Discussing Excerpt Eleven | Marketing Mondays

In yesterday’s post, I shared the introductory scene about Finn from a work in progress, tentatively titled “Technomancer”. This book will not have any explicit content, though it may have some romantic elements, so it is a departure from my prior works.

I’m hoping readers of this blog will respond to the chapter and let me know what they think. As of right now, the book is 30,000 words, so about one third written. I’m planning on finishing the first draft before the year is out and will be adding 50k words during NaNoWriMo.

Here are a few common questions I’m willing to answer at this point.

  • What is the book about? Technomancer is a Sci-fi/fantasy novel that explores the intersection of magic in a high-tech world, or the impact of technology on a magical realm. As you can tell from this first chapter, it starts in a world of magic.
  • Who is Finn? As you can tell from the expert, Finn is a bit of a hacker on a mission. He is trying to fight the system that he sees as being unjust. He is a bit of a white knight, but has enabled the darkness he is now fighting.
  • How does Finn relate to Elara from the opening chapter? The short answer is their two paths will cross very soon. However, what path their relationship takes and what it means for their character arcs is not yet revealed.
  • How can I read more of the tale before it’s published? That’s a good question. I may pull a few more WIP posting from it, but am not committing to that. I need to get the first draft done. I may open a beta reader program. If you are interested in being a beta reader, please subscribe to this blog so you can be notified if and when such a program opens. In the meantime, I’m back to writing.

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WIP: A Thrilling Introduction to Finn Miller’s Story

My last work in progress (WIP) post was a dark introduction to the world and two significant characters. This week, I’ll share the introductory scene with the main protagonist.

Finn Miller glanced at the silent timer showing on his phone. Two minutes left. He watched the progress bar on the screen and tapped his fingers on the edge of the ancient wooden table the third-hand terminal sat on. The flat screen was cracked, but still functioned. He hoped the location would give him a few more minutes of anonymity if the task took too long. He stood, stretching from his hours-long effort, preparing his body to flee. It was going to be close. He had three exits to choose from. If it took too long, he would have to pick which to run through. The fourth approach, how he had entered the room, was not an option. That path led to an open street that he knew had cameras. It had crowds as well, despite the late hour. It was, after all, a city that never slept.

He heard a sound and glanced at the main door. His temporary locks were still firmly in place. The plastic shims were inserted on the hinge side of the door, preventing it from swinging open. He glanced at the monitor, then crossed the small room to insert two additional wedges in the door, one high on the opening side and then the other on the floor, also away from the hinges. A tap of his finger sent the signal to them, causing the adhesive on the edges to expand and bind with the frame and the floor. Even a heavy battering ram would take several swings to shatter the door now. The wedges would hold much longer than the thin metal shell of the door itself. It was the best he could do to buy some extra time.

He glanced at his phone. It looked old, bulkier than the most modern models, but he would not trade it for anything. He knew every chip, circuit, and wire in the device. A commercial phone would have too many avenues of attack for him to ever trust. He should know, he had helped design the hardware compromises built into them for years. He had written parts of the low-level operating system they used as well. Finn had thought he was making the world a better place.

He shook his head at how naïve he had been.

Most people, even the technical elites, thought their phones were secure with end-to-end encryption and industrial operating systems. He knew better. His master’s thesis had gained him the job with the No Such Agency. They had placed him with a chip design company. He thought giving the agency the ability to by-pass all the commercial security efforts was warranted in the war on terror. Using quantum entanglement and post-deployment modifications to the processor’s microcode instructions let his superiors trigger a backdoor into anyone’s device. The agency had then subsidized the chips so heavily that no manufacturer could afford not to use them. He had been proud of his work. It should have earned him accolades. Instead, he was patted on the head and brought back into a windowless office hidden deep in a secure facility. He consoled himself with further refinements to the modified microcode running on so many phones.

A few years later, he realized that no one he worked with could understand what he did. They nicknamed him “microcode”, since they only seemed to understand that he did something that would modify how the processors operated. He began to wonder. If they did not understand how he did his exploits, did they understand the data collection those exploits enabled?

He began to look at how his work was being used. Yes, it was enabling traffic analysis for teams fighting terrorist and extremists. It was also being used to track citizens critical of the government. It was being used to listen in on private conversations of opposition party members. Then he found it being used to collect material to compromise government officials. The agency was controlling more than the flow of information, it was using that information to grow its own power.

