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The Brave New World of Content and Copyright: How a little British Piggy Wiped the floor with a French Shapeshifter

20 Feb

barbapigThis is a cautionary tale. If you are a content producer of any sort, and still operating under the archaic copyright presumptions and mindset of the distant past, then you’re well on your way to becoming extinct. Much sooner than you think, I’m afraid. Listen well and heed my advice if you are a writer, a film maker, or a musician, and anything in between. This applies to all of us.

I have a four year old daughter who doesn’t watch much television because we decided against outsourcing our parenting duties to the networks. But we do allow her to watch some DVDs and a few of her favorite shows on our tablets, under our supervision.

To simplify this story, let’s assume she started off watching two shows a couple of years ago. Because it’s the comparison between these two shows that will serve as the moral of my story.

The first is a French classic called Barbapapa, which started off as a series of children’s books written in the 1970s. The main characters are the Barbapapa family, who are most notable for their ability to shapeshift at will. The books evolved into a highly successful animated show, localized and licensed across the globe, along with a healthy merchandising system.

The second show is a more contemporary British creation called Peppa Pig, which revolves around a female pig, and her family and friends. Episodes feature day-to-day living with lighthearted flare, and a bit of signature British tongue-in-cheek for good measure. Innocuous things like attending playgroup, going swimming, visiting her grandparents, going to the playground or riding bikes.

A a parent, I love both shows equally. Barbapapa has a beautifully nostalgic and vintage quality to it, but was well ahead of its time with deep messages of ecological responsibility. Peppa Pig is hugely entertaining, moderately educational, but most importantly, it does no harm. For a modern animation, that’s a huge plus.

As a content creator myself, I respect the hard work of creative artists and purchased a few original DVDs of both shows when my daughter was two and still getting in them. But in due course and as a result of changing viewing habits, we discovered episodes of both shows  widely available on YouTube. So it was infinitely more convenient to watch them on our tablets, or even beam them from our mobile devices to our big screens, rather than the whole song and dance of finding the DVD, making sure it’s not scratched, wiping it clean—you get the picture.

About a year ago, every single episode of Barbapapa that was previously available on YouTube disappeared overnight. In its place was the infamous YouTube message that the “copyright holder of said content has requested that it be removed,” yadda, yadda, yadd.  At roughly the same time, more high quality episodes of Peppa Pig started mushrooming, including hour-long compilations of the latest seasons. And this has continued until this day.

Being the delightful parents that we are, we purchased whatever Barbapapa DVDs we could get our hands on to appease the little one.  I think you already know where this story is going.

Inevitably, my daughter lost interest in Barbapapa because it wasn’t readily available to watch on YouTube. Because mock it all you like, but the whole YouTube/mobile device marriage is really made in heaven for the modern family on the run.

And inversely proportionate to her loss of interest in Barbapapa, was her increased obsession with Peppa Pig – and the formidable merchandising empire that came with it.

Here’s the fuzzy math of this whole thing. We probably own one or two Peppa Pig DVDs, which have been sucked into some black hole around the house, never to be found again. In other words, our net contribution to the Astley Baker Davies animation studio that produces Peppa Pig is about $15 in DVD purchases. On the other hand, we’ve probably been “forced” to spend about five times as much on Barbapapa DVDs when they disappeared from YouTube.

Now this is where the story gets more cautionary. Despite our paltry spending on Peppa Pig DVDs, the amount we’ve shelled out on Peppa Pig merchandise—figures, coloring books, bags, water cups, pajamas, t-shrits, shoes, and you wouldn’t even begin to imagine what else—is probably fifty times more than what we would have spent if we had purchased the entire library of Peppa Pig DVDs. And the future library for the next five years.

And what have we spent on the Barbapapa brand name other than the DVDs? Nothing. Or practically nothing.

Peppa Pig: Game, set, match!

Two production companies targeting more or less the same age group. One operating with antiquated and aggressive philosophies to copyright as the linchpin of the financial engine of content, and the other one couldn’t care less about its content being pirated and distributed widely for free. If I was one of the makers of Peppa Pig, I’d be secretly satisfied that whoever is uploading my shows is doing my seeding for me and ensnaring generations of loyal fans and instilling in them a voracious appetite for anything and everything that can be pig-branded.  And this is not just rife in the English speaking world. Peppa pig is everywhere and in every language. The next time you see a child rushing to splash in muddy puddles, you now know where that came from.

