#unless i decide to rewrite something but fitting into 500 or so words is not for me </3

[persicipen]

little win for today — the ffg kinktober prompt is ready and nicely wrapped in ribbons, waiting to be scheduled for its premiere on the 11th of october ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

[chrismerle]

FOR THE FANFIC ASK MEME THING (I finally picked beyond 'just... all of them?'): F, I, K, M, N, Q, S, T, V, W, X, and Y. WHICH ISN'T ALL OF THEM it's just... several...

(from here)

F. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I’m working on a Final Fantasy XV AU, because that’s basically all I write for FFXV; I really love the building blocks it gave me, but I don’t like a lot of the architecture. Anyway, conceptually it’s a fairly standard ‘what if Ardyn wasn’t a villain?’ thing, and on the off chance it ever sees the light of day, it will be called There Is a Crack in Everything.

This is a really early scene.

Regis stepped into his study, and Ardyn scarcely gave him time to close the door before wondering, with a languid sort of ease, “For how long have I been Adagium?” He sounded as if the word tasted foul.

“Longer than I can be certain of,” Regis sighed, taking his seat at his desk, across from Ardyn.

“And I’ll be able to relax for...how long?” Ardyn wondered pleasantly, leaning an elbow on the desk and propping his chin in his hand. “Before those lovely toy soldiers of yours try to haul me back to my stone box, that is.”

For a moment, Regis was quiet. For a moment, Regis thought of his father. Mors would have reacted the instant he realized who Ardyn was, and Regis wondered how many of the Glaive would have died and what sort of enemy they would have created.

He thought of his son, just a few weeks old. Already, Regis knew he did not want to teach Noctis to be that sort of king.

He did not want to be his father.

“You may stay here, should you wish it,” Regis answered at last.

Ardyn blinked, slowly. His expression didn’t change, but his words seemed carefully picked for carelessness. “And no one will wonder at another of the bloodline suddenly appearing?” he asked. “Or am I forbidden from showing off?”

“We’ll say you’re my half-brother,” Regis answered before he was even fully aware he’d come up with a solution. “It won’t surprise many.”

Ardyn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully eager to dub me family.”

“You already are family,” Regis reasoned. “It seems it’s time someone finally treated you as such.”

That, at last, seemed to unmoor Ardyn. His posture went rigid for a moment as his gaze went distant. Twice, he opened his mouth to respond, before closing it without saying a word.

It took him only a moment to gather his composure, though, before he cleared his throat. “I have to say, this is the most elaborate method anyone has ever used to call me a bastard. I suppose that alone means it’s worth putting up with it.”

Regis laughed before he could help it.

I like it for a handful of reasons. For one thing, I’ve successfully weaponized it (and a few other snippets of the same WIP) to make my friend Ala emotional. For another, I didn’t really see this dynamic between Regis and Ardyn coming. It just sort of happened while I was typing, but I liked it when it showed up. It felt natural for an Ardyn who hadn’t been driven mad by turning countless people into daemons, but who was nevertheless not the same gentle healer after 2,000 years of isolation.

I. Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

I got paid for years, plural, to write really bad porn about people who could turn into animals fucking. I have no shame left. I’ve had no shame since the first time someone offered to pay me $500 for smut.

K. What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

It is, again, related to FFXV. I wrote If the Ring Fits and Backed in Silver years ago, and ever since, I’ve tossed around the idea of writing another sequel for Ignis.

The only issue is that my idea for it would forcibly make him realize that the Prompto that had been in their world was not actually their Prompto, and had not been for over a decade. And it would be a conflict he’d have to grapple with through the entire fic, trying to decide whether to force that same replacement on someone in a different world or to just endlessly keep hopping from one world to another because he can’t return to his.

I’ve never actually written any of it, and the concepting never got beyond Ignis’s revelation about Prompto. But considering If the Ring Fits was 10,000 words long and Backed in Silver was 20,000, I can only imagine what sort of behemoth it would be.

M. Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Like, WIPs, or things that I’ve pondered but haven’t started working on?

I’ve got a few WIPs. There’s the aforementioned non-villainous Ardyn AU. I’ve got another FFXV fic that’s been on hiatus on AO3 for legitimately over three years, and the next chapter is very nearly finished and I just...can’t seem to get there. I’ve got a Persona 5 new game+ fic in the works. That one’s fully plotted out already, and just the outline is like 15 pages long. Based on how the first chapter is going, each chapter will probably be anywhere from 10-20,000 words long. And I’ve got a melancholy immediately-post-season-two Mandalorian one shot in the works, spawned almost entirely so I could make Mando say ‘fuck.’ I know no one says fuck in Star Wars, but I don’t care. I will not say kriff and no one can make me. And I’ve got the Dragon Age uber fic that I’ve just sort of been plugging away at since Inquisition was released and none of it has ever seen the light of day, unless you count me shoving a few snippets at Siobhan.

Oh, and I’m rewriting an older Mass Effect fic.

For things that I’ve thought about but haven’t really worked on, they’re mostly more Dragon Age and FFXV. The “canon” stories for the two timelines not covered in the uber fic, and more AU nonsense spawned from ItRF and BiS.

N. Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Like, finish one of MY fics? No. I would bite them if they tried. Hell, I love you and I would bite you if you tried.

Just, in general? At this point I would take a monkey paw-style deal to get someone to finish Home.

(for anyone who isn’t Jim, Home is a nuTrek Jim/Spock fic that I think I was in high school when it was published. I graduated from college over five years ago.)

Q. How do you feel about collaborations?

Mixed feelings. I’ll take feedback, assuming I’ve offered the mic for it. I’ll prattle on about whatever I’ve got cooking. I’ll ask for ideas or suggestions. But when it comes to the actual writing of it, I’m a control freak. So, people are welcome to help me gather up the building blocks, but I’m gonna wind up doing the actual building myself.

S. Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

Overly elaborate AUs.

T. Any fandom tropes you can’t stand?

That thing fandom does where if they’ve decided a character has anxiety, then it does not matter how that anxiety presents itself in canon, in fanon they are a weepy, shy introvert who can hardly string a sentence together because they’ve polymorphed into a shivering puppy.

V. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Does it count if I just say I wanna rewrite a series as a whole? There’s a FrostIron series I read ages ago before the MCU made me wanna gag, and at the time I LOVED it. And then not that long ago I went back and read it again, and it felt like I was saying goodbye to it because oh my god it was unbearable.

Loki was NEVER FUCKING WRONG ABOUT ANYTHING, unless he wasn’t in the room, in which case Tony picked the slack about not ever being wrong about anything.

W. Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones?

More specific. Not this past Christmas, but the one before that, I was doing some Advent Drabbles for one of my roleplay blogs, so I was open to drabble suggestions anyone wanted to see. Like 70% of them were just one or two words and I’m just staring at my ask box like ‘thanks, I hate it’

(Kudos, though, to the random stranger who gave me a very specific, paragraph-long prompt for a Spider-Man (PS4) fic.)

X. A character you enjoy making suffer.

...All of them?

Y. A character you want to protect.

I guess Din Djarin.

I mean, he still falls into the above ‘all of them’ but when I make him suffer it’s more related to exploring something that happened in canon, rather than me directly causing it.

[vael]

2019 Annual Review

Each year, I look back at the previous year’s annual review and note that things didn’t go as planned. For some reason I am always surprised, but this time it’s a little painful, too. From 2018′s Annual Review:

“2019 outlook? Sunny! I hope it will be my best year yet.“

Oh, Vael. You built your house, you moved to the promised land. But your year did not go as planned. You are not even close to the zen you craved.

It has been a wild year. This will run long. All I can do is stick to the format and hope my memory and average writing skill will do the year justice. So, as usual, we start with the positive.

What went well this year?

We like our house. We do. The builder was no good, resulting in some warped walls and a lot of headache getting them to finish everything properly, but the layout is very suitable for us. My office is exactly what I needed, our TV room has just the right space for us. We finally have a respectable kitchen. Since I’m living and working in the house 24 hours a day, it’s important to have a comfortable space.

Game development. For the past five years, I’ve put in some serious work. A lot of it was within my game engine, GAM3, and tinydark’s gaming network, The Orbium. While I put in a lot of work, not much came in the way of actual games produced. I finally rallied in 2018 and put out Bean Grower. It was designed to be a supplemental game, not a main driver, so it will not bring in sustainable income. I went on to think that I should open GAM3 up to other developers, license the engine out and collect a share of what they make.

I resolved to refactor GAM3: a word which means to rewrite and modernize many parts of it so that it’s easier to work in, and for it to present better. I would come to realize this desire to share GAM3 was due to a lack of confidence in myself to produce something great, and financially sustainable. Around the time I was realizing that multiplayer was the answer, I discovered Marosia.

Then we moved, I took on contract work, and things generally slowed for me for a few months, eking out what development I could. I played Marosia throughout and in August, it died. I wrote a teardown for it. The stars had aligned: though I had a lot of prelim work to be done, I would make a successor to Marosia. I managed to hype a few people in the community with a demo of GAM3 and I spent the next few months coding a chat prototype and generally organizing myself, and finally mid-November began the refactoring. It would end there, but just this morning (seriously) we learned Marosia was coming back. I had a momentary freakout but it’s ultimately a good thing for my own game.

I haven’t been more excited for a project in a long time. I never thought I’d be so excited to create a standard fantasy world, but it’s a ton of fun, with intricacies I never considered. The game’s design lends itself to a sustainable monetization model: I’m thinking $3/mo for quality-of-life upgrades, with a discount for buying in bulk. I would have paid double for Marosia, so I think this is fair. (6 months of die2nite is currently priced at $69, 6 months of Hattrick is $90!) And most important of all, I can do it ethically, with a game that truly means something to people.

Web development. I’ve learned quite a bit this year! I am so grateful for svelte. I liked but never loved React.js. It always felt ponderous to me. I have no doubt The Orbium’s refactoring would have taken me half the time it did if I were learning svelte vs. React, simply because React is so much more convoluted than svelte, and all in the name of uglier syntax. Svelte seamlessly integrates style and functionality into UI components, which means that if I’m working with a button that clicks to open a modal, everything I need for that button is in that one file.

Due to my contract work (with Harley Davidson, I can reveal) I also got some experience with Symfony and other modern development practices in PHP. PHP doesn’t really excite me these days, loathing having to produce views with it, but it is at least comfy.

My job. “Yeah, yeah.” I got a raise, most of which was contributed to getting Eve and my son onto my badass healthcare plan. We’re developing like it’s 2012, which is frustrating and makes even simple tasks take forever, but I can’t complain about the pay nor the stability of the company and my position there. I also work mostly remotely.

What didn’t go so well?

2019 was dominated by the bad. Eve’s not putting out an Annual Review, but our pain is shared.

The move. 11 months after the contract was signed, our builder was finally ready to let us move in. The house was not finished, just livable. So we rushed out of Rhode Island. We packed my car with everything we could fit, even removing the spare tire, but we got almost all of it. Me, Eve, our son, and our two cats.

At around 7:30 PM, we were driving on a dark highway when we were struck by a muffler that had fallen out from the truck in front of us. It destroyed the front-end, spilling radiator fluid onto the road. I had no idea what was going on, but it so happened that a mechanic had broken down right near us and was able to help. The engine barely carried us to the nearest motel, and I was in shock. I carried all our stuff to our second-floor room, it was even lightly raining. And I was defeated. Eve reports she had never seen me so bad. I had no idea how long we’d be in this ghetto-ass motel, what it would cost us during this time of great financial need, and mostly: I was just miserable. We could have died. If it had hit one of our tires, we could have spun out at 70+ MPH. All I wanted to do was get to our house the next day, and here we were.

I won’t detail the rest here, but I do want to thank my friends for their support and appreciate the good fortune that we got through this time.

