red herring. The lack of rules and sheer number of words can be problematic, especially with first novels. Trust me, you don’t want to read my first novel.

I recently read a book that didn’t end well. Actually, it didn’t end. About fifty pages from the end, I began to suspect the story wouldn’t wrap up, but I also wasn’t sure what I was expecting. The conflict wasn’t clear. It was a series of events without a lot of “why” and “how” answers. I wanted answers.

No matter what you’re writing, there should be satisfaction when you close the book or the credits roll. The problem is solved. The character is cured, in love, or has died from saving the world. Novels may be freeform, but before you type THE END, the dominos must fall—all of them.

***

Joys and Challenges of Screenplay Writing—Jeff “Van” Vande Zande

@jcvandez, www.authorjeffvandezande.blogspot.com

Chrissy is absolutely right! Though screenwriting and novel writing share some goals in common, the two attempts at storytelling come with their own specific joys and challenges. For myself, I mainly write short film scripts that I intend to shoot on my own on a limited budget. I write my scripts with “low budget” in mind. I don’t write in locations, props, special effects, or anything else that I don’t already have access to. Many of my films I make for under $25 (sometimes $0), but that’s not the norm… especially if you’re writing a feature-length script.

Truth be told, I have only written one feature-length script, but I teach the feature length script in my Introduction to Screenwriting course. I have also adapted short stories of mine into short film scripts, and that has only served to reinforce how different the two approaches to storytelling can be.

Stripped Down Writing

One of the joys of screenwriting (but one of the frustrations too) is that the descriptive writing is very stripped down. Screenwriting almost comes closer to technical writing than it does fiction writing. There are no long paragraphs, and similes and metaphors are a no-no. You simply provide a gist of what’s happening, knowing that a set designer, actors, and others will (hopefully) fully flesh out your ideas. You have to remember when working on a screenplay that the final product will be credited to a director. It’s never a film by “blank blank” screenwriter. Instead, it’s a film by “blank blank” director. Think of a screenplay as a blueprint for a movie. Nobody can actually live inside the blueprint for a house, but also nobody would ever build a house without a blueprint!

I find the stripped down aspect of screenwriting to be freeing at times. It makes the writing process all about fleshing out the story and focusing on the story/plot development. Flowery language or a compelling style for the reader become unnecessary. Movies don’t have readers; they have viewers. There are no readers to please on a language level. Those who do read your screenplay will be reading with an eye towards “How are we going to shoot this?” It’s a technical document to some extent.

I was told early on that in describing a setting in a screenplay, keep it limited to 2 to 3 lines of description and focus on light, space, and texture. Here’s an example (notice too that screenplays are in present tense to mimic the “happening in the moment” aspect of film on a screen)… oh, I’m also switching to Courier since that is the font of screenwriting.

INT. BASEMENT – DAY

Jakes opens the door to his bedroom.

The walls of the 10X10 room are unfinished drywall, and the floor is covered with clothes and fast food bags. An unmade mattress sits on the floor. Only one wall seems in order with shelving holding various sporting trophies.

A single bulb hangs from the ceiling.

The Light? Well, that’s the single bulb.

The Space? 10x10 basement bedroom

The Texture? The clothes, the garbage, the mattress, and the trophies.

This to some might seem like terrible writing if it were fiction. But it does what needs doing for a set designer to take over and create this room for the screen. They will choose if maybe there are some football movie DVD cases on the floor too, or a bong, or a dusty rowing machine. In screenwriting, you give a feel for the space, not a play by play

I’ve really enjoyed this aspect of screenwriting at times… just keep everything focused on the story and not so much forcing your sentences to operate like a camera that captures everything. In filmmaking… well, they have a camera that serves as that camera!

