• Guest post: Angela Korra’ti

    This guest post appears here as part of the Drollerie Press Blog Tour.

    Hi to Hamish’s readers, and thanks to Hamish for having me! I’m Angela Korra’ti, author of the urban fantasy ebook Faerie Blood, published through Drollerie Press. This is my contribution to the blog tour I’ve organized between Drollerie authors and several non-Drollerie authors, in the interests of getting the word out about Drollerie publications — and in exchange, to give other authors a chance to come visit our own sites and tell us about themselves. As an ebook author, I’m naturally interested in hearing about how other folks pursue non-traditional means of publishing. Since Hamish is a DIY author, I thought that’d be a nice fit for a swap of posts, and I look forward to checking out his work.

    Meanwhile, I wanted to write about the overall topic of this blog tour, which is, best or worst experiences with works in progress. Those of us participating in the tour thought that’d be a nice icebreaker sort of topic, and that it’d be a good way to introduce folks to all of us.

    I’m pleased to say that most of my experiences with works in progress so far have been pretty good. What leaps immediately to mind as the worst experience, though, is trying to get my novel Lament of the Dove started. I made the mistake of asking people for input on it before I got very far–and the feedback I received discouraged me enough that I backed off trying to actually finish it for some time. The lesson I took away from that is that for me as a writer, it’s much more effective to actually finish the first draft of the work and then ask for feedback on how to improve it.

    More recently, my worst experiences have been more with not having the energy to work on my works in progress, rather than anything about the actual works themselves. The reason for this: breast cancer, in short, although I was very fortunate to have had the least severe case possible, caught very early. I didn’t have to have chemotherapy, but I did have radiation treatment, a mastectomy, and ultimately reconstruction surgery. And there was plenty enough stress involved to kick an enormous hole in my creative drive.

    I’m still working on getting that back, and relearning the daily discipline required to get my works in progress back into actual progress. Best experience? Writing Faerie Blood, actually. I did that book during Nanowrimo in 2003, and I went in after a couple of weeks of sketching out notes on what I wanted to write about. It helped as well that I was throwing everything I loved into this book: music (Elvis Presley music and Newfoundland folk in particular), magic, elves, biking, computer geekery, cats, and Seattle. So writing it was pretty much a breeze. Getting it revised and queried and ultimately accepted for publication at Drollerie was a lot more difficult — but the writing, that was easy!

    I’m hoping my next work will get me back to that.

    Thanks for reading, all, and if you’d like to say hi and learn more about my work, come visit me at angelakorrati.com. You can learn more about my fellow Drollerie authors on Drollerie Press’s own site.

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  • DIY Book, Episode 14

    Coming up with your book’s cover design and getting it on paper.

  • Last Flights Day

    I was asked at short notice to do a reading yesterday for an arts fair called Hidden Door — a maze-like, multi-floor affair that was pretty darned cool. I decided to read from Finitude, since that’s the thing I figure I should still be actively promoting.
    I didn’t want to just drone away, though, reading a teaser from my book then asking people to buy it. So I decided to make a game of it.
    In one section of the book, the characters are faced with something called “Last Flights Day”: The International Climate Coalition Government has declared that air travel is too damaging to the environment (which, in the book’s world, is already very precarious) and that a particular day will be the last opportunity for long-distance travel. On Last Flights Day, you have to choose: Where will you go, once and for all?
    I handed out fake airline tickets I’d made, each stamped with a unique number, and asked the audience members to tell me where they’d choose to go and why, and I did a draw later, giving out a blank book I’d made and a copy of Finitude.