The moral of the story is this: Stop trying to fight piracyIt’s a futile, expensive, and polarizing endeavor. A lost cause, really.

Technology and our changing viewing and consumption habits are decades ahead of the narrow minds of the geriatric suits at the media corporations who are still deluding themselves that copyright is the be all and end all of generating income from the content you create.

I take my hat off to the ingenious minds at Astley Baker Davies who were on the money with their strategy not to draw the copyright infringement card and alienate their fan base, and their parents’ who hold the checkbooks.

As the music business has discovered the hard way, and the publishing industry is quickly learning, the future of the business side of producing content is going to be far less about monetizing content, and much more about cashing in on the rich layers of experiencing said content, over and over again.

Which means that the unit price of any piece of content is invariably going to shrink until its negligible or zero. Look at full-length electronic books now selling at 99 cents. Heed the lesson of software which went from thousands of dollars per license to free, or almost free aps. Consider that the most successful newspapers in the UK are distributed gratis to commuters. And of course everything about the music industry is a testament to this trend. Musicians now make most of their money on merchandising and live events, and are practically giving away music. One of the biggest players in the industry is Live Nation Entertainment – formed from the merger of an events promoter and a ticket seller. The film industry is a tougher cookie to crack, but mark my word, the rebels are at the walls of Hollywood and sooner or later will bring the whole thing down.

For far too long now the creation, production and distribution of content has been in the monopolistic hands of large corporations that have set unrealistic and extortionate prices. Now the revolution is coming to democratize the creation and pricing of content. And this doesn’t necessarily mean that absolute earnings will plummet. In fact, if the music industry numbers are anything to go by, earnings under the new paradigm eventually start heading north. The pyramid is being turned on its head. Far more people are now connected to the commercial “grid” than decades ago. Which means that rather than make a bundle of money from a few people by overcharging them, the market has expanded to a point where you can viably earn microscopic amounts from a wider audience and end up at the same point.

The lesson here for any content creator is to sprint beyond our fixation and obsession as a society with copyright. In a world where massive technological advances have lowered the bar dramatically for anyone to operate as a content generator (repeat after me: crowdsourcing), we will need to think of more creative ways to make money and be rewarded for our hard work. The singularity of the ‘content for money’ paradigm is not just shifting, it’s crumbling.

As a writer, I’m committed to making my books available at the fairest price point possible. But I am taking it a step further: I am willing to give it away for free. But only if you ask. If you tell me, “Love your work, man, and would love to read one of your books. But I honestly can’t afford to spare the $2.99 at this point of my life,” I’ll straight up give it you for free.

Because just like Peppa Pig, I’d rather draw you into my muddy puddle for the long haul, than see you shapeshift away.


Putting the “gent” back in agent: The complete writers’ guide to Literary Agents

20 Oct

Andrew Wylie (born 1947), also known as The Jackal, is one of the world’s leading literary agents.

Perhaps no one  in the publishing industry is vilified and revered with equal vigor as much as the literary agent.

I just came back from the Frankfurt Bookfair where for the first time since starting to frequent this seminal book event in 1999, I attended as a writer. While I saw almost every aspect of the book world from a different prism, my perception of literary agents remains the same. I am a firm believer that unless you know what you are doing, writers should not go to book fairs chasing agents. Let alone publishers. It’s a recipe for disaster, disillusionment, and potential humiliation. The best way to engage an agent remains the good old fashioned submission process.

Yet I am still amazed how despite all the great advice out there that tries to demystify agents and to lay a clear and effective pathway on how to approach and work with them, most writers still don’t get it and keep erring repeatedly.

In this post, I would like to throw my own pebble into the pond of enlightenment for writers when it comes to the all mighty LitAgs.

It’s a business, like any other

Literary agents have the misfortune of being the gatekeepers that filter literary talent for mainstream publishers to pick and choose from. Writers not only perceive them as “middle” men and women, which in itself carries numerous negative connotations, but many aspiring scribes have a largely inaccurate perception of agents as being inherently nasty.  That there sole aim in life is to crush the hopes and dreams of ingenious writers, and instead choose to support lesser authors who they may have direct personal contacts with. Or some variation of these negative stereotypes and conspiracy theories. I’ve heard it all.

