Editor Dog Hard at Work

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Written by Brendan O’Meara

We all have editors and some of those editors are dogs. Sure, Jack, my uber-fixated, medicated, mentally troubled Jack Russel mix doesn’t actually read anything, but his ever-looming presence makes him just about as irritating as some editors I’ve had. Exhibit A:

The Stare. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me. I’m not looking at you. I’m not looking at you. I’m not looking at you.

Which is all well and good, but those eyes weigh on you. Soon, even when he’s fallen asleep, I still see him. There. Staring. Judging.

The Lounge. Still staring at you, but I’m in a posture that allows for maximum stamina. I can stare you for hours in this position.

Most dogs sleep their days away. This is the case with my lab mix, Smarty. He’s downstairs right now. Sleeping. Couldn’t be bothered with whatever-it-is-I-do. Which, right now, is a useless recounting of a dog getting in my cage. Naturally, under the stress of such boring eyes, it becomes more intense. Like, “You best get your shit DONE! or I’m telling steady-paycheck-Mom.”

All Business. Your ass better get a move on. Stop blogging.

Fine! Fine! I’ll stop blogging and work on, shit, what am I working on? A new book? A magazine piece? Both. Jack, no! Not the throat!

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Guest Post: How to Make Money Writing

Posted by Brendan O’Meara

With Halloween right around the corner, what better time than to talk about ghost writing?

I’ve got this friend, you see, and she is a wonderful writer. And you know the mark of a great writer? There are two things, really. 1) They teach it. They share the information and don’t hoard it, as if by granting another writer an edge, they lose their advantage. 2) They check their ego and that’s what guest blogger Melinda Copp does. She’s a ghost writer and she irons out a great way for you to make a living writing. But, like I said, you have to check your ego. So, let’s hear from Melinda, shall we?

Enter Melinda:

Ghostwriting isn’t the kind of profession most writers aspire to. I will admit: it’s not the highest form of the art. But it is a way to earn a living, which is something most writers can appreciate.

My first professional writing job after college was working as an editorial assistant to a ghostwriter. Up until that point, I had only a vague idea of what ghostwriting was. And I can remember her explaining to me in the interview that I wouldn’t be getting a byline or credit for the writing work I’d be doing, and I can remember her asking me: Are you okay with that? I can see why many writers wouldn’t be, but I decided that I was. I needed a job.

Since that first ghostwriting job, I’ve had two children, become a full-time freelancer, gotten a master’s degree, and pursued a variety of other ways to make a living as a writer. But when people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them I’m a freelance ghostwriter. I write books for people who have a story to tell or information to share but don’t have the skills to write it themselves. I’m like a copywriter, only instead of working on white papers and marketing copy, I write books.

How Does Ghostwriting Work?

Ghostwriting arrangements work in different ways. But most of the people who hire me want to publish a book to establish expertise. They are usually self-publishing, at least at first, and they view the project as a business investment. Other times, people who have been very successful in their lifetime hire me to write their memoirs.

Basically, when I work with a client, I take their ideas and mold them into a publishable book. The process involves lots of interviewing, especially in the beginning. I work from the interviews to write the client’s book. Then the client and I go back and forth, revising my drafts, until the book is written the way they want it.

Want to Try Ghostwriting?

If you’re looking for a new way to earn an income as a freelance writer, ghostwriting is an option. Here are a few tips.

1. Choose your clients wisely. You will probably be working with your ghostwriting client for about a year. You won’t always agree on things and it won’t always be easy.

2. Get paid for the work as you’re doing it. Many people have approached me with book ideas that they’re sure will be a best seller. The story is fantastic, they tell me, and if I agree to write it for them, they’ll split the profits with me. I’m sure this happens to every ghostwriter. And most of the time, these people do have fantastic stories to tell. And maybe a book about them would be a huge success. But as a professional ghostwriter, I can’t help these people. The risk that goes along with whether or not the book will be successful has to rest on them. For this reason, I don’t enter into arrangements where I write the book in exchange for royalties that will come in the future after it gets published. The hard fact of the publishing world is that most books aren’t profitable. Ghostwriting is my job and it has to bring a steady paycheck. Plus, I have my own ideas to keep me busy without getting paid.

