When I first saw my name in print

Someone recently asked me about my membership of the Society of Authors. 'How come,' they said with an arched eyebrow, 'You're a member of the society but you've yet to have any of your novels published?'

Well, seeing as you asked ...

For years, on the quiet, David French and I have been producing our own magazine: As Above So Below. It's an eclectic mixture of spoof articles, features, adverts, de-classifieds and cartoons. Our subject matter is equally diverse - religion, philosophy, natural medicine, environmentalism conspiracies, politics, consumerism - you name it and if we can find an angle, we'll have a go at it.

The plan had always been to use the magazine as a springboard to greater things - scriptwriting, books and all manner of media experiments. So in 2004, I collated a collection of our pithiest sayings and sent them off to various Little Book publishers. Crombie Jardine said they were interested but their acquisitions budget was spent for the year, and invited us to resubmit in the future. As no one else (Michael O'Mara, Summersdale, Pocket Books, etc) wanted to take us up, we bided our time.

In 2006, having rewritten the 100 quotes and quips, and then organised them thematically, we went back to CJ. Success! They liked the book and offered us a contract for 2007. It was a standard buyout contract, a one-off payment in lieu of royalties. I joined the Society of Authors to get the contract looked over, considered their advice and went back to CJ with a suggested revision (upwards).

To be fair to CJ, they were absolutely straight with us and explained their model and why they were offering what they had. And, naturally, we were free to take our book elsewhere if we thought we could get a better offer. Cue: a large plate of humble pie to two hungry writers. We took the deal and in Sept 2007, The Little Book of Cynics (no longer The Little Book of Croydon but still referred to affectionally as LBOC) graced the shelves of Waterstones and others.

The interesting thing, some three years later, is that we did better out of the buyout deal than we would have under a standard royalty arrangement. Realistically, we were never going to get rich from LBOC, but I believe it has opened the occasional door when touting for comedy writing. It also taught me a lot about the business of books, and why it is vital that writers understand how the business works so they can play their part effectively.

I have put together another four Little Books since then, all currently on circulation to other publishers (CJ advised that they've shifted their publishing focus in the last couple of years) and all available to good homes. I would say 'no reasonable offers refused' but, as you'll see in a future post, I do draw the line somewhere.

Are you keeping it real in your writing?

I was in the Co-op today and I got the munchies. Luckily, a packet of chilli crisps caught my eye, primarily because of its proud boast: made with real ingredients. I'm sure we can all remember the bad old days of counterfeit ingredients in our savoury snacks. Once I'd emptied the packet - and scanned it in for posterity - I thought about how it could apply to writing.

As a writer, I strive for a sense of realism in my fiction. Whether it's Thomas Bladen working out who he can trust in Standpoint, or Syriem Taulpiris negotiating his way through a mystical journey in Covenant, there's always a set of conventions that apply. My readers may have agreed to the suspension of disbelief by turning the pages but, as Samuel Taylor Coleridge inferred, it's the writer's job to keep it that way until the last page. Or preferably, afterwards - because if they're still thinking about 'What Syriem did next' then they'll probably want to read more of my work..

Plot, point-of-view, characterisation, dialogue and pace must all work harmoniously to create a reality so enticing that they'll prefer it to the world they know, for a time. A key element of that is the authenticity of the emotions. Even if we haven't faced a bullet, known personal disaster or seen death up close, we have all known fear and loss. We may not have experienced an epic love that took us across continents or worlds but we all know what love feels like to have or to be denied. Childhood alone will teach you most of that!

Generally, the only things that I find dilute that authenticity of the emotions are intellectualising what I think a character is feeling or not allowing myself to go deeply enough into a scene. Either way, it's holding out on the reader and that's a big no-no. It might seem like it's all been done before but each time we feel something - really feel it - it is as fresh or as raw as the first time. Sometimes, even more so because it reconnects us with ther past.

And just as there are only so many ingredients in a snack (it was the first time I'd seen Calcium Chloride listed as a firming agent), so there is a finite number of ingredients to a book. The trick is to create a unique recipe, resulting in a distinctive flavour that will satisfy your customers again and again.

What to ask a publisher

I knew a woman on Staten Island who had a knack for finding coins. She, being a devout Catholic, thought it was some kind of telepathy / magnetism thing rather than any mystical ability (and no, she didn't have a metal detector walking-stick). By all accounts, she racked up a tidy sum over the years - in dimes, nickels and pennies.

I've developed a bit of a talent myself, lately. It seems that wherever I submit my books, the first thing the editor says in reply is: 'Have you got any spare money?' Well, it's more subtle than that but the end result is the same. I'm talking about shared cost publishing. I have mixed views at this point; a cocktail of disappointment, hope, cynicism and bewilderment.

