The Long and Twisting Road of Self Publishing

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Nothing is ever accomplished without hard work. Anyone who has written a novel knows that as hard as the writing in itself can be, the journey to publication is oft the most challenging. When people ask me, how did you find the time and energy to write a book, I now say to them, “The writing was easy, that’s my passion and what I want to do with most free seconds that I have. Getting it out there and available for sale was the real nightmare.”

Like most new authors I tried the traditional publisher route. Most writers dream of having one of the big six publishing houses picking up their novel and jet setting them to stardom. To walk into the local bookshop and see their name on a shelf. Yet like so many new authors that was not a reality for me. After unsuccessful attempts to sell my manuscript I turned to the ever emerging indie self publishing world.

The relative ease in which someone can now publish their own work is amazing. I say ‘ease’ with caution in that it is easy to get it up onto a website and for sale. Doing it properly is a different story. I did my research and looked at many self published books available. I looked at the successful ones and the ones that were obviously failing. And I saw a massive gap.

If you peruse writing forums you will find endless debate on the merits of ebooks and the digital age of publishing, which has given birth to indie self publication. Some argue that it is a blessing which allows more authors to reach readers and provides consumers with lower prices and in a lot of cases authors with higher royalties per book. Then you have the opposing side that argues that due to the ease in which a book can be submitted for publication, essentially at nil cost other than time, the market is full of drivel.

To some extent I have to agree. I have come across my fair share of books that have been rushed to publication with little or no editing. Coming across these books tarnishes the indie industry as a whole. However the other side needs to be seen. The fact that readers now have access to much more affordable books and larger choice is a good thing. And for authors like myself who have taken the time to create a work of art, it is satisfying to be able to share this with the public. An avenue that a decade ago was a highly expensive endeavour.

Thanks to smashwords and services such as createspace and lulu I am able to bring my book to my friends and family professionally. That journey was one of long nights and a sore back. Sitting for hours formatting and filling out information on forms can be enough to drive many authors away from self publishing. However once it is all done and dusted and you see the finished product selling to consumers, you realise that your toil has been worthwhile. For me I consider the road travelled one of success. But I look back and realise it was a long and very tough journey.

Friday Motivation

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“Often those who make the biggest difference do so not because they are brave, but because it is their duty.” Mandigal

A passage from Dawn of the Valiant to get us through the last day of work.

Dawn of the Valiant is published!

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Dawn of the valiant front cover

Every so often a book comes around that will keep you reading until the early hours of the morning. A book that makes you forget your grandma’s birthday. A book that grips you so tightly that you fail to feed the dog or pick the kids up from school.

Is this one of those books? Maybe…maybe not. But do you really want to take the chance that it isn’t!

The first novel in the Valerious Chronicles is now published and available for sale. I urge all lovers of Fantasy and Adventure to sample it and let themselves be taken away to a world full of magic, conflict and characters that will sing from the pages. It is a tale of swords and comradery , where the lines of good and bad are thin, and gods and men struggle in an eternal race for power.

You can find Dawn of the Valiant at the following retailers. Sample a copy for free and most importantly enjoy.

Amazon – Kindle eBook

Smashwords – Multi format eBook

One always learns from the classics

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“when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.”
― Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

 

Every once and a while you read a passage that reminds you how powerful the written word is. When you find them make sure to share them with your friends and family. There can be no better way to say thank you to the author, and no better source of motivation.

A cause to celebrate

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50 followers!! Thanks to all those who have found the time to read my work. In the short time the site has been up I have had plenty of great feedback. I hope I continue to entertain you. To celebrate my blog has undergone a makeover in preparation for the publication of my first full novel Dawn of the Valiant. I will keep you informed.

Thanks All!!

Review: Magician’s End by Raymond E Feist

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There is something profoundly sad about finishing the last book in a series. When that book is the culmination of a lifetime of stories, in a world that has become a second reality to so many readers, there is an even greater sense of loss. I turned the final page of Magician’s End last night and did not know what to do with myself.

There is no single author whose books I have read more of. Raymond E Feist will remain my biggest inspiration and the reason for my urge to write fantasy. He has managed to spend thirty years crafting the tales of Pug and the world of Midkemia. And it has finally come to an end.

Without spoiling any of the story, I have to say that the most enjoyable part of this book was the way in which Feist revisited characters and elements from the many books of the past. It was fantastic to be taken back to all of the stories that I have read over the years. The brief mention of Erik and Roo from the Serpentwar Saga or Kulgan and Meecham from the very beginning was enough to remind me of the long journey that Pug has taken.  This is well placed in a book that is set to end Feist’s time in Midkemia.

