Concept to Contract

“Why should I go through the trouble to pitch my book to traditional publishers when it is so easy and inexpensive to self-publish?”

I get asked this question all the time, and I don’t know how to answer it, because there is so much misinformation surrounding the issue. First of all, even the mildest criticism leveled at self-publishing is freely dismissed by the comment, “You are just biased, because you work for a traditional publisher.” Oddly enough, such a statement usually comes from a decidedly biased group: those who provide self-publishing services.

A second source of confusion is the sales pitch from self-publishers. You may have heard that self-publishing is an easy way to bypass the gauntlet of traditional publishing and jump to the top of the sales charts. There isn’t any easy way to do anything in the publishing world—at least not anything worth doing. Unless you are willing to work at least as hard (and probably harder) at self-publishing as you would landing a traditional publishing contract, I predict that you will be disappointed. There are certainly situations in which an author has good reasons to self-publish, but they are not the reasons usually given by self-publishers.

A third source of confusion comes from the vague meaning of the term “self-publish.” When someone tells me they are going to self-publish their book, I really wonder what they mean. Why? Because self-publishing can take various forms:

1. True SELF-publishing: you do it all yourself—you write the book, then you edit it, or pay someone to edit it, or you decide that you are such a great writer you don’t need editing (I am not joking; some authors actually believe that). Then you typeset the book, or pay someone to do so; you design the cover or pay someone to do so; you market it, etc.

2. Work with a self-publishing company. One company will do all the work, and you simply pay for the services. And you only pay for the services you think are needed (and since professional editing is one of the highest costs, it really begins to look optional). If you decide that your book needs to be edited, a self-publisher is committed to pleasing you, the client—not the reader. A self-publishing company makes their money whether the book sells or not, so they have little motivation to make a book that will compete in the marketplace.

3. Work with an online self-publisher, like Lulu. They do nothing more than a cheap, down-and-dirty typeset, and then put your book on the web—virtually no editing or proofreading. Virtually no marketing, either.

4. Subsidy publishing: The publishing company invests some money in the project, and you invest some too. Do they invest as much money and effort as you do? Depends on the company, but probably not. In the case of subsidy publishers, however, we can at least expect the publisher to have some concern for how marketable the book is.

To self-publish or to go with a “traditional” publisher—when you have that decision to make, you need to consider the publisher’s motivation, and your own motivation as well. If you believe the hype, you’d think that everybody is self-publishing. But the truth is, the vast majority of the better-selling authors are using traditional publishers. They know they are good writers, but they can’t do everything. They know they need help to make their book the best it can be.

Let me introduce you to Julie-Allyson Ieron, my good friend and a gifted author and editor. She’s our guest blogger today, to share about that mysterious promotional element known as “buzz.” — Dave F.

There’s a lot of buzz in advertizing about the power of a brand. It’s obvious that people buy a product like Crest White Strips® because they like Crest toothpaste—they trust the brand. But what about our writing? Can people trust our brand?

The big picture is that we wear God’s label—He’s our Crest. People judge His brand by what’s in us. So, I want to be sure I don’t sour His brand reputation by what pours out of my package (Luke 6:45).

In His creative genius, God put inside each of us the makings of personal brands. The ingredients are there: gifts, talents, interests and training; open doors of opportunity; and a healthy helping of conflict to blend the ingredients just so. Sometimes, though, we’re so scattered in trying to find our way that we ignore how those ingredients combine to create our personal brands.

Recently, I heard a seminar speaker ask, “What do people come to you for? What do they know you can do?” As I worked toward answering, I realized I have two related brands: First, I’m a journalist with a passion to tell the story of how a relationship with God and His Word have a practical impact on real life. Funny, if you examine my bylines, they all seem to line up with that brand identity. The other part of my personal brand is coaching: I’m passionate about equipping others to be true to their brands. I do that as a writing mentor and special-event speaker.

Now … it’s your turn! Have you thought about your brand? what God wired you to do? what your label looks like? Once you learn to recognize them, your brand ingredients can play starring roles as you establish a cohesive market presence to cause a buzz.