On the one hand, I can see that publishing a book is expensive, especially where one of my novels works out to almost 500 pages (I did the maths on Lulu and gave up!). And I'm not blind to the global financial meltdown that's still pooled at our feet like last month's candles. But somehow it feels like I'd be buying someone's endorsement rather than earning it.

The excellent Writers Beware waves from the shore to steer me from the rocks of vanity publishing. I could quote you horror stories aplenty now, of writers who invested their cash only to see poor quality material - or no material at all - and a non-distribution service to match.

Then there is the question of sales. It's one thing to see your work on Amazon but another entirely to generate enough actual sales from the web and shops to get a return on your investment. And let's not forget that you'll likely be selling off your debut work. Something that may have taken a long time to create.

So, what to do? Well, apart from checking with Writers Beware and the Society of Authors, you could try my approach. I ask straightforward questions. They're not difficult - any self-respecting publisher should have them to hand.
They are:
1. Will it be Print on Demand or Print in Advance (conventional printing)?
2. What's the distribution network? i.e. Are you linked in with Gardeners / Atlas so that shops can order the books as well as there being web sales?
3. How do the costs break down - and how much money is involved?
4. What is the break-even point? This is crucial if you aim to recoup your investment and / or turn a profit.
5. Is there a marketing plan for my book? Basically, how do they propose to sell it?
6. What's the success rate with other authors?
7. Can I speak to two or three of those authors?
8. What's the frequency of payment for sales?

I think, if writers approach it as a business proposition, they're less likely to be swayed by other factors that might part them prematurely from their hard-earned cash.

As for me, I remain open to all options, while I wait for three different lists of answers!

http://www.sfwa.org/for-authors/writer-beware/

Should writers be more like plumbers?

What's the difference between a writer and a plumber?

Many would say that a writer works more unsocial hours and being a plumber is seen as a more noble profession. But, for me, the main difference is that you wouldn't ask a plumber to work for free.

Writers though, particularly at the start of their journey, are often expected - in print or online - to work for 'compensation: nil' as an opportunity to raise their profile or gain valuable experience and a readership. One could argue that it's now part and parcel of a working apprenticeship, although when I last checked, apprentices were still being paid.

So why does it happen?
1. I think the democratisation of writing is part of the problem. If everyone can write then anyone can write. Which means there will always be someone else out there willing to answer the call for a freebie.
2. Another reason is the ambiguity of the term ‘writer’. It’s a catch-all for a range of skills, experience and qualifications. For starters there is journalism, copy writing, poetry, novels and comedy writing – these specialisms all have their own requirements and it would be a rare soul indeed who was comfortably proficient in all of them. Okay then, Clive James – I’ll give you that.
3. Another factor is the lack of a standard rate of pay, even for web articles. It really is a buyers’ market and any polite noises towards the existence of a minimum wage will quickly find you opportunity-less.
4. Until they are published – and often afterwards – most writers are fantastically insecure. The very idea that someone is interested in and willing to use our words is music to our ears.
5. The ‘industry’ knows it has us by the gonads because writing is now really sexy with a creative writing course on every street corner.

This is a REAL issue affecting countless writers today. Bad enough that many of us earn less than £10,000 a year from writing alone, we also have to contend with an ocean of upcoming newcomers who have become convinced that working for free is the only way to get a start in the industry.

I’ve done it myself. Of course I have. So far my gratis proof-editing, copy writing and comedy material has been limited to friends, non-profit organisations and one or two occasions when I believed I was getting in on the ground level (few of those are still standing). But I can’t help thinking that every time we support a business – where everyone else is being paid – by submitting to the tyranny of ‘compensation: nil’ we are just undermining ourselves, our fellow writers and the future prosperity of writing.

Wait, I hear you shout. What about the print publications and websites that would cease to exist without the input of freebie writers and enthusiasts. It’s a fair point and so is the counter-argument; that if they’re a business and their business model relies on having people (who have their own bills to pay) working for nothing  then it’s little short of scandalous.

So what’s to be done?
I’ve given it some thought and I think we need a union. No subs though, no committee power struggles and a simple manifesto. After half a dozen pieces of work, maximum, across the board – which are signed off by clients as meeting their needs and supplied to prospective employers on request – all work undertaken thereafter has to at least meet the minimum wage.

Or we could retrain as plumbers.

And to end, let’s hear a few words on the subject from the highly respected and successful writer Harlan Ellison. Check out this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mj5IV23g-fE

Feedback from the slush pile

Rejection, as every published author tells us, is part and parcel of the process from the first draft to that magical copy on the book shelf. While rejections can be galling, confounding and sometimes amusing, what matters most is whether there is anything we can learn from them to improve our work or our approach.