3. Use a contract. Preferably one that a lawyer created for you.

4. Put your ego aside. All writers have to do this, but with clients you have to remember you’re not working with a professional editor. They may not be able to tell you what they want. And they’re not always going to know what’s best for their own book. As a professional writer, I think you have to tell the client what you believe is the best choice for their story. But as a hired ghostwriter, you have to ultimately write it the way they want it to be written.

On Being a Professional Ghostwriter

I never really set out to be a professional freelance ghostwriter. And there’s a downside to this kind of work—my name isn’t out there with bylines the way it would be if I were a freelance journalist. But by becoming a ghostwriter, I have been able to work as a professional writer, stay at home with my kids, set my own work schedule and deadlines, stabilize my income with large projects, set my own rates, and practice writing book-length nonfiction.

The best part about it is that each ghostwriting project allows me to learn about new topics. My clients, thus far, have been interesting and wonderful people. And ghostwriting allows me time to work on my own projects, which makes me a very happy writer.

[Brendan: being a writer takes on many forms. This is real-world writing and sometimes you have to put ego and notoriety aside so you can do what it is you love: writing. Sometimes a painter needs to paint a jack Russell terrier portrait so she can do landscapes later.]

Follow Melinda on Twitter and check out here blog.

Subscribe to my blog via email and receive a signed copy of Six Weeks in Saratoga!

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The Purple Cow: On Being Remarkable in an Unremarkable Market

Written by Brendan O’Meara

As many of you know I’m big into marketing for writers. Authors need to be savvy at creating buzz around their work. Nobody else will.

Author Seth Godin is a marketing guru, and in the canon of his books, I’ve read “The Purple Cow: Transform Your Business by Being Remarkable.” [Also reading “Meatball Sundae”, and I’ll have insights from that book as well.]

You’re driving down a nice country road in south Jersey and you look at all the pretty cows. Soon those pretty cows look homogenous, boring. Then you see a purple cow. Holy sh*T! Did you see that purple cow!? It stands out. It’s remarkable.

Sure, much of it revolves around businesses that provide a particular service or product, but many of the principles apply to writers. What’s key is NOT appealing to the masses. There is so much static and distraction: Internet, TV, iPad, iPhone, movies, kids, dogs, elections, the Tunguska Event. You name it. You need to get nichey with it.

Wait for it: here’s the question writers love to hear … Who’s your audience? Who’s going to buy your book? And once you figure that out, how will you stand out? How will you be remarkable?

There are four groups of people Godin describes and they fall into the typical bell-shaped curve. On the far left are the Innovators and Early Adopters (leaders looking to get a jump). The belly of the curve is the Early and Late Majority (followers). Laggards fill out the far right (slackers, people buying their first digital camera today.).

The key is to appeal to the far left: the innovators and early adopters. They are passionate consumers looking for the “in” thing. They like to be ahead of the masses so they can recommend cool products to their friends. These people somehow have the iPhone7, the one with the inter-planetary time warp. Essentially, these people are bloggers eager to review and share their insights. As writers in a tenuous publishing climate, we need to seek out these people. They will review your work and talk about it to their 500, 1,000, 2,000, 10,000 followers.

If you can reach several dozen bloggers and their collective readership is 100,000 people and 10% of those people buy your book, that’s 10,000 books. Not New York Times Best Seller stuff, but that’s a lot of books from a modest reach. What if you reached 1,000,000 people from 100 bloggers?

Of course you still need to write a great book. But let’s assume you already knew that. All of this is moot if your book isn’t fit to line bird cages.

What do a lot of [wannabe] writers do? Trust me, I’ve spoken to a lot. Many love this idea of holing up in a cabin and being the solitary writer. Steaming coffee. A fire. Snow in the mountains. This is unremarkable in terms of building a brand. Stephen King can do this. Suzanne Collins can do this. You can’t.

Sorry.

Things I do?

No. 1, and this might seem stupid, but I feel it’s gotten me this far, however far that is. I suit up. I always wear a suit when reporting and when I appear in public. I feel it’s how I got the access I got to the executive characters in Six Weeks. Especially as a sports writer, dressing nicely makes you remarkable, you stand out from the sheep. Plus it makes me feel good. First impressions, when you see a guy in a nicely tailored suit standing next to a guy in tattered khaki shorts, flip-flops, and a ball cap, who will garner a better first impression? Exactly.