We got to the house at 11PM on a Sunday; I still appreciate our builder taking the time to show us around so late. And... it was not at all what we were expecting. We had no driveway, and it had rained. We were tracking in some mud but that didn’t even matter because the entire house had to be cleaned. There was dirt all over the floors, they’d forgotten I didn’t want a chandelier over the dining room table, and the feeling was that we’d gone through Hell (and austure financial practices) to get here and this was it. So much wasn’t done. We knew that, but we didn’t think we’d be sweeping and wetting the floor with paper towel just to have a place to put our stuff. Shoutout to my friend Cody for setting us up with a supply drop.

We spent a lot of time buying furniture, aided by our rental SUV, all the while worrying about our newly purchased things sitting around the house without our protection as workers came in and out. I had to go back to Virginia to pick up the car and through exhaustion, caffeine, stupidity, and anxiety, managed to go 88 MPH and get myself a ticket: a misdemeanor, even. I spent the entire day picking up that damn car (5 hours up and down) and returned home in the worse state I’d ever felt. I was emotionally, mentally, and physically depleted.

But there was no stopping for me: I took on contract work and I had to get it done just to stay afloat. And then we got a fucking dog.

The dog. At some point in 2018 we determined that our son could use a companion and that a dog really completes the family. Leading up to the move, we put a down payment on a rough collie: the “Lassie” breed. They usually run around $800 and we got her for $500. I was a fan of the breed and Eve had done research that proves it’s a great breed. (it is) Even after the accident, we thought we should pay the rest for her and bring some joy into our life.

We named her Esme, and getting a dog was definitely one of the worst macro decisions I’ve made for the family yet. I couldn’t last more than a month with her. It was my decision to get rid of her, which made my wife and son sad but we were getting so little out of the experience. The cats beat her up, she was afraid of everything, and all she wanted to do was run around but we kept her cooped up in the house because we had no fence. I hated that there was still a dog smell, and I hated that it farted during Game of Thrones. It was over when we went grocery shopping and came back to a poop-filled crate, which the circumstances of the night dictated I must clean.

Young Living. Eve was supposed to sell essential oils for some side money. We knew it wasn’t going to be big money, unless she got lucky or turned out to be a natural-born saleswoman, but it was something to do and we believe in the products. I really trust in Young Living and I personally have seen the benefits of their oils and products.

So she went to the YL convention in Utah to learn to sell and, hey, have some fun. She returned feeling even less confident: they’d changed some numbers, and the truth that we always knew was that the market’s highly saturated. There are memes trivializing the effects of oils and there’s no denying the company’s an MLM. A lot of the big earners made their sales early on. Coinciding with the bad feels of Autumn, we decided to put the oil dream aside and focus on mental and physical health.

Eve mental/physical health. The muffler changed a lot for us. It morphed what should have been a very happy time in our lives into a very stressful one. Eve felt fatigued and broken down, and I wasn’t much better off. One day before her planned back-to-action, pick ourselves up and get ready to enjoy Summer, she sprained and tore a ligament in her ankle while coming down the stairs. We hoped it was just a sprain and did everything we could to avoid going to the doctor, but a week later she hadn’t gotten better and so began the PT and bullshit regimen. Our plans of hiking the blue ridge mountains were crushed.

But she recovered, and I shit you not, the very day before she planned to return to action, it was Father’s Day. She was making me my special breakfast and was using a hand-blender to blend pumpkin french toast mix when she went to clean some gunk out of the blender with her finger. It was a split-second decision to help make breakfast faster. Her finger twitched, caught the irresponsibly sensitive power button and tore her finger up. Immediately took her to Urgent Care and then the Emergency Room. $3,000 and some luck later, she kept her finger, but has permanently lost some feeling in it.

That was a bad time for us. I was overworked, she was miserable, and yet she still managed to get to Utah to learn how to sell. To salvage our year. In Autumn, all the anxiety, stress, and the damage from her upbringing finally culminated and she broke. 

Her physical health tanked in tandem with her mental. She suffered frequent menstrual issues and her EDS (a joint disorder) flaring up. It is hard to detail all the pain and frustration, and it really is beyond the scope of what needs to be said. My wife is depressed, prone to feeling overwhelmed, and I’m happy to say that we are getting her professional help soon.

What’s remarkable is that I can’t recall a period of time that she didn’t try her best to recover. Every month, most weeks, she would constantly express that the next day or month was her time. She’s done it for this month and 2020 as well. And I don’t think she’s lazy or unmotivated. She is just defeated and I am a poor comforter. Honestly, I am just shit at helping people if the solution isn’t “well just force yourself to do the thing.” That’s how I get through my problems and it doesn’t work for everyone, not even always myself. Still she is strong. I think writing this out has helped me remember that.

Relationship with my son. I had hoped my increased efficiency and happiness would improve our relationship. I planned for more structure: things like “once we’re upstairs for bedtime rituals, no going back down.” Each night I make a point to spend a minimum of 30 focused minutes with him. But I have only succeeded in making our relationship worse. I don’t think he needs professional help, but there is something within him, from when he was three years old, that just prevents him from being a hard worker. Respect is important to me and I don’t respect him. He is a frustrated child, often not understanding the world, often forgetting things he was supposed to do. I’m not doing a good job of helping.

I think I could have done better, but there were simply too many fronts to fight.

Mental performance. I haven’t gotten any better from last year. I am still not as sharp as 2017-Vael. It is a matter of stress and lifestyle.

What did I learn?

How to be a homeowner! Generally how to manage a home. I got my tools, all cute with my little leaf blower.

SLOWWWW DOWWWWN. The outside of the house needs some work. We need to extend our driveway, clear an acre, and put up a fence. I could take a loan out to do this and be fine, but I could also just slow down. Take a deep breath. Enjoy what we have for the Summer. It sucks I won’t be able to use that acre for farming, but I think I have a good place to plant a single apple tree this year. And hey, less mowing.

A shit ton of web development.

Probably became more cynical. But I think The Good Place has helped remind me to be a good person.

To just accept Eve needs help. And that I really suck at helping her.

Future Outlook

All that bad stuff that happened? Pfft. Shitty year. 2020′s here, it’s a brand new decade. I’ve got a cool game I want to make, we’re gonna get Eve some help, and...