The plot itself holds the grand scope that one would expect, with cataclysmic destruction looming on the horizon and Pug yet again called on to save the universe. It is a tried and tested formula that Feist has received much criticism for. But I say if it aint broke, don’t fix it. The very reason that this series has continued to sell and be loved, is that Feist is a master of approachable epic fantasy. The kind where action and strong character relationships come to the fore and the grander struggles remain in the mix. He avoids the heavy description and at times dry reading of many fantasy series, yet creates a rich and believable world.

I will be honest and say that the first two novels of the Chaoswar saga did not grip me as did his earlier works. Characters such as Hal and his brothers did not provide the same appeal as Arutha and Jimmy the hand from Magician. But as this book progressed I began to appreciate them more. And by the end I was glad to have known the next generation of conDoin’s. They provided a grounded view of the issues presented, whilst Pug and his companions showed us the bigger picture.

I feel that Feist has done justice to his stories with Magician’s End. Finishing a story is often the hardest part, and will always receive criticism. How many novels, movies and shows receive harsh criticism for their choice of ending. With this story I feel Feist has managed to end his foray into Midkemia on a high note and though not everyone will be pleased, I think that the majority will.

For all those who have at some point taken the journey with Pug, this is a must read. For those who have not, I encourage you to pick up the very first story, ‘Magician’ and treat yourself to a masterpiece of fantasy writing.

To Pug, Tomas and Midkemia I said goodbye. To Raymond E Feist I say thank you.

Rating: 4.5/5

Formatting: Quite possibly worse than editing.

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English: Example of screenplay formatting. Wri...

English: Example of screenplay formatting. Writing is own work. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Were it not for the fact that I now feel like there is a light at the end of the long long tunnel that is revision, editing and rewriting, I think I would be banging my head against the wall right now.

Having spent more hours than I care to mention transferring my completed manuscript into a template for publication through createspace, I now tip my hat to individuals who do such activities on a daily basis.

It is a truth that writers do what writers do best and that is WRITE. With self publication now a popular option, more of us are being forced to delve into activities that require tedious organisation and meticulous detail. At the very least once I have my published book in my hands I will be able to look back and say. It was all worth it!

Now onto finishing my cover! (Shakes head)

How to Be a Better Writer: Advice from the Pros

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A fantastic list of quotes to keep your pen to paper!

Socially Accepted Madness's avatarSocially Accepted Madness

There are no laws for the novel.  There never have been, nor can there ever be.

Doris Lessing

The road to hell is paved with adverbs.

Stephen King

Just write every day of your life. Read intensely. Then see what happens. Most of my friends who are put on that diet have very pleasant careers.

Ray Bradbury

When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people, not characters. A character is a caricature.

Ernest Hemingway

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.

Robert Frost

You can fix anything but a blank page.

Nora Roberts

It is perfectly okay to write garbage—as long as you edit brilliantly.

C.J. Cherryh

Tell the readers a story! Because without a story, you are merely using words to prove you can string them together in logical sentences.

Anne McCaffrey

I advise writing…

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My eyeballs are melting!

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“Writing a novel is a terrible experience, during which the hair often falls out and the teeth decay. I’m always irritated by people who imply that writing fiction is an escape from reality. It is a plunge into reality and it’s very shocking to the system.”
― Flannery O’Connor

 

I feel like I am so close. Only 2 chapters to go and my novel is read for publishing. A cover and some formatting to go and I will be launching my first book! I do look back and realise the ridiculous amount of effort that has gone into this. When I hear others say to me, ‘oh have you written the next one yet’, I feel like slapping them in the face. People who don’t write will never fully understand how emotionally and physically draining it can be!

The names have been changed but the story is true

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English: Spire of the abbey on Mont Saint-Mich...

English: Spire of the abbey on Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy France (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Put on your best rural French accent. “Would you like to com to my plaze an listen to som Musik?” Lucy looks over at me, her wide smile and nodding head telling me she has never in her entire life heard a better idea. Has she lost her mind? She can’t be serious! It could be the four cocktails talking, or it could be the Hoegaarden that she has clasped in her hand. Regardless, my eyes go wide and I try to subtly shake my head side to side, whilst keeping the fake smile glued to my face.

