A few days ago, I got my contributor’s copies of the new edition of Shattered Shields — my first time in mass market paperback!
As you might surmise from the terrific Todd Lockwood cover art, it’s an anthology of military fantasy stories. If you don’t already have a copy, you can order one here.
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A friendly reminder that in a couple of weeks I’ll present the “Face-to-Face Slushpile” workshop at the MystiCon science fiction and fantasy convention in Roanoke, Virginia. (I’ll be doing other things at the convention, too, but I’m plugging this again because it takes a little prep in order to participate.)
The convention starts on Friday the 26th, and my workshop is one of the first events. As I explained in an earlier post, the workshop offers a brief, In-Person, Real-Time Manuscript Submission Critique on a first-come, first-served basis.
If you’re coming to the convention and you’ve been receiving rejection slips from publishers, I’ll take a look at your submission and let you know, from my experience evaluating submissions for Baen Books, what impression I get from it. If not you, but you know someone planning to attend who has yet to break through in the publishing world, tell them to bring in their cover letter, the first 5 pages of their story, and their 1- or 2-page synopsis and let me take a look at them.
Let me know if you have questions or suggestions, and meanwhile … keep writing!
by If you’ve submitted a novel or story and wondered why you only ever got a form rejection, this might be the workshop for you. I’ve been evaluating submissions for Baen Books for nearly nine years now, so I might be able to give you some idea why your submission didn’t attract the right attention. I’ll do my best to, anyway.
I’m offering this new workshop at conventions this year, starting at MystiCon in Roanoke, Virginia. This workshop is designed primarily for folks who have written (but not sold, obviously) their first novel; however, it’s open to anyone and I think writers at different levels may derive value from it.
I call it the “Face-to-Face Slushpile.” (If you’re new to the industry jargon, the “slushpile” is the collection of unsolicited manuscripts every publisher receives.) Here’s the description we’re using at MystiCon:
Have you been collecting rejection slips on a science fiction or fantasy novel, but haven’t been able to figure out why? Do you have thick enough skin to take direct, honest, face-to-face critique? Bring your cover letter, the first 5 pages of your story, and your 1- or 2-page synopsis and get real-time feedback from the “Slushmaster General.” First-come, first-served, and volunteers only! If time permits, we may discuss short fiction; however, novels will have first priority. Learn what happens to manuscripts when you send them to a publisher, and how to make yours stand out … in the right way.
Some things to note:
If the current schedule holds, I’ll debut the workshop on the first day of MystiCon (the 26th of February). I’ve pitched the idea to some of the other conventions I’m attending this year, and as those plans develop I’ll post the details.
So, if you or someone you know is a struggling novelist, maybe this workshop can help! That’s the idea, anyway.
What would you like out of a workshop like this?
Send me an e-mail or post a comment to let me know what you think and what would make a workshop like this more valuable to you — or if you want me to come to your convention to present it. And if you know someone who might like to attend, send them the link to this post or send me their contact info.
And if you want more information about this and other projects I have going on, sign up for my newsletter.
by Of all the writing I do, I find speechwriting to be some of the most challenging and rewarding. It’s a great privilege to help someone craft a clear and effective message for a unique audience.
In addition to enjoying speechwriting, I flatter myself that I’m fairly good at it. All told I’ve written over 200 executive-level speeches and presentations, and I’ve had two different full-time speechwriting gigs, first at Headquarters Air Force and then at NC State University.*
And (hint, hint) I’m always in the market for new speechwriting clients.
So how can you know if I’m the speechwriter for you, and you’re the client for me? Maybe by considering the second part of that question, it will help you answer the first part.