His departure from government work had not come quickly. His clearances made it a slow withdrawal to avoid tripping any of the watchers tasked with keeping secrets, secret. He had used the time to slip away from the world. His phone had been built during that year-long retreat. It ran code that he would never give to the government. When he thought about how his work had been subverted, he got angry. Then he decided to get even.

In a roundabout way, that had led him to the dirty room with a decrepit terminal and spotty connectivity. He was tracing funds and messages between buyers and sellers. It was not weapons or intelligence in the traditional sense. It was the transactions people in power, people who thought they were beyond the law, were using to literally buy and sell lives. His digging had shown how the leaders of the agency, along with several multi-billionaires, were trafficking in people and using them as sexual playthings. Adding insult to injury, they were using parts of his backdoor technology to hide their actions and communicate across a network of perverted power-players without any regular law enforcement agency having a hope of finding them.

He glanced at the timer. The progress bar reached its end, but he was a minute past his self-imposed deadline. Someone would be coming for him. It was time to leave.

What do you think? Does it make you want to read more? Drop a like or comment and let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated.

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Architect or Gardner?

I’ve recently been going through Brandon Sanderson’s Writing Science Fiction & Fantasy lectures at BYU. If you are interested in writing, I encourage you to check the lectures out. In the introductory lecture, he discusses author’s approaches to how they plan and write their stories.

He describes authors who plan extensively and spend much of their time outlining so when they actually start drafting their prose as Architects. They create their detailed plans and then build those plans.

The other end of the spectrum are authors who have an idea or character or world and start writing while letting their imaginations guide them and develop the story. This type of author is labeled a Gardener; they grow, prune, and tend their ideas until a story emerges.

Of course, Brandon also says that no one is a pure embodiment of each of these. Generic outlines can then have the Gardening aspect applied during the writing, or chapters may have objectives to create an overall outline, but the narrative is grown more organically.

I find these descriptions interesting, since in my non-writing life, I would consider myself an Architect; I plan my work and then work my plan. However, when signing up for NaNoWriMo, I took a little quiz on my approach to writing and was clearly a Gardner (they label it a Discovery writing style). As I look back at my books, I have to agree. A New Past started with an idea and several tropes from an Erotic Science Fiction site. It grew from a do-over story with a twist to almost a million words of prose that took three years to write. Cosimo was the same way. I had an idea and then populated a wold for the characters to explore that idea within. I had no clue where the story was going.

None of this means you have to pick one approach over the other. They simply define the end-points of a spectrum. What works for you is the best approach. However, one other thing that Brandon suggests in his opening lecture is to “try new things”. Hopefully, we will all embrace trying something new as we focus on our writing.

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Discussing Excerpt Ten | Marketing Mondays

My last Marketing Monday’s post was a departure from the trend of posting excerpts from my published books. Instead I posted the opening chapter of a work in progress, tentatively titled “Technomancer”. This book will not have any explicit content, though it may have some romantic elements, so it is a departure from my prior works.

I’m hoping readers of this blog will respond to the chapter and let me know what they think. As of right now, the book is 30,000 words, so about one third written. I’m planning on finishing the first draft before the year is out.

Here are a few common questions I’m willing to answer at this point.

  • What is the book about? Technomancer is a Sci-fi/fantasy novel that explores the intersection of magic in a high-tech world, or the impact of technology on a magical realm. As you can tell from this first chapter, it starts in a world of magic.
  • Who is Elara? She is one of the main protagonists in the book. You may recognize her from my postings on character development. I used her character background as examples in those posts.
  • What’s Malachi’s story? I think from this opening, it’s pretty obvious Malachi is the bad guy. In my writing to date, his character is still a little obscure, but his back story and patron god, Set, have a rich mythology that will get shared as the story unfolds.
  • What’s the compulsion Malachi has placed on Elara? He has placed a geas on her to search out someone he needs to bring his plans to fruition.
  • When will this story be published? I’d like to say later this year (2024), but realistically it will probably be sometime next year. I’ve been on a tear writing lately, adding 5,000 words or more a day, but I am not sure I’ll wrap up the first draft on time at that pace.
  • Where will you publish it at? Given my findings on various channels and marketing efforts, I’ll likely publish via Amazon first and then possibly add channels.
  • Will you have a “beta” reader program of any sort? Maybe. If readers here want to help me polish and refine the story before publishing, like and leave a comment. If I do a beta reader program, I will start with subscribers to this blog first.
  • What would being a beta reader entail? If you become a beta reader, I’d ask you to commit to reading and providing positive and critical feedback on chapters, sections, and the overall book in advance of my publishing them. I would want to hear what you liked and what you would like to see improved on each item posted. beta readers that can’t or don’t provide feedback would be dropped. As I get closer to completing this work, I’ll post more about beta reading.