I’ve always been consistent with logo and letterhead. But branding to create buzz is more about content than graphics. That content needs to be consistent across our web presence, Facebook fan page, YouTube videos … you get the idea. If you can answer the branding questions for yourself, you’ll be primed to create a buzz about your writing in all the right places.

Julie blogs for Christian living writers and readers at http://writejoyfully.blogspot.com. She also is author of more than 30 books including the upcoming September 2012 release: The GOD Interviews (Leafwood Publishing), and the Bible research software package: The Julie-Allyson Ieron Bible Reference Collection, powered by WORDsearch 9.0. Her website is: www.joymediaservices.com.

I remember years ago when I was editing a manuscript, I ran into a truly obscure, incoherent paragraph that seemed to go on and on. After I was completely lost in the verbiage, I just had to laugh, because the author concluded his tangled prose with this sentence: “Well, you know what I mean.”

I guess I should have been flattered that the author gave me more credit than I deserved.

The fact remains, however, that the reader far too often does not know what you mean. We run along in our writing, holding the reader by the hand, and then let go of the reader so we can take off on a rhetorical stampede. Then we wonder why the reader is lost.

How do we wander into the land of ambiguity? Well, the  variety of ways that our writing can confuse is legion, but let me suggest a few:

1. Failure to identify the subject. It is common to talk about a concept or a thing in one paragraph or sentence, and then refer to it in the next paragraph or sentence as “this,” “that” or “it.” Referring to the subject with a pronoun is not a problem, if it is clear just what you mean by “this,” “that” or “it.” It often happens, however, that the previous paragraph or sentence contains more than one subject, or a subject and object. Then when you write, “This is the crucial point,” we are left to wonder which “this” you mean!

2. Confusing comparisons. Can we all just agree to ban “not unlike” and other such head-scratching constructions? I think “not unlike” should be considered a double negative—as incorrect, and as confusing, as “don’t have no.” These constructions make me think of Dr. Doolittle’s Pushme-Pullu: you can never figure out which way it’s going!

3. Logical leaps and careless assumptions. If I tell you it’s late spring, so I have red stains on my shirt, aren’t you puzzled? If I then tell you that I love raspberries, that there is a raspberry patch in my backyard, and I’m a messy eater, you probably have figured out where the red stains came from, but what does that have to do with late spring? Well, of course, raspberries ripen in the late spring!  Now we’re on the same page. But it sure would have been easier if I had told you the facts in logical order, instead of leaping all over the place. Not only that, but it appears that I assumed you knew that raspberries ripen in late spring. Leaping ahead of the reader and assuming the reader knows facts that the author knows is a deadly combination.

Why do we do these and other crazy errors that veer us off the true path of clarity and into the dark forest of ambiguity? The short answer is, we do them blindly. Once we forget to walk in the shoes of the reader, we can no longer see our own writing clearly. Let’s all work hard to be sensitive to our readers, and when we’re tempted to say, “Well, you know what I mean,” we’ll be able to hear them reply, “Oh, no I don’t!”

It happens to all of us: the well seems to go dry, the muse is no longer amusing, however you want to describe it, but you’ve got writer’s block. Tired of staring at a blank screen? Get ready to jump-start your creative engines with these exercises. Unconditional money-back guarantee! (If they don’t work, I owe you a nickle.)

1. Write It Wrong

You want your story or article to be absolutely perfect — the very first time. No wonder you’re stuck! So do the very opposite. What is the biggest thing you are afraid of doing wrong? Then do it, and you won’t be afraid of it anymore. Here’s what I mean: Are you afraid of writing bad dialogue? Then write some bad dialogue — and as long as you’re doing it, make it really bad! Are you afraid of being too wordy? Then try writing something that is as wordy as possible. Get the bad stuff out of your system. (You say you want to write in the worst way? Well, here’s your chance!) You will be surprised to discover that deliberately making the mistakes you want to avoid actually teaches you to avoid them in the future.

