Bad Guys Have More Fun: How to Write Realistic Antagonists, From John Cusick's NJ SCBWI Workshop

Bad guys have more fun, says literary agent John Cusick, because they bring more diverse pathways to a story; often there's only one 'right way,' but a myriad of 'wrong ways,' he says. Maybe that's why John, who prefers the titles Mr. C., Professor C, and 'the Doctor,' once asked his dad for a big fur coat so he could dress as Batman's villain Penguin for Halloween.

"There are many ways to be wrong," he says.

The word villain comes from the French word villein, for 'farm hands,' from back when the elite ruling class identified all unseemly behavior--stealing, rape, murder, etc--with the lower class. Over time, of course, the word's unpleasant connotations became its definition, and the association with manual labor faded away, John explained.

Now-a-days, you could classify "villains" into bad guys and antagonists with a Venn diagram. Your 'bad guy' goes in the left circle; he's anyone in the story who does bad, or has bad behavior. The right circle holds the literary term antagonist, who opposes the protagonist or hero.

In class, John used the diagram to demonstrate that often there's overlap between 'bad guys' and antagonists, but they aren't always the same person. Dark Lords fall right in the middle. When Tom Hanks plays a cop against Leo DiCaprio's a thief protagonist in Catch Me If You Can, Tom falls only in the right circle: he's a good guy, but he's the antagonist opposing the protag. Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Carribean generally demonstrates unsavory, bad-guy characteristics--lying, cheating, misusing women--but he's not the antagonist.

John defined the protagonist as the character who moves the plot forward--which would make Darth Vader/Anakin the surprising protagonist of Star Wars. His plots and actions change the galaxy; everyone else just tries to keep him at bay. Voldemort, Harry Potter's antagonist, is the only guy with any initiative in the Harry Potter series, says John. Harry's the focal character, but not the character moving the plot.

John introduced a few other character definitions that can help authors organize their character development. Anti-Heros--like may of Johnny Depp's dark characters--do wrong, but either work with the hero or serve as the primary movers towards good against a greater bad. Dramatic foils serve to highlight aspects of the protagonist. In Spiderman 3, Venom serves as an antagonist dramatic foil to Spiderman, because he does not choose to overcome the symbiont suit, demonstrating Spiderman's strength of character in his own victory over the suit. In Crime and Punishment, each of the prostitute, the priest, and the protag's best friend highlight a different perspective on killing, and the protag must watch and navigate their different rights and wrongs. These other characters--not all antagonists--are his dramatic foils.

While a villain may recognize himself as a villain--as does Heath Ledger's portrayal of the Joker, who mocks an evil laugh in the gangster meeting in Batman--you want to avoid evil for evil's sake, says John. He quotes, "All truly wicked things start from innocence." In other words, every villain needs an equally strong motivation as your protagonist's motivation.

We brainstormed a list of motivations in class:

Evil for power's sake/greed--like literary agents, says John

Evil for revenge's sake--Captain Hook

Evil for envy/jealousy

Evil for pride

Evil for the sake of advancing an agenda/making the world a better place

Evil for lust's sake

Evil for love's sake

Evil for the sake of being loved

John explained that readers can relate to more powerful motivations. Not many readers have impulses for power or lust for conquering the world, but perhaps they've wanted to be loved. He warned writers not to stop at a scarring origin story as a simple explanation for a villain's evil: "The scarred childhood thing is the foundation of your bad guy house. But it's the successive decisions the character makes that make him a bad guy and get him to be more complex."

John says writers should give the villain a motivation that we agree with--"it's the execution we have a problem with." A husband's love for a wife--a good thing--in Hansel and Gretel, causes him to cross ethical boundaries. A father's love for his children--again, a good thing--might cause him to obsess over their safety until he locks them in a tower forever. In science fiction, curiosity often becomes a villain motivation, as in Jurassic Park. The villain should be sympathetic, and become a villain because they cannot modulate their passion for a good thing to an acceptable limit.

How can we arouse some sympathy?

The reality is that most human beings are sympathetic in some way, so it makes a bad guy more real when you make him more sympathetic. The more human a scary thing is, the scarier it is, says John, because it is frightening and sad. (On the other side of the fear spectrum, of course, we find terrors so dark and alien that we fear them because of the unknown)

Sometimes we arouse sympathy with something as small as a desire to be loved. All you need to do is hint at that a villain wants a hug, and that character gains like six leagues of depth, says John. Insecurity and fear work wonderfully also because we can relate to them. We can't all relate to the desire for power, but when the Silence fights Dr. Who because of fear of his powers, we begin to understand. Childishness and a sense of humor also add sympathy to a bad guy character. An author may choose to work positive details for the villain anywhere in the story. Front-loading might strengthen the villain's appeal, but later revelation of good details might bring powerful surprises.