Limited Scope/Lots of Guidance

As Chrissy mentioned, there’s a definite limit to how long you can go on in a screenplay. Yes, there are three and four-hour movies, but they are rare. You typically only get to write THE IRISHMAN once you have a certain reputation. Your early screenplays will be after a 90 to 120-minute movie (and since a page of screenplay works out to about a minute of screen time, you’re writing 90 to 120 pages… with LOTS of white space).

A novel can go on and on and on… often to its own death in boredom for the reader. There are books that try to deal with structure in a novel, but it’s tricky because each novel is so different. On the other hand, books that deal with storytelling structure in screenplays are everywhere. And often they are very specific (i.e. “Right around this page, something like this should happen. Then, later, around this page, this should happen.” Etc)

This focus on structure is essential and happens in every screenwriting book. I’ve seen it broken into Acts:

ACT I: First 30 pages

ACT II: Pages 31 to 90

ACT III: Pages 90 to the end.

And further broken down to:

ACT I:

            Inciting Incident: Around page 10

            Plot Point One: Around page 30

ACT II:

            Midpoint: Around page 60

            Plot Point II: Around page 90

ACT III:

            Climax: Around pages 105 to 110

            Denouement: Last couple pages

But, this is only one way to look at structure. This website offers a different approach with different lingo: HERE

… but it’s all doing the same thing: making certain your screenplay follows a compelling dramatic structure in the vein of Aristotle.

I don’t see this same kind of guidance out there for novels. To quote E.L. Doctorow: “Writing [fiction] is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” That also sounds like a setup for easily crashing and having your novel go nowhere. That’s why I’m often blogging about how an understanding of screenplay structure (specifically Aristotle’s understanding of dramatic structure) can help fiction writers think about the structure of their novel.

It sounds like writing a screenplay is formulaic, but it’s really just providing rules. Just like a tennis game has rules, but no two tennis games are the same. Even with sticking to the rules, one tennis game can be boring while the other is thrilling. Knowing the structure of a screenplay doesn’t necessarily mean yours will be a hit, but you have a lot of guidance for moving your story forward. I find that guidance very helpful!

A Challenge of Screenwriting

I mentioned this earlier, but one of the hardest aspects of screenwriting is knowing that what you are working on is not truly a finished product even once finished. Chrissy mentioned that with a novel, once you have the polished manuscript, you can pursue an agent, a small press, self-publish it, or simply share it with others.

Nobody reads a screenplay for pleasure. They read it asking themselves, “Could this be a movie?” There are no anthologies (to my knowledge) collecting the finished screenplays of no-name screenwriters. Yes, you can buy books that include the full text of a feature film’s screenplay, but they are screenplays from famous screenwriters/famous movies… and you buy such books to study their craft.

So, what you’re working on might never reach its end goal: to be a film on a screen. What I know of getting an agent interested in representing your screenplay to studios wouldn’t even fill a shot glass. I know this much: it’s really hard… statistically unlikely. I don’t know the statistics on landing a first-time script (a spec script) with a studio, but they are dismal.

You might think, like someone who chooses to self-publish a novel, that you’ll just make it yourself.

Really?

Do you know camera operation? Do you even have a camera that will give cinematic results? Do you have the sound equipment? Can you edit digital film? Do you have the lights?

If I totaled what I’ve spent on equipment to make my short films, I’d say it’s around $3000. And none of my equipment would be considered top-end… not even close. And to shoot and edit decently (I’m no great shakes) took me about three years of trial and error.

I’ve heard of people making decent feature-length indie films for around $10,000. But, to make an even slightly competitive indie film, you’ll likely need closer to $50,000.

Even if you get it made (and it’s decent), you’ll spend more money submitting it to film festivals. If you’re lucky enough to get into a festival, you’ll need to spend money to travel to the fest and (hopefully) network with people who want to take your film to the next level.

In short, even though it comes with some expenses of its own, it’s much cheaper to self-publish a novel than it is to be an indie filmmaker.

So, yes, that’s a frustrating part of working on a screenplay. Even when finished, it isn’t anything; it’s just a blueprint for something that will be something if someone chooses to make it (a movie!).

