Tag Archive for 'advice'

Life Happens

Monday, I lamented the sort of plot that’s all about life happening to a hapless protagonist.

The fact is, sometimes life happens to all of us, and circumstances arise beyond our control in ways that leave us to pick up the pieces. It’s wearying to a reader if you try to make it an entire plot, but it’s realistic for a little unexpected and unplanned misfortune to crop up now and again.

In life, as in fiction, the best we can do is be prepared for the worst.

Yesterday, the existence of backup files saved a side project I help to support.

When my computer failed catastrophically a month or two ago, I wasn’t prepared for it. It didn’t give me any warning, it just stopped working. It wouldn’t even boot. I back up my work folders regularly, so I knew that the manuscripts were safe. That still left me lamenting the loss of photographs, my own original writings, and all the other irreplaceable files of sentimental value that we all entrust to fragile little machines.

Luckily, the failure wasn’t with the hard drive. It was still intact and the data was there for the saving. I promised myself to be more vigilant with my backups after that, but life gets in the way and sitting down to transfer a zillion photographs for safekeeping hasn’t been my priority.

Until yesterday’s crash reminded me, that is.

Save your work frequently when you’re in an open file. And backup your work frequently to an outside location, for safe keeping. Your works in progress represent hours and years of work and careful thought, and it’s worth a few extra minutes out of your weekly routine to keep them safe.

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Challenging the “future”

In one of my posts a while back, I said that when you build your world and your setting, you need to keep your technology consistent or keep it plausible. It doesn’t have to be both, but it must be one or the other.

In science fiction, it’s most common for writers to adopt metric as the standard of measurement. Second most common, I’d say, is inventing your own original system.

Why?

Because a lot of science fiction takes place in the future, and there seems to have been an assumption made somewhere down the line that the metric system is more “futuristic.” (Ooh, it’s the future! We’ll all have converted to metric by then!)

When you create your setting, you get to choose whether you follow the standard conventions of the genre. Don’t feel pressured to do something a certain way just because everyone else does. Don’t feel obligated to break the mold just to be different in ways that are going to be distracting to your reader, either, but do take the time to think about the choices you’re making and why you’re making them.

If you want your universe to operate in feet and miles instead of meters and kilometers, go for it. Just keep it consistent; and if it isn’t consistent, keep it plausible. Have a reason for the inconsistency. Use it to your advantage, even! Different governments or worlds having different standards is certainly a valid and plausible reason — maybe it can even cause friction when those two bodies try to work together.

Don’t worry that your work isn’t going to be “sci-fi” enough if you don’t use metric; that’s like worrying that your work isn’t going to be “fantasy” enough if it doesn’t have elves. But at the same time, don’t worry that you’re “caving in” by deciding to use the standard, either.

Standards have a purpose: they give readers a familiar framework that keeps them from being distracted by the minutae, so that they can focus on the story. At the same time, if you make your break from the standard a part of the story, it can set your universe apart, or shift readers out of that comfort zone in ways that you can use.

Remember my post last monday about the haunted house? There are certain conventions, like a solid floor, that we take for granted. I encourage you to question the conventions and make your own choices instead of just adhering to them blindly.

I even encourage you to challenge them.

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Good Parts and Other Parts

When you first get the idea for a story, there are certain plot elements and scenes that spring to mind. Sometimes they’re pivotal moments. Sometimes they’re just fun moments. Regardless, they’re the moments you most want to write.

Some writers will do these scenes first, then drop them into place with a little refining when their time arrives in the manuscript. Others will keep them in mind, or simply outline them for later.

For today’s purposes, we’ll call these scenes the “good parts”. The parts you’re most looking forward to writing.

A first draft will often have two types of content: the “good parts” and the “other parts”. The other parts are the parts that need to happen to get to the good parts. They’re the bridges that link pivotal scenes together, or impart important information, or provide backstory and exposition and otherwise set things up.

You know exactly what I’m talking about, right? You can’t wait to write the confrontation between the monster and the heroine. But you know that first she has to go check out the abandoned building where it’s hiding so that it can see her, and her colleagues have to scoff at her for monster hunting so that she’ll be all alone for the confrontation you have in mind, and she has to go to the library and find clippings of vague and creepy stories about the monster that give her an idea what its weaknesses might be. You don’t especially want to write those parts, but you need to get through them to get to the part you do want to write.

If you’re the type of writer who hurries through the other parts to get writing on the good parts, that’s fine. For a first draft, it’s fine.