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WIP: A dark beginning

I’m trying something new on the blog now, sharing early drafts from one of my two works in progress (WIP). This first sample is the opening scene for a novel which is currently at 23k words covering the introduction (prologue) and Act One of the story.

Elara heard the jailers approaching and hugged the two smaller girls sheltering beneath her arms even as she suppressed a shudder against the cold fear of what was coming.

“Goddess, give me strength,” she prayed softly, barely whispering.

Her belief would not let her ask for rescue or escape, not so long as these other girls were at risk. She had witnessed one girl pulled from the damp cell, stripped outside the thick metal bars, and roughly tied before being led through the stout wooden door set in the black stone wall. The thickness of the door did nothing to prevent her hearing the screams of the child.

The door opened and the two jailers entered laughing at some unheard joke. One was a heavyset man, dressed in a black robe with worn leather boots peeking from beneath the hem just above the damp floor. He was older with greying hair and a sparse beard. His broad, flat nose filled the space beneath and between his dark, beady eyes. His gaze was hungry as he looked through the bars at the cowering women.

The other was younger, fitter, but not any nicer based on his look. He wore leather pants and a tan tunic. His hair was blonde, and Elara thought he could have made himself attractive, but there were no pleasant thoughts once you saw his leer and cold eyes. Where his mate was hungry, he was mean. You could see he wanted to lash out, to cause pain for pain’s sake. He was the one that pulled a length of well-worn rope from his belt and smiled in anticipation.

“Not a young one this time,” the older man said. “The master wants someone who’s old enough to breed.”

“I guess that limits us,” the mean man said. “But it will mean we’ll get a young one for dessert,” he added with a wicked laugh.

Elara shuddered. The fear in the cell was palatable. She could feel it rolling off her cellmates. Fear of being chosen now. Fear of remaining to be chosen later. The different flavors of fear filled her as her goddess’ gift let her feel those around her. Needing to face that fear, she gave the two girls at her sides a quick hug, then released them to force herself up to her feet.

Both men leered at her.

“Looks like we have a volunteer,” mean man said. “Get over here to the gate,” he ordered.

Elara stepped with unconscious precision, feeling the cold stone floor in the soles of her feet. The men watched her, letting their gaze travel up from her painted toes, along her legs, over her body and then up to her long silver hair. The coarse shift they had provided each of the prisoners provided too little cover for her, only reaching mid-thigh. She felt the other’s momentary sense of relief as the jailers seemed to accept her as their next victim.

The door was unlocked, and the mean man grabbed her firmly by the arm, jerking her through the doorway before the other man slammed it shut and turned the key to lock it firmly. She could feel the men’s lust rising as the mean man pulled out his knife and quickly cut up her shift, exposing her to their eyes.

They both licked their lips, but then spun her around and tied her elbows behind her back.

“If the master doesn’t like her,” the old man said. “I’ll take her. I’ve never had one with silver hair before.”

The mean man laughed. “I thought you didn’t like them with any hair!”

Elara blocked their dark thoughts and let them push her out of the jail and down the dark corridor. Green magical lights cast eerie shadows as they walked. Down the corridor, up the winding stairs, then through another dark passage filled with black doors before descending once more.

Eventually, they reached a larger chamber, appearing carved from obsidian, but finished in precisely angular cuts. The room seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and she could sense the boundary between the physical world and the magical realm growing thin. Crystalline structures glowed with an inner radiance, their facets refracting the ethereal light that filled the space. Gigantic machines hummed softly, their purpose a mystery to her.

A massive obsidian altar dominated the center of the chamber, and Elara could feel the power emanating from it. The air was thick with anticipation and potential. She had heard tales of such places but had never witnessed one firsthand. Despite her unease, Elara couldn’t deny the allure of this extraordinary place coursing with power and potential.

A cloaked figure moved from the shadows along a series of carved bookshelves. He wore a dark and flowing robe of rich fabrics. Elara could see the complex glyphs sown in a matching hue, shimmering with subtle magical energies. Many of the symbols were unknown to her, but she recognized enough, chaos magic.

