This is an extra post that's really just a reprise. When I first started this blog and had about 3 followers, I began a series called "10 commandments for aspiring writers in 2009". Virtually no one read it because virtually no one knew I was here, but some people who did kind of liked it, so I'm reprising with links here. It's also a nice way of leading in to a new series I'm going to be running in the autumn, a 12-step programme to help writers intending to make a serious attempt at a career of it, starting in 2010, hit the ground running with a proper business plan.
So here, goes, my 10 commandmets are:
1.There is no stigma about self-publishing
2.Marketing is something small groups of like-minded writers can in many ways do better than big publishers
3.By the time the recession’s over the publishing houses will be playing catch-up with the new literary business models that emerge in the meanwhile
4.The internet is SOO much more than just another way of getting the same old type of book published
5.Don’t be afraid to give your work away for free.
6.Modern technology cuts out the barriers between readers and writers and brings prose back to life
7.Writing is not a zero-sum game – far from making my success LESS likely, your success makes it MORE likely, so cooperation between writers is a good thing.
8.Money follows innovation
9.Networking is about looking for ways to do something FOR people, not get something FROM them.
10.Writers need to think like musicians and artists; we need to be showmen and women, to work in the public eye.
When I wrote the series I was new at this, and probably too brash, but I think a lot of the points remain valid, and I certainly hope there's at least a bit of useful advice there. Here are the opening lines of, and links to, the separate posts on each commandment.
1. In many ways this debate is already tired. Some writers will never take self-publishing seriously. For others the “stigma of self-publishing” isn’t an issue that figures on the radar. [Read more]
2. Marketing is something small groups of like-minded writers can in many ways do better than big publishersIf there’s one reason writers give more than any other why they don’t want to self-publish, it’s marketing. [Read more]
3. Please note, there are no value judgements in this post. I’m not saying publishing has to change, or ought to change – nor am I saying the current way is bad, or that we are stepping into Utopia. I’m simply saying what I think WILL happen. [read more]
4. Blogs have turned the internet into some kind of noisy Hobbesian nightmare. Twitter has quietened the noise to a series of feint coughs, but the effect is the same – now everyone has something to say and no one has any time to listen. We are all participants; we are all producers; the consumer is dead. [Read more]
5. I’m not going to mention The Pirate Bay in this article. Not once. Except for that, of course. If you want my opinion on the record, it’s this – my only thought as I read the coverage was how sad it was that everything was about file-sharing games, music, videos. [Read more]
6. A lot’s been made of the democratising effect of the Internet. We live in a world where we can all be producers of culture. Anyone with Internet access can set up a blog and pour out their soul. And it takes little more than a mobile phone and to that you can add sound, picture, and film to the “we’re all at it now” package. [Read more]
7. Writing is not a zero-sum game – far from making my success LESS likely, your success makes it MORE likely, so cooperation between writers is a good thing.This column is probably as low on content and high on rhetoric as I intend to get in this series. I want to address an issue that’s vexed me ever since I started participating in online writers’ groups at the very start of 2008, after reading a little snippet in the Writers and Artists Yearbook about youwriteon.com. [Read more]
8. One of the questions I’m most often asked when I explain what I’m doing is “How are you going to make any money doing that?” Actually, it’s not usually phrased quite that way – more “it’s all right for you, but we’ve got bills to pay” or less family-friendly rewordings of the same sentiment. [Read more]
9. This is my favourite commandment of all, and I’m delighted to save it till last in this series. We’re always reading about networking. Anyone who’s part of a writers’ site like Authonomy knows that success has so much to do with spreading your social tentacles, and we’re always being urged to use social media to increase our contacts and improve our chances of success [Read more]
10. Writers need to think like musicians and artists; we need to be showmen and women, to work in the public eye, and to make our money from selling an experience rather than a piece of hardware. [Read more]
When I first started the series, I thought number 9 was the most important commandment by far. Nothing's changed, although I think 7 is pretty high up there. What the past few months have enforcd are the supreme value of cooperation between writers.
Do let me know which you think is most important, and where I'm totally off-beam.
Showing posts with label self-help. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-help. Show all posts
Friday, 11 September 2009
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
Chutzpah, cheekiness, and Chance
The secret to making it as an online writer.
I wasn't expecting to write something about, essentially, online journalism, and how to break into the field. It's something I know very little about. I've always thought of myself as a bit of a hack who just happens to have an axe to grind about the importance of culture. But a few things coincided and here I am. First, I've found myself writing some Indie music articles for The Indie Handbook. Second, I spent some time talking about how to get into journalism to a real bright star in the journalistic firmament, Stephie Tan, who writes some amazing pieces about the Singapore style scene. And third, I found myself taking part in a webchat about careers in online journalism run by The Guardian.
