Planting the Decision Tree

Monica Valentinelli is an author who lurks in the dark. Recently, she released a science fiction novella titled “Redwing’s Gambit” which was based on the Bulldogs! RPG. She has over a dozen short stories published and two novellas with more on the way. For more about Monica and her work visit her website.


At some point in your career, you’re going to get some advice on what to do with your written works or your future as an author. Maybe the suggestions will originate from a peer or your mentor. Maybe it’s from an old teacher or a friend of yours. Maybe you spot something on a website just like this.

Getting inundated with advice isn’t always a good thing, because often pieces will conflict with one another or worse – derail you from your current manuscript. This article is geared to help you keep your focus on the page and weigh the benefits of what recommendations you encounter.

Here are a few decision tree matrices that will help you decide what’ll work best for you and your work:

  1. Knowledge – What background information are you required to know before you act on the advice that’s been given to you? How much time are you willing to spend researching the validity of the claim or learning the pieces you aren’t up-to-speed on? While you can’t put a price on knowledge, it is an intrinsic asset and one that may require more effort to attain in specific cases when technology, new forms of writing, etc. are involved.
     
  2. Achievability – Based on what you’ve been told, how many other authors have successfully replicated that same piece of advice? Or, are you willing to risk everything on the off-chance you’ll be “lightning in a bottle?” Another way of looking at whether or not a piece of advice is valid for you, is if the recommendation hyper-focuses on a trend. Just as one example: the latest zombie craze may sound like an opportunity in disguise, but what’s chic in fiction now has already been written, revised, and edited. If you can leverage that monster-of-the-day, great! If you can’t? Well, then maybe your forte is not braaaaaaaiiiiinnnssss.
     
  3. Relevancy – You know yourself and your work best. Ask yourself whether or not the advice is relevant to what you want to do, what you’re working on, and where you are now in your career. This is probably one of the most important qualifiers when you process information, because you’ll need to decide how well that fits with what your goals are. If you find yourself questioning your work to the point where you desire to change what you’re doing before it’s completed, then you may want to reconsider who and where your getting the recommendations from.
     
  4. Distraction – Will the advice prevent (or delay) your completion of what you’re currently working on? If yes, what benefits do you hope to gain from applying the advice and do they outweigh finishing your manuscript? This concept goes back to relevancy, but it also further clarifies whether or not you can acknowledge how the recommendation will negatively impact your manuscript or goals.
     
  5. Experimentation – If the advice given to you is a risk, is it one you’re willing to take? How much time do you want to spend experimenting versus strengthening your core competency? By identifying opportunities for trial-and-error when they arise, you can help shape where you want to go, provided you’re in a position to accept a positive or negative outcome. After all, speculative ventures are not guaranteed to work. That’s why they’re experiments.
     
  6. Data Crunching – Can the advice be backed up with good data? Would you be willing to use that data and apply it to your own career? Oft overlooked, data is crucial to any business owner who wants to make fact-based decisions. Mind you, good data can be difficult to obtain and it’s often a snapshot of a larger picture. The idea behind getting data in the first place is to have supported claims and avoid anecdotal bits of advice that are steeped in conjecture. Data removes the emotion right out of the equation and can help keep you grounded when you want facts.
     
  7. Financials – Will you be able to afford to take the advice you’ve been given? Or does it cut into your time to do other paying work? A lot of advice doesn’t always come down to the “M” word – money – but more often than not hidden costs can start to affect your pocketbook. In addition to time, stress is an invisible expense that can spur you to write or freeze your fingers. When you stop producing, whether they be short stories, novels, articles, etc. you affect your ability to monetize your work. Advice itself may not have a dollar sign attached to it; but the application of it can both positively and negatively influence your bottom line.
     
  8. Timeliness – Is there an expiration date on the advice? Does your success or failure rely on how fast you can complete the recommendation? The adage timing is everything is often true for pieces of advice that are not only time-sensitive, but also demand your full attention. Understanding the “what” and the “how” of what someone is proposing can pale in comparison to the “when.”
     

