Smallfish Clover

Teen Writing Project

Yesterday, I read the second book in a series by a teenager. According to the backcover bio, she began writing the first book in the series at 13, and she's sixteen now. The book isn't awful. In fact, it's not bad. Lots of typical errors of the young, like choppy sentences, repetitive structure, extremely casual description -- hey! it sounds like a teenager! And I think young teenagers would go for it: vampires, elves, cold queens, hot knights, no explicit sexual references, plenty of action and everyone spats like high school.

Whoever was behind this project -- her parents, her teachers -- was paying attention to adolescent motivation. My twelve-year-old, for example, a few times a year starts these big story ideas. The last one actually had an outline and ran about thirty pages. But no, it's not done. None of them get done. And that's my fault because I'm not supplying a solid enough reason to motivate him to finish.

Maybe the standard principle of always finishing something you start is good enough for baseball or track, but the difference between a sports season and a writing project is the party, the awards ceremony, the public accomplishment.

Writing is different. Writing is all about personal achievement, inner strength, sitting alone in a room for hours and hours. So what if your mom reads every word and thinks you're wonderful? That's just not the same as a medal hung around your neck in front of hundreds of cheering fans. (Or, the desire to be the kid who gets the medal hung around his neck in front of hundreds of cheering fans.)

Not that I want to encourage grown-up writers to expect or desire swooning adulation. Heck, fine words from Mom would be great. Remember, it's all about personal achievement, inner strength, blah blah blah.

But kids are different. A little bit different. Just like reading really great books to your kid will motivate him to become a reader, treating his hard work as a writer with fanfare will encourage him to keep sitting alone in that room, working at getting better.

And so we're back to the parents of the teenaged vampire novelist. Again, whoever was behind her was right on track. How many kids quit reading for pleasure at the age of 11 or 12, when they make the switch from elementary school to middle school? Why not encourage kids to write, read and critique each other's work.

No, this is not a school project. This is only for kids who really like to write and read, but often get caught up in more instantly gratifying activities. This is a project for parents to encourage, critique, encourage again through rewrites and research, help with editing, etc. At the end, publish the book.

The author I read yesterday published through AuthorHouse, I like to use Lulu because they're more hands on and you can print one or a hundred or a thousand.

But the vampire novelist's mentors were even smarter than this: they encouraged the girl to write the first book of a series. Book One was about 130 pages (large type, large leading -- typical y/a format), the second slightly longer. But hey, there's no reason why your kid's first book could be twenty-five pages or less. Why not?

Beware: Here's the one single largest problem with this second book that I read yesterday: she started exactly where she'd left off, as if I'd already read the first book, which I hadn't.

Everyone, including J.K. Rowling, starts a new book in a series with a little starter-course for those who jump in cold. (Actually, J.K. Rowling did this up until the second to last book, at which point she must have decided that her new readers would start at the beginning.) There are lots of different ways to go about this, and lots and lots of series to glean for ideas. But, it must be done. I still don't really know why the vampires were the good guys, which seemed important in the context of the second book.

Finally, publishing sites like Lulu and AuthorHouse should take advantage of teen writers by placing their books in special, browsable sections where like authors can easily order their books, read them and make comments. What a great idea!

Using Simplicity

Cleaning up my email from last week, I found this link sent by Rob Forbes, the founder of Design Within Reach. Using photos and quotes from a book by John Maeda, he examines simplicity in the Loire Valley.

Resting On It

It was 630 AM and I was sitting with my coffee, feeling depressed about the first job on my list for the day. It was a book review. I'd read the book, made my notes, but I had no idea what I was going to say.

This used to happen frequently during my years spent as a researcher. Often, I had to write papers on different subjects, like Special Forces in the Vietnam War, or the OSS in Asia, or the evolution of the horse. I'd read as many books as I could reasonably find, make pages and pages of notes, then despair. The problem wasn't just that I had to report on these topics, but I had to make sense of them in terms of the entire project.