No. 2 What I’m working on are videos and book trailers. Goofy mini-movies that sometimes touch upon writing and books. Sometimes they might just be a funny skit. What’s the point? Well, I don’t want to be “spammy” for one, but I also just want to entertain in a different form. If people are drawn to those videos, they’ll be more likely to sample my work. To quote Godin, “Don’t Be Boring,” and “Safe is Risky.”

Another idea that I’m going to employ? Giveaways. This isn’t completely novel, but I have a theory if you give away something, it will snowball into better publicity if the people signing up for the giveaway 1.) Like it. And 2.) Review it on Amazon and Goodreads and spread the news.

Again, Innovators and Early Adapters.

Which is why, if you’ve made it this far in this post, I will give away—for free!—a personalized copy of my book “Six Weeks in Saratoga: How Three-Year-Old Filly Rachel Alexandra Beat the Boys and Became Horse of the Year.” All you have to do is subscribe to my blog using the email form at the end of this post. Or you can click on that “Follow” tab in the lower right-hand corner. Once you’re confirmed, I’ll contact you for your address and see how you want your book signed and I’ll mail it away Media Rate (7-10 days delivery time).

Books go to the first 30 subscribers, so I’d love to hear from you in the comments and I’d love for you to subscribe.

Go! Be Remarkable!

Singin’ the Comma Blues

Mathina Calliope came out of the Goucher College creative nonfiction MFA program with me a few years ago. She’s a crazy, salsa-dancin’, hip-shakin’, word-writin’ kinda gal and I think you’re gonna dig her guest post about that little wink of punctuation: the comma. She blogs here and DOESN’T TWEET ENOUGH here, but that’s neither here nor there. But, she is HERE dropping a grammar bomb from the heavens. Enter Mathina!

My freshmen composition students thought they knew what commas were all about. Commas peppered the students’ first essays like New England fall leaves: abundant, lovely, and ultimately destined for unloading. Then, we started looking at comma rules: Use a comma after an introductory clause or phrase. Use a comma before a coordinating conjunction to connect two independent clauses. Use a comma between coordinating adjectives not joined by and. Do not use a comma between cumulative adjectives. Abruptly, comma insecurities crowded the room like monsters in a closet.

The students weren’t the only ones rendered suddenly unsure. I used commas correctly all the time, didn’t I? I mean, I had an undergraduate degree in journalism, a master’s in education, and another master of fine arts—in writing. I wrote test questions about comma usage. Christ. If I couldn’t explain why you didn’t put a comma after “Maryland” in “Jesse and I brought home Maryland blue crabs to throw in the pot for supper,” who could? And yet here we were, getting into the comma weeds, as it were, and the more we discovered, it seemed, the less we understood.

The conventions of written English generally come to native English speakers via silent absorption, the way language does, as we grow up reading all manner of texts, and witnessing, sentence after millionth sentence and word after hundred millionth word, just where commas do or do not pop up.

For nonnative English speakers and for nonreading English-speaking natives, however, commas confound, and the rules only seem to make it worse. Suddenly, it’s not enough to drop a comma in naturally, where one might pause in speech. No, now one suddenly needs to understand advanced grammatical terms: coordinating conjunction (not to be confused with subordinating conjunction), independent clause, clause, phrase. Yet, when one reads the definition of an independent clause—a group of words containing a  noun “doing” a verb but not preceded by a subordinating word—rather than having things cleared up, one must now find still further definitions.

Frustrating, to be sure, but also complex and wonderfully mysterious, even tantalizing.

Any of us, if we have spent any time learning anything, has encountered this phenomenon. I first noticed it right after learning to drive. Never having considered all that went into coordinating steering, braking, accelerating, changing lanes, I viewed driving as nothing but a thing. But after one lesson, when I rode with a friend who safely and confidently merged into high-speed traffic, never interrupting her monologue about her prom date, I stared at her in awe.

Any skill or domain of knowledge with which we have no experience is necessarily opaque to us. As we peer closer, as we remove layers of opacity, we find not clarity but complexity. And this is what makes learning worthwhile, why it is inherently “fun;” it creates dissonance between reality and what we thought we understood. Our reward for resolving that dissonance is satisfaction—and an ever-greater appreciation for the richness that is life and learning.