And once you know all those, says John, you should forget them. They are tropes--clichés. He's seen them 1.2 billion times before, and asks that you don't use them, or use them consciously and twist them.

Here are clichés he hates:

1. Wearing black

2. Scars

3. Well-dressed

4. Foreign accents

5. Smoking

6. Small pets

You're in slightly safer ground with these because of the self-awareness in some bigger sci fi etc.

But do not do this, no joking:

7. cheerleaders/jocks/blondes/hot girls who are just evil/unmotivated bully

Those are just too easy, he says.

In terms of villains over a series, John explained how in the first book of a trilogy, the protagonist will defeat the first villain, but the second book will reveal the bigger, badder, ACTUAL villain BEHIND Villain 1. That gives the author an opportunity to really explore the first villain, and in book three, Villain 1 and the hero can team up because Big Boss just has to go. Star Wars does this well, with Darth Vader in A New Hope, the revelation of Palpatine in The Empire Strikes Back, and Darth Vader's betrayal of Palpatine in Return of the Jedi. However, John sees series becoming less popular market-wise right now. Nevertheless, good trilogies exist, stories with endings that aren't cliff hangers, but "guitar solos to take us out into the next song."

All of these tropes, strategies, and definitions should work for the author like a pose-able doll, says John. The doll means nothing special--just mass-produced plastic--until the author takes it and tilts the head a little. Pose your tropes in unique ways. Write your own story. And use bad guys effectively.

Because, after all, they are more fun that way.

Author Interview with T.Z. Wallace, and I am Batman's Best Friend

Two great things happened to me today: one, I had an incredibly realistic dream where I took down the Joker, and two, I got this author interview back from Ms. T.Z. Wallace. You can now call me Robin, or Nightwing if you wish, and then to quench your jealousy about my apprenticeship to Batman, you can read about Ms. Wallace. One of my favorite things about trying to become "a real writer" has been meeting all the other "real writers" out there who have glorious stories of their own to tell--that's one of my favorite things about writing conferences, actually--and Ms. Wallace is no exception! Ms. Wallace put an incredibly popular first 250 words up on Miss Snark's First Victim just a few months ago--you should check out her excerpt here, on her blog. I'm really looking forward to see what she does in the next few years. But here she is, for herself:

Petre Pan: What is the most important sound in the world--if you had to sum up the entire world in one sound, what would that sound be?   

T.Z.: The sound of the word “mom.”  That sound encompasses childlike innocence and uncertainty and fear and hope and desperation and promise.  It is the sound that calls to me in the night and rouses me from the warmth and safety of my bed.  It is the sound that calls forth everything fearless and primal in me.

Petre Pan: What sound would describe your writing style?  

 T.Z.: The sound, “Ahh!”  I try to craft my stories so that the readers get to piece things together and have moments of discovery and excitement.  Things that may have initially seemed unimportant may have a larger meaning; I love the idea of readers scrutinizing words and phrases, places and things to try to determine whether they serve a greater purpose in the story.  I have read books like that…where I was “rewarded” for remembering a detail, some minutia, and I always felt like the author and I shared a secret.  I love that feeling and I want to give that to my readers.

Petre Pan: What word do you overuse when you write?   

T.Z.: Said.  A lot of my work is character and dialogue driven.  They are a chatty bunch.  For a while I tried to find various words to substitute, but it feels less authentic and was distracting. 

Petre Pan: What's the most challenging part of the writing process for you?   

T.Z.: Definitely finding TIME for writing.  Or, rather, finding time for what I want to be writing.  I write at my day job, and I write to pay the bills, and then there is the work of my heart…my novel and short stories.  Too often these things I most long to write are the very things that I neglect.  But I am getting paid to write these other things, so I can’t complain.  I am, however, hoping to rearrange things a bit so that I can free up more time for the stories I really want to tell.

Petre Pan: What's the hardest disappointment you've ever experienced in your writing/publishing journey? 

 T.Z: I am still relatively early in the journey, so I haven’t had any crushing experiences yet (oh, but give me time!).  I think that mostly I disappoint myself by not doing more. 

Petre Pan: What's the greatest achievement/happiest high you've reached on your writing journey?  