Hopefully, these eight concepts will help remind you what you already know, that advice is cheap if not free. However, nothing can replace the precious time you spend in front of your monitor, typewriter, or notebook writing. Regardless of what anyone says, you’re the only author qualified enough to shape where you’ll go. By training your inner voice to critically think about how the advice you receive applies to your work – you’ll be able to do just that.

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow: Choosing to Leave Your Agent

Carla Harker is a writer and gamer from Texas who still thinks her former agent is the bee’s knees. Read her sporadic blog posts about games at carlaharker.com or follow her on Twitter @DeadlyAccurate.


You spend years writing, revising, editing, and querying. Rejection letter after rejection letter arrives, but still you persist. You know you’re getting close to that one yes.

And then it happens. You get the Call. A real agent with real sales wants to represent you. You do your happy dance. You sign the contract, certain this will be a relationship that lasts forever.

Then reality sets in. Maybe the book isn’t attracting editors. Maybe your agent suddenly ends up with more on her plate than she can handle and something has to give. As the newest or least successful client, that something is you. Or maybe it’s nothing like that. Maybe you simply move into a genre your agent isn’t familiar with. Whatever the reason, it’s time to say good-bye.

But how can you say good-bye when you spent so much time trying to get just one agent to say hello?

Politely. Professionally. Amicably.

The first step is to talk to your agent. The publishing world is a small place, and it’s important not to burn bridges. If there’s a problem, let them know. Is it something they can work on? If you’re moving into a genre your agent doesn’t represent, can they help with a recommendation? Suggest a fellow agent at the agency to be your co-agent? Before you say good-bye, let them know something isn’t working.

But you’ve talked, and it’s still not working out. You need a new agent. That doesn’t mean you run out and start querying. You’re still under contract. Not only is it unethical, it could cause problems if your new agent sells your work while you’re still bound by another agency agreement.

Read your contract carefully and make sure you understand it. Is terminating by email fine, or should you send a registered letter? Do you have to give thirty days notice? What happens if another agent sells the books your agent has represented? Your previous agent may be your agent of record for months after contract termination for books they’ve shopped. That means if a new agent sells the book within that time period, your previous agent is still owed a commission. You may not be able to query previously-represented work for weeks or months, unless you’re fine with paying 15% of your royalties to two different agents.

If you need to send a registered letter, consider giving them a heads up by phone or email. Don’t surprise them. Use this opportunity to ask about anything in the contract you don’t understand before you officially terminate.

Be professional in your cancellation letter. If you’re leaving because you feel there are problems that can’t be resolved, don’t use the letter as an opportunity to rant. Simply state that you’re severing the contract, when it takes effect, and thank them for their time and effort. If you’ve already talked to them, they’ll know why.

Leaving an agent is hard, and it’s not something most writers do lightly. The fear of never finding another one looms large. But it’s a business relationship first and foremost, and it’s important to remember that. You landed an agent once. You’ll do it again.

In Praise of Editors

I love editors. I love them in theory and practice. In general and particular. Right now, every single editor I work with is awesome. And every single one of them would’ve eaten that previous sentence for lunch.

In fact, I wouldn’t dare file a story to any of them with “awesome” in it, except as a joke (or if I were really, really tired). Besides, the editors I work with know me well enough to know that “awesome” isn’t a word I’d use. That kind of familiarity is … well, it’s awesome!

Sure, there have been editors I didn’t get along with for various reasons.

Sometimes an editor wants something very specific, but doesn’t articulate exactly what it is that he or she wants. Freelance writer and designer Will Hindmarch calls this the “bring me a rock” scenario. It goes something like this:

Editor: “Bring me a rock.”

Writer: “Here’s a rock. I found it just for you!”

Editor: “I want a different rock.”

Writer: “Here’s another rock. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Editor: “Not that rock. Bring me a rock.”

Writer: “???”

