Before I begin, a bit of disclosure: While the following has
been written in an attempt to be professionally and personally non-biased I am
an Associate Publisher for Renaissance E Books. 

Now, with that out of the way…

So, should you stay with the traditional model of working
with a publisher or go the self-publishing route?

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking – a lot — about
this.  The arguments for stepping
out on your own are certainly alluring, to put it mildly: being able to keep
every dime you make – instead of being paid a royalty – and having total and
complete control of your work being the big two.  

But after putting on my thinking cap – ponder, ponder, ponder — I’ve come to a few conclusions that are
going to keep me and my work with publishers for quite some time.

As always, take what I’m going to say there with a hefty
dose of sodium chloride: what works for
me … well, works for me and maybe not you.

Being on both sides
of the publishing fence – as a writer, editor, and now publisher (even as a
Associate Publisher) — has given me a pretty unique view of the world of not
just writing books, working to get them out into the world, but also a pretty good
glimpse at the clockwork mechanisms than run the whole shebang.  

For example, there’s been a long tradition of writers if not
actively hating then loudly grumbling about their publishers.  You name it and writers will bitch
about it: the covers, the publicity (or lack of), royalties … ad
infinitum.  Okay, I have to admit
more than a few grouches have been mine but with (and I really hate to say
this) age has come a change in my perspective.  No, I don’t think publishers should be
given carte blanch to do with as they
please and, absolutely, I think that writers should always have the freedom to
speak up if things are not to their liking, but that also doesn’t mean that
publisher’s are hand-wringing villains cackling at taking advantage of poor,
unfortunate authors.

It took finding a good publisher to change my mind … that
and seeing the business from the other side.  While there are a lot of things that separate a good
publisher from a poor one the most important one is that a good – and maybe
even great – publisher understands the business.  

Case in point: authors love to bitch about their covers –
but a publisher that takes the time to look at what is selling, what isn’t
selling, what distributors will and won’t accept, and creates a cover
accordingly is actually doing the author a service.  Yes, the cover may not be an accurate scene from the book,
but it – if it works — should tease and tantalize enough to get people to buy
it.  By the way, since this is
supposed to be about publisher versus self-publishing keep in mind that you
would not know what sells and what doesn’t – by the way, the amazon best
sellers list is not a good indication – and so will be operating pretty much in
the dark.  

Authors often work from ego – and there is nothing wrong
with that – but far too often what they want, and what will actually sell, are
polar opposites.  They want to see
their work like books they admire … but they also may be completely ignorant
of the fact that while those books look nice they simply don’t leap off the
shelves. 

Being in the trenches of publishing, looking at the numbers
myself, is very sobering.  Just
take social networking.  For people
in self-publishing it’s the end-all, be-all — you can’t succeed, they say,
without it.  But while exposure is
important, many of your FaceBook friends will not buy your book.  The people who will buy your book are
looking for erotica they will enjoy – and if your cover, your marketing, your whatever,
doesn’t speak their language then they simply won’t cough up the bucks.  It’s a sobering though that many
bestselling erotica books are written by authors who don’t play the social
networking game … at all.

Yes, when you self publish you have complete and total
control – but that also means you have no access to a publisher’s experience:
you will have to do everything from scratch, from learning how to get your book
on amazon, iTunes, etc. to dealing with cover art specs and ebook
formatting.  Sure, when you
self-publish you keep every dime – but you could very well spend it and more in
time doing what a publisher does.

And marketing … I totally agree that publishers should do
more of it, but publishers have never been good at that, even before the ebook
revolution.  But even a little
publicity from a publisher can work wonders: many authors are discovered not
via advertising or marketing but because their book was put out by a publisher whose
catalog had a best seller in it.

If you self-publish then you are a single voice yelling as
loud as you can – and these days there are a lot of single voices yelling as
loud as they can – and against this din a lot of readers, and reviewers, are
turning a bit deaf.  It may be hard
to hear but being with a publisher still carries a lot of weight when it comes
to getting noticed.  

Sure, if you’re a huge author then going the
self-publishing route may make a lot of sense, but think of it this way: huge
or not, with a publisher your mailing list, fans, and miscellaneous contacts will
not be the only way people will hear about you and your book – and the cost of
getting more would probably be the same as the bucks a publisher would take.  