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning. I can’t even remember the name of the French town we are in, and I literally couldn’t tell you where in France we are. The laneway is dead quiet and empty, but for the five of us. And to top it off, nobody on this planet even knows we are here.

“Com on, we don live far away. We can walk zer.” He assures us. I glance over to his suspicious looking friend (who hasn’t said a word all night), who’s inebriated glazed over eyes are staring right at me. Penny is sitting on the curb, holding her head in her hand, so drunk that she doesn’t really know what’s going on. I look up and down the lane, no one in sight. That’s it, I’m totally going to get stabbed.

Let’s backtrack for a second. Its 2006, I’ve been traveling Europe after the world cup in Germany and have met the twins (Lucy and Penny) in Paris. We have been friends for a few years and are having a great time. After seeing much of the highlights of the French capital, and having scoured Euro Disney for an entire day, we get the idea to hop on a train and go to Normandy. Mont Saint Michel is calling!

So we booked our tickets, packed our bags and hurried to the train station to catch the midday express. Waiting on platform 6, we started to wonder why there were no other passengers. Finally midday passes and we realise we are on the wrong platform! It’s too late, we have missed the only train that would take us the whole way. Our next best option, hop on the 3pm and stay overnight halfway there, and then catch the next train in the morning. So we do and find ourselves in Coutances, Normandy. We get off at the station and look up at the rural town with raised eyebrows.

This was before Google maps was at everyone’s fingertips, so we actually have no idea where we are.  We walk up through the town and find that other than the quaint cottages, Coutances has nothing to offer other than several massive churches; cathedrals almost. “Seems like more churches than people,” comments Penny.

We find a pub which will offer us a room with three beds. The innkeepers looks at the twins and then at me, as we ask for a room for three. He smiles a sleazy smile and nods his head. “It’s not like that,” we assure him. “Sure,” he replies, though his grin suggests otherwise. Can’t blame his line of thought, it is France after all. After dinner we realise that we have nothing to do so we walk the streets until we find a small bar.

The owner welcomes us in and, in what seems like a few blinks, we have managed to drink several of his delicious cocktails. All of a sudden he is calling out to us to tell us he is closing up. We look outside, its pitch black. I check my watch. It’s 3’o clock! Those were some good cocktails.

There is only one other patron in the bar, a friend of the owner who seems more inebriated than us. We step outside into the cobblestone lane and find it dead. Dead empty and dead quiet. The bar owner locks his door. Which way was the hotel? We pause for a moment then begin to walk down the street. Then a call comes from the end of the lane. Two figures yell something in French. Lucy calls back in French. “What are you doing?” I ask, flabbergasted.

The two figures approach. They are young men, close to our age. One with crew cut blonde hair and army camouflage cargo pants; the other looking like a gringo straight out of a Mexican gangster flick. I insist we have to go, but Lucy wants to talk to them. The gringo pulls out some Hoegaarden’s from his backpack and hands them to us, so we share a drink with them.

They continue to talk and Penny, struggling not to fall asleep, sits down on the curb. Lucy is enjoying herself and so are the two men. They only have one thing on their mind, I’m not that naïve. I insist again we should be going but they insist we stay and talk. How am I going to politely get away with the twins? We find out that they are the local garbage collectors. ‘Fantastic. They have the means to dispose of my body,’ I think to myself. We have not told a single person that we left Paris. No one knows where we are. We don’t even know where we are. If they want to kill us, it would be a long time before anyone would find us.

We have been talking for an hour. That is when he asks us to come back to his place to ‘listen to music’. Fast forward and I am now realising that I need to get us out of here quickly. “I really don’t think we can guys, we have a really early train to catch.”

“Don’t worry, we will get you to ze train.”

“Thanks for the offer, but we have to go!” I say directly to Lucy, grabbing her hand.

The gringo picks up his backpack and reaches in, his dark eyes not leaving my face. Oh crap! There is no way I’m going to be able to fight these two in my current drunken state. He is going to pull out a knife! He is going to stab me and toss my body into his dump truck. Then they are going to take the twins to their place and no one will ever find them again. My life is flashing before my eyes!

His hand comes out and I see the flash of metal. My heart stops, then his hand continues out of the bag and reveals another beer. “Stay for one more?” he asks.

“No thanks,” I quickly say, knees still shaking. I grab Lucy and pick Penny up from the curb and start marching as fast as possible down the lane. I don’t think we even said goodbye. I was too focused on getting back to the hotel!

Luckily we all look back now and laugh. Coutances did have more to offer than we thought.