2. Five Ways

I am indebted to Sherwood Wirt, editor emeritus of Decision Magazine, for this one. Write a short essay or descriptive piece of about 800–1,200 words. (Whoops, I forgot — you’ve got writer’s block, don’t you? OK, then take something of that length that you’ve written in the past, back before the creative juices dried up.) Find the portion that is the logical beginning of the piece — usually the first few paragraphs. Rewrite it five different ways. It’s crazy, I know, but humor me. Wow, you thought you had writer’s block before! At about the third rewrite, you’re going to think it’s impossible. But keep going. Once you’ve done that, and you feel like your head is about to burst into flames, find the portion that is the logical conclusion — usually the last few paragraphs. You know what’s next, don’t you? That’s right — rewrite the ending five different ways, as well. When you are all done, compare your new beginnings and endings. You might like some of them better than the original! But the real reason to do this is to get it through your thick skull that there is more than one way to write something.

3. “Throwaway” Writing

Write something you never expect to publish. Why? Because sometimes you need to release yourself from the tyranny of “publish or perish.” If you write fiction, create a scene with a new character (who will never appear in your final story) or decide to send your protagonist on vacation in Acapulco, just to see what happens. Maybe you could tell about an incident that happened to your villain when he or she was five years old. If you write nonfiction, create an illustration or anecdote about the topic you are writing — the kookier the better. (For instance, if the love of God was a child’s toy, what kind of toy would it be?) Or, you might write a section or even an entire chapter that goes off on a tangent from the main theme. Go into great depth about that rabbit trail of an idea. Why do “throwaway” writing? Because you’ll learn something from it, and you’ll also break up the writing dam. Take this Scripture as a promise that you are not just wasting your time: “In all labor there is profit” (Proverbs 14:23).

4. Pray

How often we forget to do this! But it’s essential to the writing process — and so simple, a child can do it. (And for the super-spiritual among us, yes I know, I should have made this #1. But by putting it last, I surprised you, didn’t I?)  Ask God to show you what to write, how to write, when to write. Most importantly, ask God to remind you why you should write.

I quoted a poem several weeks ago, which I said was by Ogden Nash.  But I stand corrected! The poem, entitled “Antigonish” was written in 1899 by Hughes Mearns. Allow me to quote the entire poem:

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away…

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door… (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away.

You gotta have passion AND knowledge!

Proverbs warns against “zeal without knowledge” (19:2), and that really applies when it comes to writing a book.

What is it that you can write a book about? I’ve heard speakers at writers’ conferences say, “Write what you are passionate about,” and while that is true, it can’t be the full story. I am passionate about traffic jams (just ask my wife), but I couldn’t write a book about them. No, it has to be something you care about, but also that you can discuss at length, with fresh ideas and a comprehensive outlook.

Are you passionate about a subject, but you lack the comprehensive knowledge? That’s not insurmountable, if you are willing to do the research and deep thinking necessary to gain that comprehensive outlook. (And if you are not willing, you must not really be that passionate about it, after all.)

“Comprehensive” means you have looked at all aspects of the issues and you see how it relates even to seemingly irrelevant issues. You have opinions and observations and understandings about the topic that you are not hearing others expressing. If that describes your handle on a subject, then you can write a book about it.

Are you an “expert” on the topic? Don’t let that term scare you. You may not be an expert, but you are farther along than most. Some authors suggest that  they will learn about the topic along with their readers. But if that were really true, what would the reader need you for? What do you contribute to the discussion that only you can offer?

One you get some answers to questions like these, you will be a long way toward identifying the theme of your book, the approach you intend to take, and the unique position it can hold in the market.

Writing a chapter consists of building a pyramid—and I assure you, it is much less grueling than the pyramid-building by the Israelites in Egypt!

You’ll have to defy gravity in doing this, however. You build from the top down. Start with the tip of the pyramid—in other words, have a sharp, clear point. This is the thesis of the chapter. Just as the entire book has a thesis, so must the chapter. Can you state, in as few words as possible, what the chapter is about?

The lead paragraph is the next level. It is the opening words that support the tip, the thesis. Many authors begin with a terse, succinct statement of the thesis (much as I did in this blog entry). This is a perfectly fine way to get the ball rolling with the chapter, but it is certainly not the only way, and it often needs help. You notice I referred to the Israelites building pyramids in Egypt to get the metaphor of a pyramid anchored in your mind. That’s what this opening paragraph has to do.

One of the best ways to anchor the thesis in the reader’s mind is through the use of an anecdote or illustration, often called a “fiction” lead. You have to choose the story or metaphor carefully, so that it solidly supports the thesis, or the tip of your pyramid falls off, and your chapter is “pointless.”