But I only let despair get me down once or twice because I found out how to work through it, completely by accident. One day I was so exhausted by the whole thing that I laid down. Maybe I sort of fell asleep, maybe I didnt... The gist is that the information swirled (or gurgled) around in my conscious and unconscious, and certain pieces began to come together and harden. All of a sudden (although not necessarily sudddenly) I knew what I wanted to say. And once I understood what I wanted to say, the saying was easy.

I think the problem of writer's block is often often a symptom of this same despair at confusion. For example, a writes comes up with a tremendous first chapter, but can't write a second. Why? I say it's simple: Because he doesn't know what he wants to say. Because there's no thesis. He's got a big, empty horizon, but no structure to draw the eye.

If you don't believe me, in this morning's Guardian, there's an interview with scientist and author, Ian Stewart. He says: "It's a very interesting process organising the thoughts in your head into something that will make sense on paper, at book length. Unless you have a pretty clear idea of what you want to write about and why, and some sort of story that will make it all fit together, then it's pointless starting writing... If I'm having trouble writing something, that's a sign that I don't understand what I'm talking about and I haven't thought it through properly."

The Value of Books

A couple of days ago, I went over to my boss's garage to pick up the box of university press galleys I'd collected during the BEA. (The story about the selection is at ForeWord This Week.) I had a couple of errands to run after the pick-up, and as I pulled up and parked in the first lot, I contemplated moving the precious cargo out of the bed of my truck and into the front seat where I could lock the doors. That was my first thought. My second was: Who's going to steal a box of books?

Who indeed? I've lived many different places around the States, plus Mexico and Spain. I've been robbed just about everywhere, with the worst cases occurring in Mexico. However, never, never ever in my long experience of loss, has anyone bothered with the books on my shelves. In fact, the most horrific theft also involved vandalism—crapping on the floor, toothpaste on the walls, stuff set on fire—they stole pens, my spare glasses, a mirror, clothes, boots, but the books (and the cash hidden inside them) were untouched.

All right, so everyone's had books stolen from them. I once had a friend say that the only things worthwhile stealing were books and hearts. But maybe book thieves are not the same sort of people who pilfer out of the backs of trucks or defecate in the middle of a living room. Maybe book thieves are us.

There's a story in last week's Economist about librarians in Timbuktu. When the Moroccans raided in the 16th century, the city had long been a wealthy center of Muslim scholarship—more than 25,000 students were enrolled in the university there at its peak. During its destruction, the people of Timbuktu did what they could to save the scholarship, stuffing manuscripts into clothing trunks and heading out into the desert. There they've been for hundreds of years. Until now. Little by little, native librarians are hunting out the "precious cargo" and convincing the caretakers to return it to public and private sites of conservation. As the imam of Timbuktu's great mosque says, "Writing remains, but stories disappear."

Here's to book thieves everywhere: May you prosper and return overdue favors.

And When It's Priceless

I read this yesterday in the Guardian, and haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It hardens in the stomach like a rock. Millions of rock-filled stomachs rising out of the earth with guns in their hands.

In Iraq's four-year looting frenzy, the allies have become the vandals

British and American collusion in the pillaging of Iraq's heritage is a scandal that will outlive any passing conflict

Simon Jenkins
Friday June 8, 2007
The Guardian

Fly into the American air base of Tallil outside Nasiriya in central Iraq and the flight path is over the great ziggurat of Ur, reputedly the earliest city on earth. Seen from the base in the desert haze or the sand-filled gloom of dusk, the structure is indistinguishable from the mounds of fuel dumps, stores and hangars. Ur is safe within the base compound. But its walls are pockmarked with wartime shrapnel and a blockhouse is being built over an adjacent archaeological site. When the head of Iraq's supposedly sovereign board of antiquities and heritage, Abbas al-Hussaini, tried to inspect the site recently, the Americans refused him access to his own most important monument.