    The whole thing became a lot more fun — on both sides, I think, as the audience was personally engaged with the central idea in the chapter I was about to read, plus we were playing back and forth, dismantling some of that “I am up here and you are listening to me” hierarchy.
    People’s responses surprised me: I thought they’re be about family, but a lot of them were about place, where they’d want to spend the rest of their days.
    Here’s what they said:
    #591088: New Zealand
    Because you can only sensibly get there by flying; although apparently when you get there it looks just like Scotland and the weather’s just as bad.
    #591080: France
    To live happily ever after in a château.
    #591081: London
    To find myself and make the films I love.
    #591089: Moscow
    To walk home through a tropical North Europe.
    #591085: Boulder, Colorado
    It is beautiful, liberal, and has great summers + winters.
    #591086: Sydney
    Then I’d be home, & to be stuck there would be ‘no bad thing’.
    #591091: Home
    It’s where I want to be and stay.
    #591098: Australia
    Fun & sun & surfing.
    #591094: Sedona, Arizona
    Sitting on top of a red rock mountain — place I was totally content. Could go every day!
    #591092: Abu Dhabi
    My birthplace, which I have no memory of. To see an oil state, post-oil. To race my girlfriend back to Scotland on foot.
    #591100: New Zealand
    To be present to people and place. To learn to love.
    #591093: Wick
    To be with my beloved in our nest. [Hmm. Who was that now?]
    I should create some kind of open bulletin board, ’cause I’d love to read lots more of these! Feel free to send me your Last Flights Day destination.

  • The hard cel

    I’ve been looking into making book trailers for my novels, and after searching around, seeing some truly awful ones (full of melodrama, grade-D acting, and criminally derivative storylines), and finding some great ones, I decided this was something I could do.
    My initial idea was simple, something I could execute quickly. Then I started researching, trying to find film clips that were royalty-free or in the public domain, and coming up with nothing. Not only that, but the project starting turning into one of those endless games of Internet hopscotch, and my ideas were getting more and more complex until the whole thing was utterly unfathomable.
    The thing that really stumped me was, not being a filmmaker, I didn’t know how to make the thing look coherent, rather than just a bunch of separate, found bits I chewed up and… Well, you get the idea.
    So it occurred to me that I should draw something. I’ve always doodled, and for a long time people have been saying I should make an illustrated book. I don’t particularly want to, but in this instance it struck me that doing an animated book trailer might be a good way to give everything a coherent look while underscoring that Finitude is, yes, about climate change, but it’s not intended to be heavy or moralistic.
    Okay. So I was going to do that.
    But then came an old problem: getting my drawings into the computer. Sure, I can scan them, but scans never look quite like what I drew, the lines end up fuzzy (antialiased), and I wind up spending all kinds of time fixing them to look right on-screen — which never really works to my satisfaction.
    So I went out and bought a graphics tablet (no, not that Apple thing, a graphics tablet). I was taking a chance, but it paid off, ’cause these things have really improved in the last 15 years.
    I know, I know. In computing terms that’s a funny idea. The last one I used had a proprietary Apple connector because we didn’t have USB yet. Still, though, some things (like scanners) haven’t really improved that much since I started computing.

    My first attempt was this (a promise that my novels are “100% Vampire-Free”):

    I was amazed: I could actually, you know, draw with this thing! With the old one, the proportions were always wonky; it wasn’t as bad as using a mouse (which is like trying to draw with sponges strapped to your hands), but it never quite represented what I was trying to do. But the new one — just like using pens and markers, but with none of the fading, feathering, or bleeding that shows up in a scan. (I was also reminded that computing with a pen is infinitely more comfortable for me than using a mouse or my fingers, which goes counter to the current trend, yet reinforces the fact that I draw with pens rather than finger-painting.)
    Okay, so the next test was to try to animate something. (My projects always seem to involve this element of having to pick up new skills to complete them.) This isn’t the style of animation I’ll be using for the book trailer, but old-fashioned “cel” animation, where you keep re-drawing the same thing with slight variations. It’s horribly time-consuming and pretty rough-looking.

  • iNevitable

    Okay, I’ve been thinking about it, so I’ll post about it: this tablet dealio.

    I really don’t get it. I have a computer for creating content; I have an iPhone for keeping in touch and viewing media on the go. The iPad falls into an uncomfortable netherworld in-between that I guess I’m just not the target audience for… And the intended target audience seems to be “people with unlimited amounts of money for constantly buying stuff from Big Media”.