Often, we're grateful to get a response at all and doubly delighted if there's actual feedback in there, beyond anything that commences 'Dear Writer'.

So, hot off the coffee table, here is today's rejection in all its glory. With a little added comment from me along the way.

The turnaround time was two months, which is very good. Three months tends to be the industry average but you can often wait much longer. And the covering letter thanks me for a lively manuscript. I have to say that seeing my covering letter marked with 'Slush' made me laugh out loud and didn't stop me reading further. Anyhow, here's the reader's feedback.

Standpoint, Derek Thompson
Manuscript type: Conspiracy theory come spy novel serialisation.
Set: Leeds, London, more perhaps.

Third person narrative the story appears to be told solely from Thomas Bladen's perspective.

It was fast paced and humorous, which worked well with the genre. The opening scene had plenty of action and intrigue. It was an easy read, chapters are short and the tone is light.

Seems like a very weak imitation of Ian Flemming. Though the setting is modern day there are Russians and East End criminals, which seems too reminiscent of the Cold War Era and doesn't appear convincing. The synopsis of the plot also seems a little convoluted. Miranda's character, the daughter of an East End criminal is unbelievable; it too is a bit outdated.

That said the story undoubtedly, with many changes, would have an audience and would be marketable, whether the proposed serialisation would have continued success is questionable. Nor is Standpoint on a par with other books published by us.


Ouch! If I were in a room with the reader, I'd thank them for taking the time to read my work. I might also mention that the Russian is actually Kosovan and that Ian Fleming only had one 'm' in his surname. Still, churlishness aside, there is useful detail in the half page of feedback - about the synopsis and Miranda - along with some positives about the humour and pace. I think if I'd known up front that the publisher's catalogue was already filled into 2011, I wouldn't have submitted Standpoint. But I'm glad I did because if you don't ask, you'll never know.

It pays to advertise... but what?

I've always been fascinated by advertising. So much so that, in 1983, I even put together my own three-hour video collection of adverts.

Sadly, it didn't survive the dampness of the front room in our old house (mould 'r' us) but I still have fond memories of watching the video avidly, in chunks, while the rest of the family gave me a wide berth.

It's a bit of a dark art - what to show and what not to show. Much like writing. The golden rule, it seems to me, is that you only tell people what you want them to know. Or, to translate that into corporate speak: "Perception is everything and strategy is everything else."

Recently, a 'top ads of the decade' TV programme crowned a Hovis advert as the winner. Even a coeliac would have to admit that the ad was superbly crafted, depicting a scrap of a lad fetching the family loaf and running through 120 years of British history. Cutting through different streets, he encountered the First World War soldier boys, the Suffragettes, the burned out buildings of the Blitz, a VE party and the jubilation of a 1966 England word cup victory. So far so inspirational.

It doesn't detract from the ad any but I did proffer a wry smile when I learned that only between 25% and 50% of British wheat is used by the brand, with the remainder being imported from Canada. In the interest of balance, I should point out that Hovis is moving to 100% British grown wheat from 2010.

Returning to the writing theme, most of us are familiar with the joys of CV writing. What to include, what to omit and which keywords to employ, all conveying a combination of superhero, Swiss Army Knife and human dynamo. For writers, the focus has to be on the writing and what you want them to know.

My current CV covers articles, comedy and fiction. More recently, with some copy writing under my belt and some additional training, I realise that I need to be more client specific. A business may not find my achievements in comedy encouraging if they are looking for new training material or in-house literature. In short, a writer, just like any other business, has to respond to the needs of the marketplace and to meet those needs.

Artists have patrons - or malnutrition; writers, with few exceptions, have a business to run.

Who's writing the story?

There comes a point when you're writing a novel, if you're lucky, when the characters start to wander off in different directions. Different, that is, from the paths you've carefully laid out for them using your Plotter-matic 5000 (or A4 pages taped together). This has happened to me in three books now and always at a stage where the characters are sufficiently well established to know their own minds.

I well recall attending a writing class; back in my youth when I had hair, optimism and aspirations (they all left on the same bus). One opinionated soul there declared with certainty that characters are only projections of the author and any notion of a book writing itself was just absurd. Maybe that's true for him but me and my characters laugh at him now, together.

So, is it a good sign? The characters becoming independent, not the laughter. Well, it adds another dimension and creates choices, leading to unexpected consequences that can impact the plot hugely.

In Covenant, my magical fantasy, two characters almost have sex and this leads to a revelation that became one of the core subplots. Whatever it did for the reader, this scene told me something I didn't know but needed to.