 T.Z.: I have a lot of little victories with my writing.  Like when I reread something that I wrote and I get goose-bumps and think, “Geez!  Did I write that?”  or when I surpass my word count for the day, or when I stumble upon a phrase or event or detail that wraps up some plot point perfectly.

Petre Pan: What do you do outside of writing? 

 T.Z.: I love to read (duh!), and I like to garden, and I taught myself to knit (I am pathetic really, and only know two stitches, but it makes me happy).  I also have a glaring of cats (apparently a bunch of cats can also be called a “clowder,” but that doesn’t sound arrogant enough for my felines, so I am sticking with a “glaring”).  Stray cats tend to find me and stick around.  I am the crazy cat lady you heard about as a child.  I also love to cook.  For me, October through February is “High Baking Season,” and I am never happier than having a rainy or snowy day where I can put something in the oven to bake, peck away at a story on the laptop, and pad around the warm house in my wool socks drinking hot tea. 

Petre Pan: What's the best writing advice you've received (that you remember)? 

 T.Z.: My grandma once told me “Don’t dally about, just put pen to paper and get on with it.”  I guess that is as straight forward as it gets, and it has served me well.  If I talk about it too much I get nothing done.  If I over-think it I get bogged down.  Best for me to just write and sort it out later.

Petre Pan: When did you start writing fiction, and why?

T.Z.: I have always written stories down and tucked them away.  I was a latch-key kid in elementary school, and I remember long summers (before cable and internet) when there were only three or four channels and they were all showing re-runs.  So I read.  But sometimes the characters didn’t do what I thought they should and I found it rather annoying.  Then I discovered that if I wrote the stories that I could control what happened.  (Or so I thought.  I have since learned that my characters tend to do as they wish and I just try to keep up with them and write it all down!)  But that is when I started writing.  I wrote a lot. 

  Petre Pan: What do you write? 

 T.Z.: I tend to gravitate toward mystery, dystopian, and horror.  I guess I am fascinated by the darker aspects of a story.  I have a bit of a…ahem…Southern Gothic family history, and it makes me smirk a bit when I try to write warm fuzzy stories--it all feels so contrived to me.  

So there you have it! Go check her out! Over here! There! Look!

Guest Blog! On World-Building in Fantasy

http://kathytemean.wordpress.com/2012/07/02/world-building-fantasy/

My, my, my! My writing´s on hiatus while I give out OTC medicines and learn my beloved guarani language in Paraguay, but igual no mas I attended a wonderful conference in June that left me with some great advice. Here´s a taste of what I learned from Christine Norris, published fantasy author (the rest is on her blog):

We´ve all read agent bios with that one super-vague line: “I´m looking for writers who transport me into other worlds,” or something to that effect. How, we ask, and what does that even mean? According to Christine Norris, we have to balance between Tolkein-esque info-dumping and naked mental terrains. The reader does not want 20 pages about the history of your Smurflings, and often authors invent much more than the story needs—“Please, for the love of Pete,” she says,“Don´t try to cram it all in.” On the other hand, rich details make the whole story, whether in a real or imaginary universe setting, more believable to the reader.

We can classify fiction worlds into five types, with six components. The first type involves high fantasy, or a whole new world, as in Lord of the Rings, or Star Wars. The second type adds on to the real world in which we live. Harry Potter is a good example of this. We can also predict the future, as in Hunger Games or 1984, or we can do the opposite: we can re-interpret the actual past events with alternative history, as in the Bartameus Trilogy, or recreate an entire historic period in a fantasy style, as with steam punk stories. With the last two options, says Christine, world-building is called research. With any world, we need to have some understanding of geography, history, economics, politics, religions and culture, and technological odds and ends. Christine provided us with a few questions to consider and a few hints and details to flesh out in each category. 

What kind of questions? Read the rest of the post here!  http://kathytemean.wordpress.com/2012/07/02/world-building-fantasy/

Late at night--and fiction research

Tonight, I am lying in bed just after working all day from 11 am to 10 pm, exercising, checking writing blogs, checking work certifications, reading depressing e-mails, and wondering what the bloodseas happened to my day.

And now...research. I'm not 100% good at it. I'm glad I went to New York, so I have a picture in my head of the streets where my protagonist finally tracks down that escaped murderer. I should have taken down street names, but I could argue (in my laziness) that they distract from the action of the story. I feel the same way about science research. For myself, I think the author should know the science behind the science fiction well enough that they COULD write an appendix about it, but I should not spend a hundred years telling us how the fiction works. "Geez Jen, why do I need to know how to build a neodymium mace?" Right.