    I used to be one of those awful Apple zealots when I started computing, and I’d honestly never used a Windows machine. Now I’ve been in both camps, and I have to say I do like using Apple devices. They facilitate creative work (like making a podcast) that it had never occurred to me to do before. But ultimately, all these things are tools; what matters is what you do with them, not which object you’re seen with. (To quote Chuck Palahniuk, “You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. You’re not the car you drive…”)

    I’m thrilled to find that, facing the unprecedented nuclear blast of iPad hype, I am unmoved, undesiring. It feels like a spiritual win.

    Seeing books on this thing makes me want to rush home and print out a real book. Confession: When I buy e-books, I often print and bind them. What Apple shows in their demo looks like a document, not a book. (That wide line-spacing, for starters, makes my eyes want to wander elsewhere.)

    I know the traditional publishers are looking at these things with $$s/££s in their eyes, and I don’t wish them any ill. If this is the chemo they need, fine. And if this drives more people to read more (and more diverse) fiction, wonderful!

    (And, phew!, they chose the e-book format I’ve already released my novels in.)

    But the art of making books will not go away, and the hospital-room fluorescence of these ‘pages’ can only underscore the pleasures of real paper and artful typography. I don’t think the skills or demand of book designers will be adversely affected by this development, as it’ll be some time yet before these devices rival the deliberate customisation of a typeset page — if ever they could.

    Computer-wise, I used to use Pocket PCs and a small “Ultra-Mobile PC”, so I know the pain of:

    • using stripped-down versions of programs
    • not being able to open files my client sends me while I’m on the road
    • having to maintain more than one computer, and discovering at the coffeeshop that the file I need is at home because I forgot to synchronise

    Nice work, but… I pass.

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  • DIY Book, Episode 13

    In this episode, we look at how to prepare the pages of your novel for printing as a book.

  • Wick

    Last week my partner was offered a job in the north Highlands, and we’ve decided to go. At the end of April, we’ll be moving to a town called Wick (well, technically a royal borough).

    It was a difficult choice to make, but it’s a great opportunity for him, and, aside from wanting to be wherever he is, we’ve had a look around Wick and the surrounding area, and I want to go on this adventure myself and with him. It’s one of those chances that’s more interesting than the alternative of just sticking with what’s known.

    (Talking to my mum this weekend, she asked, “With your brother in Dawson City and you in Wick, I’m starting to get the feeling my boys are trying to get as far away from us as possible!” It’s not true, though!)

    I’ve been a city person my whole adult life, but at this point I like the idea of a smaller place and a simpler life. (Oh, and it’ll be a lot cheaper to live there, which will be a relief.)

    Everyone we spoke to up there was friendly and open; even simple transactions were conversations. While I have lots of friends in Edinburgh (and moving from Canada taught me that you can move but keep your friends), I don’t actually have any ties to the city itself, which, after nine years, is a bit sad.

    It’s scary to contemplate living once more in a place where everyone knows your business — even moreso than growing up in Charlottetown, which is about seven times bigger than Wick — but maybe I’m ready to open my heart, to know and be known by the people around me, rather than slipping efficiently through a city. (Yet with fewer attractions and events taking place there, I also hope to have more time to pursue my creative activities.)

    Edinburgh’s wonderful, beautiful; I’m not knocking it. I just like change, and gaining a new source of input is an exciting idea (I did, after all, get a book out of moving to Embra).

    So, away we go… in a few months. In the meantime, I’m going to make the best of living in this great old city and being close to the friends I’ve made here. And we’ll be sure to have a guest room up there…

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  • On being sweary

    In-between other projects yesterday, I read some articles that were quite passionate.

    The first article was about a lesbian writer and the various publishing folk she’s fired through the years when they made bad suggestions to her, like “toning down” the same-sex content in her books. I thought that was brave, especially when a lot of writers would fall over themselves and do anything to get published.

    (One forum I follow is in the midst of a debate over whether a writer should participate in an anthology now that he knows it will contain work by another author who’s recently been public and vocal about his bigoted opinions on LGBT folk).