In the end, though, the decision is yours.  If I could leave you with anything,
though, is that while there are many publishers out there worthy of scorn there
actually are many that not only know what they are doing – though experience
and observation – and who can do a lot for you.  Often their advice may be hard to take, but if you trust
them they can be a great help – and perhaps the difference between writing a
book that doesn’t sell … and one that does.

While
it isn’t the most important thing to do before sending off a story
(that’s reserved for writing the story itself), drafting an effective
cover letter/email is probably right below it.

So here is a quick
sample of what to do and NOT when putting together a cover letter to go
with your story. That being said, remember that I’m just one of many
(many) editors out there, each with their own quirks and buttons to
push. Like writing the story itself, practice and sensitivity is will
teach you a lot, but this will give you a start.

So … Don’t Do What Bad Johnny Don’t Does:

Dear M. (1),

Here
is my story (2) for your collection (3), it’s about a guy and a girl
who fall in love on the Titanic (4). I haven’t written anything like
this before (5), but your book looked easy enough to get into (6). My
friends say I’m pretty creative (7). Please fill out and send back the
enclosed postcard (8). If I have not heard from you in two months (9) I
will consider this story rejected and send it somewhere else (10). I
am also sending this story to other people. If they want it, I’ll write
to let you know (11).

I noticed that your guidelines say First
North American Serial rights. What’s that (12)? If I don’t have all
rights then I do not want you to use my story (13).

I work at the DMV (14) and have three cats named Mumbles, Blotchy and Kismet (15).

Mistress Divine (16)
[email protected] (17)

(1)
Don’t be cute. If you don’t know the editor’s name, or first name, or
if the name is real or a pseudonym, just say “Hello” or “Editor” or
somesuch.

(2) Answer the basic questions up front: how long is the story, is it original or a reprint, what’s the title?

(3)
What book are you submitting to? Editors often have more than one open
at any time and it can get very confusing. Also, try and know what the
hell you’re talking about: a ‘collection’ is a book of short stories by
one author, an ‘anthology’ is a book of short stories by multiple
authors. Demonstrate that you know what you’re submitting to.

(4)
You don’t need to spell out the plot, but this raises another issue:
don’t submit inappropriate stories. If this submission was to a gay or
lesbian book, it would result in an instant rejection and a ticked-off
editor.

(5) The story might be great, but this already has you
pegged as a twit. If you haven’t been published before don’t say
anything, but if you have then DEFINITELY say so, making sure to note
what kind of markets you’ve been in (anthology, novel, website and so
forth). Don’t assume the editor has heard of where you’ve been or who
you are, either. Too often I get stories from people who list a litany
of previous publications that I’ve never heard of. Not that I need to,
but when they make them sound like I should it just makes them sound
arrogant. Which is not a good thing.

(6) Gee, thanks so much. Loser.

(7) Friends, lovers, Significant Others and so forth — who cares?

(8)
Not happening. I have a stack of manuscripts next to me for a project
I’m doing. The deadline for submissions is in two months. I will
probably not start reading them until at least then, so your postcard is
just going to sit there. Also, remember that editors want as smooth a
transition from their brain to your story as possible; anything they
have to respond to, fill out, or baby-sit is just going to annoy them.

(9)
Get real — sometimes editors take six months to a year to respond.
This is not to say they are lazy or cruel; they’re just busy or dealing
with a lot of other things. Six months is the usual cut-off time,
meaning that after six months you can either consider your story
rejected or you can write a polite little note asking how the project is
going. By the way, writing rude or demanding notes is going to get you
nothing but rejected or a bad reputation — and who wants that?

(10)
When I get something like this I still read the story but to be honest
it would take something of genius level quality for me to look beyond
this arrogance. Besides, what this approach says more than anything is
that even if the story is great, you are going to be too much of a pain
to work with. Better to find a ‘just as good’ story from someone else
than put up with this kind of an attitude.