All of which made me realise I've actually come a lot further than I thought down the road, and am probably in a position to offer some observations. More anecdotes. Hopefully with a bit of instruction.
Chance
I've written a couple of posts about luck recently, here, and here. Chance, luck, happenstance - whatever you want to call it - is a strange thing. On the one hand by definition, there's nothing you can do to create it. On the other hand, you can do things to put yourself in the right place when chance strikes. You can put tags on your blog, for example. Several years ago, I did just that, writing a few columns about mental health and debt - it just so happened that someone from the Royal College of Psychiatrists was googling debt and mental health, and stumbled on my blog. We've been working together ever since. That he happened to be googling around at the time was chance. That I decided to write down some of my experiences and tag them wasn't.
Chutzpah
Everyone loves a bit of P T Barnum. We writers are terrible at it, and most of us would rather eat curdled guano than play the exhibitionist. And yes, there IS something terrible about blind self-promotion. REALLY terrible. It's like those schoolboys who are so desperate for a girlfriend their tongues hang out when their sisters friends come round.
On the other hand, everyone loves pizzazz. And not just in the arts. My wife pointed out this morning that Richard Wiseman's research has shown that the most important factor in getting a job at interview is your likability. Which doesn't mean being an exhibitionist (just because I'm a media tart who'll cross the road if there's a sniff of a camera - yes it WAS me on Athens local TV talking about the price of restaurant food when I'd been in the city half an hour - doesn't mean you have to be). It means comporting yourself a certain way. Having the online equivalent of your own unique style (like a handkerchief in the top pocket).
I wasn't expecting to write something about, essentially, online journalism, and how to break into the field. It's something I know very little about. I've always thought of myself as a bit of a hack who just happens to have an axe to grind about the importance of culture. But a few things coincided and here I am. First, I've found myself writing some Indie music articles for The Indie Handbook. Second, I spent some time talking about how to get into journalism to a real bright star in the journalistic firmament, Stephie Tan, who writes some amazing pieces about the Singapore style scene. And third, I found myself taking part in a webchat about careers in online journalism run by The Guardian.
All of which made me realise I've actually come a lot further than I thought down the road, and am probably in a position to offer some observations. More anecdotes. Hopefully with a bit of instruction.
Chance
I've written a couple of posts about luck recently, here, and here. Chance, luck, happenstance - whatever you want to call it - is a strange thing. On the one hand by definition, there's nothing you can do to create it. On the other hand, you can do things to put yourself in the right place when chance strikes. You can put tags on your blog, for example. Several years ago, I did just that, writing a few columns about mental health and debt - it just so happened that someone from the Royal College of Psychiatrists was googling debt and mental health, and stumbled on my blog. We've been working together ever since. That he happened to be googling around at the time was chance. That I decided to write down some of my experiences and tag them wasn't.
Chutzpah
Everyone loves a bit of P T Barnum. We writers are terrible at it, and most of us would rather eat curdled guano than play the exhibitionist. And yes, there IS something terrible about blind self-promotion. REALLY terrible. It's like those schoolboys who are so desperate for a girlfriend their tongues hang out when their sisters friends come round.
On the other hand, everyone loves pizzazz. And not just in the arts. My wife pointed out this morning that Richard Wiseman's research has shown that the most important factor in getting a job at interview is your likability. Which doesn't mean being an exhibitionist (just because I'm a media tart who'll cross the road if there's a sniff of a camera - yes it WAS me on Athens local TV talking about the price of restaurant food when I'd been in the city half an hour - doesn't mean you have to be). It means comporting yourself a certain way. Having the online equivalent of your own unique style (like a handkerchief in the top pocket).
Most of all, it means being memorable (in a good way). It's something I find easier in real life (beard and bright braces plus hat tend to get me photographed regularly even at fairly outrageous festivals ("sure you can take my picture - oh, and do go read my book" *hands out a flyer*). Online it's partly about branding and avatars and special colour combos on your blog. But most of all it's about voice. It's about saying it the way only you can. Be you. Really you. Then turn up the amp!
Cheekiness
Thsi is what I really want to talk about, because more than anything it's what's got me the little success I've had. And I think it's the number one piece of advice I'd give anyone. Always be polite, always be helpful, and never be afraid to ask with a touch of self-deprecation and a cheeky grin on your face.
My motto is that it costs nothing to ask except a bit of embarrassment. And the more you do it, the less of THAT you feel. If you want to interview someone - ask. But do it right (in a way, this is part of the chutzpah above). "I don't suppose" is a great way to start a sentence - the reader can almost see you biting your lip coyly.