    The other article was about the need for environmentalists to give up on hope. The writer has a grim view of things — and, sadly, he wrote this four years ago. I fear we’ve thoroughly proved his point in the time since. But his message isn’t as dark as it sounds.

    In both cases, the writers were unflinching about getting quite sweary in their pieces — and I liked it! I’ve made an effort to not use cuss-words on my site ’cause I know it runs afoul of some people’s work-filters and can cause them trouble (whether adults should be monitored this way is another question, but it remains a fact for some).

    And after it was pointed out to me that doubleZero contained 24 instances of a particular word — none of which I’d really consciously thought about when I included them — I made it an exercise to not use any profanities in The Willies. It wasn’t because I think such words are bad or wrong, but because I was using them lazily, in a way I’d received from things I’d seen. For instance, in a movie scene in which characters go over a waterfall on a raft, they’re pretty much obliged to all say “Sheeeeee-iiiiit!” As much as I don’t want to simply re-write scenes I’ve seen in other forms, I also want to be as conscious and original as possible in my use of language.

    But there’s a time when “bad” words are necessary and good. On the flight home, I watched the political spoof In the Loop, and while I found the story a bit episodic, and I quickly tire of stories in which everyone acts hatefully toward everyone else, two of the characters — both played by Scots — were given such wonderfully clever sweary dialogue that the air just crackled with electricity in every one of their scenes. In real life, I’ve noticed that Scots either swear then immediately apologise or else do it with what I can only describe as a kind of grace.

    We are living through some strange days, witnessing such a nadir in leadership and general bad judgment that I’m happy when someone stands up and spouts a well-needed, unapologetic invective at the stupidity of it all.

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  • A more truthful airline seating plan

    A little something I did at my folks’ kitchen table at the thought of another trans-Atlantic flight. (Click to enlarge.)

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  • Chirp, chirp, gag: A lethal dose of indie arts and crafts?

    This trip to Toronto is falling together easily and naturally, and I’m getting to visit with lots of friends who are still in my life for very good reasons, I’m reminded, as I spend time with them.

    I’ve also been stocking up on bookbinding supplies — dangerous, but it’s raw material for creative work, the one thing in life I’m willing to spend the most on.

    Toronto’s a good place to get these supplies because the city has a very strong DIY culture. Last weekend I went to the One of a Kind fair, a national show that takes place here, along with another fair crammed into St Stephen’s church, and yesterday I made it to the City of Craft event. A lot of other fairs happened this weekend, too, but I couldn’t get to them.

    Funny, I like looking at this stuff, but I’m not inclined to buy it, partly because I wouldn’t know what to do with it, because I’m not the target audience (e.g. for stuffed animals, purses, hats, etc.), and because I don’t have unlimited funds “”yet, as I mentioned, I’ll spend anything on tools that will let me do crafty things.

    Wandering around these events, though, I can’t help but notice that it gets a bit samey after a while. I like it — the silkscreened prints and T-shirts, the handmade cards and books, the ugly-cute stuffed animals, the home-made clothes and accessories, but there’s a definite style to it, lots of it featuring 60s/70s-style mis-registered prints of birds and twigs — and my fear is it’s such a strong and definite style people will get sick of it and ultimately move away from this kind of work.

    That would be a shame, because this movement is the first effective and lasting reaction I’ve seen to a widely felt tiredness with mass commercial culture we have no say in or power over. Indie culture is locally relevant and anyone is allowed to do it. This is an important message, and it would be a shame if that got lost just because people were tired of the particular look it’s taken on.

    I had a great chat with my friend Bert this afternoon over so many coffees that when I met another friend later I realised I was acting completely high. Bert suggested that the current craft culture looks this way because of the craftspeople’s age: It looks like what was around during our childhoods. I’d go one further and suggest that most of us probably haven’t had this much creative permission and activity since then… until now.

    Still, it means Toronto’s going through a very cool period in which a lot of people are stepping forward to take ownership over their local culture and their creative capabilities, and that makes this an exciting place to visit.

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