My ideal speechwriting client will:
Don’t try to sound like Lincoln. Be yourself. (Image: “Lincoln, the Orator,” by Ann Fisher, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)
So, that’s what I’m looking for in speechwriting clients. If you need someone who can help you craft a keynote or other important speech, maybe I could be the speechwriter for you. I’m not cheap — speechwriting takes me away from my other gigs, after all — but I’m confident that I can help you whether your purpose is to educate the audience, motivate the audience, or advocate for a particular position or cause. I can help you make complex technical topics accessible to general audiences, and structure your message so it resonates with the particular audience who is coming to hear you.
Let me know if you’d like to talk about writing a speech together, or if you know someone else who might need some speechwriting assistance.
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*In the Air Force, I was part of the Secretary and Chief of Staff’s Executive Action Group and wrote primarily for two different Under Secretaries and one Acting Secretary of the Air Force; at the university, I was part of the Industrial Extension Service and wrote primarily for the Executive Director.
by If the title isn’t clear enough, and the logo below didn’t show up, I’m referring to voting for the Hugo Awards rather than voting for the Cary Town Council. Being on one ballot was not enough for me!
(In fact, if you want to put me on a third ballot, you can nominate any of my filk songs for a Pegasus Award. Hahaha!)
But, insofar as the Hugo Awards go, the deadline is fast approaching for getting our votes in, as was recently pointed out by perhaps the biggest name in fantasy literature these days, George R.R. Martin.
The deadline is in fact the 31st of July — one day past the deadline for Pegasus nominations, haha! — and if you’re a member of the World SF Convention you should have gotten your Voter Packet and instructions weeks ago. If you’re not a member but you still want to vote, there’s just a little time left for you to purchase a Supporting Membership* and participate in the process.
In the blog post linked above, Mr. Martin noted that so far more than 2300 ballots have been cast. He asks,
Who are all these new Supporting Members? Are they trufans rallying to the defense of one of our field’s oldest and most cherished institutions? Are they Sad Puppies, Rabid Puppies, Happy Kittens, Gamergaters? Are those dreaded SJWs and ASPs and CHORFs turning out by the hundreds and the thousands? Are these the Neo-Nazis and right-wing reactionaries we have been warned of? The truth is… no one knows. We may get a clue when the ballots are opened and counted, but even then, the numbers may well just say, “Answer cloudy, ask again.”
If you’re not familiar with all the lingo in there, count yourself lucky. And if you’re undecided about voting or what to vote for, bear in mind Heinlein’s admonition:
If you are part of a society that votes, then do so. There may be no candidates and no measures you want to vote for … but there are certain to be ones you want to vote against. In case of doubt, vote against. By this rule you will rarely go wrong.
So, vote! Even if you vote against me.
As for that other democratic process, we’ll have more to say in the coming weeks. Stay tuned!
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*A Supporting Membership costs $40, for which you get electronic copies of several of the nominated works (e.g., Best Novel) with which to make an informed decision.
by Ten years ago, I was the speechwriter for the Acting Secretary of the Air Force, the Honorable Michael Dominguez. And ten years ago today, on 4 July 2005, he spoke on behalf of then-President George W. Bush at the “Let Freedom Ring” event in Philadelphia.
During the ceremony, Mr. Dominguez was among the first to ring the “Normandy Liberty Bell,” a replica of our Liberty Bell commissioned by Frenchman Patrick Daudon for the 60th anniversary of the D-Day landing. The Philadelphia ceremony was the first time the bell was brought to the U.S. (As seen below, it is now on display at the National World War II Museum in New Orleans.)
(The Normandy Liberty Bell. Photo by Susannah Clary, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)
Mr. Dominguez spoke only briefly, and it was the first and only time one of the people I wrote for was directly representing — essentially, standing in for — the President. For the sake of my own sense of nostalgia, and to mark this Independence Day, here’s an excerpt from the remarks we prepared:
Whenever and wherever freedom rings, the world must take note.
The world took note when the Allies stood together against tyranny and aggression in two world wars.
The world took note of the Civil Rights and Women’s Suffrage movements, when we extended the self-evident truths of the Declaration — that we are all created equal — to those who had been treated unequally for so long.