But if you can get the right illustration or anecdote, it carries the whole chapter. Most of the chapters of my book on Sunday school teaching, Teaching with All Your Heart, begin with a fictional vignette, containing recurring characters—three Sunday school teachers who are wrestling on a week-to-week basis with the problems I address in my book. I made sure that each vignette specifically addresses the issue discussed in the corresponding chapter.

I have referred to this opening as a paragraph, but of course it can be multiple paragraphs, especially if you have a detailed story. One warning, however: don’t let an opening illustration exceed more than two pages or so. By the third page, the reader begins to ask, “What’s the point here?” If you go on and on telling about Sammy and his little red wagon, the reader begins to wonder what it has to do with faith, or temptation, or evangelism, or whatever the topic of the chapter is. This opening supports the tip, but it is still only a small part of the pyramid.

The bulk of the pyramid is the body of the chapter, built by three types of “bricks”: narration (telling a story, which means more anecdotal illustration), description (helping the reader get a picture in his or her mind about the point you are trying to make, whether through realistic description, similes or metaphors), and exposition (stating the facts, providing information in a straightforward way).

Many authors lean toward one of these three kinds of writing, and that’s fine if it is not to the exclusion of the other two. And some chapters demand a higher emphasis on one kind of writing over the other two. The best chapters, however, usually have a good mix of all three types.

Just as the full chapter is based on a thesis, so there are smaller, underlying points in the body of the chapter that you build upon with narration, description and exposition. In other words, your chapter’s thesis will be broken down into Point #1, Point #2, Point #3, etc., each of which is made through the three kinds of writing.

Finally comes the base of the pyramid, in which your wrap up the chapter in a way that gives the impression you desire the reader to have. Often this is done by alluding back to the original opening of the chapter. It can also be helpful to end with a statement which connects the thesis of that chapter with the thesis of the next chapter—enticing the reader to turn the page and continue reading.

So there you have it—a set of do-it-yourself assembly instructions for creating a chapter. As with anything, there are variations on this general structure, but this gives you a good basic blueprint for chapter-building, brick by brick.

If you looked over my shoulder as I did my editing, you would see me wrestle with sentences like this: “Of course, to bear the cross He has given us is no picnic; nor are the times when he tests our level of commitment.”

The awkwardness of the sentence is caused by the slang term “no picnic,” which doesn’t work well when it is alluded to in the second half of the sentence (“nor are the times a picnic”???).  And “the times when” is a throwaway phrase that further confuses the issue by pluralizing the second part of the sentence. Maybe it should just be “Of course, to bear the cross He has given us is no picnic, nor is it enjoyable when he tests our level of commitment.” (Notice that I changed the semicolon to a comma, which is probably more appropriate.)

Exciting stuff, huh? OK, maybe not. But I never promised you high-class entertainment. And if you looked over my shoulder while I was editing, I might get a little annoyed. But not nearly as annoyed as your reader gets when you overload your writing with verbal monstrosities.

It’s these little awkwardnesses (just coined a word there, I think) which make the difference between easy reading and hard reading. While even one awkward sentence is one too many, it can often be forgiven by a reader, even if it results in a loss of comprehension. But get a half-dozen rhetorical glitches in a chapter, or worse yet, one in every three or four sentences, and soon your audience stops reading. Get two or three of these confusing phrasings in a row, and you can try the patience of Job.

You can catch a lot of these zingers by reading each sentence of your manuscript aloud, preferably after you’ve ignored the material for a few days. The more work you do on your manuscript, the less work the reader has to do—and that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

By the way, try your hand at editing: how would you rephrase that sentence?

A friend of mine recently reminded me of a great little tool for writers: the lowly list.

After a discussion on what the Holy Spirit does for us, he decided to go through the Scriptures and itemize some of the ministries that the Holy Spirit has in our lives. Then he sent the list to all the guys in our men’s group, where the discussion originated. The result was a brief but edifying collection of spiritual truth. Thanks, Steve!