I would argue that nothing is further from the truth. Literary agency is a business like any other. No agent in their right mind would ever come across unquestionable literary talent that can translate into commercial gain and turn it down simply because they are on a power trip or because they would prefer to help their writer buddies.

The brutal reality is this: Writing is a hugely saturated and cut-throat business. Underline business. Literary agents behave in a way that reflects the needs of the market at any given time. These days, it’s not enough to be a great writer with a great story. There are thousands upon thousands who are just as good or better than you. Agents are not just looking for outstanding writers any more, that’s a given. If you haven’t perfected your craft yet, don’t even bother with agents. It’s a waste of your time and theirs. Agents are looking for the next great thing. Something unique and different they can take to their publisher clients with a convincing pitch.

The bottom line is this: If you want a mainstream publishing deal, your writing project has to be fresh, unique and it has to stand out on every level other than phenomenal writing skills. Agents and by extension publishers already have enough clients who write well and earn them handsome amounts to keep them in business for a very long time. They are not looking for more of the same. If your genre is horror, it’s not enough to be just as good as Stephen King. You have to bring something new, ground-breaking and exciting to the mix.

Now does that mean that literary agents are infallible angels who always play it straight like an arrow? Of course not. They are just as human as you and I. Will they make a few exceptions to push up their personal contacts a little faster up the ladder of submissions? Perhaps. But that doesn’t make them any worse than the doctor who gives priority appointments to friends and family, or the shop owner who offers slightly better discounts to their inner circle. Human beings are social animals and we get by through life by sticking to our groups and taking care of one another.

I would even go as far as postulating that knowing a literary agent would at best save you some time of getting the exact same answer you would have gotten if you didn’t know them. A “no” is still a “no”, even if you get it sooner. Agents have professional reputations to uphold and would never knowingly try to sell inferior material just to do their buddy a solid.

And as it happens, the vast majority of literary agents are down-to-earth, hard-working, decent folks who get all doe-eyed and excited about books and writing, just like you. They would love nothing more than to discover a diamond in the rough. To believe that you the writer could be the next Umberto Eco, Haruki Murakami, Khaled Hosseini, Alaa El Aswany, Frederick Forsyth,  J.K. Rowling, or Vince Flynn.

Be Upfront and Professional

Agents repeat themselves, over and over again. It’s always the same message. Consistently the same basic principles. Which are: The number of things a writer can do to improve their chances with an agent, other than having a solid pitch, is exactly zero. No amount of jokes or “quirky” style in your query letter will endear you to them any more than a basic, well-written, courteous communique would. There is veritably nothing you can bribe an agent with that would convince them to like your pitch any more than what it deserves. There is no amount of “creativity” in how you submit your package that could enhance your chances—don’t waste your money on expensive manuscript boxes or fancy paper. And meeting you in person when you show up at their offices uninvited, or if you ambush them during their lunch break will only get your ego bruised, your face slapped or yourself arrested depending on how “spirited” your attempt is.

The truth is, I have never come across an agent’s submission guideline that was in any way vague or left anything open to interpretation. In a nutshell, here’s what agents expect from writers trying to do business with them:

1. Do your research. Find the most suitable agents and only submit to them. Don’t try to engage with an agent who specializes in mysteries and thrillers, if you happen to write cookery books or military history. How difficult is that?

2. Stick to the submission guidelines. Stick to the submission guidelines. Stick to the submission guidelines. If an agent asks for a complete synopsis that describes all the main events, don’t hold-off the final twist or ending because “you don’t want to deprive them of the thrill factor.” If you can’t follow simple instructions, agents can make all sorts of deductions about your intelligence and therefore their desire to work with you long term.

3. Be respectful and only speak when you are spoken to. Unless an agent specifically encourages you touch base after a certain period of time after your submission to prod them, the first time you contact an agent should be the last time until they engage you in a discussion. Indignant follow up letters or calls that contain phrases like “perplexed” won’t win you any favors. Most important of all, if an agent does pass on you, under no circumstance should you write back to complain or to plead for them to reconsider. If you do feel the need to write back, the best you can do is a gracious thank you note. In some circumstances if an agent’s rejection is vague or you require clarification for your own education, it may be okay to inquire about that, but only in the politest terms.