Get pregnant! Yeah! Right now we definitely aren’t ready for kids. We need to use our new health insurance to make a bunch of appointments, recover  financially, mentally, physically. But we very badly want more children. I feel it all the time. I have begun to suspect that genetics do matter, and I wonder if Abel’s laziness mirrors his biological father’s laziness. My dad loved to work and I do too. It might be possible to pass these traits on.

Better office. I need to get some furniture and improve my work environment.

Vacation! We desperately need a vacation. We’re going to Disney this year, either May or June.

Zen Vael. I will attempt to be “the person I want to be” as detailed last year. My soft goal for this is March 15th, as I set last year. I will undoubtedly fail that date. There is no way I’m wrangling my sleep and attitude in the next two months, but surely by the end of the year?

Thanks for reading.

Vael

[subukunojess]

SNJ’s Writing Commissions Summer 2019

This is my first time doing this, let alone having a PayPal. I want to try opening up writing commissions not only to earn cash for myself and to help out my mom, but also to get some experience both career and writing-wise. Plus my mom always said that I should be paid for writing online. Since this is my first time, this might be a little similar to other writing commissions and things might change later on depending on how things go. Without further ado, here we go.

Pricing:

$1 per 100 words generally applies Drabbles- $5 for 500+ words below 1,000 One Shot Stories- $10 per 1000 words, $5 every 500 words Two Shots- Double the price for double the work (Ex. You paid me $20 for 2000 words, you have to pay me another $20 for the second part)

Examples:

- Archive Of Our Own - Writing Tumblr Tags One and Two - Ask me directly for specific examples

Contact:

- I would prefer contacting me directly through Discord if possible. If not, there are other alternatives. - I have accounts on:   - AO3   - FanFiction (PM)   - Tumblr (DM)   - DeviantArt (Notes)

Rules and Payment

- Here is the process: 1) You contact me with what you would like and we will both discuss it in detail such as the specifics, what type, the length, etc. 2) I will give you ONE sample paragraph and/or dialogue before we proceed so that we are both on the same page and that it's the type of story you are looking for. 3) You pay me via PayPal in any currency and upfront please! The email associated with my PayPal is SandLover18@gmail.com 4) I will begin immediately or as soon as I can depending on real life circumstances. 5) In order to provide my best work for you, I will take my time with my writing. I have a life outside of my computer and I am a full-time college student at the moment. There will be delays in my work, so please do not rush me. Generally, I will allow myself at least one month (or two depending on the commission) to write the commission. If there are any delays, I will contact you. 6) Once completed, I will post my commission in all four of my creative accounts unless you specify that I only do it in one. 

- Things to note: 1) I have the right to decline any commission if it's uncomfortable for me. Usually, I am an open person. However due to personal reasons, there are things I really cannot do. Please do not pressure me into doing something I do not wish to do. Other than that, please ask me if it's okay and we can discuss. 2) Please respect my time, limits, prices, and myself as a person. I value myself as a writer who wants to earn my craft. 3) As of right now until I could get this commissions to work for me, you would have to pay for the word range. This is going to be the first time I will do a story based on word count. Normally, I will let the story unfold itself, then when it is completed, I will count the words. However, I want to work on word limits. This is one of the reasons in advance that I was to discuss the commission in full detail in order to determine what type of work it is. For you, the customer, I will do my best to get to the word limit you request. For example, if you paid me $20 for a 2,000 word story, I will do my best to get within that range. I won't be a stickler if let's say I wrote 1,999 words or 2,015 and be like "You owe me 15 cents!" 4) If anything should arise, I will contact you. You can also check with me to learn of any progress, but please do not pester me. 5) Since this is my first time for commissions, I cannot do private ones yet. However, you have the option of posting the commission anonymously (ie. Permission to post it, but do not include your username). 6) No refunds for work. Another reason why I want to discuss what you want and what I can do in advance to payment. If there is anything important for the commission or if I have any questions regarding it, that is the chance that we could discuss your commission directly. Ultimately, I will start and finish the work I was asked to create. If there's anything wrong that I didn't catch once I post the commission, please let me know and I'll do my best to alter or rewrite the content.

Now for the fun part, What I have to offer!

Types of Stories:

- Canon: Canon characters from different franchises/fandoms. (If I'm not familiar/not too familiar with it, please provide information and I will decide whether I can do that fandom or not.) - OC content: Please provide plenty of information so I can write them as in character as possible. I will let you know if I don't have enough information or if the character doesn't fit for me - Improvised: This is usually for made up scenarios such as G/T and other items of the like. I (and possibly you as well) make up a character(s) for the provided scenario.

Some Fandoms I Can Write For:

Moana

Nightmare Before Christmas

Little Shop of Horrors

Starship

The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

OK KO: Let's Be Heroes

Bendy And The Ink Machine

Naruto

Victor and Valentino

Gravity Falls

(Just ask for a fandom and I will let you know where I stand on it!)

Will Do/Won't Do (In General):

Will Do: - Fluff, angst, adventure, romance, horror, slice of life, any genre. Ask if unsure! - Anthros, Gijinkas, Ferals, Humans, Monsters, etc. - Crossovers (Please ask me and we will discuss if it's the right fit for me) - Dark topics and themes (Death, abuse, blood, gore, violence. Please ask first). - Giant/Tiny content - If you know me or if you are curious, please ask me for certain themes

Won't Do: - Rape - Incest - NSFW sexual content (I will allow flirting and hints, but nothing past that!) - Underage NSFW content

The list will be added on later. Ultimately, please just ask me and I will tell you if I can do it or not.

I will open three slots for now to get started. Depending on how things go, I might open up more slots:

1) 2) 3)

[celestedavidso]

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth

The blog post Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth is republished from: Dollar Digits Anonymous Number

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth

You know? When you publish a book and send it out into the world, it’s like giving birth to a baby. Everyone checks out your baby. Is it breath-taking? Does it have ten toes and ten fingers? Is it pink and sweet or does it look like an extra from “Alien?” We writers are baring our souls, our deepest thoughts, and our feelings lay open like a cavernous wound. We can’t hide anymore. They know us inside and out. Now they see our baby, and they get to pick it to pieces, bit by bit, until the only thing left is a fuzzy blanket.