There are several ways a list can be used by an author. To explain that, let me give you a — well, a list:

1. Brainstorming: Most writers rebel against structure, at least at the brainstorming stage, because they feel it stifles creativity. But you’ll be amazed how the simple structure of a list can focus your thinking and pull out aspects of a concept that are hidden deep within the recesses of your mind. Compiling a list of different facets of an idea is often a great start to a brainstorming session.
2. Outlining: A list can often make a great general outline for a book. My book, Concept to Contract, introduces eight procedures (a list!) in the process of writing a book, and each succeeding chapter expands on one of the eight items.
3. Sidebars: A list can be a great way to present related information that doesn’t seem to fit easily into the body of the main text. I once wrote an article on interviewing for a Christian writers’ magazine which included a sidebar listing various ways to us interview material.
4. Collating biblical truth: Listing various verses on a particular topic, such as my friend Steve did, often helps you find patterns in Scripture you may have never seen before.
5. As a chapter ending: Discussion questions (which are lists of a sort) is a typical way to conclude a chapter, but a chapter ending is also a great place to list some wrap-up ideas. Concept to Contract lists three writing tips at the end of each chapter.
6. As an alternative to an anecdote or illustration: Stuart Briscoe, in his book Holiness without the Halo, presents a list of three goals to life: being holy, being happy, being healthy. He then admits that his attitude as a young man was to place “being holy” at the bottom of that list. What a great way to introduce the topic! He also uses stories, metaphors and analogies in his book, but he recognizes that sometimes the simplest way to make a point is to itemize it.
7. Humor: My friend Jim Watkins has copied Dave Letterman’s “Top Ten List” to create some bust-a-gut humor—with a spiritual twist, of course. Check it out on jameswatkins.com. But there are all sorts of ways to bring out the humor of a situation through itemizing: list all the things you found in a long-forgotten drawer; at a football game, make a list of the different kinds of fans. If you’re into humor, you’ve probably already thought of a few other possibilities—so what’s stopping you?
8. To-do list: I find when revising a chapter or article that it often helps to list the weak spots I need to work on, or the points I want to add. If I don’t do that, I frequently forget to make all the revisions I planned.
9. Evaluating your work: When finalizing a manuscript in preparation to submitting it to a publisher, it helps a lot to follow a checklist so you don’t miss any pesky details. Concept to Contract has just such a checklist in the appendix.

There are probably a lot more ways to use a list. Suffice it to say that lists are really helpful for a writer.

When constructing a sentence, one of the most common mistakes a writer can make is losing track of who is doing what. Who is the “actor” — the person doing the action — in the sentence? Don’t keep the reader in the dark, because it’s very hard to read in the dark.

Take the following sentence, for example (typical of the types of errors I encounter in editing): “After trapping him in an alley, the robber surrendered to the police.”

What’s wrong here?

In the first part of the sentence, the person or persons doing the action — trapping — is not identified. (All we know is, it can’t be the person getting trapped, or it would say, “After trapping himself in an alley . . .”) There’s nothing wrong with that; we don’t have any trouble with an unidentified actor in the first part of the sentence, because we figure we’ll find out who it is in the second part.

But in the second part of the sentence, the person or persons doing the action apparently changes; the only person we know did not do the action in the first part of the sentence — the robber — is now the actor in the second part of the sentence! If the author keeps switching the person doing the action, no wonder we’re confused. Was it the police who trapped him in the alley? Or maybe Spiderman trapped in some webbing. Who knows?

Well, the author knows. But the reader doesn’t, and that’s the whole point.

You solve this in one of two ways. You identify the actor:

“After the police trapped him in an alley, the robber surrendered to them.”

Or, avoid changing the actor in mid-stream:

“After trapping him in an alley, the police arrested the robber.”

Interestingly, if you simply must switch the actor in the second half o f the sentence, you can distinguish the two actors without identifying them, because, in this sentence, the robber is singular, but the police is plural. So the sentence could have read,

“After they [plural] trapped him [singular] in an alley, the robber surrendered to the police.”

It’s kind of cheating, but it works; the reader doesn’t get confused as to who is doing what. You can cheat like this using gender as well:

“After she trapped him in the alley, Ralph the Robber surrendered to Patricia the Policewoman.”

But as I say, it’s really cheating, and it’s better to identify the actor in the first place, or avoid switching the actor in mid-stream. Take your choice.