4. Never, ever burn bridges. Acting in a publishing capacity, a writer I rejected recently for a small piece of fiction first tried to make me change my mind through a series of aggressive emails. When none of my polite emails reflected a change in my position, she wrote back saying ” You are extremely unprofessional. I wouldn’t work with you on any project in the future. And I would advise anyone I know to not work with you.” Many agents I know tell me they’ve received even worse feedback from disgruntled, rejected writers. Sometimes even outright threats.

When writers behave like that upon rejection, they disclose their true nature. Good manners go a long way in this business. An agent who rejects you may, without you knowing, pass your proposal on to another agency who may find you more up their alley. But they certainly won’t be doing anything other than trashing your submission if you decide to be anything other than cordial, sane, and civilized.

It’s a free market, like any other

Perhaps one of the biggest mistake most aspiring writers commit when hunting for an agent is getting myopic and obsessive about the agents they will submit to. A lot of writers tend to send out limited submissions to either the top agencies, or just a few ones on a trial basis. And when the rejections start rolling in, they see that as a blanket condemnation of their writing skills and withdraw into a shell of self-doubt.

The savvy writer recognizes that literary agency is a free market. There are enough agencies and independent agents out there to support you sending a submission a day for a few years. And big doesn’t always mean better. In many cases, finding new or smaller agencies may work to your advantage. They may have more time and be less jaded. They  could pay more attention or see unique selling points in you or your story which you may have failed to articulate, and which an A-List agent may not have the time or patience to infer on your behalf. The best approach to finding an agent is to see it as an ongoing agricultural project. Plant as many seeds as you can and keep planting, rather than sowing just a few seeds then waiting idly by their side hoping to see them sprout.  Or to use another farm-inspired expression, don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

Think outside your geographic box

Another common mistake many writers commit is to think within their narrow geographic zone. It would serve them tremendously if they looked laterally and broadened their geographic focus. Instead of submitting only to agents in your country, why not cast a wider net and research literary agencies in other geographic locales? And I don’t just mean other English-speaking countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. Even further afield in other vibrant literary markets like Germany, Japan and Italy, or in emerging markets like Russia, Brazil, India, and China. If your genre is over-saturated in your home country, maybe there is a market for a writer like you and a story like yours in the most unexpected place. It is erroneous to  think that important publishing opportunities exist only within the confines of London or New York. The world is really your oyster.

Beware of the faux agent and the con artists

Much of the advice regarding agents focuses on what to do and not to do when dealing with legitimate literary agents. But with the advent of self-publishing, the industry is in the throes of a major overhaul. And like any industry in transformation, there are bound to be opportunistic leeches who try to profiteer in less than ethical ways.

I have noticed of late a growing species of faux agents and con artists whose business model is to prey on inexperienced first-time authors who are hungry for a break. In the spirit of vanity publishing houses which have thankfully now been fully exposed for what they are, fake agents recognize that while most writers have figured out they can produce a quality book on their own, the next step of getting it picked up by a mainstream publisher is still incredibly hard.

The most common type of fraudulent agent is the type who charge for their services. Reputable literary agents only get paid when you do. They get a commission from your earnings as a writer, through the deals they broker for you. Any one suggesting they can provide their services for a fee, are categorically taking you or a ride. Run a thousand miles in the opposite direction.

Slightly more refined, another genus of scamming literary agents will speak of co-sharing costs. They will spin you a yarn about how competitive the market has become, and that to gain an edge you need to invest in your writing career by teaming up with the agent in question (or even a publishing outfit they own or operate) to jump start your career. They will often use the editorial and production stages of self-publishing as an analogy and justification as to why you also need to invest in finding a publisher, or to “market” your self-published book. The key trigger words that should concern you are things like “partnership”, “joint venture”, “co-publishing”, “invest in your writing career”, and “the changing face of the publishing world.”

Between the thieving fake agents who want to charge you a fee for their services or those scoundrels who want you to “partner” with them, there is a whole ecosystem of agent impersonators who will want to con you out of your hard-earned cash through a myriad of ways. Like the microbial life forms of false agents who will indirectly solicit any number of favors (social, sexual, monetary) and lavish spending from you. I’ve heard of “agents” who expect to be taken out for expensive lunches to “discuss” your project. It is highly irregular for an agent assessing your work to want to dine with you. And in the rare occasion they do ask you out for a business meal, if it’s not their treat, at the very least split the bill. Even if you are a man and the conniving agent is a member of the opposite sex, resist the temptation to be a gentleman this one time because in all likelihood, you are the victim of a literary scam rather than a legitimate business relationship.