When you put that manuscript away for six months like Scott Sigler’s told you to do and you take it out of the drawer again, you’ll be able to tell the good parts from the other parts pretty easily. The good parts will be descriptive, lush and involved. They’ll draw you to keep turning the page. The other parts will be, well… utilitarian. Light on detail, heavy on marathon dialog or marathon movement sequences, without much combining of the two. You won’t know what anything looks like, sounds like or smells like, you’ll just know What Happens Next.

Here’s the thing, though: When you want to sell readers on your book and keep them engaged, all the parts have to be good parts. If you lose your readers in the in-between passages, they won’t stick around for that great scene you’ve got fifty pages from now. They won’t care what happens when the heroine meets the monster.

The rewrite is the time to identify the other parts and turn them into good parts. Make sure every scene is there for a reason, and make every scene a good scene. Don’t just go back in and sprinkle adjectives around, or toss gratuitous movement around the dialog and call it done. It’ll show. Choose words that add something to your story. Add description and ambiance where they belong. Give each scene something pivotal, something endearing, something humorous, something surprising… something special. Draw the reader in. Do something memorable. While in practice, every scene might not make it to become someone’s favorite scene, every scene should at least have the potential.

If a scene is a boring necessity to you, it’ll be boring to your reader. And it won’t be a necessity to them. There are plenty of other books for them to read out there that are interesting all the way through. Here’s a great goal for your rewrite: Don’t give your reader any hint at which scenes were easy or hard or interesting or dull for you. Cut out anything the story doesn’t need, and add life to anything your eye skips over as boring. Flesh out anything that’s necessary but that was undeveloped in your haste to get it on the page so that you could move on. And this should be the larger goal of your rewrite: make every part a good part.

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Professional Opinions

This morning, I went for a haircut.

It wasn’t a very good haircut. It was mediocre, maybe, at best. The problem I had with it was that my stylist didn’t want to express any opinions. I would say, “I’d kind of like a change. I’m thinking about doing this, but I’m not sure how it would look on me. What do you think?” And she would answer, “I don’t know. It’s up to you. Do you want that or not?”

There are some professionals whom we pay to do us a service the way we want it done. There are some professionals, though, whom we pay for their experience and their professional opinions. I want a hair stylist who’s going to give me the most flattering cut for my hair, or at least one who’ll be willing to offer me solicited advice on what that cut might be.

As I was sitting in the chair settling for a nothing’s-changed sort of trim, I was thinking about how this applies to editing. Just this morning, I had written a client with a suggestion for rewording of a problem paragraph. In this case, professional expertise, experience, and understanding of what he wanted, combined with a willingness to point out problem areas and offer constructive solutions. He didn’t end up going with my suggestion, but the things I pointed out guided him to reword a much smoother and stronger finished result…Exactly the sort of feedback I wished I’d gotten, to help guide my own decision.

Sometimes a client just needs a simple proofread for obvious errors and there isn’t much in the way of professional opinion involved. More often, on a more substantive edit, the editor’s opinion and expertise are just as valuable as technical skill. If you have the leeway to do so, don’t be afraid to point out weak spots and make suggestions that will make a book better. It’s still the client’s decision, but your feedback helps to make that decision an informed one.

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We type, ergo…

If you work at a computer for eight hours a day for a large company, in a large office, there’s probably an ergonomics consultant or coach, or at least a set of standards that the company conforms to, in order to make sure that workstations are set up in such a way that they foster the most productivity and cause the least harm to the workers who use them. When you work from home, no one comes around to make sure that your computer is at the right height, that your mouse doesn’t cause you undue strain, and that you’re not curled sideways all day with your laptop balanced precariously on the arm of your couch.

Ergonomics are just as important in the home office as they are in the corporate office. Moreso, arguably, since the freelancer’s work is done when it’s done, not at some arbitrary point on the clock. In fact, the later the hour and the longer the workday, the more likely we are to sacrifice the rigid, correct posture at our workstation and go curl up on the couch or in bed to finish up those last few tricky chapters while we try to slip in a couple hours’ quality time with the family.

Repetitive stress injuries may sound like wimpy, modern-age disease, but talk to anyone who suffers from one and they’ll tell you just how agonizing they can be. And they’re a vicious cycle. You put stress on your body because you need to do the work, so by the time things have degenerated enough to put you in pain, you feel as though you can’t afford to stop and take care of yourself because the work needs to be done.

Think about your workstation, take a good look at how you spend your online time and your working time, and make sure that you spend that time in configurations that don’t do you harm. There are many good websites with tips on how to set up an ergonomically sound work area (Seating Ergonomics is a good one), and you’ve probably heard the tips a million times before. Arm height, posture, foot position, wrist position, monitor position… You know these things, but do you do them?

