Writing Stories: Stranger Than Fiction

There is a childhood punishment that the protagonist of my debut novel describes in my forthcoming debut novel. One of the beta readers didn’t like it. She called it silly, disbelieving it would ever happen.

The irony is that I borrowed it from real life. No, the novel isn’t real life. It’s a work of fiction. But as most writers will tell you, we all draw on real people or events, especially those that leave physical, emotional, or psychological imprints on our lives. 

How else does one write straight, honest prose about human beings? Some of us look backward while writing forward, weaving the past into the present — even if we’re implanting the event on someone we made up, asking ourselves the whole time how the character might respond to it differently than we did. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don’t.

This is where it can sometimes be tricky as a writer. We borrow bits of this and that from our lives and reshape them into something else for other people to experience until it isn’t our experience anymore, but someone else’s entirely, someone we made up. And this is why I sometimes offer a cautionary whisper to those who might remember actual events before they read my work. It’s not them or me or you or that or what happened, I tell them. Because, well, it isn’t any of that. Except in this case, maybe. 

The childhood punishment I’m talking about really happened, and it happened to me. It was so real, in fact, I spent the better part of my twenties believing I deserved it, coping with it and other psychological abuses as a sort of joke. How bad of a kid was I? I was so bad …

When I finally had my own kids, I stopped telling the joke. It was no longer funny as I realized it was a punishment that I could never prescribe on my kids or any kids, for that matter. There wasn’t any infraction worthy of such a punishment or even the threat of it — which four more children endured while growing up until it became a thing of legend. 

The punishment I’m talking about sounds familiar to most people. It was a room restriction, common enough that The Atlantic wrote about it like a rite of passage among previous generations. Some still argue that “grounding” can be effective. Maybe so. Except for mine, maybe. 

My grounding wasn’t a weekend or week, as some might have experienced. It was a month, with the real caveat being that everything interesting was removed from my room — books, games, papers, pencils, etc. The circumstances didn’t make sense either, as it had very little to do with anything I did but a demonstration of unchecked authority. She had told me there would be consequences, so she had to follow up. 

The consequence for putting one dish out of the dishwater away dirty was a month-long restriction. I didn’t doubt her. Past experiences had always convinced me she meant business. So I did what any preteen would do. I slowly, carefully, and meticulously inspected every dish while putting them away. And I felt true terror when she came in to inspect the work, slowing and randomly looking over glasses and plates and silverware. 

I was so very careful, but it was there anyway. There was a water spot on one of the knives. The declaration of its finding was so fierce that it alone would have taught me a lesson, assuming there was one to teach. But it didn’t stop there, couldn’t stop there. 

The consequence had already been outlined. I would be placed on room restriction for a summer month, only allowed out to use the bathroom and for meals.

I was so angry that it never occurred to me that I couldn’t see the offending water spot, nor could I discern whether it was the knife I had put away or some other that she had plucked from the drawer. What did occur, I learned later in life, is that she had triggered a fight or flight response, and I always tended to be a fighter. 

I made a cavalier proclamation that I didn’t care about her punishment or authority. I would take my punishment like a champ, shut myself off from her wickedness, and read, draw, and play games until my vacation from her ended. Tut tut. Lay it on me. 

That’s when she delivered what amounted to a left hook I never saw coming. She told me I was too smart for my own good, so all those things would be taken out of my room too. I would be left in there with nothing except my bed, clothes, and a window to look out of from the elevated first story of our apartment. It overlooked a pond. 

Sometimes my son and daughter ask me what I did for that month. They are especially perplexed because, nowadays, a cell phone restriction can be more impactful than banishment to a room ever seemed to be. From what I remember, and I blanked a good part of it, I imagined things. 

The protagonist in the novel, on the other hand, never says. He only mentions it as an illustration of circumstance, given the book isn’t about abuse. Any psychological abuse is only a subplot, a mechanism to help people understand the boy in relation to other events in the story. 

Even so, I sometimes hope its presence in the story sparks conversation about it as it did with one of my beta readers. When people hear or talk about abuse, the word conjures images of physical or sexual abuse before emotional abuse or neglect, but those things exist too. And the wholesale destruction of someone’s self-worth carries consequences that take even longer to heal. 

If you know of someone who needs help or if you need help yourself, Childhelp can put you in touch with local resources in your area. Aside from that, let’s have a conversation. Stories help people learn they are not alone, even when they sound stranger than fiction. 

Breaking 1,000: 50 States, One Year Later

When 50 States was published last year, I didn't have the highest expectations. It's not that I didn't believe in the work. I did and do. But I'm also a realist who read some articles: self-published authors likely sell around 250 books or less; short story collections by small publishers sell between 300 and 2,000, about 1,000 for short story collections; and traditionally published authors sell around 3,000, a fraction of that for short story collections. All of these averages, by the way, are not considered spectacular. 