“What have you brought me?” a deep, sonorous voice asked. She knew it was from the man in the hooded robe, but the voice seemed to come from all around them.

Neither of the men spoke, but the old man put a hot hand in the small of her back, just above her bound wrists, and pushed her forward.

The figure lifted his hands to his hood and pushed it back, exposing sharp features that gave him an air of mystery and danger. His high cheekbones were accentuated by deep lines etched into his skin. She suspected the lines were from years of intense concentration during spell casting. His strong jawline was framed by a neatly trimmed beard, adding to the air of authority and power surrounding him. She knew he was a dangerous man of power.

“A priestess?” he said. “Excellent. You’ve chosen well,” he said to the men. “Now leave me. You may have one prisoner to share.”

Elara’s heart sank, knowing one of the girls in the cell would soon be journeying to the Celestial Realm, but only after suffering greatly. She resolved to not go gently to such a fate.

She watched the magician approach, carefully considering what she could do with her arms bound tightly behind her. She felt something probing at her emotions, as if trying to soothe her and make her trusting and compliant. She knew better, but let her own powers create a facade of the sense he was trying to force on her. She managed not to shudder as he reached out and caressed her naked breast.

“A virgin priestess will suit my purpose,” he said softly.

Elara struck. She kicked up and out viciously, aiming for his groin, but finding her foot tangled in his robes. She snapped her head forward, planting her forehead against his nose and was rewarded with a gasp and the sound of crunching bone. Her sense of victory was fleeting.

Pain blossomed across her face. She reeled away, unable to balance with her arms tied behind her, and fell, smashing her shoulder against the cold stone floor.

“You should have tried to enjoy this,” the magician growled while grabbing her bound arms and lifting her. She refused to stand. He dragged her to the altar. His fingers entwined in her hair, controlling her head as he pushed her down and across the strangely warm stone slab. He grabbed a knife from one end, cutting her bonds effortlessly, and then quickly securing her in a hinged wooden collar with two cuffs on the end. Her arms were now stretched out before her. The contraption forced her to hold them up lest she strangle herself, making them useless for resisting.

He bent her forward, quickly securing the wrists of the collar to a clip on the far side of the altar. She felt her feet being spread apart and realized she was not going to just be sacrificed for some arcane ritual. First, he planned on soiling her body, her temple to her goddess. Hoping for strength from her goddess, she arched her back, forcing the collar against her neck. Her vision swam. She knew he would not let her die, but she would not let him win without resistance.

Malachi, the Guardian of Set, stepped back from his alter, looking at the woman bound and bent over it. The pain in his nose and face were fading as he let the power of chaos mend him. She had struggled, to no avail. His seed was planted within her, completing the connection the magic would need. He dropped the hem of his robe, covering his own nakedness, and began the final chants that would seal the compulsion on her while the connection was fresh. Once done, he would be able to perform the sending easily. Then, it would only be a matter of time before she returned to him with the prize he needed to master the realms of Elysia.

What do you think? Does it make you want to read more? Drop a like or comment and let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated.

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Marketing Outcomes – Two Months In

I started posting marketing Monday excepts and follow ups two months ago and promised to share results at a high-level as my efforts bore fruit (or didn’t). Here is the summary of my findings so far.

  1. Alternate channels don’t matter without having an audience already built. I added distribution channels (Smashwords, Fabel, etc.) at the beginning of August and offered a 33% discount on various works for those channels. I also ran a promoted ad via my Facebook/Instagram feed. The result was zero sales through those channels. However, I did see a pick-up in Amazon Kindle sales and readers during the same time, with no discount applicable. I suppose readers have a platform preference and that is what matters more than price for low-cost purchases.
  2. Marketing Mondays appear to have some impact, but not immediately. There has never been a correlation between a Marketing Monday’s post and readership/purchase on Amazon. However, there does appear to be some impact based on the fact that my sales trends are increasing at a monthly level. It’s not huge, and could be attributed to other causes, but there is “something” going on there.

What’s all this mean? Part of building a strong author platform is to keep writing and publishing content aside from the actual books. Marketing Mondays appears to help with that, along with the writing tips I’ve been sharing. I also find selecting excerpts and writing about them each week helps jump-start my own creativity. For these reasons, I’ll continue the efforts and see if I can continue building sales and a following here.