(11) This is called
simultaneous submission: sending a story to two places at once, thinking
that it will cut down on the frustration of having to wait for one
place to reject it before sending it along to another editor. Don’t do
it — unless the Call for Submissions says it’s okay, of course. Even
then, though, it’s not a good idea because technically you’d have to
send it to two places that think it’s okay, which is damned rare. The
problem is that if one place wants your work, then you have to go to the
other places you sent it to tell them so — which very often results in
one very pissed editor. Don’t do it. We all hate having to wait for
one place to reject our work, but that’s just part of the game. Live
with it.

(12) Many editors are more than willing to answer simple
questions about their projects, but just as many others will never
respond — especially to questions that can easily be answered by
reading a basic writing book (or reading columns like this one). Know
as much as you can and then, only then, write to ask questions.

(13)
This story is automatically rejected. Tough luck. Things like
payment, rights, and so forth are very rarely in the editor’s control.
Besides, this is a clear signal that, once again, the author is simply
going to be way too much trouble to deal with. Better to send out that
rejection form letter and move onto the next story.

(14) Who cares?

(15) Really, who cares?

(16)
Another sign of a loser. It’s perfectly okay to use a pseudonym but
something as wacky as this is just going to mark you as a novice. Also,
cover letters are a place for you, as a person, to write to the editor,
another person. Put your pseudonym on your story, don’t sign your
cover letter with it.

(17) Email address — this is great, but
it’s also very obviously a work address, which makes a lot of editors
very nervous. First of all, people leave jobs all the time so way too
often, these addresses have very short lives. Second, work email
servers are rarely secure — at least from the eyes of prying bosses.
Do you really want your supervisor to see your rejection from a Big Tits
In Bondage book? I don’t think so.
#

Do What Johnny Does Does:

Hi, Chris (1),

It
was with great excitement (2) that I read your call for submissions for
your new anthology, Love Beast (3). I’ve long been a fan not only of
werewolf erotica (4) but also your books and stories as well (5)

I’ve
been published in about twelve websites, including Sex Chat, Litsmut,
and Erotically Yours, and in two anthologies, Best of Chocolate Erotica
(Filthy Books) and Clickty-Clack, Erotic Train Stories (Red Ball Books)
(6).

Enclosed is my 2,300 word original story, “When Hairy Met
Sally” (7). I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it
(which is a lot) (8). Please feel free to write me at
[email protected] if you have any questions (9).

In the meantime best of luck with your projects and keep up the great work .(10)

Molly Riggs (11)

##

(1) Nice; she knows my real first name is Chris. A bit of research on an editor or potential market never hurt anyone.

(2) It’s perfectly okay to be enthusiastic. No one likes to get a story from someone who thinks your project is dull.

(3) She knows the book and the title.

(4)
She knows the genre and likes it. You’d be surprised the number of
people who either pass out backhanded compliments or joke about
anthologies or projects thinking it’s endearing or shows a ‘with it’
attitude. Believe me, it’s neither — just annoying.

(5) Editing
can be a lonely business, what with having to reject people all the
time. Getting a nice little compliment can mean a lot. It won’t change
a bad story into an acceptable one, but making an editor smile is
always a good thing.

(6) The bio is brief, to the point, and
explains the markets. You don’t need to list everything you’ve ever
sold to, just the key points.

(7) Everything about the story is
there: the title, the words, if it’s original or a reprint (and, of
course if it’s a reprint you should also say when and where it first
appeared, even if it’s a website).

(8) Again, a little smile is a
good thing. I know this is awfully trite but when the sentiment is
heartfelt and the writer’s sense of enjoyment is true, it does mean
something to an editor. I want people to enjoy writing for one of my
books, even if I don’t take the story.

(9) Good email address (obviously not work) and an invitation to chat if needed. Good points there.

(10)
Okay, maybe it’s a bit thick here but this person is also clearly very
nice, professional, eager and more than likely will either be easy to
work with or, if need be, reject without drama.

(11) Real name —
I’d much rather work with a person than an identity. I also know that
“Molly” is not playing games with who she is, and what she is, just to
try and make a sale.

There’s more, as said, but this at least
will keep you from stepping on too many toes — even before your story
gets read. If there’s a lesson in this, it’s to remember that an editor
is, deep down, a person trying to do the best job they can, just like
you. Treat them as such and they’ll return the favor.