Even more discouraging, the averages cited above are not one-year sales. These averages are based on the lifetime of the book — which some claim can be as short as six months, which is why some try to put out a new title every six months. 

Right. Don't quit your day job. 

Yes, there are exceptions. We've all heard stories of breakout debuts and bidding wars. But the general rule of thumb for authors is to temper expectations. Even Malcolm Gladwell's Tipping Point didn't find its tipping point until its third year (so much for that six-month lifetime theory). He just kept promoting it and promoting it and promoting it until he found an audience. 

That's how I became a writer too. 

I became a freelance writer in 1991 during a recession when nobody could hire a writer, but everybody had writing work. I didn't make enough money to pay the bills for the first two years writing advertising copy and articles, so I worked part-time matching colors in a paint store. 

I specifically worked in a paint store 40 hours a week, Friday through Monday, so I could dedicate Tuesday through Thursday to establishing a career that became a company. It worked, but it took two years before I could comfortably cut the apron strings and pass on an offer to become an assistant manager mixing paint.

It wasn't until the third year that I had to hire more talent to help, the fifth year to incorporate, and the eighth before we expanded into publishing with more than 40 creatives working part time, full time, or stringing for Copywrite, Ink. It was a big wave, working on more than 1,000 accounts from startups to Fortune 500 companies. Then there came the point when I woke up from the 100-hour work weeks and realized I was managing (and teaching and serving my community) more than I was writing. 

So, I sold some stuff and scaled way back. Nowadays, I only work with select clients and have a blast doing it.

How did I do it? Like anything. 

You build a successful commercial writing career like you do any business: one job at a time. And knowing this, I always assumed you build a readership much the same way: one book at a time. 

Never mind the setbacks or heartbreaks. Keep moving forward and find the people who appreciate the work. The successes will come in time. As long as you've written a decent book (or built a great product or created a great service), some measures of success will likely come back to you directly proportionate to the time and/or money you invest in it. At least I like to think so. It's the model I'm using now. 

50 States Breaks 1,000. Ten Threads hits 500. 

Selling 1,000 copies of 50 States in the first year and 500 copies of Ten Threads (Kindle exclusive) in two months seems like a solid baseline for a debut novel (and more short stories) that I intend to see published next year. It's on par with or better than traditional publishers, especially as I took in the learning curve.

I might also mention that 50 States didn't truly hit its stride until five or six months after publication. It became a Top 100 bestseller for three consecutive months in January of this year, not last year when I published it. It still does for a day or two, from time to time, demonstrating it has a lot of life left. And no, neither book has a 99 cents or $2.99 price point, although I have put them on sale occasionally. 

Aside from sales, 50 States and Ten Threads have retained solid rankings and reviews. 50 States is 4.2 on Amazon and 4.3 on Goodreads. Ten Threads is rated 4.4 on Amazon and 4.5 on Goodreads. 

50 States also won two awards: first place for short stories in the Spring 2022 BookFest Awards and first place for literary fiction, psychological thrillers, and short stories in the ABR Book Excellence Awards. InD’tale Magazine and OnlineBookClub.org also gave it top marks, giving it a "Crowned Heart" award and 4-star review, respectively.

Overall, both releases are beating the averages and have plenty of life left with a couple selling every day on slow days and bursts of sales on others. It reminds me that great things take about two years. I have one more to go.

Let's end with a few lessons learned. 

I wouldn't have done it differently because a few life circumstances dictated my direction on the front end. However, here are six lessons learned that I'm happy to pass along. 

• The best 'author' marketers aren't necessarily the best 'book' marketers. The publishing industry is loaded with pariahs that spend all their time marketing to authors and very little time selling the books, which is what they promise authors they will do. I won't out anyone here, but several top book marketing brands produced some of my lowest price points. 

•  The best 'book' marketers aren't cheap either. On the opposite end of the spectrum, authors are pitched by plenty of people who promise hundreds of thousands of impressions for ten or twenty bucks. I gave a few a shot as part of my learning curve. Lesson learned. Stick with mid-level, relatively affordable book marketers for the best price. Other than my own hustle, mid-level marketers produced my best results. 

• Never pay for newswire distribution with major news affiliations. On two occasions, I was sold on the idea that book marketers or 'publicists' had magazine connections when all they really did was put a news release out on a newswire. If you're an author thinking about paying someone to do this, give me a call. I can write a better release for you and put it on the wire for you at a better price point. Egad. 

