Don’t make me repeat myself
Many authors move on to new subjects, new genres. Maybe they, like me, feel that spinning the same yarn is akin to spinning their wheels.
Many authors move on to new subjects, new genres. Maybe they, like me, feel that spinning the same yarn is akin to spinning their wheels.
When I told a friend I was attending Gen Con—the largest gaming convention in North America—he asked whether I was going for work or pleasure.
Although it defies every fiber of my being, I’m entering the new year with fewer plans than ever. On one hand, it’s invigorating; on the other, terrifying.
In the spirit of the holiday—or at least the commercialized customs that compel us to exchange commodities—I created a product wizard that matches readers to the book of mine they are most likely to enjoy.
There are some commonalities between revising drafts of traditional fiction and interactive fiction: you add what’s missing, multiply what’s working well, and subtract what doesn’t need to be there.
Business planning and New Year’s resolutions have a lot in common. You look back at what you’ve accomplished over the past year and try to envision a better tomorrow. How can I improve? What are my goals?
Ever since I started One Million Words LLC, I’ve tried to treat my fiction endeavors as a true-blue business. But while I consider myself a realist, I inevitably overbook myself.
I finally whittled down my stack of short stories to be included in my upcoming collection, and I couldn’t have done it without the help of my ruthless beta readers.
Even when I’m up to my elbows in editing or pounding out new plots, I try to make time to see what else is out there—because there’s some damn fine books being written.
I plan to demonstrate the breath of my writing styles and embrace the many different spec-fic subgenres I enjoy—which only makes winnowing down the contenders for my short story collection that much more difficult.