The world took note when Afghani and Iraqi citizens voted in free elections.
And in the future, as freedom continues to ring through all nations, tribes, and tongues, the world will continue to take note.
I didn’t attend the event, so I don’t know if Mr. Dominguez actually used the prepared remarks — we learn quickly as speechwriters that what we prepare is often a guide and sometimes just a suggestion! And while the words are not stirring enough to go down in the annals of oratory history, I think they were at least fitting for the occasion.
And for this occasion, I can only add: Happy Fourth of July! And thank-you to all of our troops serving at home and abroad, ensuring that we as a people remain free and independent.
by If you’re in the vicinity of High Point, North Carolina, next weekend, come out and see me and many of my science fiction and fantasy friends!
(The ConGregate mascot, Greg-8.)
ConGregate will run July 10-2, and features Timothy Zahn and Michael Stackpole as Writer Guests of Honor. I’m very pleased that the convention is allowing me to return as a guest, and I’m going to be plenty busy!
On Friday, I’ll barely have time to breathe:
On Saturday, I’ve got several more events:
And Sunday I get to rest:
If you’re going, I hope you’ll stop by and chat. If I’ve already told you about my new CD, Distorted Vision, coming out later this summer, I’ll be happy to tell you more! You can snag a copy of my InterGalactic Medicine Show story, “Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Earth to Alluvium,” or my first album, Truths and Lies and Make-Believe, or even “Another Romulan Ale” and “Tauntauns to Glory” bumper stickers — and, of course, you can also sign up for my newsletter to get the latest info on my different projects.
And whatever you do, have fun doing it!
by I’m not going to talk about the Great Hugo Award Controversy in this post. If that disappoints anyone, then in the words of my former teacher, Dave Haasl, “For this I apologize, but this apology is in no way sincere.”
One additional note: This post is adapted from what I sent out today in my newsletter. Usually I give my newsletter friends a longer period of exclusivity, so to them I offer a sincere apology.
For family and friends who don’t follow science fiction and fantasy news, last Saturday the nominees for the 2015 Hugo Awards were announced, and my story, “Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Earth to Alluvium,” which appeared in Orson Scott Card’s InterGalactic Medicine Show online magazine last May, is a finalist for the 2015 Hugo Award for Best Novelette.
If you already know what the Hugo Awards are, you can skip this paragraph, but for family and friends who are not immersed in SF&F culture: the Hugo Awards are given for “excellence in the field of science fiction and fantasy,” and have been called the “most prestigious award in science fiction” — so this is a pretty big deal. You can think of the Hugos as something of a cross between the Academy Awards and the People’s Choice Awards, in that they’re voted on by a fairly small group (members of the World Science Fiction Convention) but anyone is welcome to join that group.
My first reaction to the nomination was a profound sense of gratitude, which I hope will become clear as I tell you a bit about the story and how it came to be.
My “novelette” — which simply refers to a story between 7500 and 17,500 words long — revolves around human settlers on a distant planet trying to end years of subjugation by an alien species. Here’s the opening:
The door leading to the Tephrist’s studio reminded Cerna of a clam’s shell turned on its side, except it was grossly oversized, indigo-painted, and steel.
“Let’s go back, Phil,” Cerna said. “Why do you want to go in there? They’re the ones making you sick.”
Keller would hear none of it. His hand shook a little as he pushed against the damaged identi-plate. The plate and the imperfectly patched wall around it bore the imprint of the only human revolt to have reached this far into town.
As the door-halves swung apart on smooth tracks, Cerna resisted the urge to pull his friend away. The interlocking flutes were sharp edged and equipped with heavy-duty pins as long as his forearm that secured it in the off-hours.
The front room was square, and stark in its simplicity. It smelled pleasanter than Cerna expected, faintly of cinnamon. Not like death at all.