• Kindle Unlimited (KU) is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it opens up a new audience. Conversely, some people who download your book might not be in your audience. If they post their lackluster review first, it can depress your initial sales. When this happened to Ten Threads, I looked up their other reviews and discovered my stories were well outside what they normally read. KU also means you receive a fraction of a penny per page, which doesn't come close to the actual sale price. It still has a place, so use KU sparingly for exposure but not on every title. 

• Having worked with three primary distributors, I can safely say there is one route to take unless you plan to publish a children's book. Publishing with Ingram Spark and Amazon simultaneously will produce the best results. Simply put, Ingram Spark is your best bet to put quality books into bookstores, but expect the lion's share of your sales to come from Amazon. Maybe one day that will change in a creator economy, but it's probably a safe bet for the next two years or so. 

• Last but not least, have as much patience as possible. Take some time to get advanced reader copies out to people before your release in exchange for feedback and a review before release. Along with that, put the presale date well ahead of your release. Early reviews will help book sales (even if I admit that I don't have the patience to wait). On the flip side, don't believe anyone who tells you the first month is critical or you will fail. It's important, sure, but you can still break the bestsellers list weeks or months or years after release. Books don't really have lifespans in my opinion, unless a publisher or author abandons them.

Hope these tips prove useful for future authors. And, equally important, if you were one of the thousands of people who bought 50 States or Ten Threads — thank you so very much! Here's to more books ahead! 

Exploring Imagination: The Creativity Equation

This one study continues to surface in articles, and it always stops me in my tracks. It claims a creativity crisis in America, largely attributed to the pursuit of winning formulas over future breakthroughs.

The crisis began, they say, as American education put creative thinking on the back burner in favor of measurable rote memorization in the 1990s. Americans wanted to test better than other people at the expense of innovation — ergo, finding answers that don't exist on an answer key. The outcome has been a continual decline in education and creativity. And now we see it in other places, too — everything from business automation to book and film reboots. Almost everything seems stuck on rinse and repeat. 

Ironically, decades ago, it was our creativity and not our test scores that used to set America apart. In fact, Nobel Prize winner Richard Feynman warned us away from the rote memorization route. He suggested thinking things through instead of rehashing the past. But that's why he won a Nobel Prize. Thinking.

So what's the real problem? We're so confused about creativity nowadays that more and more people harbor an aversion to creativity. Even people who are attempting to ignite creativity in the classrooms are accidentally trying to make it an off-the-shelf commodity by denying the concept of creative genius.

The creativity equation. 

Like most things, answers to complex problems are somewhere in the middle, let's say between Project Zero, which operates on the belief that anybody can be creative, and the polar opposite, which believes relatively few individuals are born with it. More than likely, we're all born with a capacity to be creative (although some with a greater capacity than others) until society crushes our natural instinct for it. 

But let's set that debate aside and look at what's new in neuroscience. Some researchers studying our brains have found that creativity is linked to two different semantic memory processes: clustering, which is related to divergent thinking; and switching, which is related to combing distant associations between concepts. 

In short, aside from magic, our capacity for creativity is tied to how we develop associations between things and our ability to draw upon the broadest possible network of associations to connect and combine those ideas and concepts that are distant (unrelated stuff that fits together without being forced).

There is more to it, no doubt, but let's go with this idea to build a real blueprint. There are five steps in supercharging creativity. And while anybody can follow it, those who start young have even more time to get it right (and with less concern for society's insistence on conformity). 

Expansion. The more we learn and experience will increase our capacity for creativity. There isn't any other way to expand our conscious and subconscious database of distant ideas and concepts if we are not continually looking beyond our comfort zones. Dreams count too. 

Immersion. More uninterrupted time invested in creative pursuits through meditation, reflection, or experience will provide more time to explore the furthest reaches of our conscious and subconscious. We need to take the road less traveled and engage our alpha frequency. 

Evaluation. Great ideas seldom follow pre-existing models so it's better to measure them based on their feasibility, flexibility, and originality. Very often, original ideas are not as compelling as their next iteration — something that's been mulled over more than a minute. 

Execution. Creative ideas have to be actionable.  So, in addition to placing creativity at the forefront, we have to develop a secondary skill set to share it — writing, drawing, painting, producing, choreographing, or even implementing a system inside an organization. This is why creativity is hard work.

Vacation. Sometimes our minds need a break. The best breaks tend to be spending time in nature, improving our creative spaces, taking in some new entertainment, or otherwise busting up a routine so we can come back to the project with fresh eyes. And if you are one of those people who are guilty doing it, just remember that vacations still stimulate the expansion of our database.

That's all there is to it, sort of. There is magic that David Lynch likes to talk about (and I love to listen to him talk about it). There is the conversation about whether ideas come from one, some, or many. And there is plenty more we can learn about the mind. That's all fine. We'll save it for another time.