That said--I should do my homework. Part of J.R.R. Tolkein's talent lies in the appendices: he had so much world-building he did not have to work into the story, but the story seems richer, realer, and more seamless because he KNEW more about the characters and the worlds. No holes. It's like when you go in to defend your thesis: you should know more than you put into the paper.

I've heard it's good to go sit in a location and muse for a while, for research, or to conduct interviews of people in certain situations. Personally, I research by pretending I'm as ignorant or knowledgable as the character. I stayed up late last night googling how to treat a bullet wound because one of my teenagers finds himself with a superhero unwilling to go the hospital after a bullet to the shoulder-blade. I did what he did. I looked up the problem, pretending I had nothing with which to fix it. I also talk to my characters during the day, so my dialogue often works when my stupid descriptions don't. I should probably sit in places and note details to practice descriptions.

How do you research?

Character Interviews: Jei Bereens

So I sit down to have lunch with one of my characters. You know, to get to know him better. I would never take him to coffee, but I bet he'd love sushi.

"I'm really glad you could make it," I say.

"Yeah, I..." He looks around the room. His hand has never gone far from his neodynium mace. "I'm still a little confused about being here, actually."

"Don't worry about it. Is it alright if I ask you questions while you eat?"

"Sure."

"What's your favorite thing on my plate?"

"On your plate?" he raises an eyebrow. I notice that he doesn't smirk, like Caleb would. He's controlled. "Hmm, I don't like mushrooms. I guess I say the sushi."

"You're a carnivore," I laugh. "Why no mushrooms? A bad experience?"

"No--Lem fed me some once when we got stranded somewhere on Luna, so I know I can eat them. I just don't like the taste."

I don't ask another question for a few minutes. I'm watching how he eats with one hand, and keeps the other by his mace. He doesn't seem stressed or nervous. His shoulders slump, relaxed, and his face is unlined. It looks like he just always eats with his hand on his weapon.

"What's the worst thing that ever happened to you?"

He lays down the fork and leans back, eyes glazing a bit, overwhelmed as he stares just over my head. I expected that question to throw him back like that. "Oh man, that's hard."

I wait. His eyes play over the people mulling through the buffet lines. Of course I brought him to the Teppanyaki. It's the best restaurant in my world.

"Hey, what's the best restaurant in your world?" I ask suddenly.

He laughs a little and rubs his hands across his forehead. "Yeah--I like that question better than the other one."

"You still have to answer the other one."

"Okay." He hasn't stiffened at all, but I could almost imagine him sweating a little. He rubs his hand on the back of his neck and lets a little laugh escape again. "Well, once Lem and I had to pretend to--"

"Quick interruption--would Lem have said 'Jei and I' or 'Jei and me' if she were telling this story?"

"She'd say 'Jei and me.'"

I note it down in my little green book. He's wrong, actually--when I interview her, she says 'Jei and I.' She only uses non-formal grammar when she's with him because she feels tougher and more equal that way. But his impression of her speech says a lot. For one, it says he thinks she's more different from himself than she really is. A little more childish.

"You done yet?" He raises that eyebrow. He doesn't tease with a grinning flair the way Caleb would. He's more subtle. But he's laughing at me inside, all the same.

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Lem and I attended a dinner for this wealthy civillian Growen sympathizer--we were on recon, of course--and bloodseas, that restaurant--stars, it was great." He shakes his head. "It floats over Guetala, and takes diners over Biouk lands and forests, and ends back up in space. Lem kept talking--saying how the rich snobs didn't know anything about Biouks, or something like that--but we had a great time anyway. She got someone to tailor her mom's red gown, and I wore this silvery thing."

"I wouldn't expect you to notice clothes," I smirk, tilting my head.

"It was the first time we'd ever dressed up. It felt cool to ask for whatever we wanted, and play along."

"Was she pretty?"

He shrugs. "I didn't ask. We were on a mission."

"And the food?"

"I actually don't remember it. Lem could tell you all about it, though."

I nod and laugh. Yes, I know she could--every detail and every taste.

"So, last question, Jei."

"Oh, the worst thing one. Yeah."

I suddenly realize that his answer depends on me. On where I've called him from--what time, which part of Jei's development. I also realize that to make him talk about any of it makes me a jerk. Because, you know, I created it. Before Bioumatta, he'd choose that childhood imprisonment. After Bioumatta, he'd choose the stay in Diebol's re-education center. After Neodymium, he'd choose losing that kiss.