Yesterday Hussaini reported to the British Museum on his struggles to protect his work in a state of anarchy. It was a heart breaking presentation. Under Saddam you were likely to be tortured and shot if you let someone steal an antiquity; in today's Iraq you are likely to be tortured and shot if you don't. The tragic fate of the national museum in Baghdad in April 2003 was as if federal troops had invaded New York city, sacked the police and told the criminal community that the Metropolitan was at their disposal. The local tank commander was told specifically not to protect the museum for a full two weeks after the invasion. Even the Nazis protected the Louvre.

When I visited the museum six months later, its then director, Donny George, proudly showed me the best he was making of a bad job. He was about to reopen, albeit with half his most important objects stolen. The pro-war lobby had stopped pretending that the looting was nothing to do with the Americans, who were shamefacedly helping retrieve stolen objects under the dynamic US colonel, Michael Bogdanos (author of a book on the subject). The vigorous Italian cultural envoy to the coalition, Mario Bondioli-Osio, was giving generously for restoration.

The beautiful Warka vase, carved in 3000BC, was recovered though smashed into 14 pieces. The exquisite Lyre of Ur, the world's most ancient musical instrument, was found badly damaged. Clerics in Sadr City were ingeniously asked to tell wives to refuse to sleep with their husbands if looted objects were not returned, with some success. Nothing could be done about the fire-gutted national library and the loss of five centuries of Ottoman records (and works by Piccasso and Miro). But the message of winning hearts and minds seemed to have got through.

Today the picture is transformed. Donny George fled for his life last August after death threats. The national museum is not open but shut. Nor is it just shut. Its doors are bricked up, it is surrounded by concrete walls and its exhibits are sandbagged. Even the staff cannot get inside. There is no prospect of reopening.

Hussaini confirmed a report two years ago by John Curtis, of the British Museum, on America's conversion of Nebuchadnezzar's great city of Babylon into the hanging gardens of Halliburton. This meant a 150-hectare camp for 2,000 troops. In the process the 2,500-year-old brick pavement to the Ishtar Gate was smashed by tanks and the gate itself damaged. The archaeology-rich subsoil was bulldozed to fill sandbags, and large areas covered in compacted gravel for helipads and car parks. Babylon is being rendered archaeologically barren.

Meanwhile the courtyard of the 10th-century caravanserai of Khan al-Raba was used by the Americans for exploding captured insurgent weapons. One blast demolished the ancient roofs and felled many of the walls. The place is now a ruin.

Outside the capital some 10,000 sites of incomparable importance to the history of western civilisation, barely 20% yet excavated, are being looted as systematically as was the museum in 2003. When George tried to remove vulnerable carvings from the ancient city of Umma to Baghdad, he found gangs of looters already in place with bulldozers, dump trucks and AK47s.

Hussaini showed one site after another lost to archaeology in a four-year "looting frenzy". The remains of the 2000BC cities of Isin and Shurnpak appear to have vanished: pictures show them replaced by a desert of badger holes created by an army of some 300 looters. Castles, ziggurats, deserted cities, ancient minarets and mosques have gone or are going. Hussaini has 11 teams combing the country engaged in rescue work, mostly collecting detritus left by looters. His small force of site guards is no match for heavily armed looters, able to shift objects to eager European and American dealers in days.

Most ominous is a message reputedly put out from Moqtada al-Sadr's office, that while Muslim heritage should be respected, pre-Muslim relics were up for grabs. As George said before his flight, his successors might be "only interested in Islamic sites and not Iraq's earlier heritage". While Hussaini is clearly devoted to all Iraq's history, the Taliban's destruction of Afghanistan's pre-Muslim Bamiyan Buddhas is in every mind.

Despite Sadr's apparent preference, sectarian militias are pursuing an orgy of destruction of Muslim sites. Apart from the high-profile bombings of some of the loveliest surviving mosques in the Arab world, radical groups opposed to all shrines have begun blasting 10th- and 11th-century structures, irrespective of Sunni or Shia origin. Eighteen ancient shrines have been lost, 10 in Kirkuk and the south in the past month alone. The great monument and souk at Kifel, north of Najaf - reputedly the tomb of Ezekiel and once guarded by Iraqi Jews (mostly driven into exile by the occupation) - have been all but destroyed.