Oh, hell, we know that and go right on writing, don’t we? It’s in our DNA. We can’t help ourselves, we’re masochists.

When I started this whole book-writing process, I had full intentions of finding an agent and/or a traditional publisher; they’d do all the work while I sat back and listened to “Ca-ching, Ca-ching.” However my journey to that end has been long and stress-filled and I ended up doing just the opposite…I’d kept a daily journal while living in Thailand in the 90s. When I returned to the States, I copied my journal onto a floppy and had it printed, spiral-bound, and mailed it out to friends and family so they could read about all my trials and tribs while abroad. One of the friends who read it insisted that I make a book out of it.

“You know,” she said, “like the book ‘A Year in Provence.’” I immediately ran out and bought the book and was amazed at the problems that the author had endured in a short year. I just knew that if his book sold, then mine would also, however, life got in the way of living and I put it aside.

I joined some creative writing classes a few years later, and with encouragement from my peers I began the long road of putting the journal into book form. In 2003, when I finally thought I’d finished it, I entered it into the Southern California Writers Conference in San Diego. While there, I read chapters from my story in the Read and Critique groups and the attendees laughed in all the right places and even clapped, (I’d hoped it wasn’t because they were happy I’d finished). At the end of the conference I was notified that I’d won the Best Nonfiction award for my story and an agent asked for my manuscript. Wow! That just doesn’t happen unless they love it! I knew I was ready for the Pulitzer.

Then I began to panic. What if it isn’t perfect? I had talked to a “book doctor” at the conference who advised me that my story “…needed some conflict. Who really cares about a housewife who’s having a good time in Thailand? Give them a reason to turn the page.” Okay, that’s what I’ll do. There certainly was plenty of conflict in my life in Thailand, but I’d left it out; it was painful to relive and I wanted it to be a humorous book. I emailed the agent and told her I wasn’t ready. Take your time, she’d said. It’s not time sensitive.

So began the journey of “weaving” the conflict into my story. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done. It was three years before I felt it was good enough to be a real book. But, those three years were not only spent rewriting. I took online writing classes and signed up at the local college for creative writing classes, I attended a critique group every week, putting my chapters up to their scrutiny as they tore it apart and helped put it back together. The rest of the time I was editing my life away. But as Stephen King says in his book On Writing: edit, edit and edit. And when you think it’s perfect, edit some more. My husband had a name for my constant editing: “Paralysis by analysis.”

When I felt I had everything in place, I looked for professional editing. I first paid the book doctor $500 to tell me that it needed help. He didn’t give me any, just told me it needed it. I found a line-editor in Canada, who did a great job, and then I hired a freelance editor; total for both $600; quite inexpensive in today’s editing market.

During those three years, I also did a lot of reading on the publishing world; agents, print-on-demand (PODs) and off-set printing companies. I attended conferences specifically on “How to get published.” The more I heard and read, the more I thought: From all the conferences I’d attended, the agent panels were the most disillusioning. I learned that agents don’t want you if you’ve not been published, and publishers don’t want you if you’ve not been published, or don’t have an agent, who doesn’t want you either. Who needs 'em?

Publishers don’t want you if you don’t have a “platform!” A what? To my dismay I learned that I needed to have my own buying public. There was no publisher that was going to run out and sell my book for me, pay for my cross-country book signings and hotel rooms, unless of course I was a King or a Grisham or a Joyce Carol Oates. Then of course, there’s the eighteen month wait for the book to appear on the shelves after the publisher accepts it (if the publisher doesn’t decide to pull the plug at the last minute), and don’t forget the two years that it takes the agent to shop around for a publisher who might decide to pull the plug at the last minute. Who has that long? I don’t even buy green bananas anymore.

Wow! I remember my table mates and I frowning as we listened to the dire answers of this panel of agents and publishers. So how do we get published? Well, we have two options so it seemed: 1) have an agent living next door who loves your home cooked brownies or has a crush on your husband, or 2) know a publisher whose kid mows your lawn or has a crush on you. Not living in New York was going to be a definite drawback. Should I move? Okay, how about a POD? I was fortunate to have a friend who is a small press publisher of railroad books. He offered to put my manuscript into a Quark Express PDF file (which is the format printers prefer). He did an incredible job putting it together for me. He felt that if I had the print setup taken care of, I could approach a POD and save some money.

I signed up for the POD classes at the conferences I attended, where they explained everything I needed to know about their business ─ except how they kept most of the author’s money while they got big and rich and the author got $3.09 per book. Okay, well, $3.09 a book is not that bad. Maybe I could make it. But, wait, I had to pay them to print my book, and then pay them to buy my book back from them; too many “thems” going on here. Something didn’t compute. Maybe I should chuck the book and go into the POD business.

Well, I succumbed. I bought a book called The Fine Print of Self Publishing by Mark Levine, an attorney, then sat down to do some homework. After going over all the PODs he listed with a fine-tooth calculator, I realized that I could pay as much as $30,000 to one such POD group, but hey, my books would be free. How generous of them. Or, I could choose a POD group charging as low as $299, but I’d still have to buy my own books back at about $8.00 each.

I finally settled on a firm I’ll call “Dewey Cheatem & Howe” (name changed to protect the guilty), and thought I’d finally get on with this damn book printing. They sent me a sample of their work that was done beautifully. I signed on the dotted line, waited three more weeks and then my author’s copy was delivered. And there it sat. On my desk. Opened to the first page, which I couldn’t read. I started bawling. Where is my baby? The font was so garbled that it was illegible. There was a space after every capital letter and the other letters were so piled on each other you couldn’t make out the words.

When I’d used all the Kleenex in my desk drawer, I called them. Of course, no one was on the other end, save for the automated voice of their mailboxes. But at least I got rid of my postpartum anger. I cried and said very imperiously, “HOLD THE PRESSES! I will not accept this book. I will call Visa (of course they already had my money) and stop payment and …” I felt like an inner tube impaled on a sharp rock. Then I called my friend, the publisher. “Of course you can do this on your own. You have the file, just find a good printing company.”