(big thanks to Erotica For All, where this article first appeared)

The Right Word

“The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter — it’s the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.
– Mark Twain

No insult to Mr. Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens to his pals), but he’s a bit wrong there … but, more importantly, a lot right.

Wrong in when writing, slaving over just the right word can, too often, grind the process to a halt. When I hit that speed bump I usually just put the word I know isn’t the perfect, ideal, and – yep – right I just highlight it so I know, when I look over whatever I’m writing I can come back and fix it later. The key to keeping up your flow is not just writing well but to keep writing. Period. It’s far too easy to let niggling details get in the way of where you’re doing, and what you’re saying: it’s far better to just keep at it and then come back and do some tweaking after.

But Sam (Mark Twain to everyone else) is damned right about the damned right word. It’s been a very strange trip, going from writer to editor and, now, to publisher: I see a lot of things I wish that writers would get into their heads – and, similarly, try to get into my own thick noggin. The number one has to be to show and not tell: in more words, rather than less, it’s far better to be evocative and imagination-feeding than completely, unarguably, accurate.

Let’s try something: the brown chair. Not much there right? We know it’s a chair, we know it’s brown. End of story. But what if I wrote, “the chair was the color of a well-worn dirt road”? Immediately you not just see the chair but might even feel a bit about it: the road, and it’s color, overlaid with an image what a chair like that might look like, feel like, smell like, etc.

It’s far better to conjure the chair, with magical language and imagery, than carry it onto the stage. You can so much with so little if you take the time to think of words, and language, that is evocative and alluring that unarguably precise. The same, naturally, goes with sex: rather than saying that, say, someone’s breasts were perfect, or conical, or whatever shape you’re thinking of, try, instead to say they were “happily rich and full, tipped by the inquisitive arousal of umber nipples.” Okay, that might be a bit too much but I think you get my point: the first was dull, boring – the second says so much more happily at that.

Additionally, I’ve seen far too many stories cross my desk (as both an editor and a publisher) where the author thinks that they have to not just set that stage but show the reader every little board and nail. I have a little joke I tell when I teach writing (smut or otherwise): avoid the scroll. The origin of the joke it the way some movies – and far too many books and movies – feel that they have to spell out the world, the setting before even showing a single character, setting, or hint of a conflict. In movies it shows up as a literal scroll of what’s going to happen. Sure, it can be good – even very well written (The Road Warrior is a perfect example) — but far too many times it goes on too long and says far too much. It is far better to simply start the story with us, the reader/watcher, right in the middle of it.

For instance, what’s more effective…

A: Robert Sharpe West was 56 years old, a little overweight, with a full shock of dark hair. His job for the Central Intelligence Agency was to take care of their problems. One of those problems was named Anne Smith. She had taken something that didn’t belong to her and so it was up with Robert Sharpe West to get it back…

B: The first bullet exploded in impact an foot from his head, two centuries of Roman architecture splintering into a dusty bloom that bit his eyes, burned his cheek, and filled the air between him and the shooter with a cloud of dust – a cloud hiding the second bullet: the one that hit the wall, again, right where he’d thrown himself, where he’d been standing before twenty years experience hadn’t screamed in his ear move, damnit, move!

Okay, that wasn’t exactly brilliant but what do you expect for something tossed off pretty quickly. But I think you get my point: the first scene is – yawn – pretty damned dull. The second, however, gets the shit across pretty dramatically. The same, of course, is true of erotica: we don’t need to know the characters’ heights, weights, job histories, what they are wearing, where they went to school … zzzzzzzz … sorry, I nodded off a bit there. What we do need to know is who they are in a way that immediately, and evocatively, draws the reader immediately into the story. Don’t worry, if it’s important you want always dribble in the facts and figures and histories and all that other stuff as the story progresses – you just don’t need to begin the story by standing on stage and reading a dry scroll. Drop us right into the middle of it, with guns – or genitals – a blazing!

While picking just the right word can, sure, slow things down, Sam (Or Mark) is more completely right than wrong: try – always try – to bring down the literary lightning, instead of describing the boring details of a photinus carolinus. A flash of brilliance, after all, is always much more beautiful that just describing a glowing little bug.