It’s hard to imagine always having the motivation to write a screenplay… knowing that in all likelihood, it will just be words on a page that nobody will ever read, and nobody will ever see represented on a screen.

As I often tell my students, though, they should try many different kinds of writing. Even if you’re a fiction writer, an understanding of screenplays, journalism, poetry, and even technical writing can serve to hone other aspects of your preferred genre’s craft!

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

From the Publisher (preferred): here

From Amazon: here

A review of the book: here

Giving Short Stories a Title

Titling a novel is different than titling a short story. A novel has to be grander, more poetic, more sweeping and memorable to cover the breadth of its contents. The Sun Also Rises. The Sound and The Fury. Gone With the Wind.

Of course, I generalize here, but I think the titling of a novel is different from the titling of a short story. I don’t think short stories work with grand and sweeping titles. (And, yes, I realize someone can respond to this with many examples to show I’m wrong).

But that’s what I want to focus on (not me being wrong, necessarily). I have a strategy for titling a short story that I use with my students. I alluded to this in a previous post, but I want to go into some more detail. Now, my students are writing “literary” short stories, so I’m not sure this works for every genre.

I call this titling approach the concrete/symbolic title. I noticed a pattern in many of the titles of the stories we were reading. They work on a concrete and symbolic level.

Ok, what do I mean by concrete? Well, that’s something actually in the story. If you have a story called “The Bridge” and there’s no actual bridge in it… well that’s not a concrete title.

The symbolic part means that this concrete thing can also represent your story symbolically. If you have a story about an estranged father and son driving to the Mackinaw Bridge in Michigan, and through their journey they become more bonded... well, then, "The Bridge" works. There's an actual bridge in the story, but perhaps a bridge is also being built between father and son.

Here’s an example. You’re writing a coming-of-age story about three teen girls who are working a summer job before college starts. All are working at an outdoor greenhouse that sells flowers to people who want to plant them in their yard. The girls are on the cusp of adulthood. They are dealing with relationships, strained friendships, and the knowledge that they will likely not see each other again for some time because each is going off to a different college. They also know, and even talk about, in some intuitive way, that they will be different people when they see each other again.

So, here’s how you could give that story a concrete/symbolic title. You could call it “Summer Flowers.” On a concrete level, that title works. Because they work at a green house, there are summer flowers actually in the story. For some of your readers, that’s all they will see in the title… the reference to the concrete aspect. It will make sense because there are flowers in the story. “No great shakes as a title,” a reader might say, “but it makes sense given where they work.”

But “Summer Flowers,” also works as a symbolic reference to the girls themselves. They are in a way, in their youth, like summer flowers. They are facing their own coming autumn that will change them. It won’t be a change like death (as happens with annuals), but they are going to be different come the fall… and they can feel it.

Now, if the girls worked at a pizza place all summer, I don’t think “Summer Flowers” works because it’s not grounded in the concrete. A reader would probably read it and say, “Why the hell is this called ‘Summer Flowers’… there are no flowers in the thing! There's flour sure, but no flowers!” 

See, I think without the grounding in the concrete, the symbolic aspect doesn’t work because it’s trying too hard to be symbolic. It beats you over the head that the flowers in “Summer Flowers” is only in reference to the girls. Symbols work when they are grounded in the concrete. They have to exist for real and organically within the story before they can also stand as a symbol.

I have examples.

“Cathedral” by Raymond Carver. Yes, the main character and his blind visitor do indeed draw a cathedral together. (the blind man resting his hands on top of the M.C's as he draws, thereby "seeing" the cathedral by feeling its becoming on paper). But, the blind visitor also serves to pull the M.C. from his existential death (at least momentarily)… that living room that they draw in almost becomes sacred and holy, not unlike a cathedral! The title could also be a reference to the momentary holy space they have created by drawing together.

