Radine Trees Nehring's Blog, page 7

Well, why not?  Recently several much-loved mid-sized writers conferences in the mid-USA have closed.  So why not plan one to fill in the gap.  ARE YOU READY?

Here is one example you might consider:

Fiction Writing Conference.  Cape Cod, August 11-12, 2012.  (Nah, too far away from center USA. But–a really appealing location, so . . . .)

Main Conference:  August 11-12.  Registration:  $1,295.  Continental bkfst. included.  Hotel,  at special rate, $210 per night.

Add on sessions (with personal attention) August 9 and 10, from $495.00 to $1,995 each.

Surprised at the rates?   I sure was.  (Maybe I’m naive?)  But then, though this conference schedule looks an awful lot like the many conferences I have attended over the years, there is a difference.  It’s designed for physicians and lawyers who want to write novels–especially thrillers and mysteries.  “And,” my brother-in-law the lawyer says, “they’re probably charging what they know the attendees can pay.”  Why not luxury?

Moving on:

Mid-summer conference in Texas.  Registration? $75.00 for  each writer, $35.00 for spouse.  One day, Saturday, with possible add-ons Friday and Sunday. Meet and Greet Dinner Friday night, $30.00 extra.  Special hotel rate, $89.00. Full breakfast furnished, including made-to-order omelets.

Which conference would you like to plan?  Which one would you attend?  Both have speakers, the Cape Cod one bigger names.  Both have a few panels. Both have agents to take pitches.   Gosh.  Could you do it?  Whoooeee, not me!  I’ve been in on the planning for one writers’ conference and you-have-no-idea what is required.  We had a committee, a whole organization board, in on the planning.  Consider a moment:  meeting rooms, deals with hotel, services, including water and coffee for guests, meals?, speakers? paying transportation for speakers, and, usually, honorariums. Panels?  Who?      Yes, you’ve got to cover every detail including being sure, (if you have coffee), that cream and sugar and sweetener are on the table, up to who is going to pick up Miss Big Name Speaker at the airport?

And, of course, you need to assure there are enough attendees to cover all expenses.  Simply put, we couldn’t do it.  We cancelled the conference.

But, maybe not knowing about all the problems he would have to tackle, a daring man in Denton, Texas, jumped into the shark pool.  He wanted to have a conference and, by gum, he did!  He had no committee.  He had only himself.  Though he is a full-time building contractor specializing in home remodels, he is also an author, with one published novel thus far. And, he is in love with writing.  So, assisted at times by his wife Ranay, Mitch Haynes set out to offer  his conference:   LexiCon.

Initially several hundred people signed up, though in the end, something around 125 actually paid and attended.  You can perhaps imagine a tiny bit of all the details Mitch had to cover.  He got his hotel.  (Two, in fact, next door neighbors.)  One hotel hosted all conference meetings.  He signed up speakers, including book packagers, a press or two, (subsidy, I think) a couple of agents, a publicist, and several experienced writers.  True, Random House didn’t come, or even any mid-sized royalty presses. (Maybe next year.)  And what may have seemed lacking in big names–the head-held-high above the crowd folks–this conference made up for in good old friendly enthusiasm.

Mitch told us, in his welcoming talk  Saturday morning, that this was a conference with a difference.  We were to support each other.  We were friends, and not just there to sell our own books.  We were advocates for each others’ books.  No egos, no various degrees of success, and definitely no “I’m better than you are” folks.  At this conference, all were to hold out the hand of sharing and support, of appreciation and networking.

Mitch made his dream plain, and, y’know, his very enthusiasm and, perhaps, innocence, almost brought tears to my eyes during his opening speech.  Most certainly,  LexiCon was not to be like other conferences.  Though he didn’t say it, I thought of brotherhood (and sisterhood, of course) and simple friendliness.  Reminded me of an “Up With People” event I attended many, many years ago.

Well, I’d advise Mitch to hold on to his dream, and continue to make LexiCon the conference with Mitch Haynes’ special stamp–the little conference with a big difference.