Sometimes editor states very clearly what he or she wants and I don’t really listen.

Editor: “Bring me a rock.”

Writer: “Here’s that fish you wanted! Isn’t it neat?”

The latter example is all my fault. I can own that. And I also own a drawer (actually, a digital file folder) full of fish that have yet to find a place to swim. Want one? I’m giving them away free of charge.

I know the rules, the dos and don’ts of the writer/editor relationship. I’ve written about those rules and taught them in classes. I’ve even followed them (most of the time) since my first newspaper job over twenty years ago.

I’ve also broken just about every one of the rules and tried my darndest to learn from my mistakes.

Some of us, however, are slower learners than others. Being life-long learners, sometimes, has more to do with how slowly we learn than with the infinite scope of our curiosity.

The best thing about the editors I work with (other than their patience) is that every last one of them calls me on my BS and, for the most part, doesn’t hold that very same BS against me.

And that is so, so awesome.

I admit it: sometimes I blow deadlines or turn stories in so close to the print run that the editors involved have no time even to copy edit them. Sometimes I forget to update my editors or I drop completely off the grid. Sometimes I need to be re-angled multiple times. Sometimes my stories are, shall we say, structurally unsound, organizationally baffling, epically confounding. And I get wordy, especially when I’m tired. If I have too little to do, I procrastinate. I pitch stories impulsively. Heck, I even space out on sending in the invoices. And, let’s just face it: my comma usage is definitely not awesome.

I don’t do these things all the time, but for most editors once is enough. I should know better. I should do better. I should be a better writing professional.

That’s what an editor does. Pushes us to be better writers. Demands our best and deserves to get it.

Writers need editors. And I don’t just mean aspiring and new writers. Every writer. Each and every one of us needs editors.

Editors pull us out of our own heads, gives us fresh perspectives on our work while it’s still growing. Editors help us see with fresh eyes. They inspire us, have faith in us. They lend us their skill and the benefit of their experience. They teach us to be better writers … if we listen, if we keep our eyes and ears and egos open to what they have to offer.

How could we not love someone whose job it is to help make what we’ve written better?

Do I have an idealized view of editors? Maybe. Do I have an idealized view of the editors I work with? Not at all. They are human, every last one of them. They are imperfect. They get cranky. Annoyed. That’s all part of the give and take, the human interaction, the creative process.

Editors are awesome. And we writers should treat them as such. We should open up a document file or pull out a pen and some paper this very moment and write them some of the cleanest, smoothest, most on-topic copy we’ve ever written. Flesh it out. Develop it. Dig deep and push past clichés.

When we have something worthy, we should send it in early, receive edits as though they were birthday gifts, revise as though possessed by a higher being, and file glorious final drafts.

I’m not being sarcastic, here. I’m not kidding. These people play a vital role in what we do as writers. We should treat them as accordingly.

 

Norwescon: A Valuable Regional Convention

Norwescon 35 was held April 5th-8th in SeaTac, a suburb of Seattle. Home to the Philip K. Dick awards ceremony and one of the five conventions where the Hugo Nominations are simultaneously announced, the convention sees yearly announcements of publishing industry news. With more than 3,000 attendees and 260 panelists in 2012, NWC is a robust regional convention, and valuable for writers of all career levels to attend.

There were 68 unique author readings listed this year, published and unpublished works, across science fiction, fantasy and horror. NWC has served as an incubator for a number of first time panelists, as well as fertile ground for developing panels. There’s a rich science track—in 2012 there were 20 panels on biological science alone. Mary Robinette Kowal’s workshop, on giving effective readings, is useful for all writers no matter where in their career.

Publishing industry parties were  standing room only; every square foot occupied by writers, editors, publishers, and other professionals in the industry. Though a contingent of guests and pros in attendance do come from outside the west coast, Norwescon retains a core of professionals from the region. If you want to meet your peers in speculative fiction who reside in the northwest, Norwescon is one of your best chances to do so.