Now to persuade my students that this is the case …

Mathina Calliope teaches English 111 at Northern Virginia Community College. Read more of her musings—grammatical and otherwise—at www.calliopeterpsichore.com

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Q&A: Best-selling author Jonathan Evison

Photo courtesy of www.jonathanevison.net

Written by Brendan O’Meara

I recently finished “The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving”, a novel by New York Times best-selling author Jonathan Evison. It’s the best book I’ve read all year. The book is wildly funny and punishingly sad.

It’s a first-person narrative told by Ben Benjamin, a former stay-at-home dad who takes a course in caregiving. The workforce has passed him by and this is his way of rebuilding himself. He works for the sexually frustrated and tyrannical 19-year-old Trev, who is disabled by MD. Trev’s world is small, limited by his physical body. Ben is disabled in another way. The two are an unlikely pair. They need each other and they hit the road in their van for adventure, for deliverance.

I reached out to Evison on Facebook, asking him if he’d answer some questions. He said he’s on the road a lot, but if I emailed him he’d answer them as timely as he could. I emailed him some questions. He answered them in about an hour. Yeah, he’s that kind of guy. Few authors would do that.

As fate should have it, I went to Maryland this past weekend and he was a featured author at the Baltimore Book Fest. He’s approachable and has earned his lot. He said at the festival, “I succeeded by failing.”

Blogger Celeste Sollod interviewing Jonathan Evison at the Baltimore Book Fest. Evison wrote eight unpublished novels before “All About Lulu” came out in 2008. “I succeeded by failing,” he said.

BO: You’re last novel “West of Here” is big in body and scope, “RFC” is tighter and narrower in its focus, what was the motivation for the change in tactical story telling? “RFC” is deeply personal for you.

JE: Every novel I try to challenge myself in some new way. With “West of Here”, those challenges were formal and structural. With The Revised Fundamentals, the challenges were emotional. I had to dig up a lot of old bones and strew them about, plum a lot of emotional depths, etc. In the end, it was nothing less than cathartic.

BO: Ben is broken. How did you come to nursing/caregiving for Ben to rebuild himself?

JE: My life was in the shit-can ten years ago. My first wife left me for a surfing Buddhist, I was working at an ice cream stand, and I was sitting on eight unpublished books. There were a couple of yeas that were just a blur. I took  a night course in caregiving, which really helped turn my life around. Caring for others while I was barely able to care for myself, built me back up into something resembling a human being.

BO: Trev’s orbit is small, to expand it without risk, he watches the Weather Channel and puts pins on a map, how important was it for him to break free? Did you need a physically limited person for Ben to feel needed again?

JE: Man, I did everything within my power NOT to write a road novel—I was really resistant to the idea. You can feel me trying to subvert the road novel for the first hundred pages. Finally, I just had to give in. The characters made me. They needed the road to deliver them. I’d say Trev and Ben are equally limited. While Trev is physically disabled, Ben is emotionally and spiritually bereft. Also, I think they care for each other equally. Ben needs Trev every bit as Trev needs Ben. Wait, did I answer the question?

BO: How did you approach the writing? Ben has a crushingly sad history and that is carefully parsed out. How did you approach that strategy instead of just dumping it on the reader?

JE: I wanted Ben to earn the reader’s respect. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for any of my characters, not right from the get-go. I wanted to show them warts and all. Structurally, I always visualized this novel as an artichoke, where the reader peels back the layers of armor to get to the heart of the thing. Handling this just about any other way risked being mawkish, I think.

BO: How did you go about assembling this ensemble for the road trip?

JE: I think my unconscious mind did most of the heavy lifting. The cast just seemed to appear inevitably along the way. Each new character naturally addressed one of somebody else’s needs—usually Ben’s or Trev’s.

BO: Many—if not all—of the characters are in limbo, hinged to a heavy past, but trudging through the muck to move forward, talk about that commonality.

JE: Well, first, flawed as they are, they’re all doing the best they can to manage what they’ve got. Critics have called my characters losers, but they’re not. They’re not quitters. They’re not pessimists. They wanna believe things will get better, and so they grope their way through, often failing miserably along the way, but always meaning well. They want to re-invent themselves, they want to find hope, they want to be decent people.