Be safe boys and girls, but open your hearts. There’s never been a better time to write and create.

Honest Acknowledgments

13 Sep


Writers love to write about writers. I’ve always imagined this obnoxious and paranoid novelist who strikes it big, but then self-destructs over ten years. His life begins to incrementally melt down as he slowly antagonizes the people who supported him.

I thought it would be neat to document his demise through the acknowledgment section of his debut novel, from the very first one to the last. From picture humility and gratitude, to… Well, read on and you’ll find out!

Acknowledgments: First Edition, February 8 2005

I am grateful to my parents for providing me with a colorful life that sparked my creativity at a young age. I wasn’t sheltered or protected like most kids growing up today. I saw it and did it all.

If it wasn’t for my good friend Bob Piper this novel would have forever remained a distant dream. He encouraged me to follow my passion, to quit my job and focus on my writing. Without Bob’s insistence that I keep at it, his interest in my stories and characters, I wouldn’t have been able to finish the manuscript, let alone send it out to agents.

Talking about agents, Ari Swartz is the dream partner of any aspiring novelist. He took me under his wings and got me the publishing deal I deserved. Thank you Ari for believing in a doe-eyed kid from the wrong coast and understanding that mine was a unique story that needed to be told. It takes one to know one: Ari is nothing short of extraordinary.

My editor Nicole Hayek at Pelican Pocket Books elevated this book by many factors. She is a master of words, a beautiful woman inside and out, and the best literary ally for any writer seeking a long and illustrious career.

Also at Pelican Pocket Books, my publicist, Eric L’Enfant, doesn’t sleep, eat, or rest. He only lives to make sure his writers are on every television show that counts, featured in the top book review publications, and stocked in every single bookstore across the country. If Eric should one day retire, I am confident the world will stop spinning.

Finally, my children Darren and Sophia, and my wife Rebecca.  The three of your are the light of my life and the reason I exist. My love for you is the fuel that powers every pulsating cell of my body.

Acknowledgments: Seventh Edition, March 31, 2015

My parents were highly irresponsible inept sociopaths. I have finally accepted that. They should have never been allowed to get married or have children. Neither one of them fancied working to earn an income. Why work when you can leach off welfare? I used to romanticize that my childhood gave me a creative edge. Maybe it did. But I’d trade my literary success for a normal childhood in a heart beat. No child must wake up to find  naked lesbians and midget jugglers passed out on their kitchen floor and be asked to accept it as “normal”.

Many centuries ago, I used to have a friend called Bob Piper.  I say ‘used to’ not because Bob  got crushed under a freight train or was consumed by flesh-eating bacteria as he so rightly deserves.  But because Bob is no longer my friend. Unless its okay for a friend to spew venom about you on TMZ. Bob took an intimate interest in my career as a writer and back then I trusted him with story and character ideas, not knowing the little shit was himself harboring literary aspirations. Don’t buy his first book, Of Sharks and Mice unless you condone shameless plagiarism, not to mention that it sucks dick.

Mainstream publishing would fare a lot better if the entire species of agents simply ceased to exist. Think highly selective neutron bomb. Do I sound a tad bitter, ungrateful or bitchy? That’s because you’ve been spared knowing one  rotten son-of-a-bitch of an agent who goes by the name of Ari Swartz. Exactly how long does a writer have to remain beholden to their blood-sucking agents? Writers do all the hard work while agents reap lifetime benefits simply for getting you that first deal of your career. Like an entitled louse.  To add insult to injury, knowing full well that the no-good, penis sucker, faux friend of mine Bob Piper ripped me off, Ari Swartz still went on get him a mainstream book deal when he should have been left to rot in self-published purgatory.

Reports I sexually harassed my long-time editor Nicole Hayek at Pelican Pocket Books are grossly overstated. From the moment she laid eyes on me she wanted to get in my pants. Who’s to blame her? But I never obliged her. That’s why she’s talking garbage about me. I want to set the record straight: The fact that she has revealing pictures of me does not mean it’s really me, and/or that I sent them to her.

I wish I had something nice to say about Eric L’Enfant, my former publicist. But since he left Pelican Pocket Books and decided to write his tell-all memoirs to trash his former clients, the only thought that crosses my mind about this despicable waste of space involves a sharp metallic object and the act of sodomy.