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Discussing Excerpt Nine | Marketing Mondays

Yesterday’s post was an excerpt from Cosimo, a Families of the Empire Story As I mentioned with the excerpt, this book is one of the most problematic to advertise simply because it has explicit material, includes some BDSM, and has a culture that includes voluntary and involuntary indenture (i.e. slavery) for criminals. Putting these elements in a book automatically makes it hard to promote, since most platforms consider this to be triggering content which they don’t want to promote.

I get it. I even tend to agree with their stance, though I am a strong advocate for Freedom of Speech, even if you don’t agree with that speech.

But I do want to make a plug for the book. The main character struggles with some of the precepts of his culture, which makes for interesting character development. At its heart, the story is about a man coming of age and assuming the mantle of leadership for his family. Yes, there is explicit sex. There is also romance, heart-break, political intrigue, and some action all set in an interesting world and culture.

A few questions you might have after reading the excerpt include:

  • What is the “high season”? This is the annual highlight of the empire’s social calendar and was originally started as both a celebration and an opportunity for the families of the ruling elite to mingle, make alliances, and find suitable matches for their children. Think of it as a mix of Victorian era social gatherings, Mardi Gras, and debutantes’ coming out parties.
  • Where does this scene take place? Roughly half of the book, including this scene, is set in Cardino. Cardino is a rustic town situated on the west coast of the Empire. It is reminiscent of Italian Mediterranean coastal towns and climate. Cardino is also the home town of Cosimo’s family business.
  • Who is Samantha Dennison? You’ll have to read the book to get her full background and understand how she fits in the story, but in this scene, she is a socialite from one of the Empire’s thirty ruling families. Her father is a Senator. She is the youngest daughter in the family and the last to be married.
Samantha Dennison
  • What was placed in Cosimo’s pocket? You’ll have to read the book to find out and understand. I will share that this brush-pass begins the move away from a focus on Cosimo and his unique family to the more mystery and political intrigue portions of the tale.
  • If the story has so much mystery and political intrigue, why “taint” it with the explicit elements? The short answer is the story evolved from one chapter that was explicit and contained BDSM elements. It’s more graphic than Fifty Shades of Grey, but not by much. The premise of that story, which is a chapter in the book, forced me to create the broader world-scape and the clubs that Cosimo’s family runs. The story took on a life of its own from that beginning.

Cosimo is available on Amazon, as well as Smashwords and other ebook channels.

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Cosimo: A Blend of Romance and Sci-Fi Intrigue

One of the problems with writing Erotic Science Fiction is the fact that many potential readers assume the focus is on the erotic elements rather than the underlying science fiction and general plot. To try and overcome this perception, I’m sharing some excerpts from various stories to share some of the “non-erotic” elements. This excerpt is from Cosimo, A Families of the Empire Story and covers the introduction of a new love interest as the high social season of the empire gets underway.

Cosimo, a Families of the Empire Story is my most problematic title. While it has explicit content, it also has what I feel is a strongly character driven plot. The characters of the story live within a culture in the far future. Part of the culture includes voluntary and involuntary indenture. Couple this with some of the explicit scenes and situations, and the story falls into what some consider troublesome topics such as slavery and trafficking.

“You look as bored as I feel,” a warm, soft voice said next to me.  I glanced, appreciating her sharp profile in the dim light of the balcony, and smiled.  

“I’m just taking a break from being a social butterfly,” I said.  “This is my sixth gala in ten days, and I feel like I’ve talked my throat raw.”

“But you’ve only shaken my hand and said what a pleasure it was to meet me,” she teased.

“That was eight days ago.  I was trying to choose my follow-up line, but knew I’d be tongue-tied if I approached.”

She laughed.  It was a throaty chuckle more than a solid guffaw, but it suited her.  “You are charming despite being so shy,” she teased back.  “Since I approached you, I guess you don’t have to be tongue-tied now.”

“Miss Dennison, it’s a pleasure to see you again.  I’d ask if you are enjoying yourself, but I suspect you are bored with the high season here tonight.”

“Why Cosimo, how could you even hint at such a thing?  Beatrice’s mother simply cannot throw a boring gala.  That is not allowed.  As one of the leading families in the Empire, I’m certain it is the height of entertainment.  It must be your simple mind that can’t fathom such lofty performances.”  She motioned to the pantomime troupe monopolizing the dance floor below us.  

They looked like mimes playing charades with stiffly choreographed movements within their own group. I knew enough ‘modern’ performance art to know that it was the height of fashion, but I could not take the performance seriously.  The individuals in the troupe were fit and fluid, moving easily within their play, but the whole lacked any emotional connection for me.  I said as much.