BO: Now, either you had a blast on Urban Dictionary.com, or you’re incredibly depraved—or both—which is it? Ha!

JE: All of the above! I’m pretty sure I made up a few of those sex acts.

BO: How did you strike a tonal balance between humor and somber in the book?

JE: Necessity. I don’t think I could write about irredeemable loss without a lot of comic relief. Tragedy and comedy are all tangled up in my mind, always have been. So striking this tonal balance came very naturally to me. I grew up around gallows humor. Some of the most tragic events in my life have been tinged by humor. Like finding my grandmother dead, with Tums antacids bubbling out of her mouth, and discovering a TV dinner at her bedside, and seeing she only ate the cherry pie, and left the rest. Now, that’s not funny, but c’mon, it is, right?

BO: One of my favorite turns of phrase comes toward the end when talking about, of all things, Mr. Baxter the fish, “I’m guessing he’s bat-shit crazy from turning circles in that murky little bowl his whole life, and that he doesn’t care anymore whether he lives or dies. Then a few pages later when he’s expelled from his bowl, “Mr. Baxter, who I’ve sorely misjudged, is flopping furiously for life on the nearby throw rug …” How did you come to these hysterical places in the book?

JE: Again, my poor bumbling characters led me to them, more often than not. In the case of Mr. Baxter, his life is a perfect reflection of Ben’s own circumstances—stuck, dissolute, depressed. Ben empathizes with him.

BO: The men in your books—Ethan Thornburgh (West of Here), Ben, Bob, etc.—feel shrouded in inadequacy, have something to prove, where does that come from?

JE: I love the theme of masculinity in crisis. Hell, I was raised by bodybuilders, how could I not? As much as I imagine it sometimes sucks being a woman in a world that is all-too-often tailored to the masculine sensibility, it’s anything but easy being a dad in our culture, and living up to the various expectations foist upon us by ourselves, and by women, and by our children. I’m just fascinated by the nuances.

BO: On your epitaph you write, ‘… Mostly, he lasted.’ The same can be said for Ben, right?

JE: And the same can be said for your beloved Red Sox.

BO: Changing gears, give me as sense of the work you put in to illustrate the difference between BEING a writer and those who crave to occupy the writer’s space (Every book signing I’ve done, I get a couple of people ‘writing their books’ but they never do, partly because they don’t realize that it’s WORK)?

JE: Oh, I work my ass off. I get up at four in the morning to write. Do you think I wanna be up at that hour? Hell no. That said, it doesn’t feel like work to me, because rather than draining my stores of energy, it begets more energy. The work makes me a more expansive person—a better husband, a better dad, a better friend. It’s pretty sill to want to occupy the writer’s space, because by and large, it is an exercise in humiliation. The work is where it’s at.

BO: For writers, what has been you experience in promotion your work Is there anything that’s a waste of time and/or money? What should a writer do YESTERDAY that he or she isn’t doing today?

JE: Don’t think of it as promoting, for one. I think of it as an extension of the work. Me, the artist, reaching out, trying to connect with readers. It’s always better to start a dialogue, rather than just blow your own horn. Nobody will listen. You have to engage your readership, not recruit them.

BO: What types of rejection have you faced?

JE: Easily 400 form rejections. Not to mention all manner of other rejections in life. Failure makes me stronger.

BO: Can a great writer be made, or, like a gifted singer, is greatness handed out to the few, like Pavarotti? Can it be earned?

JE: Beats me. I guess I think, like Kierkegaard, that the artist herself should be the first work of art. If you can make yourself into a good, kind, empathetic, observant person who cares deeply about the human condition, and you entertain an endless curiosity, well, then you can probably learn to string some sentences together.

BO: How do you spend your non-writing time?

JE: Drinking and chasing my kid, in no particular order. I walk in the woods a lot, play scrabble with my wife, play a lot of ping pong with my nephew.

BO: How much do you THINK about the act of writing?

JE: Always. I AM the act of writing.

[Brendan’s back] And if that wasn’t entertaining enough, you should take a look at the book trailer for “The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving.” I love it. I actually have some commercials in this vein in the hopper. It’s what Seth Godin would call a “purple cow.” Great to see someone of Evison’s profile adopting it. Take a look:

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