There's a very fine line between cheeky and arrogant. Both start from the same premise - behave as though you belong. But whereas arrogance has the attitude "of course you'll do it, because it's my God-given right. Don't you know who I am!" cheekiness has the attitude "wouldn't it be rather fun to do it? Eh? Don't you think?"
Cheekiness is the schoolkid who stands with you at the orchard fence and says "what say we go scrumping". Arrogance is the schoolkid who stand there and says "Come on, my parents own the place".
Just ask and if that doesn't work, just do
To conclude, the best way to get a break is to ask. When I was writing my first piece for The Indie Handbook, I wanted some basic info about my favourite band, The Boxer Rebellion. I e-mailed them for a press pack, and ended up with a half-hour interview. At work, people often ask me how come I seem to get on so many committees. Simple. I ask. If you do it right, it's amazing how rarely people will say no.
Oh, and the very best thing to ask? "Can I help?" You'd be amazed how many doors that one opens. Plus it's the most rewarding thing of all actually to do.
So if you want action points, I guess they'd be these:
1. keep your ear to the ground
2. make sure you put yourself in the places where things happen (leading blogs and forums in your field, for example)
3. look inside, find "your" voice (using twitter a lot, and letting yourself emerge, is a great way to do this), and turn up the volume
4. when an opportunity comes along, ask!
5. be courteous to everyone; be helpful to everyone; act like you belong; never be arrogant; don't take yourself too seriously.
Go on, see what you can do today if you ask nicely!
Thursday, 20 August 2009
You Make You Own Luck. If You Want it Badly Enough You'll Succeed...
...and other posionous lies the books will tell you
As an author, I'm always looking for tips on how to "make it". Writing's no different from most walks of life like that. And in writing as in regular life, these are two things I come across all the time. Almost as much as I hear it on sports commentary ("she won because she wanted it more").
Of course it's baloney. I won't say why here, because I've promised that post to How Publishing Really Works' Bad Science series (suffice to say it's to do with a basic misunderstanding of causation and correlation).
What I want to say here is something more serious. This kind of motivational mumbo-jumbo is plain dangerous. It ruins lives, and if I hear or read you pddling it, I WILL call you out on it.
OK, so why? Surely we all need a good kick up the backside. We all need to be inspired! Well, yessirree of course we do. When I read about Einstein beavering away in his patent office on relativity, Catherine O'Flynn sitting typing away in the shopping mall and coming up with What Was Lost, I get inspired, and I think, well yes, there's hope for me yet.
There is nothing - repeat, nothing - so inspiring as a role-model. Someone like us. A nobody who shares our uncertainties and our frailties, and overcomes them to triumph. They can push us to persevere just that little bit longer, to work just that little bit harder.
But suppose we don't make it after all the work and the perseverance. What happened? Why did we fail? Well, the answer's simple if you believe the self-helpers. If those who want it enough succeed, then if we don't succeed it's because we didn't want it. If you make your own luck, then if you get unlucky it's your fault.
Nice, eh?
I'm sure it's all well-meaning. "Yeah, but I didn't mean it like that," is an answer I often get from the well-meaners when I pick them up. But if you don't mean the sucky flipsdide, then the fluffy upside's worth precisely zero.
One of the hardest lessons we can ever learn, is the importance of drawing a line and saying "I will NEVER succeed at this." I'm never going to beat Usain Bolt in a sprint. No matter how hard I try and how much I want it. My legs are just too short. And it's the same with writing. Millions of people want to be writers. but not everyone has got what it takes to make it. Ever. Whcih doesn't mean they should stop writing - just like my inability to outbolt Bolt doesn't mean I should stop jogging. It DOES mean it's just plain cruel for friends, family, and so-called help books to carry on telling them "of course you'll make it, just try a little bit harder". So they try and they try and devote their whole life to it and one day they wake up and they're 80 and disappointed, and they realise that actually if they'd tried to make it as a cross-stitcher instead they might have done it. Only they were too busy being encouraged to flog a dead horse.
So now it's my turn to play guru. Before you decide you want to make it as a writer, do the following:
1. Decide what you mean by "make it"
2. Give yourself a timeframe in which to achieve this. Make it realistic. It WILL take time. If you want to have something published it may take a year or so of hard work; if you want to give up your day job it's more likely to take 5-10.