“Gods, yes,” Samantha Dennison agreed.  “I’d rather see the ballet or even a good cabaret scene than this excrement,” she opined.  

I nodded.

She gave me a sideways look.  “That was a perfect opening for you to invite me to see one or the other next week,” she said.

I turned to face her.  She was a small woman, but perfectly proportioned and attractive.  Her head came to just above my shoulder, but her posture and carriage made her seem to be my match.  Her self-confidence belied her size.  She had dark hair with lighter highlights styled into a delightful cascade of loose curls gathered over one shoulder.  Her high cheekbones and rounded nose were a perfect canvas for her full red lips and warm light eyes.  She was very attractive, witty, and smart.  Of course, she was an aristocrat and all that entailed, which would make my grandmother happy.  Her family interests were mostly in the south of the continent, with vast agricultural holdings.  Her eldest brother was being groomed to be a senator while her older sisters were being married to other aristocratic and high guilder lines.  I wondered if she had chosen me or been launched my direction, given the nature of the social season here in Cardino.  

“If only the ballet was performing here next week, I’d be honored to ask to escort you.  Alas,” I said dramatically, “there is no performance scheduled.”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled.  “I’ve heard there is to be a dancing exhibition at the club next week. Perhaps that would suit us better than a long ballet.”

I laughed.  “My apologies, madame, but I work at that club and can think of better places to spend my off time, no matter how nice the atmosphere or company might be.”

She frowned.  I was sorry to hurt her feelings so rushed ahead.  “However, I happen to know of a private performance that troupe will have before their scheduled show, if you would care to watch with myself and my grandmother.”

She smiled.  “I think I would enjoy that,” she said.  “When and where is this private performance?”  

“It’s in a private residence, near the club.  We can have an early dinner or late lunch afterwards if that suits you.”

She nodded.  “My aunt will be wanting to accompany me,” she said as she glanced down to the main floor and spotted her chaperone who had been escorting her to all the balls this season.  “Will that be a problem?” 

I shook my head.  “Not at all.  I’ll send you a card to confirm the details.”

She smiled and raised her hand for me to hold and raise to my lips for the briefest of kisses.  

“I look forward to seeing you again, Cosimo.”

I felt a shiver in my spine as she locked eyes with me, holding my gaze for a moment, and then turned away.

The social season that made Cardino the place for aristocrats and high-guilders to see and be seen each year ran for six ten-days spanning the last week of spring and the first half of summer.  It had been running for about half of its allotted time, and I was more than ready for it to be over.  I could play the role my grandmother desired, but I was hardly enamored with it.  The season had started with several formal grand balls, then segued into a series of dinners hosted by the upper crust of imperial and local society.  Of course, young people being what we were, the club had been doing a tremendous after-dinner business with its wide variety of entertainments.  Since ‘the Grande dame’ insisted I attend a minimum of four social engagements each ten-day, I had reduced my classes at the collegium and worked several double shifts managing at the club.  Seeing debutantes pretending to be of the highest class at dinner followed by a drunken display hours later at the club had made me more than a little jaded.  

I was happy that I could not recall seeing Samantha Dennison in such a state.  Of the hundreds of eligible women, I had been maneuvered into spending time with, she was the first that had approached me so subtly, and she had done it herself rather than go through her aunt or my grandmother.  Samantha would be one to watch, I decided.

My thoughts were interrupted by applause as the troupe finished their routine.  I joined in, glad the debacle was over.  I could now make my way back downstairs, thank our hostess and host, and make good my departure.  Grandmother had insisted I stay until the entertainment had finished.  I had met my obligation to her, and soon completed my false thanks for the wonderful show to meet my social obligation as well.  I was turning toward the front hall when a stranger bumped into me.  

I felt fingers deftly dance on my lapel and looked at the man closely even as he mumbled an apology and turned away, hurrying before me toward the door.  I straightened my jacket, ensuring the small envelope he had deposited was well down inside my pocket, and then followed him at a more sedate pace.  

I seemed to have gained another obligation for the evening.

This excerpt highlights some of the non-explicit writing in the book as the plot shifts more to mystery and intrigue. Subscribers can read an additional “spicy” excerpt from the book and everyone can enjoy the discussion of that excerpt as well.

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Writing Productivity – Start before you feel ready.  Stop before you feel done.