The ceiling was mostly open to the afternoon sky, typical of Peshari construction, but buttresses rose from the corners that were interconnected with steel bars. Shadows from the bars made patterns on the rough, pale, orange tiled floor and the sand colored brick walls. A few bricks were adorned with dead Peshari in miniature bas-relief.
A heavy-beamed archway roughly opposite the entrance led back into the work area. In between, a holo-pillar took up about a square meter in the center of the room, but it was turned off. Otherwise, the room was bare, with not even a plant to break up the uniform color. Cerna guessed that a place devoted to death might not be the best environment for living things.
If you’re curious and want to read more, I’ll put the link at the bottom of this post.
So, then, why was gratitude my first reaction when the committee told me I’d been nominated? Because I give credit to a number of other people for the story’s success — and even for its very existence!
First off, I wrote the story as part of the annual Halloween contest in the Codex Writers Group, and the two “seeds” I started with came from fellow writers Aliza Greenblatt and Eric James Stone. The story took second place in the contest, and James Maxey liked it so much that he called it to the attention of Edmund Schubert, the editor of InterGalactic Medicine Show. Ed asked me to send it to him, which of course I did. Just a few months later the story went online.
So I am deeply grateful to each and all of them for their contributions to and faith in the tale.
The story of the story (if you will) might have ended there. IGMS’s readership is smaller than the traditional powerhouse magazines like Analog and Asimov’s, and while it’s nice to think that some of the readers liked my story, I don’t remember it being reviewed or getting any other attention. But as “award season” started warming up my friends Brad Torgersen and Larry Correia decided to recommend the story, and others followed suit. For my part, I was quite happy that a few more people might read the story than would have ever heard of it otherwise; even with the widespread attention Brad and Larry and their “Evil League of Evil” could give it, I doubted it would make the cut.
Turns out I was wrong.
So here I am, with a story nominated for one of the most significant science fiction awards. From the moment I opened the e-mail with the news, I’ve been and remain most grateful, to the people named above and to everyone who read my story and liked it enough to nominate it.
Voting will take place this summer. I’ll find out in August if my story passed muster with the voters.
Until then, as I noted above there is more than a little controversy over my nomination, because it was part of the recommendation list that was passed around. But I hope you’ll forgive me for leaving that discussion to another day.
Because all I really want to say today is: Thank you, one and all.
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Here’s the promised link, if you’d like to read “Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, Earth to Alluvium”.
by (Adapted from an article I sent out in my newsletter last November.)
Many writers have commented on the “rules” for writing that Science Fiction Grand Master Robert A. Heinlein put forth many years ago, but one rule in particular has tripped people up.
(The boat is built, but it’s not yet finished. Image of “Merrimack Skiffs in the Finishing Room at Lowell’s Boat Shop in Amesbury, MA,” by Bruce Berrien, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)
For those who don’t know, Heinlein’s rules were included almost as an afterthought in a brief essay he wrote for Of Worlds Beyond: The Science of Science Fiction Writing (Fantasy Press, 1947). He wrote, “I shall chuck in as a bonus a group of practical, tested rules which, if followed meticulously, will prove rewarding to any writer.”
The rules, which he also called “business habits,” that concluded his essay were:
I’ve heard and read a lot of commentary complaining about rule 3, to the effect that Heinlein was not in favor of editing or somesuch. I think that’s nonsense, and results from a failure to read what the rules actually say.
Note that rule 3 doesn’t say “don’t edit,” or “don’t rewrite,” or even “refrain from editing” — it stays “refrain from rewriting.” That is, once you’ve told the story you wanted to tell, resist the urge to change it into a different story. This rule is not about cleaning up a story; it’s about gross revisions and restructuring.
How can I be confident that Heinlein was not referring to editing a story before trying to sell it? Because I interpret rule 3 in light of rule 2.