I inquired around and found out that I could get my book printed overseas at half the cost of stateside. I began to get phone numbers and surfed websites. There were some good deals to be made overseas; however, the problem was I needed a broker. So after the broker took his cut, and the shipping charges were added, a stateside printer looked better. Plus, the thought of having a problem and not being able to connect at once with your printer was worrisome.

I searched the Internet and found many websites where you could input the details of your book, number of pages, size of book, print run, etc., and within a week I got a bid from ten printing companies. After picking one printer (not the cheapest), I felt we had a fit. I spoke to the owner, who offered to throw in a hundred free books, which might have had something to do with my decision. He checked out my website while we were speaking, loved the site and the look of my book and of course, he had me. He also offered storage and order fulfillment. Now, all I had to do was put our house on the market and clear out our 401K.

I know what you’re thinking. Sure, maybe she has it, but not everyone can come up with that much money. Yes, you can if you want to. We took an equity line on our home and as the money comes rolling in, I’ll be making payments on the equity line. We authors must be optimists. Really! If you don’t believe in your book, who will?

I ran off my own bookmarks and saved a few hundred dollars. I used the cover of the book, wrote a short synopsis on the back, and had 500 printed. I have handed out those bookmarks on airplanes and in airports; Seattle, Palm Desert, San Diego, Portugal, New York, Australia, New England… well maybe not personally, but I’ve given them to people who live in those places and they were happy to have them and said they’d pass them on. I’ve handed them out in restaurants to women sitting around me; two of them bought my book right on the spot. My friends call me “A self-promoting slut.”

I have to leave you now, as that’s where I am in this wonderful world of the written word, where the writing was easy… now comes the hard part ─ marketing!

Get your free Dollar Digits calling app at on today: Dollar Digits Burner App Free Number

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth published first on Dollar Digits Tumblr

[dollardigits]

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth

The blog post Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth is republished from: Dollar Digits Anonymous Number

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth

You know? When you publish a book and send it out into the world, it's like giving birth to a baby. Everyone checks out your baby. Is it breath-taking? Does it have ten toes and ten fingers? Is it pink and sweet or does it look like an extra from "Alien?" We writers are baring our souls, our deepest thoughts, and our feelings lay open like a cavernous wound. We can't hide anymore. They know us inside and out. Now they see our baby, and they get to pick it to pieces, bit by bit, until the only thing left is a fuzzy blanket.

Oh, hell, we know that and go right on writing, don't we? It's in our DNA. We can't help ourselves, we're masochists.

When I started this whole book-writing process, I had full intentions of finding an agent and/or a traditional publisher; they'd do all the work while I sat back and listened to "Ca-ching, Ca-ching." However my journey to that end has been long and stress-filled and I ended up doing just the opposite...I'd kept a daily journal while living in Thailand in the 90s. When I returned to the States, I copied my journal onto a floppy and had it printed, spiral-bound, and mailed it out to friends and family so they could read about all my trials and tribs while abroad. One of the friends who read it insisted that I make a book out of it.

"You know," she said, "like the book 'A Year in Provence.'" I immediately ran out and bought the book and was amazed at the problems that the author had endured in a short year. I just knew that if his book sold, then mine would also, however, life got in the way of living and I put it aside.

I joined some creative writing classes a few years later, and with encouragement from my peers I began the long road of putting the journal into book form. In 2003, when I finally thought I'd finished it, I entered it into the Southern California Writers Conference in San Diego. While there, I read chapters from my story in the Read and Critique groups and the attendees laughed in all the right places and even clapped, (I'd hoped it wasn’t because they were happy I'd finished). At the end of the conference I was notified that I'd won the Best Nonfiction award for my story and an agent asked for my manuscript. Wow! That just doesn’t happen unless they love it! I knew I was ready for the Pulitzer.

Then I began to panic. What if it isn't perfect? I had talked to a "book doctor" at the conference who advised me that my story "…needed some conflict. Who really cares about a housewife who's having a good time in Thailand? Give them a reason to turn the page." Okay, that's what I'll do. There certainly was plenty of conflict in my life in Thailand, but I'd left it out; it was painful to relive and I wanted it to be a humorous book. I emailed the agent and told her I wasn't ready. Take your time, she’d said. It's not time sensitive.

So began the journey of "weaving" the conflict into my story. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. It was three years before I felt it was good enough to be a real book. But, those three years were not only spent rewriting. I took online writing classes and signed up at the local college for creative writing classes, I attended a critique group every week, putting my chapters up to their scrutiny as they tore it apart and helped put it back together. The rest of the time I was editing my life away. But as Stephen King says in his book On Writing: edit, edit and edit. And when you think it's perfect, edit some more. My husband had a name for my constant editing: "Paralysis by analysis."

When I felt I had everything in place, I looked for professional editing. I first paid the book doctor $500 to tell me that it needed help. He didn't give me any, just told me it needed it. I found a line-editor in Canada, who did a great job, and then I hired a freelance editor; total for both $600; quite inexpensive in today's editing market.

During those three years, I also did a lot of reading on the publishing world; agents, print-on-demand (PODs) and off-set printing companies. I attended conferences specifically on "How to get published." The more I heard and read, the more I thought: From all the conferences I'd attended, the agent panels were the most disillusioning. I learned that agents don't want you if you've not been published, and publishers don't want you if you've not been published, or don't have an agent, who doesn't want you either. Who needs 'em?

Publishers don't want you if you don't have a "platform!" A what? To my dismay I learned that I needed to have my own buying public. There was no publisher that was going to run out and sell my book for me, pay for my cross-country book signings and hotel rooms, unless of course I was a King or a Grisham or a Joyce Carol Oates. Then of course, there's the eighteen month wait for the book to appear on the shelves after the publisher accepts it (if the publisher doesn't decide to pull the plug at the last minute), and don't forget the two years that it takes the agent to shop around for a publisher who might decide to pull the plug at the last minute. Who has that long? I don't even buy green bananas anymore.

