Yearly Archives: 2011

Does the cream really rise in self-publishing?

Chuck Wendig offers a dissenting opinion on the common “the cream will rise” argument for filtering quality work in self-publishing:

If I take 10 randomly-selected books from the bookstore and then I choose 10 random self-published books, I genuinely believe that the bookstore books will at least meet the standards for being well-put-together and, to boot, will be books I don’t like based on subjective definitions. But I’ll bet you that at least half of the self-published books fail based on errors that any C-grade writer or publisher should’ve caught and fixed.

This is a key point that often gets glossed over in the trad pub vs. self-pub debate. Traditionally published books must meet certain standards of technical and mechanical competence; self-published books have no such standards.

Trad-pubbed books are primarily criticized on a subjective basis: on an artistic rather than technical level. Twilight—or, in fairness, Freedom—may be the worst books ever written, but their problems don’t include things like verb tense disagreements or head-hopping.

Self-pubbed books often fail to make it past that first hurdle. Even when properly proofread, they fall apart at the gray middle levels between science and art: the places where editors and beta readers would say, “Jane is acting out of character here,” or “Cut this infodump,” or “The build-up to the climax needs more suspense.”

But it’s all moot, because the trad pub vs. self-pub argument has become so heated and so much about the writers that it’s forgotten what really matters:

This attitude is great for writers. “Who cares? Poop out a book!”

This attitude sucks for readers. “I just bought this book. And I think it’s made of poop?”

One Very Important Thing traditional publishing offers to readers is the assurance that a book has not only been proofread, but has received editorial feedback from several to dozens of readers before it’s launched into the world.

And as Chuck points out, there’s no evidence that the cream rises on Amazon. The great anarchic muddle of self-publishing is still at a loss for subjective quality filters.

The face within.

My friend and ridiculously talented graphic designer and artist Ed Ceisel has posted some incredibly spooky conceptual art on his site: Past Tense I and Past Tense II. Ed is planning to do some character portraits for my Zombie Novel in this style, and I’m pretty much bursting with fruit flavor, and excitement, after seeing these. His art seems to mesh so perfectly with my writing.

Check out the rest of Ed’s gallery. Dude is damn good.

Jaw, meet floor.

Jeremy Soule needs to hire this girl for TES VI, stat.

Book cover design and theory, part II.

Part II of graphic designer Peter Mendelsund’s excellent series on books and book covers is up. Make sure you check out part I if you haven’t already.

The loathéd, yet somehow obligatory, Lolita lollypop. I hereby declare a moratorium. The above is not an actual Penguin cover- I just borrowed the format to prove a private supposition of mine that almost any image whatsoever, when placed in a fetishistic context like the one above, will resonate metaphorically. In other words, all the art here is in the template, the frame, itself.

And then he proves it:

Do you live in the Twilight Belt?

Goodreads has designed an amusing infographic of Twilight factoids. Apparently there is such a thing as the “Twilight Belt.” I’d just like to point out that it’s not far from “Belt” to “Zone.”

Some Goodreaders are drawing provocative inferences from the popularity of the book in certain states:

I can say what I am about to say because I have lived in the south my whole life. What does this say about education and literary appreciation in the south when Twilight is held in such high regard here? I read it and brain cells died a slow and nasty death. Not only is it terrible writing, it promotes terrible ideas among young women, namely that its romantic for a possessive 100+ year old dude that looks young and grey and sparkly to come onto you (and stalk you).

Interestingly, there’s significant overlap of Twilight readership with the Bible Belt—the swath of evangelical Christianity that encompasses the Southern United States. But this doesn’t wholly account for its popularity in the central Midwest Corn Belt, which represents a mix of Catholics, Lutherans, and Baptists.

Does Twilight’s popularity in rural areas correlate to rural cultural values that transcend denominational borders and tap into some fundamentally conservative cultural wellspring? Or are we Midwesterners just batshit for sparklevamps?

Glen Duncan on the American Midwest.

We one-way hired a Toyota in Chicago. Stayed off the freeways. My thinking was the emptier the space the easier we’d spot a vamp or WOCOP tail. Iowa. Nebraska. Wyoming. Utah. Those unritzy states of seared openness, giant arenas for the colossal geometry of light and weather. Here the main performance is still planetary, a lumbering introspective working-out of masses and pressures yielding huge accidents of beauty: thunderheads like floating anvils; a sudden blizzard. Geological time, it dawns on you, is still going on.

—Glen Duncan, THE LAST WEREWOLF

For all his Anglicisms (“hiring” a car instead of renting one makes the vehicle sound a bit anthropomorphic), this just perfectly captures the geographical spirit of the rural Midwest.

John Updike on wonder and fiction.

Perhaps one reason we laugh so much in childhood is that so much is unexpected and novel to us, and perhaps fiction revives that laughter by giving us back the world clearer than we have seen it before.

—John Updike, Higher Gossip: Essays and Criticism

Skyrim.

This sums up my feelings about 11/11/11:

Hat tip to Travis.

Musings on book covers via Lolita.

Graphic designer Peter Mendelsund’s revelatory new series on books and covers (note the separated nouns) begins with the many things that LOLITA is and isn’t, spurred by this pithy, pitch-perfect cover:

Is it the crude handwriting that makes it so effective? Doesn’t the entire composition, in its offhandedness, carry the faintest suggestion of the childish about it? It is neither lusting nor leering, nor overly proud of its own wit.

It seems to eschew the urbane gaze of Nabokov’s old-world narrator in favor of a naive and guileless one. The painted lips hint at an underdeveloped and mythologized understanding of romance; it is the cover, I could imagine, that a young Dolores Haze might have drawn.

Natalia Kills – “Zombie.”

Can’t. Stop. Listening. To. This.