“Shiloh” by Bobbie Ann Mason. It’s a story of a dissolving marriage. Both husband and wife have lost their roles since losing a child to SIDS. Everything is exacerbated by the husband’s long-haul trucking accident, which lands him permanently at home. They eventually go to Shiloh—an old Civil War battle ground— (and where they honey-mooned) to maybe rekindle something. But there’s no spark. The title works because Shiloh is in the story (it’s concrete!), but it’s also symbolic. Shiloh could be a reference to them. Isn’t the dissolution of a marriage not unlike a civil war? Isn’t it two forces that were one becoming enemies?

As you look for titles for your stories, you might consider the concrete/symbolic approach. Find something that exists in the story, but also has symbolic significance.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

From the Publisher (preferred): here

From Amazon: here

A review of the book: here

Writers in Their Own Words: Barbara Avon

Van here... (then the featured act... Barbara Avon!)

I wasn't sure what I'd find when I joined the #WritingCommunity on Twitter. Some of my expectations were met. I see many folks shouting about needing followers, doing A LOT of #writerslifts, shotgun posting Amazon links to their books, and not having a whole lot of interest in discussing writing, more than simply discussing that they are writers and have books.

This I expected.

What I didn't expect was to find genuinely good people (yes, by nature I am cynical)... people who want to support others, discuss writing, create virtual friendships, and even sometimes read this blog.

Barbara Avon is one of those good folks. One of the best. 

Below, she tells us about her experiences with writing... and includes info on how you can get your eyes on some of that writing!

Enjoy...

Why I Choose To Write From the Male Point of View

Like many, I started this journey as a teenager, writing angst-filled poetry. I always dreamed of writing a novel. When a significant relationship ended in 2002, I decided it was time to gut myself of my feelings by creating a fictional world and characters that represented who I am. 

As a young woman, I read Nicholas Sparks, and Richard Paul Evans - both renowned for writing "Love Stories". I wanted to prove to myself that I could "do better" and behind my pen, I became someone else. I became Peter Travis (my very first protagonist.) 

As a woman writing from a male perspective, I was able to script that which I, myself, find most romantic. Maybe the breakup I was going through added some heat to that fire. I sat down in my little kitchen and had the time of my life. I walked down the street, writing notes on Post-its as I walked. I wrote at the office. I wrote on the bus. I wrote in my sleep. Keep in mind that I was not active on social media. In fact, there was no social media to really speak of. I was simply a writer at heart, determined to make the title "real". I wanted to call myself an author. 

The story practically wrote itself, and in 2015, with my husband's encouragement, I released the book into the world after a lot of wasted dollars. I didn't know Self-publishing existed back then, and used a high-end printing house to print hard copies, which I then sold on Facebook. (Yes, I finally gave in and joined social media.) 

It never even occurred to me that as a woman, I should write a female protagonist. I essentially was Peter Travis, as well as his love interest, Briana. As authors, we wear many hats. We are like actors who take on different roles to fully experience their craft. Shortly after, I branched out, and I'm now a multi-genre author - that actor with many roles. 

"The Christmas Miracle", a stand-alone novel, is Peter's fourth book. At this point (the book is set in 2007), Peter is a 62 year-old married father, and bistro owner. He has had to endure many hardships in his life including the one he faces in "Miracle", and I couldn't imagine having started my career without him. After twenty published novels, and many different protagonists, I wear my title as Author, proudly, and I owe it all to him: a fictional character.

 

I will continue to write all my books from the male character's perspective, because that soul that experienced teenage angst? That person that was so desperate for love? The one who loves deeply, and sacrifices everything for love? That person is me, and being the hopeless romantic that I am, I want my readers to lose themselves in my world, just as I lose myself. (Or, more accurately, where I find my true self.)  

Right now, through to the end of #ChristmasInJuly, you can meet Peter for free by downloading an eversion from this link. https://www.barbaraavon.com/christmas-2018

The paperback is available on Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08BF44HGX/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i18 

I hope you love him as much as I do. 