Definitive Definitions 

A pal of mine asked an
interesting question once: what’s my definition of erotica, or of pornography?
Other folks have been asked these questions, of course, and the answers have
been as varied as those asked, but even as I zapped off my own response I
started to really think about how people define what they write, and more
importantly, why.

It’s easy to agree with
folks who say there’s a difference between erotica and pornography. One of the
most frequent definitions is that erotica is sexually explicit literature that
talks about something else aside from sex, while porno is sex, sex and more sex
and nothing else. The problem with trying to define erotica is that it’s purely
subjective—even using the erotica-is-more-than-just-sex and porn-is-
just-sex-analysis. Where’s the line and when do you cross it? One person’s
literate erotica is another’s pure filth. Others like to use a proportional
scale a certain percent of sex content—bing!—something becomes porn. Once
again: Who sets the scale?

What I find interesting
isn’t necessarily what the distinction between erotica and pornography should
be but why there should be one to begin with. Some writers I’ve encountered
seem to be looking for a clear-cut definition just so they won’t be grouped
together with the likes of Hustler and Spank Me, Daddy. While I agree that
there’s a big difference between what’s being published in some of the more
interesting anthologies, magazines and Web sites as opposed to Hustler and Spank
Me, Daddy, I also think that a lot of this searching for a definition is more
about ego and less about literary analysis. Rather than risk being put on the
shelves next to Hustler and Spank Me Daddy, some writers try to draw up lists
and rules that naturally favor what they write compared to what other people
write: “I write erotica, but that other stuff is just pornography.
Therefore what I write is better.”

This thought process has
always baffled me. First of all, it’s completely subjective. Who died and made
you arbiter of what’s erotica and what’s pornography? It sounds like those
drawing the line have something to prove to themselves, or hide from. They
decide it’s okay to hate pornography because what I write is erotica. More
importantly, this little fit of insecurity opens the door for other people to
start using your own definitions against you. Even a casual glance at the
politics of groups out to “save” us all from the evils of pornography
shows that they will use any device, any subjective rule (otherwise known as
“community standards”), any nasty tactic to arrest, impound, burn, or
otherwise erase what they consider to be dirty words. You might consider yourself
an erotica writer, and be able to show certain people that you are—or, more
importantly, convince yourself that you are—but to someone else you’re nothing
but a pornographer, just like the stories and writers from whom you’re trying
to distance yourself.

So I don’t I’ll tell you
that personally, I use all the terms pretty much interchangeably: Porn,
erotica, smut, literotica, and so forth. You name it, I use it. Depends on
who’s asking. If I’m writing to an editor or publisher, I use erotica. If I’m
talking to another author, I playfully call myself a “smut” writer.
If a Jesus Freak gets me out of bed with a knock on the door, I’m a damned
pornographer. In my heart, though, I just call myself a writer because even
though I write stories of butt-fucking bikers, lascivious cheerleaders, horny
space aliens, and leathermen, I’m more turned on by trying to write an
interesting story than what the story may particularly be about. Half the time
I’m not even aware that what I’m writing is a sex story because I’m having way
too much fun with alliteration, character, description, and plot! The fact that
what I’m writing may appear in an anthology or book with the word
“erotic” in the title has nothing to do with how I approach my
writing: a story is a story no matter the amount or manner of the eroticism I
may include. A good example of my commitment to writing, pure and simple, is
that I sign my work M.Christian, no matter what I’m working on: science
fiction, mystery, literary fiction, non-fiction, or even something with
“erotic” in the title.

If there’s a point to
all this, it’s that you’re in charge of your own definitions, but try and pay
attention to why you define, or why you feel you should. Erotica, pornography,
smut, dirty words—be proud of what you write but never ever forget that genres,
labels, brands, and all the rest are meaningless. If you’re a writer, you
write. And you get to call the fruits of your labor whatever you want because
you created it.

