4 Easy Steps to Take Charge of Your To-Be-Read Pile

Step 1: Throw out all the books I didn't write.

Problem solved.

In seriousness, though, readers have to-be-read piles. In what sense would we be readers if we didn't? And, if you're anything like me, your to-be-read pile is so large that you hide from it and read Harry Potter for the twentieth time rather than tackle the ever-mounting stack of literature threatening to topple down upon you.

Breathe. As much as I like Harry Potter... 

(and I do like it)...

we can't just go back to Hogwarts constantly. Or Westeros. Or Narnia, Panem, Cloral, and Wonderland. It just doesn't work that way. We need to grow and expand our minds, and the best way we as readers know to do that is to read. Read different things.

But fear not. It's not as hard as you think. It just takes a small amount of work on your part, and soon that to-be-read pile will slowly shrink down to something manageable.

Step 1 (The Actual Step 1): Don't stress about time. You probably have books that are a couple years old, and you just know that you need to read them, and you know that you should really read them before the half-dozen you just bought today, even though you really want to read your new books.

Breathe. Remember that. Just breathe. If you own a book, that means you own it. Plain and simple. You can read your personal books whenever and however you want. Reverse alphabetical order by the author's middle name? Absolutely fine. The order you buy books in doesn't have anything to do with the order you read them in. We do this for entertainment above anything else. So read what you think is going to entertain you today, not what's been on the shelf the longest.

Step 2: Library/borrowed books have a time limit. It really is something to remember. While I think Step 1 is more important, it's pretty vital to remember Step 2 as well. Books you borrow are like dear old friends who live across the country. You can only enjoy their company for a little while before they have to go back home. Still always read the book that claws for your attention the most, but if you have a library book or a book on loan from someone else versus a book that is wholly yours, at least consider whizzing through the borrowed book first.

Step 3: Remember whose to-be-read pile this is. It's not your neighbor's, or the Internet's, or mine or The New York Times' or Levar Burton's or anyone else's but your own. You don’t have to read anything you don't want to, no matter what anyone or anything might tell you. Tried Shakespeare? Good. Didn't like it? Good. Don't proceed to add 'The Complete Unabridged Works of William Shakespeare' to your pile. You won't get to it, and it's just going to add to your guilt. Focus on things you want to read.

Already have books that have been recommended, but just don't hold your interest? Purge them. Get them out of that pile. Sell them, donate them, keep them, use them to perform interpretive dance. Hell, send them my way, if you want to. I can always use more books. Just get them out of there. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks and read what you want and only what you want.

Step 4: Find time to read. This is the final step, and I'd say it's far and away the most important step. You have to find time to go through your pile. After all, you can't very well expect it to go down if you never touch it. So make time to get some reading done, realize how much time you actually have, and work with that. Don't get hard on yourself if it takes you a month or more to finish Les Miserables when you only have 10-15 minutes a day.

If you don't think you can make time to read, you're wrong. Audio books on the commute to work or in the shower. A book for bathroom breaks and lunch breaks and ankle breaks… wait. Back that one up. Don't break your ankle just to find more time to read. You have time. Heck, you just spent time reading this blog post, didn't you? And tomorrow, you'll have those five minutes extra to read your book.

Just do me a favor and read. It's good for us authors, and it's good for the world as a whole. After all: more art is a never a bad thing. But mostly, it's good for you. And that's what really counts.

Voss

A Brief Overview of Publishing Your Story

It was pointed out the other day that, when published authors have learned the business a little bit, they tend to use words that up and coming authors may or may not understand, and I don't think that's fair to them, but it's sort of a hard thing to teach all in one session, so I gave up on that. What I can do is impart a little bit of the publishing knowledge. Now, we're all writers here, correct? So we can all make a first, unpolished, perhaps completely illegible draft, right (I know I can.)? Then we'll start there, with you and your rough draft.

It's a pretty rough draft. Kind of like no one thinks their kid is ugly, and how you love your children even if they do have a bit of a reptilian look and devil horns. It's that kind of blind prettiness and, I'm afraid to say, it must be quashed with vim and/or vigor. The only way to do that is to let it sit. I recommend at least six hours for a short story or piece of flash, at least a week for a novella or novelette, and at least three weeks (preferably a month or more) for a full length novel. Just leave it alone. Don't look at it. Don't think about it. This is the time to call your long-winded Uncle Gabe or make a cheesecake...personally, I'd prefer the cheesecake, especially if you share...

The important thing is not to be doing anything with your story. It has to sit there and fester alone, thinking about how ugly it is, that way it just spills its fears and problems with you as soon as you come back. Because, as it is, that is the only way for it to get better, it has to have that time.