More Lessons from Screenwriting to Help Your Novel's Plot

In previous blog posts I’ve written about how an understanding of screenplay story-telling structure can help you structure your novel’s plot.. so as to avoid it being meandering or almost plotless. Even with a decent plot, this understanding can help you raise the stakes and the satisfaction for your reading audience.

 

I have discussed the Inciting Incident (which happens fairly early and gets the story/plot rolling), and I have discussed Midpoint (a visual moment in the film/novel that shows character growth).

 

In this post, I want to discuss the idea of what in an academic screenwriting setting is called Plot Point II. In a movie, this happens at the end of the second act/beginning of the third act… so in a two-hour movie about 90 minutes into the movie. In your novel? Probably right around 75% of the way in.

 

Now, remember, for a relatively new form of story-telling (movie-making), screenwriting reaches way back to Aristotle’s understanding of dramatic story-telling for its structure. (And, don’t quote me, but I’ve heard that he was a pretty smart fella).

 

Really, before any of this, you need to really know your character’s goal. In screenwriting theory that’s often called the MDQ or the Major Dramatic Question. It’s a simple yes or no question that doesn’t really deal with all of the subplots or themes or subtle growth. The MDQ is answered by the events associated with the climax. It’s answer again is yes or no… it’s not debatable.

 

For instance, in the 1977 Star Wars, the MDQ would be, “Will Luke blow up the Death Star?”

 

For your novel, the question might be: “Does Susan find her missing son?” or “Do they escape the lair of the vampire with their lives?” Notice, these are yes or no questions.

 

Well, here’s where Plot Point II comes in, which is either a major setback for the protagonist (the M.C.) or a major victory for the Antagonist. It’s something that makes it look like it will be nearly impossible for the MDQ to be answered “yes”… (if yes to that answer is indeed a major goal for your character.)

 

In the above examples… the private eye Susan hired, and who has been making some headway in the search for her son, is unexpectedly killed. Or, in the second scenario, a character that the group was relying on and who was leading them out of the vampire’s lair falls into a pit and shatters both of his legs.

 

Yes, Plot Point II is usually pretty bad. It should be the worst thing that’s happened to your character… especially on their quest to meet their goals.

 

Notice how Plot Point 2 puts more pressure on the M.C. to find the strength within themselves to accomplish the goal. Susan must carry on in her quest without the P.I.’s help. She has to take what she’s learned by his approach and clues he’s assembled to find her son on her own. In the vampire story, the group must carry on without their leader… and here your M.C. finds the strength within to begin leading the group.

 

This is satisfying for the audience. Rather than seeing some outside force (send in the cavalry!) come and save the day, instead they revel in your character’s story arc. They get to see the character grow into the hero that’s been hinted at throughout the book. Characters change and grow and succeed, but these things should come from within.

 

Look at Star Wars again. What’s Plot Point II? Well, it’s when Darth Vader strikes down Obi Wan Kenobi (in front of everyone!). It’s a blow! Luke has lost his mentor in the Force. Early in the movie, via hologram, Princess Leia even says, “Help me Obi Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

 

 

And now, hope is lost! How do they possibly succeed? How can they destroy the Death Star without the guidance and skill of one of the few remaining Jedi? Well, unknown to them, there is a “new hope” in Luke. And, Luke’s been showing himself to be a pretty skilled pilot and some natural ability with the Force, especially in his Midpoint scene (swinging across the chasm and rescuing the Princess).

 

And, of course, like Obi Wan promised Darth, if he was struck down, he would only come back stronger… and he does in the form of a guiding voice in Luke’s head. But it is still Luke who saves the day.

 

Think about your own novel’s plot. Do you have a clear goal for the M.C. (and MDQ?). Okay, what’s going to be a major setback to the M.C. accomplishing that goal that will happen about ¾ of the way through your book?