I suspect I am like many of you in the fact that I read a lot. I like to read for both personal enjoyment as well as personal growth and development. I recently came across a work-focused article that has something for the writer inside as well.

Over 30 years ago, the psychologist Robert Boice’s wrote about productivity advice. His advice is so valuable his books can sell for more than $100. Boice’s research was based on academic writing when the “publish or perish” mindset was driving academic publishing. These writers were highly motivated to finish their work and get the next paper published to make tenure or reap other recognition and accolades. This led to heavy stress and pressure on the righters.

Instead of long bouts of stressed, unfocused busyness, Boice recommended shorter, fixed windows of creative effort. The most productive professors wrote daily for no more than three hours and religiously stopped at the end of their scheduled session, even if they were on a roll. Creating a writing routine with the flexibility needed to allow for creativity is the heart of his approach.

A few of the key recommendations paraphrased by Rachel Fulton Brown from Robert Boice, How Writers Journey to Comfort and Fluency: A Psychological Adventure (Westport: Praeger, 1994) are:

  • Pace yourself.  Work in brief, regular sessions, 10-50 minutes in length, no more than 3-4 hours a day, 5 days a week. Use a timer to help yourself keep the sessions brief, and take breaks between each. This approach mirrors my own recommendations on writing exercises and making a plan.
  • Stop when you get to the end of your time limit, preferably in the middle of something (a sentence, paragraph, argument). This mirror’s Hemmingway’s method of how to take the struggle out of getting started on difficult tasks, from nearly 90 years ago.
  • Spend as much time pre-writing (noticing, collecting materials, taking notes, planning, outlining, making drafts) and rewriting as you do writing.
  • Spend as much time socializing around writing (talking with other writers about what you are writing) as you do writing (and spend only moderate amounts of time at either).
  • If you find yourself worried about not being busy/smart/productive enough, stop and do something else (like sleep) until you feel rested again.

I think these tips and recommendations are key for us all, especially as NaNoWriMo is just around the corner. Yes, I see the irony of plugging a steady, measured writing approach while mentioning a challenge geared toward writing a novel in a month. I don’t view this as a conflict. The recommendations should help you complete the challenge without attempting to write 24 by 7 for the month. Also, the challenge is on getting your first draft completed. Following Boice’s recommendations would imply you will spend at least another month re-writing, polishing, and completing your novel. Finally, NaNoWriMo is about more than just putting words on a page. It is geared toward building personal accountability and fostering the community or writers. That too, is one of Boice’s recommendations.

I plan on incorporating Boice’s recommendations in my own practice. I hope you all do as well.

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Discussing Excerpt Eight | Marketing Mondays

My most recent excerpt is from A New Past: Book Two. This passage covers the inaugural test flight of the supersonic business jet Paul is building in partnership with Gulfstream and Rolls Royce.

One of the challenges I had while writing Paul’s story was the need for him to face realistic challenges and setbacks. Book Two covers many of these conflicts. I chose to use this specific passage, from chapter five because it is early enough in the book to not give away too many surprises, and it also sets the tone for some of the challenges he faces in this book.

While I hope readers have read the book and predecessor, there are a few obvious questions you might have if you are just finding the books. I’ll try to anticipate and answer them here:

  • Why would the Air Force allow them to test at Edwards AFB? If you read the opening chapters of the book, you’ll understand why some parts of the Air Force want to keep Paul happy. The use of Edwards is an inducement for him to keep making things the Air Force and government are keenly interested in buying from him.
  • What happens after the Mayday call? I don’t want to spoil the story for anyone, so you’ll have to read the book to find out what happens next.
  • What other challenges do Paul and Jeryl face in Book Two? Without giving too much away, they have to face the physical and mental challenges of completing their final two years at Stanford, launching a couple of new businesses, facing threats from the Unabomber, combating political intrigue from foreign and domestic agencies, and much more.
  • With all that, it doesn’t sound like there is much Erotic in this Erotic Sci-Fi novel. There is less overt sex in this book, for certain. However, Paul and Jeryl enjoy a healthy sex-life and are still college students at the beginning of the book, so things do happen and boundaries are explored.

Tell me what you think….

Please like the Marketing Monday posts if you find these behind-the-scenes discussions useful. It there are questions that come to mind from the excerpts or these follow-up posts, leave a comment and let me know. I’m also open to any questions on GoodReads, if you prefer that platform.

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