All the commentaries I found on the Web* indicate that rule 2 simply means pressing on with your writing until you type “THE END” into the manuscript; in fact, the most common complaint seemed to be that actually completing every story one starts may not be advisable. However, that reads more into it than is actually there, because Heinlein didn’t say to finish every story one starts, but rather to finish what you start. Failing to complete a particular story simply leaves one with an incomplete story; but eventually, to be successful as a writer, one must finish writing at least one story.
But there is another meaning to the word “finish” that people seem not to have considered. Heinlein, who was an engineer and a craftsman, certainly understood that the process of building anything proceeds in stages and the final stage of most projects is the finishing stage: the crown moulding, baseboards and paint applied to the house; the stain, sanding and varnish applied to the piece of furniture (or the boat, in the image above); the continuity, characterization, and setting details applied to the story.
Thus, “finishing” a story is more than completing it, more than typing “THE END” — it’s sanding off the rough edges, adding color or detailing, maybe installing hardware or accessories — to create a truly “finished” piece of work as opposed to the foundation or framework or, simply, unfinished form of a story.
I have no proof that Heinlein actually meant “finish” in this way, but I’m confident that he was familiar with the idea. Even before he introduced the rules/habits, Heinlein called spelling, punctuation and grammar the “word-carpenter’s sharp tools” — and he certainly knew that the tools are important to making (and finishing) a thing but they are not usually the thing itself.
So, finish your stories before you send them in (rule 2), but don’t rewrite them unless and until you have to (rule 3).
It is possible, however, that I’m reading too much into this and that Heinlein did mean “finish” only in the sense of “completion.” He concluded his essay with this sentiment:
The above five rules …. are amazingly hard to follow — which is why there are so few professional writers and so many aspirants, and which is why I am not afraid to give away the racket! But, if you will follow them, it matters not how you write, you will find some editor somewhere, sometime, so unwary or so desperate for copy as to buy the worst old dog you, or I, or anybody else, can throw at him.
But I maintain that if you “finish” your stories in the way I suggest — by cleaning them up, making them presentable, and making them as good as possible — then “the worst old dog” you write will be more likely to compare favorably with the vast majority of the stories put forward by the “many aspirants” who send out their stories before they are ready.
What do you think?
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*I make no claim of having actually found all the commentaries on the Web.
by (This post is adapted from a newsletter article I sent out last October. If you’re not getting my newsletter, you can subscribe here.)
This advice may seem quaint, and like any advice it won’t apply to everyone, but if you’re thinking of writing as a pastime or a possible career, I suggest you consider starting with short stories and working your way into longer and longer pieces — because time is precious, and you want to use it to your best advantage. I offer this suggestion as the “slush” reader for Baen Books, having now examined literally thousands of submissions.
(I can honestly say I’ve never treated a manuscript like this. And thankfully never received one back with quite so strident a rejection. Image: “After the Edit,” by Laura Ritchie, on Flickr under Creative Commons.)
I am frequently surprised — and sometimes shocked — at submissions in which the author appears to have poured out their storytelling heart in 100,000 or more words without having practiced writing anything shorter. It’s not that they have a bad idea, or sometimes even that they write poorly (although this happens more than I’d like), but that they haven’t written enough to know how to tell a complete, coherent story.
It’s as if a would-be doctor tried to perform thoracic surgery without ever having dissected a frog.
That’s one reason I suggest that people start writing short stories and work their way to longer, more complex stories. But the other reason is even more basic: write short stories because you get to “THE END” faster.
Instead of taking months to produce a disjointed, confusing, lengthy text, learn how to write a smooth, straightforward narrative in days or weeks by limiting yourself at first to shorter forms. Then try longer forms that take weeks or a month to write. Learn to switch smoothly between points of view as your narratives grow in scope, and learn to tie up the threads of parallel narratives as your stories grow in length and complexity. Work your way up to forms that take months to write. Time is precious: spend it wisely!
And in keeping with the principle that time is precious, I’ll wrap this up. Thank you very much for spending part of your time here. Good luck to you!
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