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

From the Publisher (preferred): here

From Amazon (on Kindle now too for $3.99)!: here

What I've Learned (and am learning) About Marketing a Book

I find the most difficult aspect of writing a book and then getting it published is that you then need to market the book once it’s published.

For me that has been made exponentially more difficult during a pandemic.

First, people’s minds are elsewhere. Who can blame them?

I’m used to marketing in a physical environment. I can sell books if I can get a reading or book signing at a bookstore. Readings and signings are obviously pretty hard to come by right now. Some bookstores are attempting Zoom readings, but unless you’re a big name, I doubt many people will sign on to see/listen to the reading.

I’m not certain that marketing on Twitter in the #WritingCommunity is the way to go. It’s been a great place to meet people, and I believe it’s generated a few sales for me. Still, even having over 15k followers (which I don’t) doesn’t guarantee anything in the way of sales. Think about it. You are following and being followed by writers who have their own books to sell.

I think simply tweeting your Amazon link does nothing. It’s white noise on Twitter, and most people will breeze right past those posts.

You gotta do something to get your book out to readers.

Some things I’ve done. Since I live in Michigan, I did contact nearly every Michigan library with a flier about my book. My email included my publisher’s email for any library interested in ordering a copy.

I also sent press releases to my local paper and many other Michigan papers. You could send to papers without any connection to you, but the likelihood of them running a press release then is pretty slim. My local paper did run the press release, and that resulted in several sales.

I also reached out to some Public Radio stations. My own local Public Radio station is going to have me on for a segment once the host gets done reading the PDF that I sent. (That wouldn’t have happened had I not reached out).

Of course, email a flier to friends and family. I did that… and again, a few sales.

I’ve been trying to reach out to review sites. In my case, I’ve written a literary collection of short stories. After some googling, I found a site listing places that are interested in reviewing literary work.

You can see it: here.

I also did a search on Twitter for sites that review. That’s resulted in a few hits… and I think a few more to come. I probably have 15 different places at least considering a review.

The review of my book in The Coil Magazine (which you can read: here) resulted in some interest… and I think a few sales.

I also learned that some review sites don’t want the book for review if it’s already been published… even freshly published. I don’t quite understand that policy, but I am learning that the time to market a book starts when you know it’s going to be published. Probably six months in advance.

The biggest thing I learned? You can’t think of Twitter as your best marketing platform. You gotta make people aware of your book in places where people are looking for books. That’s not likely going to be other writers on Twitter who are looking to sell their own books.

If the #readingcommunity exists, it is elusive.

I do agree with the advice that you should do something to market your book every day. But, I think you’re fooling yourself if you think tweeting about the book, or doing a #writerslift to collect more followers, or simply posting your Amazon link is doing anything.

Reach out to review sites (some sites are specific to indie/self publishers… and some are specific to e-books only. You just have to do your Google searches). I did notice too that some sites expedite your review if you’re willing to pay money.

I’m pretty cheap by nature so likely won’t do that… but it’s an option. And, I do think some of those sites (like Kirkus) could generate some sales. But Kirkus is to the tune of $495 and they want an advance copy to read.

Another thing you can do? Find out if there are any local book clubs/groups that might be interested in reading a local author and having you as a guest. The internet is amazing for finding those little clubs. Just google the name of your town or city with the term “book club”.

So what have I learned? Marketing a book is very difficult… made more so by the pandemic.

It’s a thinking outside the box kinda thing. Who can I let know about my book? Who would care? Just this morning, I thought, “Well, the two colleges I attended might be interested in an alum having a new book. I’ll email them a flier… might end up in some Alum News newsletter).

Look online too for groups, forums, etc that might be naturally interested in your book. When my novel Detroit Muscle (here) was published, I reached out to groups interested in addiction and recovery. Why? My main character is recovering from an Oxy addiction, and the book centers around his first month or so after he leaves recovery. It's also a book that brings a message of hopefulness. Such reaching out resulted in some sales, some reviews, some excerpts being published, and some invitations to guest speak.