Contact stress, force, and repetition are the three types of ergonomic stress. Contact stress can be internal (tendons, blood vessels or nerves rubbing against ligaments or bone) or external (your wrist rubbing against a rough edge on your wrist-guard, or the edge of the chair cutting off circulation in your leg). Force is the stress of exertion. Even small exertions, like reaching for a mouse that’s too far out of your way, or straining your neck upward to look at a badly-angled monitor, can have cumulative negative effects. Repetition of isolated movements over an extended period of time doesn’t allow your muscles and tendons to recover. Combined with contact stress or force, extended repetition can cause serious harm. (source: http://www.safecomputingtips.com/)

You owe it to yourself, and to your clients, to keep all your tools in good working order. Keep your mind sharp and your body healthy. Invest in an ergonomically correct work area, and your investment will pay for itself repeatedly over the length of your long and healthy career.

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Work, and groundwork

Time is money, and that’s something you feel keenly when you go into business for yourself. Whether you’re a writer, an editor, a designer, or a freelancer in any other field.

Your first priority, when you’re starting up, is to get work. You’re probably still doing something else full-time, whether it’s some kind of schooling or some other kind of employment. This is when your focus should be on taking whatever work you can. Get a portfolio or a resume together. Get experience. Get clients, paying or not, who can vouch that you’ve done work—and done it well!—for them.

Once you’ve got some footing, your next priority is to get paid for your work. I know, this sounds like a given. It is. It’s great to be able to do what you love full-time, but if you can’t pay the rent with it, you won’t be able to do what you love for very long.

Here’s where it gets tricky, though. If you’ve started out by taking free jobs, or low paying jobs, it’s hard to get out of that mindset that tells you that you have to accept every request for free work that comes along. It’s hard to say no to a project. It’s hard to learn to be picky. What if this is the one that gets you the exposure that you want? What if this is the one that makes it big?

This counts for other sorts of self-promotion, as well. Whether it’s attending a conference, agreeing to speak publicly, getting involved in an organization that promotes your business or your field, or even taking time out from work to write regular posts to a forum or blog. *cough*

Chances are, no one paid you to print up your business cards, but business cards are a good promotional tool, and that makes them a worthwhile business expense. When you consider taking unpaid or low-paying work, treat it as same sort of thing.

The key is balance. Ask yourself the following questions:

  • * If this project isn’t paying me financially, am I going to be equally compensated for it some other way?

Worthwhile non-monetary compensation can take such forms as exposure, which could lead to referrals and more paying work; or improved credentials (through professional certifications, for example) which could justify charging an increased rate for your paying work.

  • * Is this project going to take time away from my paying work?

Your paid work is the goal of your self-promotion. If you pass up paid work—or if your paid work suffers because you’re spreading yourself too thin—for an unpaid project, you may be shooting yourself in the foot. Ideally, an unpaid project shouldn’t take time away from your other priorities.

  • * Is this project a step forward, or a step backward, for my career?

As a professional, you need to always be thinking about and moving toward your professional goals. Constantly set your sights higher. If a project is going to take you up a rung in some way, whether in credibility, exposure, networking, etc., then jump on the opportunity. If it’s going to take you down a side path that you feel is a dead end—one that would only provide exposure or opportunities in a direction that you wouldn’t want to pursue—let it pass.

As a freelancer, you have the opportunity to choose your projects. There is freedom in that, but there is responsibility in it, too. Each job you choose should be moving your career forward in some small way: either by paying you at the rate you’ve deemed reasonable and acceptable, or by advancing your exposure, networking with the kinds of professionals whose connections can help you advance, or improving your professional credentials. It’s a balancing act, but a necessary and worthwhile one.

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Think globally, write locally?

Several years ago, I had the good fortune to attend a talk given by one of the top editors in the children’s lit field. In it, he discussed the decision that had been made to Americanize a very popular series of books written by a prominent British author. The reason, he had said, was so that the novelty of the unfamiliar-but-real foreign words wouldn’t get in the way of the novelty of the author’s world and the unfamiliar-and-made-up magical words that were an integral part of the story.

When there’s a balance to be reached between preserving the original work of the author and making that work more accessible to its readers, there is a lot of room for compromise. There are many levels of cultural adaptation that a novel can undergo, and the decision is often out of a writer’s hands. It rests with the publisher, ultimately, because they want the book to be as marketable within their market as it can be.

I’ve worked on manuscripts which followed UK rules for spelling and punctuation rules. I had to be well enough versed in the differences so that I didn’t change anything that looked ‘wrong’ to my American eyes. I’ve also worked on manuscripts for which I’ve had to change an American manuscript for the UK, or a UK manuscript to American.