Finally, my children Darren and Sophia.  The two of you are the light of my life, and the reason I exist. My love for you is the fuel that powers every pulsating cell of my body. I will not hold it against you that you came out of the womb of a cheating whore. Your mother slept with every single male friend of mine, I have now come to know. Including Bob Piper, might I add. I can’t be sure either of you  are my biological children, but that’s fine. Don’t let that tarnish your perspective. The doubt about your lineage and the realization that everything you grew to believe in may or may not be built on lies could spark your imagination to pursue something creative in life. Anything bur writing, please. You will always be compared to me, and as much as I care for you both dearly, I don’t think either of you will ever match up. Love, dad. 

Hand to hand combat with J.K. Rowling on a transatlantic flight

16 Aug

On a flight from New York to London last night, I took my shoes off, spread my legs out, and surrendered to the humming jet engines which usually knock me out before take off.  Just as I was about to doze off, I noticed a gentleman one row in front pulling out a crisp, brand-new copy of  J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy. It’s the rock star author’s first effort after her Harry Potter series, and from I what I remembered, critically acclaimed and a resounding commercial success.

Since becoming an author myself, I have obsessed about how people interact with books in public. I want to know what they are reading, and view their immediate reactions to it.  Of course often fantasizing what it would be like to have my debut novel, Terminal Rage, between their hands.

My co-passenger was in his early sixties, and seemed as accomplished as anyone else in the cabin. He read the front matter of the book diligently, then touched its pages, even caressing the cover as if to savor its high production values and relish the promise of enjoyment and entertainment the novel would offer. Clearly he was a book lover.

He started reading the first page. It took him a few minutes to go through it. But instead of delving into the book, he put it back in his bag and started fiddling with the remote control of his in-flight entertainment system. What?

At some point during the flight after my daughter broke out in a fully-animated version of incy wincy spider, and my son screamed his head off, Bill, my co-passenger and I struck up a conversation about kids. And how he raised seven of them. He was a fascinating man who at various points of his life had worked as a a travelling choir singer based in Rome, a general contractor, a restaurateur, a naval officer, and most recently a stock broker. Now semi-retired,  when he and his wife Vicky are not back home in Missouri with their children and grand children, they are busy exploring the world.

I told Bill I had just published a novel, and we started talking about books. My instinct was right about him. Bill was a voracious reader. Many years ago he had given away his collection of four thousand books, only to rebuild it again a few years later.

I admitted I had spied on him interacting with The Casual Vacancy, and asked why he was barely able to finish the first page. Any good writer knows that regardless of the genre, a story has to hook the reader from the first sentence. As Stephen King recently wrote,

“An opening line should invite the reader to begin the story. It should say: Listen. Come in here. You want to know about this.”

King himself is rumored to spend months, even years perfecting the opening line of his novels. Surely J.K. Rowling could achieve that.  Bill confessed he was too tired to get into it, and was planning to read The Casual Vacancy on his seven-day cruise of the Mediterranean. We continued talking about kids, books, life and everything in between.

All along, I couldn’t help but wonder if his reaction to the opening page would have been different if he read my novel. In fact, I  had a spare copy somewhere in my bag and for a brief moment contemplated conducting that experiment there and then: To ask Bill to read my first page and let me know if it would have grabbed him to read more, despite being tired. But that proposition seemed instantly cheap, almost like a Coke vs. store band cola blindfold test. It felt belittling to the three years I spent writing it.

The debut novel of  a novice, unknown author stands no chance of competing with a well established mainstream writer. And in this case, a lady who happens to be the best-selling writer of all time. It has nothing to do with the quality of the writing either. But what independent, new or self-published writers are really competing with is the massive, crushing weight of a recognizable brand name.  Back again to that Coke vs. generic brand cola analogy. And there couldn’t be a more suitable illustration of that conundrum than Rowling herself who only a few weeks ago revealed she was the author of the mystery novel, The Cuckoo’s Calling, published under the pen name of Robert Galbraith. That book had struggled to sell until this revelation when it shot to the top of the best seller lists. It’s not like the book somehow improved, but all of a sudden everybody wanted to buy into the brand name.

