By Callie Oettinger
Published: June 10, 2016
Do I think an author bio is necessary for a fiction author?
A good idea? Yes.
When I started writing tip-sheet (one-pagers about a book) copy for sales conferences, I learned how much bios play into sales.
The sales reps used these tip sheets to help sell the new season to book buyers.
Without having read the books, the reps would make decisions on which books to emphasize most during sales calls, based on two things: marketing/PR plans and author bios. The reps wanted the first bit because they knew it would grab the buyers’ attention — to confirm sales would be fueled. They wanted the second bit — the bio — to confirm the author had the chops and/or to fuel local sales.
Let’s break down the local and the chops.
Posted in What It Takes
By Steven Pressfield | Published: June 22, 2016
[Forgive me for leaving this post up two weeks in a row, but response has been so overwhelming to this free offer (see below) that we’ve decided to keep it going till midnight a week and a day from now—June 30. That’s the expiration date. Don’t be late!]
As a thank-you to readers of this blog, we’re giving away the e-version of my newest book, Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t, just out today. No opt-in required. You don’t have to enter your e-mail address or compromise your privacy in any way.
The book is free until midnight Eastern time June 30.
What is Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t about?
The title comes from the first and most important lesson I ever learned as a writer, on the very first day of my very first job, as a junior copywriter for Benton & Bowles Advertising in New York. What the phrase means is that because readers are inevitably busy, impatient, easily-distracted, i.e. they don’t want to read your sh*t, it’s incumbent on you and me as writers to make our stuff so interesting, so sexy, so unusual, so compelling that a reader would have to be crazy NOT to read it.
Every other lesson in writing follows from this one tough-love truth.
Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t is my “lessons learned” from a career in five different writing fields—advertising, screenwriting, fiction, nonfiction, and self-help.
Some sample chapter heads:
Fiction is Truth
Nonfiction is Fiction
Sometimes You Gotta Be Somebody’s Slave
“Steve, Your Ego is Getting Out of Hand,”
Not to mention …
Text and Subtext
How to Write A Boring Memoir
A Non-Story is a Story, and
At the risk of hyping my own stuff, lemme say that Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t is a pretty good from-the-trenches primer for anybody who is a writer already or who has ambitions to become one.
Click here to download your free copy.
And thanks again for sticking with us here on Writing Wednesdays.
Posted in Writing Wednesdays | 45 Comments
By Steven Pressfield | Published: June 8, 2016
Have you ever seen a “breakdown board” for a movie? You and I as novelists can learn a lot from it about the writing of first drafts.
Motion pictures, as most of us know, are not shot in sequence. The first day’s filming may be the movie’s final scene, or a scene from the middle of the picture.
What dictates the order of shooting is efficiency.
If we’re shooting Zombie Apocalypse VI and we know we’ve got three scenes that take place in the abandoned warehouse down by the railroad tracks, let’s shoot them all back-to-back Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday, even though one is the opening scene, one is a scene from the movie’s middle, and the third is from the climax.
We save money because the production can set up in one location and stay there till that section of the film is in the can. No expensive moves.
Likewise if we’ve managed to convince George Clooney to take a 99% salary cut and appear in five scenes as the deranged high school principal, let’s schedule all his scenes back-to-back as well. That way he can give us three days in a block and then be free to go home.
The breakdown board is the production department’s tool to accomplish this efficiency/economy. The line producer and his or her team start by reading through the screenplay, seeking locations (INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE/ZOMBIE HIDEAWAY) that appear more than once. They rip the pages out of the script and stick them all in one place. Those scenes become one sliding panel, i.e. one unified block of shooting time, on the breakdown board
By the time the production team is done deconstructing the script, the sequence-of-scenes-as-story has been turned inside-out and upside-down. But it works in terms of bang for the buck. By filming out of order, we’ve just saved $1.2 million out of our $9 million budget. Maybe we can afford Clooney for an extra half-day.
But back to you and me as novelists slogging through our first drafts.
What law says we have to write in sequence?
Could we gain something by working out of order?
I’m a big believer in this, and my first reason won’t surprise you:
Resistance is the factor that (sometimes, not always) determines for me which scenes and sequences I’ll tackle first.
I want to do the hardest stuff early—meaning the scenes or sequences that will generate the most Resistance. Maybe it’s the climax that’s really, really tough. I can tell because I’m so daunted by it that I don’t even want to face it in outline form. That’s the scene, I know, that I should tackle first, or at least early in the first-draft process.
Remember, the last thing we want to do is save the really hard stuff for the end. (See this post about moving pianos.) What if we spend two years writing our Wordsworth Serial Killer story, get to the finish and find that we can’t make the Climax In the Ruined Bell Tower at Tintern Abbey work?
Write that scene first, or at least outline it, get it to a place where you know you can do it in crunch time and make it work. Force yourself to do this. How good will you feel, going forward, knowing that you’ve got those really tough scenes already in the bank?
There’s another compelling reason to work out of sequence.
Inspiration is not linear. The goddess slings her thunderbolts with no regard to logical story-progression. If I’m working on Page Four but find myself obsessing about a sequence in the middle of the narrative, I’ll drop everything and work on that. It’s great fun, I must say, to reach Act Three and discover, “OMG, I’ve got forty pages that I wrote on this last February and they all work!”
That’s the logic behind writing a first draft out of sequence. It works in the movies. It can work for you and me in books.
That said, there are equally compelling counter-reasons. I confess I often throw the out-of-order concept out the window because of these.
First is story logic. Sometimes it helps to write Scene 41 when you’ve got Scenes 39 and 40 fresh in your mind. Sometimes 39 and 40 trigger great stuff for 41 that we might not have thought of if we’d done 41 in isolation.
Then there’s momentum. Sometimes a story just wants to be told in order. It flows better that way. Its own velocity propels it forward.
Yes, I know. I’m talking out of both sides of my mouth on this issue.
Bottom line: the canny writer uses BOTH techniques. She knows how to roll in-sequence when that feels best. But she’s ready to break that habit and jump around in her story when working out-of-sequence seems to make more sense.
P.S. Don’t steal that Wordsworth Serial Killer idea. That’s mine.