Wow! I remember my table mates and I frowning as we listened to the dire answers of this panel of agents and publishers. So how do we get published? Well, we have two options so it seemed: 1) have an agent living next door who loves your home cooked brownies or has a crush on your husband, or 2) know a publisher whose kid mows your lawn or has a crush on you. Not living in New York was going to be a definite drawback. Should I move? Okay, how about a POD? I was fortunate to have a friend who is a small press publisher of railroad books. He offered to put my manuscript into a Quark Express PDF file (which is the format printers prefer). He did an incredible job putting it together for me. He felt that if I had the print setup taken care of, I could approach a POD and save some money.

I signed up for the POD classes at the conferences I attended, where they explained everything I needed to know about their business ─ except how they kept most of the author's money while they got big and rich and the author got $3.09 per book. Okay, well, $3.09 a book is not that bad. Maybe I could make it. But, wait, I had to pay them to print my book, and then pay them to buy my book back from them; too many "thems" going on here. Something didn't compute. Maybe I should chuck the book and go into the POD business.

Well, I succumbed. I bought a book called The Fine Print of Self Publishing by Mark Levine, an attorney, then sat down to do some homework. After going over all the PODs he listed with a fine-tooth calculator, I realized that I could pay as much as $30,000 to one such POD group, but hey, my books would be free. How generous of them. Or, I could choose a POD group charging as low as $299, but I'd still have to buy my own books back at about $8.00 each.

I finally settled on a firm I'll call "Dewey Cheatem & Howe" (name changed to protect the guilty), and thought I'd finally get on with this damn book printing. They sent me a sample of their work that was done beautifully. I signed on the dotted line, waited three more weeks and then my author's copy was delivered. And there it sat. On my desk. Opened to the first page, which I couldn't read. I started bawling. Where is my baby? The font was so garbled that it was illegible. There was a space after every capital letter and the other letters were so piled on each other you couldn't make out the words.

When I'd used all the Kleenex in my desk drawer, I called them. Of course, no one was on the other end, save for the automated voice of their mailboxes. But at least I got rid of my postpartum anger. I cried and said very imperiously, "HOLD THE PRESSES! I will not accept this book. I will call Visa (of course they already had my money) and stop payment and …" I felt like an inner tube impaled on a sharp rock. Then I called my friend, the publisher. "Of course you can do this on your own. You have the file, just find a good printing company."

I inquired around and found out that I could get my book printed overseas at half the cost of stateside. I began to get phone numbers and surfed websites. There were some good deals to be made overseas; however, the problem was I needed a broker. So after the broker took his cut, and the shipping charges were added, a stateside printer looked better. Plus, the thought of having a problem and not being able to connect at once with your printer was worrisome.

I searched the Internet and found many websites where you could input the details of your book, number of pages, size of book, print run, etc., and within a week I got a bid from ten printing companies. After picking one printer (not the cheapest), I felt we had a fit. I spoke to the owner, who offered to throw in a hundred free books, which might have had something to do with my decision. He checked out my website while we were speaking, loved the site and the look of my book and of course, he had me. He also offered storage and order fulfillment. Now, all I had to do was put our house on the market and clear out our 401K.

I know what you're thinking. Sure, maybe she has it, but not everyone can come up with that much money. Yes, you can if you want to. We took an equity line on our home and as the money comes rolling in, I'll be making payments on the equity line. We authors must be optimists. Really! If you don't believe in your book, who will?

I ran off my own bookmarks and saved a few hundred dollars. I used the cover of the book, wrote a short synopsis on the back, and had 500 printed. I have handed out those bookmarks on airplanes and in airports; Seattle, Palm Desert, San Diego, Portugal, New York, Australia, New England… well maybe not personally, but I've given them to people who live in those places and they were happy to have them and said they'd pass them on. I've handed them out in restaurants to women sitting around me; two of them bought my book right on the spot. My friends call me "A self-promoting slut."

I have to leave you now, as that's where I am in this wonderful world of the written word, where the writing was easy… now comes the hard part ─ marketing!

Get your free Dollar Digits calling app at on today: Dollar Digits Burner App Free Number

[joanfwebb]

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth

The blog post Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth is available on: Dollar Digits Blog

Self-Publishing The Hard Way: The Art Of Giving Birth

You know? When you publish a book and send it out into the world, it's like giving birth to a baby. Everyone checks out your baby. Is it breath-taking? Does it have ten toes and ten fingers? Is it pink and sweet or does it look like an extra from "Alien?" We writers are baring our souls, our deepest thoughts, and our feelings lay open like a cavernous wound. We can't hide anymore. They know us inside and out. Now they see our baby, and they get to pick it to pieces, bit by bit, until the only thing left is a fuzzy blanket.

Oh, hell, we know that and go right on writing, don't we? It's in our DNA. We can't help ourselves, we're masochists.

When I started this whole book-writing process, I had full intentions of finding an agent and/or a traditional publisher; they'd do all the work while I sat back and listened to "Ca-ching, Ca-ching." However my journey to that end has been long and stress-filled and I ended up doing just the opposite...I'd kept a daily journal while living in Thailand in the 90s. When I returned to the States, I copied my journal onto a floppy and had it printed, spiral-bound, and mailed it out to friends and family so they could read about all my trials and tribs while abroad. One of the friends who read it insisted that I make a book out of it.

"You know," she said, "like the book 'A Year in Provence.'" I immediately ran out and bought the book and was amazed at the problems that the author had endured in a short year. I just knew that if his book sold, then mine would also, however, life got in the way of living and I put it aside.

I joined some creative writing classes a few years later, and with encouragement from my peers I began the long road of putting the journal into book form. In 2003, when I finally thought I'd finished it, I entered it into the Southern California Writers Conference in San Diego. While there, I read chapters from my story in the Read and Critique groups and the attendees laughed in all the right places and even clapped, (I'd hoped it wasn’t because they were happy I'd finished). At the end of the conference I was notified that I'd won the Best Nonfiction award for my story and an agent asked for my manuscript. Wow! That just doesn’t happen unless they love it! I knew I was ready for the Pulitzer.