There are more international differences in spelling than the casual reader might realize. If you’re going to be undertaking such a project, it’s important that you do your research and not just go with what you think you know. You’re responsible for all the rules, not just the obvious ones. Do know whether to use toward or towards, and whether you have the right shades of gray and grey. Know whether—and when—to leave an e before an ing, even if it looks horribly wrong to you.

Often, an author will alternate between the correct and incorrect words, out of a simple lack of certainty about which choice is right. (Even when there isn’t an international issue involved, I always make sure to check a manuscript’s greys and grays.)

It’s not just the spelling, either. It’s the vocabulary. This gets trickier, because it can become a more substantive change, but it’s no less important. A reader may get momentarily tripped up by kerbs and tyres instead of curbs and tires, but you might throw him from the car completely if you expect him to know its boot from its bonnet. Words like pavement are especially slippery: does the author mean the sidewalk, or the road?

In a case like this, it’s simplest, of course, to translate the unfamiliar into the familiar. The unfamiliar, as that editor I mentioned said in his talk, will stand out and catch the eye. The thing to watch out for, obviously, is becoming so familiar with the foreign rules that they aren’t novel to you anymore, and your mind accepts them as normal and skips right over them. It’s a natural thing, but honed practice at attention to detail will help you overcome it. In time, a fluency develops and it becomes like flipping a switch between UK/US rules. A color or realize will stand out to you in the wrong context just as boldly as honour or aluminium. In this field, knowing British and American really does make you bilingual.

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Bunny Slippers and the Professional

Right now as I type this, I’m wearing black sweatpants and a faded X-Files t-shirt I’ve had since 1996. It’s a little cool here today, so in a while I might put on a pair of black and pink striped socks. I showered and washed my hair this morning, then ran a brush through it and let it air-dry into the random soft ringlets and waves it likes to make. And… makeup? What’s that?

Technological advances have made telecommuting possible. Working from home is a commuter’s dream. No queues, no crowds, no traffic, no weather. Many days, I’d be slipping up the stairs of the bus at 6 a.m. and squishing into my seat, staring out at the rain or slush and envying those friends who were snug and warm in their own home offices, with their own hot cocoa, sleeping in until 8:50 and padding across the hall in their bunny slippers at 9:00.

If you ask any random person what the biggest draw of working at home is, they’ll likely give you the same answer: Going to work in your pajamas. (Okay, some of them might say “underwear”. Personally, I live in a place where it’s not that warm, and I like to have a window open. Let’s not scare the neighbors: Pajamas, it is.)

One of those same advances that make telecommuting happen, though, also seems to threaten to undermine the very spirit of it.

I’m talking about videoconferencing.

Bunny slippers and messy hair may be the hallmarks of the telecommuter, the freelancer, the work-at-home professional. But don’t get me wrong, I clean up every bit as nicely as the next girl.

Freelancers are still professionals. There’s a time for wearing pajamas and shuffling across the hall to tackle edits, but there’s also a time for looking like the professional that I am.

With a little advance warning, I can do my hair and dig out some eyeliner. I can adjust my laptop’s built-in webcam and my room lighting, get frustrated and run back to the bathroom to put on foundation and do my makeup again. I can make sure that my big-name reference materials and my own clients’ books are featured front and center on the tidy shelves behind me.

I have colleagues in four countries, but I have yet to work with anyone in my own timezone. Phone and video chats are the closest things I have to meetings with my clients. I think there’s a definite benefit to being able to see the nuances of the people I’m conversing with. It adds a face, literally, to the transaction.

Videoconference may feel like the enemy. It may feel like a threat to the freelancer way of life.

It isn’t.

A videoconference is your chance to show your client that you are that professional they hired. It’s another tool in your professional arsenal, and if the opportunity comes up, don’t be afraid of it. Use it to your full advantage.

(And you can still wear your bunny slippers. I won’t tell!)

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So Then And That’s When Actually Though Just Very However Suddenly

All writers have words or phrases that they overuse. “Just” is one of mine. I also have characters whisper and murmur too often.

Many writers have certain words which they always or frequently misspell. Some keystroke patterns just trip up certain fingers. (See? There’s a “just”!) I’m guilty of “wtih” for “with”. Additionally, I almost always overreach and have to correct “defauly” to “default”. (That’s right, I can’t type “default” by default.) I know that these words are problems for me, and I’m careful about catching them.

All of the writers I have ever worked with have weaknesses in these two areas. It’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s simply something to be aware of. I find it fascinating, on an academic level, because it’s something that seems to be universal and individual at the same time.

If you’re not sure which words you commonly overuse, ask your editor, or have a friend read over your manuscript. Sometimes they’re hard to spot for yourself, while others can see them for a mile away. It’s similar to the way we don’t notice ourselves adding “um” and “uh” into our speech.