Push the envelope… and try to take things off social media as much as you can!

And, if you have a blog, make sure to end each post with a "subtle" call-to-action, like so...

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

From the Publisher (preferred): here

From Amazon: here

The Nuance of Projecting Emotion in John Guzlowski's Fiction.

Currently, I am reading John Guzlowski’s new novel, Little Altar Boy. Full disclosure, John was my thesis director back in grad school another lifetime ago.

I’ve seen the book described as a cop procedural. It’s more than that too. There’s mystery, literary thoughts about war, prejudice, parenthood, and crime.

The story follows the protagonist, Hank, and his partner Marvin as they try to solve a complicated murder during 1960s Chicago. That aspect of the story keeps you guessing as to who might have done it… so it succeeds where it really needs to succeed as a crime/mystery novel.

If you’re already interested in purchasing, you can find it: here

A second investigation happens as well. Hank’s daughter, nineteen years old, goes missing. At first it’s just a matter of “Is she pushing the limits of her own freedom, letting her parents know she can come and go as she pleases?” But Hank knows in his heart, given the pot she’s been smoking and the questionable crowd she’s been running with, that things probably aren’t that innocent. And, as more and more days pass without her return, he and Marvin begin to follow leads that might lead to her.

They question foot soldier drug dealers, friends of Margaret’s (the daughter), and eventually find themselves getting into a pretty seedy story/situation. Hank’s followed the leads of plenty of seedy stories, but never one involving his own offspring. We see him worrying, magically thinking that the past can return, drinking more and more, and losing sleep. These are important scenes to reveal how he’s feeling. It’s hitting this tough old buzzard pretty hard.

But a scene I read last night was so beautifully rendered that I had to blog about it. In terms of craft, I’m not even sure what it would be called. Hank and Marvin are questioning Ernesto, a member of a gang, but also a sometimes reliable informant. He might have a lead that could turn up Margaret. And so, they go to Ernesto’s to question him and find out more about the drug dealer boy that Margaret has been running with. Near the end of their interview, Ernesto hypothesizes that they could have been taken by gang members from the South Side. Here’s the scene:

Here’s what I really love about this scene. Guzlowski knows that we have already seen Hank worry and fret and paralyze himself with concern. Here he is hearing the worst possible news: His daughter might be in the hands of a nefarious gang. As a cop, he knows exactly what that means.

But, instead of having us live directly with how Hank ingests this news, he shows it to us so subtly through Ernesto. They’ve been sitting, talking, and all three of them drinking from Ernesto’s Jack Daniels. Ernesto’s flat makes it clear that he’s not swimming in money. He’s not particularly close to Hank. He’s an informant, but he’s another cop’s informant. Hank is meeting him for the first time.

But, what must Ernesto see in Hank’s demeanor/his face to be so struck with empathy that he offers the bottle of Jack to Marvin to take to Hank?

This handling of things is so subtle, so nuanced. And I think it made me imagine Hank’s pain more than if I would have had it described to me through Hank’s POV.

I see Hank through Ernesto’s eyes. Hank’s overcome, skin paling, face fallen. He just has to leave... has to walk away from the overwhelming news that his daughter and this Willy character are “fucked” if they’ve fallen prey to this gang.

None of this is described, but the way it’s handled works so well. Ernesto, not someone you’re lead to believe would be capable of great sympathy or charity (a guy who runs with his own gang and has seen things and done things) still is moved enough by Hank’s pain that he hands over what might be the only liquor he has in his place.

This truly make me feel Hank’s pain. It makes me wonder too if my own writing could use some subtle, masterfully handled scenes like this one. Guzlowski truly puts his secondary character to use in this scene.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

From the Publisher (preferred): here

From Amazon: here

A review of the book: here