When the plane landed, Bill and I parted ways and I accepted I would never find out the result of the test.  I had lost an opportunity to confirm my theory that established writers no longer have to adhere to the basic rules, and can do whatever they want and get away with it, all the while selling more books. Just like a rock band that starts writing the music  that its members always wanted to do, rather than what they became famous for. Now I am certainly not disputing that Ms. Rowling is ridiculously talented. I love what she had done for books and reading. I am just intrigued by the notion that even for something as deeply personal as reading, many book consumers are  predominantly influenced by name recognition, more than any other consideration.

A few hours later on my connecting flight from London to Rome, I felt a hand tapping my shoulder and a voice telling me, “You better behave now young man, I am sitting right behind you.” It was Bill and his wife. They had missed their original flight to Rome and fate would have it that once again we were in the sky together. This time though, I decided to give Bill a copy of my book, but not ask him to read the first page and give me immediate feedback.

I just wanted to plant the virus. To have my book directly compete with J.K. Rowling’s novel for Bill’s attention. After all he was going to be on seven-day cruise, captive with only two books to choose from. And even if I never found out who won, at least Bill would. It would show him exciting things are happening in the writing world, and how a new generation of independent authors are out to challenge mainstream publishing. Who knows, maybe Bill would spur others to read my book and also explore the wonderful world of new writers. But I wasn’t left guessing. Half way through the flight, I heard Bill calling me.

“Your book beat out J.K. Rowling. I can’t stop reading it.  I am already on to chapter five.”

And I had a realization then. I stand no chance to compete with a brand-name author on a mass scale. But I have written a novel worth reading. Even if I have to battle it out with an established author like J.K. Rowling, one reader at a time.

The opening of The Casual Vacancy:

the-casual-vacancy-new-cover-paperback-fullBarry Fairbrother did not want to go out for dinner. He had endured a thumping headache for most of the weekend and was struggling to make a deadline for the local newspaper. However, his wife had been a little stiff and uncommunicative over lunch, and Barry deduced that his anniversary card had not mitigated the crime of shutting himself away in the study all morning. It did not help that he had been writing about Krystal, whom Mary disliked, although she pretended otherwise. ‘Mary, I want to take you out to dinner,’ he had lied, to break the frost. ‘Nineteen years, kids! Nineteen years, and you mother’s never looked lovelier.’

The opening of Terminal Rage:

Terminal RageAlex Blackwell had no doubt the helicopter droning above his catamaran was an ominous premonition. He wasn’t disputing it was a clear sign his old life had finally caught up with him. Because these would have been the wrong questions to ask.  Good men perished and great civilizations were vanquished under the weight of wrong questions. Like wasting time pondering whether your attacker’s gun was loaded, when you should be wondering how to kill him first. Smack dab in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, his mind had instead gone into overdrive to answer what he knew was the right set of questions. Who was it who had found him, after four years in hiding on the tiny island of Anguilla, and what the hell did they want with him?

Click here to buy The Casual Vacancy.

Click here to buy Terminal Rage.

Writers, do you struggle with sex scenes?

22 Jun

Erotica and comedy are probably the hardest types of fiction to craft. Humor and sex are universal in their effect on us, but sexual preferences and sense of humor vary greatly from one person to the other, and indeed from one culture to culture.

What makes you laugh or aroused will doubtless be different to what works for someone else. Yet, sometimes, erotica or comedy can transcend personal tastes and cultural idiosyncrasies and move us all in the same way. How is this possible? What are the features of this highly-coveted and universally-appealing writing ability, and indeed, how can a writer emulate it?

With erotica specifically, unless you specialize in this genre, it’s hard to write sexually explicit material and not make it seem gratuitous, or worse uneventful. Sex, like any ingredient in successful fiction, has to move the plot forward. It can’t just be there for the sake of looking pretty.

Now, to further exacerbate the difficulty of making erotica resound well with a reader is the gender variable. Men and women respond to sexual stimulation in vastly different ways, including written erotica. For instance, women prefer detailed descriptions of physical appearances, and innuendos. Men on the other hand want to get to the gory details quickly, and explicitly. So not only does the writer have to contend with the innate difficulty of writing sex scenes per se, but we also have to account for the fact that just by being who we are in terms of gender, we may already be alienating members of the opposite sex.

I believe all writers have to hone their skills at writing meaningful love scenes, and the best way to do it is to try it out, maybe in a short story format. You never know when you will need it.

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