Being aware of these things, catching them and replacing them will make your writing stronger. Catching the words you use too frequently and forcing yourself to think of alternatives, work around them, or leave them out entirely where they’re unnecessary, will sharpen your skills and get you thinking more deeply about your word choices. And that’s just a good thing all around!

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Turning Freelancing into Dollars

When I started working as a freelancer, my first few jobs were for a publisher. I had the security of knowing that everything I touched was guaranteed to make it into print — security I needed as I worked to build my resume — and I knew that I’d be earning the same fixed rate of pay that all that publisher’s other freelance editors got, which offered little room for negotiation. This was also good, since I didn’t know what editors charged, or what my skills were really worth.

Soon enough, though, I had some happy clients through the publisher. Through a friend of a friend of a client’s friend, I got my first query about an independent project. I took a deep breath and said, “Well, my rates depend on a number of factors,” and stalled; cornered, I had realized that I had absolutely no idea what to charge.

I’m fortunate to have self-employed friends and family, and they were able to give me good advice. The best and most important advice I received, was this: Charge what you want to be paid.

It’s profound, yet simple. Choose the hourly (or yearly) salary that you feel is reasonable, and back-engineer your rates so that they provide it.

Do so realistically, of course. As much as I want to make six figures a year, I don’t believe that I’m in a place yet where I can reasonably demand to do so. I aim for a salary slightly higher than the one I finished with at the large publishing house I worked for, and that puts my rates well within the industry standard.

That leads quite handily into the next question: What’s the industry standard?

To determine this, I started searching the web. (What did we ever do without the web?)

I found a couple of useful guides, such as this pdf article on writersmarket.com, written by Lynn Wasnak and based on an annual survey she compiles. (If you’re a freelancer, go to her site and add your data for her 2009 survey!)

They helped a little, but they didn’t help much — Copyediting is worth $1 to $6 per page? That’s quite a wide range! — but they at least gave me the ballpark. The rate I’d decided on was toward the lower end of the scale, as was appropriate for a beginner, but it was still within the scale and not off the bottom or the top.

The Editorial Freelancers Association has a guide to industry standard rates as well, broken down clearly into pace (pages per hour) and hourly rates. It’s easy enough to convert those numbers into a per page rate and see the relationship.

Some freelancers charge by the hour, but I’m more comfortable charging by the page. The hour is too subjective a measure for me. You don’t know that I’m timing only the minutes I spend on your project. I could tab away to check my email or respond to an IM and leave the clock running. You’re reliant on my reading speed, and I can’t itemize every minute of work in a way that proves I’m working honestly. Plus, on an easy project, if I’m efficient then I’m only cheating myself. If I’m not, I might be cheating you. I’d rather remove that ambiguity.

By charging per page, with a finite number of Microsoft Word document pages and the knowledge that without substantial cuts or additions, that page number isn’t going to change much, I feel that there’s a much clearer expectation on both sides as to what the final cost of the job will be.

My rates still depend on a number of factors. Namely, how long I reasonably expect to spend on each page. For a simple, clean manuscript that needs very little editing, my rates will be lower. For something that requires more work (whether recasting awkward sentences, making more spelling and grammar corrections, or doing more research or fact checking, or something involving significant rewrites), my rates will be higher. A short deadline will push my rates up, as well. I can usually determine within a few pages how difficult a project will be; often, the first page is illustrative enough.

How to translate that into money, though! For my own use, I worked out a simple spreadsheet that shows me rate per page, and how that translates out into hourly (and daily, weekly, monthly and yearly!) rate based on number of pages per hour. This is a very handy tool. Industry standard assumes a 250 word page, and the industry standard editing speed is between 5 and 10 pages per hour, depending on the complexity of the work. If you think about the difference between 5 and 10 pages per hour, at the same rate per page… $20/hour at 5 pages per hour = $4/page. $20/hour at 10 pages per hour = $2/page. (Assuming a 200-300 page manuscript, you can quickly see how giving your editor a clean manuscript is to your benefit!)

Now, before you think that I rush off to up my page count and make myself rich, slow down! This doesn’t mean that I pay less attention and zoom through my work. It means that I can use that scale to pick the page per hour speed that I think is realistic for the job, and I can choose my rate from there, targeting the right overall figure. I can charge twice as much for a harder, 5 page/hour job, as for an easier 10 page/hour job. I’m not charging an hourly rate, but I’m still getting a standard hourly rate, and it’s the rate I feel comfortable targeting. This way, I don’t aim too high, but I don’t sell my own skills short, either.

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