It is abundantly clear that the Americans and British are not protecting Iraq's historic sites. All foreign archaeologists have had to leave. Troops are doing nothing to prevent the "farming" of known antiquities. This is in direct contravention of the Geneva Convention that an occupying army should "use all means within its power" to guard the cultural heritage of a defeated state.

Shortly after the invasion, the British minister Tessa Jowell won plaudits for "pledging" £5m to protect Iraq's antiquities. I can find no one who can tell me where, how or whether this money has been spent. It appears to have been pure spin. Only the British Museum and the British School of Archaeology in Iraq have kept the flag flying. The latter's grant has just been cut, presumably to pay for the Olympics binge.

As long as Britain and America remain in denial over the anarchy they have created in Iraq, they clearly feel they must deny its devastating side-effects. Two million refugees now camping in Jordan and Syria are ignored, since life in Iraq is supposed to be "better than before". Likewise dozens of Iraqis working for the British and thus facing death threats are denied asylum. To grant it would mean the former defence and now home secretary, the bullish John Reid, admitting he was wrong. They will die before he does that.

Though I opposed the invasion I assumed that its outcome would at least be a more civilised environment. Yet Iraq's people are being murdered in droves for want of order. Authority has collapsed. That western civilisation should have been born in so benighted a country as Iraq may seem bad luck. But only now is that birth being refused all guardianship, in defiance of international law. If this is Tony Blair's "values war", then language has lost all meaning. British collusion in such destruction is a scandal that will outlive any passing conflict. And we had the cheek to call the Taliban vandals.

simon.jenkins@guardian.co.uk

Let's Say It's Really Cheap

Very interesting entry today on Seth Godin's Blog. Take a look, then we'll talk.

Okay, so pricing is a big issue out here in self-published land. A while ago I talked about how I was forced to adjust my Smallfish Clover price up from the reasonable $15 to the expensive $20 in order not to actually PAY bookstores, distributors and Amazon to sell my work. (Amazon is the real problem, as they run off with 55% -- even so, I can't, and you can't, live without 'em.)

However, my book costs less than half of what it retails at, and there's no reason why I can't sell it at a lower price directly to customers of the IAMO website. I can see how this might turn into something of a pain in the butt if I'm having to package, bookkeep and run off to the PO every day. What about a $2 download? Does anyone actually download a big fat book then read it on screen?

I don't know. No one really knows reader's present or future tolerance of on-line reading. Let's find out.

Aside: A few weeks ago I did read an entire, 300 page book on my computer. The author had purchased a review at Clarion, and our old copy stated that disks were acceptable as review copy. (I quickly changed that language, and now we accept only print -- but wait...) I asked a couple of reviewers if they were interested, and they said no.

However, I think the main problem was that the reviewers didn't have laptops, and sitting in front of a desktop PC more than they already did was unappealing.

I ended up reading the book. And I have a laptop. In fact, it wasn't that bad -- apart from my lap getting a little warm at times. The book came as a clean, bright PDF; I could adjust the type for reading at any distance; I read it here there and everywhere; it kept my place; and I could take notes directly, without the normal process of handwriting and transcribing.

Let's Say It's Too Much

What if you've published a cookbook or a children's picture book and it's too costly to give away 100-200 free Advance Review Copies at the BEA?

Lots of options here. I picked up postcards, bookmarks, stickers, and, my favorite, chapter-sample galleys. This would be great for a cookbook -- do the cover, the blurbs, and a recipe or two. Inkwater Press printed Roscoe Orman's forthcoming picture book as a folded, stapled 8 1/2 x 11 and had him sit at the booth and sign it. (Orman is the voice of Oscar on Sesame Street.)

Who picks all this paper up, you may ask. Librarians, I say. They love this stuff. They stuff themselves with the stuff.