3. Set milestones for yourself so you can see if you're on track.
4. Get going, and be a human sponge (more on this next week)
So what do you do if you're not meeting those milestones? Well, it might be that you're not working hard enough - of course it might - but when you set the milestones you should work out how much time you realistically have and set them accordingly. Nonetheless, experience might mean you have to tinker. Carry on, workl hard, and find you're still struggling? OK, maybe the answer is you're not doing it smart enough. Maybe you've got a great blog but no one's reading it. Or you're writing amazing books on a subject no one wants to read about. Experiment, change your approach, try and be smarter.
Get to the end of your 5 years of hard, smart work, and still nothing? You know what? Keep writing, keep loving your writing, but DRAW THE LINE and see if there isn't something else you CAN make a go of.
Put it like this. If you saw someone who's five foot nothing slogging themselves to death in the park for 6 hours every day; pushing themselves to tears every time you see them; and someone standing there telling them to damn well try harder, what would you do? Ball them out or call the police? So why, when roomfuls of struggling writers undergo the same treatment, resulting in the same tears, is it called self-help?
As an author, I'm always looking for tips on how to "make it". Writing's no different from most walks of life like that. And in writing as in regular life, these are two things I come across all the time. Almost as much as I hear it on sports commentary ("she won because she wanted it more").
Of course it's baloney. I won't say why here, because I've promised that post to How Publishing Really Works' Bad Science series (suffice to say it's to do with a basic misunderstanding of causation and correlation).
What I want to say here is something more serious. This kind of motivational mumbo-jumbo is plain dangerous. It ruins lives, and if I hear or read you pddling it, I WILL call you out on it.
OK, so why? Surely we all need a good kick up the backside. We all need to be inspired! Well, yessirree of course we do. When I read about Einstein beavering away in his patent office on relativity, Catherine O'Flynn sitting typing away in the shopping mall and coming up with What Was Lost, I get inspired, and I think, well yes, there's hope for me yet.
There is nothing - repeat, nothing - so inspiring as a role-model. Someone like us. A nobody who shares our uncertainties and our frailties, and overcomes them to triumph. They can push us to persevere just that little bit longer, to work just that little bit harder.
But suppose we don't make it after all the work and the perseverance. What happened? Why did we fail? Well, the answer's simple if you believe the self-helpers. If those who want it enough succeed, then if we don't succeed it's because we didn't want it. If you make your own luck, then if you get unlucky it's your fault.
Nice, eh?
I'm sure it's all well-meaning. "Yeah, but I didn't mean it like that," is an answer I often get from the well-meaners when I pick them up. But if you don't mean the sucky flipsdide, then the fluffy upside's worth precisely zero.
One of the hardest lessons we can ever learn, is the importance of drawing a line and saying "I will NEVER succeed at this." I'm never going to beat Usain Bolt in a sprint. No matter how hard I try and how much I want it. My legs are just too short. And it's the same with writing. Millions of people want to be writers. but not everyone has got what it takes to make it. Ever. Whcih doesn't mean they should stop writing - just like my inability to outbolt Bolt doesn't mean I should stop jogging. It DOES mean it's just plain cruel for friends, family, and so-called help books to carry on telling them "of course you'll make it, just try a little bit harder". So they try and they try and devote their whole life to it and one day they wake up and they're 80 and disappointed, and they realise that actually if they'd tried to make it as a cross-stitcher instead they might have done it. Only they were too busy being encouraged to flog a dead horse.
So now it's my turn to play guru. Before you decide you want to make it as a writer, do the following:
1. Decide what you mean by "make it"
2. Give yourself a timeframe in which to achieve this. Make it realistic. It WILL take time. If you want to have something published it may take a year or so of hard work; if you want to give up your day job it's more likely to take 5-10.
3. Set milestones for yourself so you can see if you're on track.
4. Get going, and be a human sponge (more on this next week)
So what do you do if you're not meeting those milestones? Well, it might be that you're not working hard enough - of course it might - but when you set the milestones you should work out how much time you realistically have and set them accordingly. Nonetheless, experience might mean you have to tinker. Carry on, workl hard, and find you're still struggling? OK, maybe the answer is you're not doing it smart enough. Maybe you've got a great blog but no one's reading it. Or you're writing amazing books on a subject no one wants to read about. Experiment, change your approach, try and be smarter.
Get to the end of your 5 years of hard, smart work, and still nothing? You know what? Keep writing, keep loving your writing, but DRAW THE LINE and see if there isn't something else you CAN make a go of.
Put it like this. If you saw someone who's five foot nothing slogging themselves to death in the park for 6 hours every day; pushing themselves to tears every time you see them; and someone standing there telling them to damn well try harder, what would you do? Ball them out or call the police? So why, when roomfuls of struggling writers undergo the same treatment, resulting in the same tears, is it called self-help?
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