"It's all for a reason, you know," I say suddenly, before he can give me an answer. "But I'm not gonna be a jerk and make you talk about it."

"Uh--it's okay, I--"

"No, it really isn't. It's fine."

He's not a hugger, but I get up, walk around the table, and hug him from the side. "It was good talking to you," I say. "See ya round."

Neodymium Betrayal--edited beginning.

Roz sighed.

He still saw them, in his mind's eye--several hundred pre-adults in thick yellow camouflage, huddled against each other in the dark, strapped to the humming metal floor by simple safety belts. He'd watched the littlest ones laughing, playing with the screens on their wristbands just before he sealed them into their transports; the oldest children sat in silence, probably trying to figure out where they would find themselves when the light came back. Roz knew they wondered if they would ever go back to the embattled fort they called home--he'd wondered the same thing at their age.

He'd gotten used to it.

The four transports bearing the children sailed across waving flaxen grass far below Roz's look-out hill, piercing like four giant black bullets through rolls of fog. Roz wanted to plop into the grass and collapse--the evacuation had taken all night--but he stayed on his feet, his fingers drumming on the short bamboo staff suspended from his belt. No sleep until the kids escape. I promised. Mist wisped about Roz like breakers against a rock; wind tousled his flaxen hair. His faded tan tunic flapped, tugging as if it had a life of its own and only his still form kept it from seeking out adventure. 

 

His tired mind played picture-games with his vision. A bright blue-eyed spectre in a black jumpsuit had tormented his dreams for two nights now. Diebol.

The torture-nightmares would stop if he just died. Monster.

Nice Guys Finish Last

Chicken Soup for the Soul was rejected 100 times before a publisher picked it up.

I got a rejection from my dream agent this past week, and to tell the truth, I felt okay about it. I'm working on a new project now that has a better chance of getting published. I haven't forgotten Roz and Lem and their plight, but they're a hard sell. Every time I think I'm done, there's more work. More sentences that need shortening. More helping verbs that need to bite the dust. So? This is writing. I believe in Roz and Lem. I believe in the boy who becomes a man when his best friend joins the enemy army--and I believe in his slow realization that she was right, after all. I believe in the power of a friendship with the invisible, and I believe in the girl who chooses failure because she's a hero. I believe their story can change a country obsessed with success, drowning in stereotypes of women, and hungry for a tale of redemption. We all have the idols that become our demons, and Roz and Lem have helped me with mine. I believe in them, and that is enough, for now. For the future? Revision.

I don't profess to know anything about the writing industry. For pete's sake, I can't even figure out how to unify my web presence between my real name, Petre Pan, my journalism work, and my desire to gain an audience for publication. (I've finally decided that I'll start building my fiction audience under my married name, Jen Finelli, and continue writing non-fiction under Jen Veldhuyzen, since I already have an audience there. The wedding's still a few months away, though.) I do know this, however: there's a 'nice guys' dynamic in publishing.

The nice guy--you know, not the sparkly bad boy, but the guy you can always depend on, the guy you've shouldered into that frigid 'friend zone.' Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. I know so many stories of authors who have now 'made it' because they did something helpful for another author--and the other author, when she made it big, introduced her 'nice guy' to that agent or publisher. Sometimes I feel like the nice guy, like I always critique more and get back less critiques, or at the writing conference I pay attention to everyone else's pitch, but for some reason everyone starts tuning out when I read mine. (Given, there's an element of 'having the goods' or not.) Yet they say that pays off in the end.

And what if it doesn't?

Then I suppose one has the honor of having helped put interesting books on the shelf, or at least of having increased another human being's experience of living. I should try to take more time to be 'the nice guy'--to help other authors out, give feedback when I can, and not just so that they'll critique my stuff, but out of real concern. I should be the nice gal.

Over and out?

I got into the contest over at Miss Snark's First Victim! Yay!

On Love Affairs with Agents--My Prince Will Come

A wise person, whose name has escaped me, once advised me and a thousand other readers that finding an agent works very much like dating. You have to come across as confident, and not needy, stalkerish, bribing, or desperate, and you have to have something interesting, eye-catching, and hot to offer. Like with relationships, there's usually a best-fit, one-true-love agent for you.

When I first started working with Bioumatta, I felt like I could work with whatever agent took me into her grand cloak out of the rain of rejection. I imagined her stooping down in the dark alley to lift my spirits, her silhouette strong against the streetlight--"Come, my child, come inside and live."