Now is when you get to be Mr. or Ms. or Mrs. Surgeon-Man/Lady. Grab your whole set of scalpels and give it a read through, form beginning to end--and fix the living hell out of it. Cut scenes, cut sentences, add passages, change words, inject a new character if you must, just cut away, at the very least, all of the visible tumors on the outside and readjust the physical structure to compensate. You see? It's now much better, much more pretty.

On the outside.

Once you've done that initial edit, you get to the scary-ass part. Beta-reading/beta-editing. You see, the only things that remain are the things that you can't see, the things you're blind to, the vicious, malignant, internal cancers. You need a specialist, and that specialist is a beta-reader/beta-editor. Don't get discouraged--you probably have a lot more of them floating around than you think? Part of a writing group? Ask them. Have other friends who write? Ask them. Maybe the nice Frenchwoman down at the gas station the next town over is an avid writer. What's the harm in asking? You see? You have options. Now, of course, you can't just pick someone, and if it's your first time having this done, it can be intimidating. You need to first weed out anyone that doesn't understand your genre (i.e. generally, you don't let a deer-hunting bodybuilder/mechanic beta your chick-lit, unless you know it'll work). Now your pool of options is more precise. I'm sorry to say, however, that I can no longer guide you. You can be the best of friends with someone, but if their beta style clashes with you, you can't ever use them. Ever, ever, ever, unless you secretly hate them.

So you send it off (obviously remembering to offer to beta for them, as well) and wait. And wait. Again, a good time to do something stupid and menial, like wash the dog. When you finally get it back, you'll find it marked-up, red and blue all over, and looking for a little bit of sympathy. This is the time when you need the most distance, and the most balls-out confidence...

...and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

You now have to be humble enough to admit your mistakes to yourself, and that is unbelievably hard, believe it or not. Sometimes, your beta will point out stuff that you can't believe you missed, it's so obvious. Those are the times when you eat your crow (it goes down much better with chocolate) and fix it.

Then you'll want to kill them for something stupid, but aren't sure if it needs changing. This is where the confidence comes in. I got given two pieces of grammatical advice in one beta. One was sound, the other was stylistic only. I took the sound one and said f*ck off to the stylistic one, because it was idiotic. You have to remember that this is your story, not your beta-reader's, so don't change it if it needs to stay.

Now, you've edited and revised twice. That's the bare minimum I allow anything out of the door with. It's in your best interests to do it three, four, maybe five times, but that's a matter of your discretion. I've broken the rule, and it's worked out with one edit before, so who really knows?

Okay, polished story, but you're flailing in the water trying to find a market. Duotrope's Digest is your best friend. Love it, cherish it, and take it out to dinner. You just run over there, plug in your information, and hit search, and it pops up with markets galore that want to read your work. Let them, especially the high-paying ones. It's conventional wisdom that, in this situation, you would start with your highest paying markets. I normally start with Clarkesworld Magazine, because they have something like a one week maximum turnaround time, and they pay ten cents a word. Other big spenders are Daily Science Fiction (8 cents a word) Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show (6 cents a word) and Writers of The Future (1000 dollars for the top story). Of course, the top market is Tor.com (25 cents a word), bu they have a three year backlog of stories, so I tend to shy away.

If you've then exhausted half of your pro markets (5 cents a word and higher), I normally re-edit and start submitting to all of them (except non-paying...not yet, anyway). There are almost assuredly 100 or more markets for your story, enough that you'll probably find some you won't want to (or aren't allowed to) submit to. That's all right, because you can eventually find a market. It's just a matter of dropping your own standards down a bit more. If it's not getting into IGMS, ASIM, or some other fancy acronym-like magazine, maybe you can try something like a charity anthology, a coffee-table flash book, or some of the Static Movement press books. They don't pay, but exposure is exposure, and those are great ways to get some exposure.

Now, you'll probably get a rejection letter...or two...or five...or twenty...it really doesn't matter (Although don't delete them. There's a magazine that requires you turn in 6 or more rejection slips with your submission to even be considered!). They all hurt. Somebody else, someone you've never met, basically just told you that your baby is ugly and should be thrown into the pits of hell *insert evil laugh*

Okay, not really, but is does feel that way. I'm pretty resilient. I can get multiple rejections without it really affecting me. Of course, one too many and I go ballistic and decide that my writing is completely worthless and vow to live in a tiny house in the backyard and knit sweaters for a hundred and three cats. I'm serious, that's my plan if I'm ever going to stop writing...or maybe if I write and just want to be alone...it kind of sounds peaceful, doesn't it?

The cure? Chocolate and good, loud, angry music...and hugs. Hugs are good.

Of course, sex is probably really good too...never tried that one before.

Honestly, though, you need to deal with it however you deal with it, and quickly, because a stagnant story is no money, no exposure, and just compounds the problem.

In the next few days, I'll be putting up another post on writing for themes (like anthologies and the like). For now?

Toodles,
Voss