An aside: I sat next to the editor of Costco Connections on the hotel shuttle. He said that all their printing was done in Asia, and that a cookbook retailing at 35-40 dollars, in fact only costs about 40 cents to print (at huge Costco runs, of course). The distribution adds a dollar or two, but the profit on those things is outrageous. That's what he was saying -- that most books are expensive because someone is making too much money. Like the newspapers complaining about their demise when really they're down from a 60% profit to a 40% profit. Boo hoo.
[All numbers here are approximate. Don't quote me. Do your research.]

Lost Pants

This image just about wraps up the advantages of taking your self-published book all by yourself to the BEA: Don't. Hundreds of authors sitting at lonely little tables in the basement looking so hungry and desperate that the poor souls who happened to get lost enough to pass by quickened their steps to avoid eye contact.

The guy who posted this ad (for it is definitely an ad) in the women's bathroom (in the basement) was funneling his desperation in a very creative fashion -- creative but futile.

The opportunity I was looking for when I took my books to the BEA, was marketing. I hoped to find readers who would then review the book and recommend it at Amazon, etc. Sure, about 8,000 book buyers attended this BEA -- many of them librarians -- but they were far more interested in filling their suitcases (yes, suitcases!) with big-name house freebies or standing in line for a $1 autographed copy of a book by Mary Higgins Clark than swimming the shark infested waters of the self-published.

So, who were the self-published giving away their books to? Other self-published, that's who. Misery sharing misery. Lose / lose.

If I'm going to give away free copies of my book pre-publication, I want to make sure they're going to people who can be useful to me. For example, just before setting out for NYC, I sent a bunch of copies to reviewers at Amazon who expressed an interest in reading my book. That is one-hundred percent more useful than handing a book to some poor schmuck peddling his autobiographical thriller sex fantasy in the basement of Jarvitz.

Another path is enrolling in The Independent Book Publishers Association. They had a big spread upstairs and a lot of traffic. Plus, you're sitting with similar folk who can share ideas about the trade. This is totally win / win. You're networking, sharing expenses and looking professional.

Other organizations exist which do the same thing: Small Publishers Association of America, Midwest Independent Publishers Assoc., Christian Small Publishers Association, to name a few. They're not exclusive -- you can join them all if you want to. All of these organizations also offer paths to reviews possibilities.

The BEA

I'm off to Book Expo America for the weekend. I'll be back with photos, news, ideas.

Finding and Using Great Images

This morning, my friend Lori and I were talking about how she uses beautiful images to decorate her blog. She recommended a site called iStockPhoto. It's a great spot, and great prices. Here's a photo I got after keying in the word "honey" (click to view larger):

And here's one I got keying in the word "opal":

The images are available in different sizes, the ones you see here cost $1.00 each.

iStockPhoto allows you to use an image that you've downloaded on anything with a limited run of up to half a million. Here's what they say:
Use the image in virtually any kind of promotional item : websites, advertising, packaging, personal projects, CD or DVD packaging, film and video presentations, multimedia presentations, commercials, books, etc…

Here's what you can't do:

Use images in templates for resale (e.g. flash templates, website templates, brochure templates, powerpoint templates); this requires an Extended License.
Display images larger than 800 * 600 on the web.
Exceed the 500,000 print run restriction.
Superficially modify the content, plunk it on a t–shirt, mug, poster, template or other item, and sell it to others for consumption, reproduction or re–sale. This requires an Extended License.

Print On Demand (POD) products also require an extended license.

The site is wonderful as not only offers stock photography, but art photography as well. And there's a good section showcasing designers and their work.

They also give away photos. Today, there was this one:

My mother was stumped on how to size photos for her PowerPoints. I'm a Mac user, and the easiest way I've found around size requirements (also a big deal on websites and blogs) is to throw the jpeg into my iPhoto program, then hit the "Export" button. The menu will then let me size the photo to whatever I want. After setting the size, I send the new photo back to my desktop with a new name, and import it wherever I want. Remember though, that you can size an image smaller without losing quality, but not larger.