Then I began to panic. What if it isn't perfect? I had talked to a "book doctor" at the conference who advised me that my story "…needed some conflict. Who really cares about a housewife who's having a good time in Thailand? Give them a reason to turn the page." Okay, that's what I'll do. There certainly was plenty of conflict in my life in Thailand, but I'd left it out; it was painful to relive and I wanted it to be a humorous book. I emailed the agent and told her I wasn't ready. Take your time, she’d said. It's not time sensitive.

So began the journey of "weaving" the conflict into my story. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. It was three years before I felt it was good enough to be a real book. But, those three years were not only spent rewriting. I took online writing classes and signed up at the local college for creative writing classes, I attended a critique group every week, putting my chapters up to their scrutiny as they tore it apart and helped put it back together. The rest of the time I was editing my life away. But as Stephen King says in his book On Writing: edit, edit and edit. And when you think it's perfect, edit some more. My husband had a name for my constant editing: "Paralysis by analysis."

When I felt I had everything in place, I looked for professional editing. I first paid the book doctor $500 to tell me that it needed help. He didn't give me any, just told me it needed it. I found a line-editor in Canada, who did a great job, and then I hired a freelance editor; total for both $600; quite inexpensive in today's editing market.

During those three years, I also did a lot of reading on the publishing world; agents, print-on-demand (PODs) and off-set printing companies. I attended conferences specifically on "How to get published." The more I heard and read, the more I thought: From all the conferences I'd attended, the agent panels were the most disillusioning. I learned that agents don't want you if you've not been published, and publishers don't want you if you've not been published, or don't have an agent, who doesn't want you either. Who needs 'em?

Publishers don't want you if you don't have a "platform!" A what? To my dismay I learned that I needed to have my own buying public. There was no publisher that was going to run out and sell my book for me, pay for my cross-country book signings and hotel rooms, unless of course I was a King or a Grisham or a Joyce Carol Oates. Then of course, there's the eighteen month wait for the book to appear on the shelves after the publisher accepts it (if the publisher doesn't decide to pull the plug at the last minute), and don't forget the two years that it takes the agent to shop around for a publisher who might decide to pull the plug at the last minute. Who has that long? I don't even buy green bananas anymore.

Wow! I remember my table mates and I frowning as we listened to the dire answers of this panel of agents and publishers. So how do we get published? Well, we have two options so it seemed: 1) have an agent living next door who loves your home cooked brownies or has a crush on your husband, or 2) know a publisher whose kid mows your lawn or has a crush on you. Not living in New York was going to be a definite drawback. Should I move? Okay, how about a POD? I was fortunate to have a friend who is a small press publisher of railroad books. He offered to put my manuscript into a Quark Express PDF file (which is the format printers prefer). He did an incredible job putting it together for me. He felt that if I had the print setup taken care of, I could approach a POD and save some money.

I signed up for the POD classes at the conferences I attended, where they explained everything I needed to know about their business ─ except how they kept most of the author's money while they got big and rich and the author got $3.09 per book. Okay, well, $3.09 a book is not that bad. Maybe I could make it. But, wait, I had to pay them to print my book, and then pay them to buy my book back from them; too many "thems" going on here. Something didn't compute. Maybe I should chuck the book and go into the POD business.

Well, I succumbed. I bought a book called The Fine Print of Self Publishing by Mark Levine, an attorney, then sat down to do some homework. After going over all the PODs he listed with a fine-tooth calculator, I realized that I could pay as much as $30,000 to one such POD group, but hey, my books would be free. How generous of them. Or, I could choose a POD group charging as low as $299, but I'd still have to buy my own books back at about $8.00 each.

I finally settled on a firm I'll call "Dewey Cheatem & Howe" (name changed to protect the guilty), and thought I'd finally get on with this damn book printing. They sent me a sample of their work that was done beautifully. I signed on the dotted line, waited three more weeks and then my author's copy was delivered. And there it sat. On my desk. Opened to the first page, which I couldn't read. I started bawling. Where is my baby? The font was so garbled that it was illegible. There was a space after every capital letter and the other letters were so piled on each other you couldn't make out the words.

When I'd used all the Kleenex in my desk drawer, I called them. Of course, no one was on the other end, save for the automated voice of their mailboxes. But at least I got rid of my postpartum anger. I cried and said very imperiously, "HOLD THE PRESSES! I will not accept this book. I will call Visa (of course they already had my money) and stop payment and …" I felt like an inner tube impaled on a sharp rock. Then I called my friend, the publisher. "Of course you can do this on your own. You have the file, just find a good printing company."

I inquired around and found out that I could get my book printed overseas at half the cost of stateside. I began to get phone numbers and surfed websites. There were some good deals to be made overseas; however, the problem was I needed a broker. So after the broker took his cut, and the shipping charges were added, a stateside printer looked better. Plus, the thought of having a problem and not being able to connect at once with your printer was worrisome.

I searched the Internet and found many websites where you could input the details of your book, number of pages, size of book, print run, etc., and within a week I got a bid from ten printing companies. After picking one printer (not the cheapest), I felt we had a fit. I spoke to the owner, who offered to throw in a hundred free books, which might have had something to do with my decision. He checked out my website while we were speaking, loved the site and the look of my book and of course, he had me. He also offered storage and order fulfillment. Now, all I had to do was put our house on the market and clear out our 401K.

I know what you're thinking. Sure, maybe she has it, but not everyone can come up with that much money. Yes, you can if you want to. We took an equity line on our home and as the money comes rolling in, I'll be making payments on the equity line. We authors must be optimists. Really! If you don't believe in your book, who will?

I ran off my own bookmarks and saved a few hundred dollars. I used the cover of the book, wrote a short synopsis on the back, and had 500 printed. I have handed out those bookmarks on airplanes and in airports; Seattle, Palm Desert, San Diego, Portugal, New York, Australia, New England… well maybe not personally, but I've given them to people who live in those places and they were happy to have them and said they'd pass them on. I've handed them out in restaurants to women sitting around me; two of them bought my book right on the spot. My friends call me "A self-promoting slut."

I have to leave you now, as that's where I am in this wonderful world of the written word, where the writing was easy… now comes the hard part ─ marketing!

at in now: https://goo.gl/U13czS

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