(a hearty thanks goes out to the wonderful K.D. Grace, on whose blog this piece first appeared)

Thinking Outside Your Box…

Or Writing Isn’t Always About Writing

Sure,
we may all want to just cuddle in our little garrets, a purring pile of fur in
our laps, leather patches on our sleeves, a pipe at the ready, and do nothing
but write masterpieces all day and night – with periodic breaks for
binge-drinking and soon-to-be legendary sexual escapades – but the fact of the
matter is that being a writer has totally, completely, changed.

I’m not just talking about the need to be a marketing genius and a publicity
guru – spending, it feels too often, more time tweeting about Facebook, or
Facebooking about tweeting, than actually writing – but that authors really
need to be creative when it comes to not just getting the word out about their
work but actually making money.

A lot of people who claim to be marketing geniuses and publicity gurus will say
that talking about you and your work as loud as possible, as often as possible,
is the trick … but have you heard the joke about how to make money with
marketing and PR? Punchline: get people to pay you to be a marketing genius
and/or a publicity guru. In short: just screaming at the top of the tweety lungs
or burying everyone under Facebook posts just won’t do it.

Not that having some form of presence online isn’t essential – far from it: if
people can’t find you, after all, then they can’t buy your books. But there’s a
big difference between being known and making everyone run for the hills – or
at least stop up their9 ears – anytime you say or do anything online.

Balance is the key: don’t just talk about your books or your writing – because,
honesty, very few people care about that … even your readers – instead fine a
subject that interests you and write about that as well. Give yourself some
dimension, some personality, some vulnerability, something … interesting, and
not that you are not just an arrogant scream-engine of me-me-me-me. Food, travel,
art, history, politics … you pick it, but most of all have fun with it.
Forced sincerity is just about as bad as incessant narcissism.

Okay, that’s all been said before – but one thing a lot of writers never think
about is actually getting out from behind their computers – or out of their
garret to tie in the opening to this. Sure, writing may far too often be a
solitary thing but putting yourself out there – in the (gasp) real world – can
open all kinds of doors. I’m not just talking publicity-that-can-sometimes-equal-book-sales,
either: there’s money to be made in all kinds of far-too-often overlooked
corners.

Not to turn this to (ahem) myself: but in addition to trying to do as many
readings and appearances as I can manage … or stand … I also teach classes.
One, it gets me out of the damned house and out into the (shudder) real world,
but it also, hopefully, shows people that I am not just a writer. Okay, a lot
of what I teach – from sex ed subjects to … well, writing – has to do with my
books and stories but it also allows me to become more than a virtual person.

By teaching classes and doing readings and stuff-like-that-there I’d made a lot
of great connections, met real-life-human-beings, and have seen a considerable
jump in book sales. Now don’t let me mislead you that this has been easy: there
are a lot of people out there who perform, teach, lecture, what-have-you
already so often it means almost starting a brand new career … scary and
frustrating doesn’t even begin to describe it. But, in the end, the rewards
have more than made up for the headaches.

Now you don’t have to read, or teach, or whatever: the main point of this is to
think outside of your little writing box. If you write historical fiction then
think about conducting tours of your city and it’s fascinating secrets and back
alleys; if you write SF then think about starting a science discussion group –
or even joining one. Like art? How about becoming a museum docent? Write
mysteries? Then organize a murder party – or just attend one.

You don’t have to make you and your work the focus of what you are doing. As in
the virtual world, connections can come from all kinds of unexpected directions
– which can then even lead to new opportunities … both for your writing but also
as a never-before-thought-of-cash stream.

My classes and lectures and whatever have not just brought be friends, book
sales, totally new publicity venues, but also ($$) cash!

It’s also a great way of balancing my inherent shyness with the need to get out
there and be a person – which always helps not just sell whatever products you
happen to be selling but can also be extremely good for (not to get too
metaphysical or something) the soul: sure, we all might want to be left alone
in our little garrets to writer, write, write but the fact is that writing can
be very emotionally difficult …. to put it mildly. But thinking outside of
your box you can not just reach new, potential, readers but also possibly find
friends and an unexpected support system.

Teaching may not be for you, readings may not be for you … but I’m sure if
you put your wonderfully creative mind to it I’m sure you can think of a way to
not just get the word out about your work but also enrich yourself as a person.
It might be painful at first, but – believe me – it’ll be more than worth it.