Okay, I didn't think anything quite that creepy. But I'm beginning to understand this "best fit" thing a lot better now that I'm not just getting form rejections. I'm starting to realize, "hey, this rejection is good, because this agent really wouldn't have fit with me." It's not Pollyanna trying to find the happy in a sad, and it's not the fox in Aesop's fables saying "oh, I didn't want those grapes anyway." It's realism.

Case in point--I had an agent tell me in no uncertain terms yesterday that he did not find my work at all interesting, and he thought the publisher currently reviewing the manuscript would toss it as well. Agent added, however, that if Publisher did accept the MS, Agent would be happy to negotiate the deal. A year ago, I would be slobbering at the almost. "This person would negotiate the deal if the publisher liked it! Wow! So wonderful! Fingers crossed!" This older and wiser Jen knows Agent will never make a good fit for me. If Publisher does find himself interested in my manuscript, I will not go to Agent, because although he's skilled at his job, he's not my True Love Agent. Why?

Firstly, I don't want my manuscript backed by someone who doesn't believe in it until it starts making money. I want someone who wants to fight with me to get it published, and until that special someone comes along, I am willing to wait. Secondly, we clearly have different personalities. I'm an encourager by nature, and I give and need specific criticism; Agent has a personality that takes the extra time out of his very busy schedule just to say, "I doubt Publisher will be interested in your work." That "keep-your-hopes-down" strategy probably works really well with some authors, but it's not for me. That same extra time Agent took to tell me I have no chance, True Love Agent could use to tell me why--"that publisher usually prefers this and this, so I think your book might not work for him." I'm not asking for an agent who says, "I'm sure it will work" when it won't. I hate sugarcoated rejections. I'm asking for an agent who doesn't waste her precious time telling me I'm doomed when she could just as quickly in that same space of time tell me why. This agent's style works for his clients, but it would not work for me, and that's okay, good, and wonderful. I'm a little sad that I haven't found the One, but I'm very glad I'm not throwing myself into the arms of the Wrong One.

My dream agent? Vickie Motter. She's new-ish, like me, but she has experience working at a good agency. I love her fun, metaphoric, slightly stream-of-consciousness writing style, so I know I would not begrudge her advice--which is important, since she's a heavily editorial agent. I hear third-hand that she's enthusiastic with her clients, and I like the strong but specific criticism she gives on her blog. She has a sarcastic but not depressing sense of humor, and she's interested in YA books that I think sound interesting. I've got a partial in to her right now, and I have to admit, I'm going to be disappointed if that one comes up a rejection. Disappointed, but not horrified or upset, because she has to feel it's a perfect fit, too. Using the dating metaphor, no wise person wants to drag an unwilling partner into a relationship, because "a griping spouse is worse than a constantly leaking roof," says Proverbs. If she's not sure about me, she'll make me miserable. And neither of us wants to deal with a metaphorical restraining order.

It is time

I do not really believe in writing blogs about writing until one has reached some point of writing success. I don't want to write about something I know nothing about.

But I know a little bit now. I've taken the beatings of writing workshops for the past two years, I have actually gotten partial and manuscript requests, and I'm a paid journalist, free-lancer, and ghost-blogger. That's pretty sweet.

I've heard two trends of thought on prospective authors blogging--one I heard from the esteemed Molly Jaffa at a writing conference, and the other I see reiterated again and again from various writing blogs online. The two ideas do not conflict so much as balance. Per Ms. Jaffa, it does not look good for authors to gripe and whine about the publishing industry, or give advice on things they really know nothing about. If an agent googles you and finds out you have angsty anti-agent anger issues, they want to steer clear. On the other hand, "they say" people need to be able to see you, and prospective agents and publishers like knowing you have a following. I got an e-mail just yesterday from author Mike Duran describing how he met his agent through an online blog--it appears the publishing world's all about networking. Good writing, of course, but also a fair sprinkle of luck and networking.

All that said, I had hoped to somehow make use of my following on The How Not To Blog when it comes to this publicity stuff, but I'm realizing more and more that my readership there revolves more around a transient interest in the sporadic topics than in a dedicated following. In other words, people come there to get the facts from me on their particular topic, not to stick around and read the next blog post. Hopefully some of those folks can transfer over into my fiction-writing-world, but I know the probability of that happening lies somewhere in the 1/8000 margin mark.

So here I am in the Brave New Internet, talking again to an audience of nil. Beginning at the beginning, for that is the very best place to start. Here, I will talk about fiction, and fictional things will happen.