In Standpoint, a twisty turny thriller, my lead character Thomas Bladen told me about a past I didn't know he had - certainly not one I'd ever written for him. Later on, he spoke to other characters in situations I hadn't imagined and wrote the ending for himself. He also told me from the off that he was from North Yorkshire (I'd never been) and about his father. It was like meeting a new friend.

In Line of Sight, the sequel thriller still in the first draft, I'm 87,000 words in and one character has told me she's related to someone else. I was flummoxed and thought about ignoring her at first but it makes sense. Even if it does mean some rewriting to accommodate and resolve the plot line.

The point to this, I think, is that when we set up plausible, well-rounded characters, their choices and behaviour become independent of our well-orchestrated scheme of a book. It's often a revelation for the author which means there's a good chance it will delight or confound the reader too; and that can only be a good thing.

However, arguing with a lead character while driving, when he tells you where the book will end and how many weapons he needs, is optional. Still when he told me that he wanted a helicopter - and where to get it - to finish the book, he clearly understood it better than I had.

My brief life as a culture jammer

The first time I walked past the billboard, I could see its potential. It stood there, bold as brass and as proud as a full ashtray, sharing its jocular message with the world. I wasn’t laughing though but I soon thought of a way to change that.

I’d have to move quickly, because advertising posters seemed to have short life spans. (I know, darkly ironic for tobacco advertising.) And I’d need to plan carefully. I was as subtle as a kick up the arse - in a lift holding just two people. The billboard was at the end of our road so I nipped down there with a ruler and measured the height of the lettering. Then I dug around in the plastic box under the stairs – the one with all the tools that I can’t use properly – and found the masking tape.

The idea was both simple and largely pointless. I wanted to tape over the original tagline, mask up my own then take a photograph. After that, I’d remove my work and nip back home for a celebratory cup of peppermint tea, like a good little liberal activist.

I spent an evening wasting a felt-tipped pen to colour in the letters, got everything ready and prepared myself for the assault. Next morning, somewhere between 05.30 and 06.30, I tiptoed into the street, a scroll under one arm and a camera in my other hand. I remember there was a breeze in the air but that wasn’t why I was shivering.

Two cars drove past, which I hadn’t expected, so I leaned casually against the wall, staring off into the distance. No one stopped; no one cared. Then it was just me, standing there, blood pulsing in my brain.

The lettering stuck where it was supposed to – that was the easy part. Now I had to stand in the road and take a reasonable picture without attracting the attention of passing vehicles. There were a couple of false starts, and an unexpected commuter who seemed to appear out of nowhere, gazing at me intently as I pretended to cross over and search my pockets. I must have looked like a very amateurish car thief.

Then a moment of stillness descended and I finished the job, hurriedly removing the evidence afterwards and slinking away back up my street. I was jubilant, like a kid completing a dare, just for the hell of it.

Later, I walked into work as usual, past the poster which was none the worse for my shenanigans. And as I looked up at it, I smiled. Not quite adbusters material but a very British effort.

Armistice

I don't know of anyone who doesn't observe the two-minute silence on Armistice Day. Whatever our views of the business of war, military engagements overseas or the economics of investment in defence, we pause and reflect on the fallen. The last survivors of WW1 have passed on now, but those affected by that conflict - and all those that have followed - are still with us.

A year or so ago, Anne and I (she's the brains of the relationship) took a short trip to Bruges, in Belgium. It's a marvellous medieval city which was spared the devastation of WW2 bombing; a gem of a place where development has been kept to a minimum.

While out there, we visited Ypres in a daytrip, including Tyne Cot Cemetery, Hill 62 and Ypres itself. All most of us know about WW1 is poppies, a few old songs that make little sense and the fourth series of Blackadder. Fifty-four nations were involved in the 'Great War', many regiments from fledgling countries keen to demonstrate their new national identity. A global generation slaughtered or scarred and, in the whole bloody process, the foundations laid for the Second World War. At all those places we saw, people paused and reflected there too.

It's easy to get caught up in our modern lives with rising mortgages, shit jobs and unfulfilled childhoods / adolescences / adulthoods. But here's my cure. Take a trip to Tyne Cot Cemetery and gaze in wide-eyed despair at row upon row of identical headstones, reflecting the bright sun like bleached bones in a field. And look at the columns of names that fill the walls: like the graffiti of the lost. I promise you, it brings a different sense of perspective. No answers, just an opportunity to pause and reflect.

It would be a fitting tribute indeed if Armistice Day became a focus for peace. But until that day, the very least we can do is make more time to pause and reflect.

And while we're strolling in shades of grey ambiguity, have a read of this famous poem by Rudyard Kipling. It's as relevant today as it's ever been:
https://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poem/poems_tommy.htm

Derek Thompson