Of course there were a few stumbles along the way.  After all, at the conference, Mitch, his wife, his young daughter Crystal and her friend Kayla were the staff.  Crystal and Kayla monitored the check-in table, handed out badges and conference folders.  Mitch, assisted by Ranay,  did all the rest.  Who cares about stumbles, especially when you’re together as one big family made up of all types of authors.  In fact, any blips probably only added to the family ambiance of the event. Nothing actually harmed the enthusiasm or good information shared during the day.  (There were four tracks of speakers to monitor, by the way–and hard choices as to what to attend.)

During the conference, Mitch and Ranay were everywhere, getting water for guests, checking air-conditioning in every room every hour, monitoring the bookstore they’d set up for published authors (they only kept 10% of retail price) and nine gazillion other things, large and small.

I’m glad I went.    http://Lexi-ConWritersConference.com     Get ready for next year.

http://www.RadinesBooks.com

An essay by Radine, first published in THE WRITER’S JOURNEY JOURNAL from Wolfmont Press, 2009.

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“Your writing should begin with motive, not process.”

Around twenty years ago newspaper editor Richard J. Cattani offered this advice, and the words continue to stir me. They lead straight to the question, “Why do I write?”

Why, indeed?

Up front I’ll exclude a common answer many non-writers (and even some writers) choose: “To be rich, or famous, or, best of all, both.” Those things might come (if rarely) but where’s the lasting joy in such material pleasures? I find them false motives.

Cattani also wrote this provocative and unfinished sentence: “If you don’t wake up writing . . . . “

How would each one of us who writes finish that sentence? Cattani didn’t. I don’t think  he needed to.

Writers can wake up with a head full of words that demand sharing. (This “waking” might come at any time of day or night.) We sit at our computers with a vision of how to put our new-born sharing on the screen. And, at last, after writing and thinking and re-writing, we are ready to send the ideas we have loved and nurtured out to our fellow humans, hoping they may benefited, or at least entertained.

Ah, that, then, is the real answer to WHY.  It is beginning with motive. We love the magic of ideas expressed in words. We hope for what our words can accomplish, whether in print or on line. I think most writers feel this magic.

But we must also learn to use language with proficiency and skill. (And that could be called process.) Only skill linked with creativity will honor the ideas bubbling out on paper or screen. Only that will honor our readers. Motive first, then process.

Of course writing is work, and it should be. Read, re-read. Write, re-write. Does the sentence sing? Is that the best word to convey an emotion? Think. Think. Think.

Love of a profession does not guarantee ease in accomplishing its goals. We create, then we polish our articles, stories, and poems until they are worthy of us and our readers. Accomplishing this–not money, not fame, not even a big publishing contract–is the key to being a successful writer. Success comes first in our hearts.

Back in 2005, the 44th President of the United States, then Senator Barack Obama, was asked to define success. He said, in part, “People I respect who are happy with their lives know success is not just about them. It’s about something bigger than them.” He went on to link success with the sharing of ourselves and the best of our skills with fellow humans.

So, drawing from the big universe of ideas, we head for success. You and I reach toward words that have meaning for us, that set us on fire with the need to share. Then we are awake, and writing.

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I recommend this book to anyone interested in writing anything.  It’s a small book, spiral bound, selling for $9.95.  I joined a dozen other known writers in contributing inspirational and/or informative essays to be published therein.  Each of those has value.  In addition, there are lined, blank pages in the Journal where writers may jot inspiration and ideas.  At the top of each page is a piquant quote from a well-know author.  My favorite, which I have quoted many times, is from playwright Tom Stoppard: “Words are sacred. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little.”  I am not mentioning the book because sales benefit me.  (They don’t, at this point.)  I promote it on your behalf.  I am sure it’s still available.  See your bookseller or http://www.wolfmont.com.  Write:  [email protected] or Wolfmont Press at 238 Park Drive NE, Ranger, GA 30734.            http://www.RadinesBooks.com

How many of you have expressed your thoughts in the form of poetry?

Oops, I hear a few snarls.   All right, I admit some folks look down their noses at “that incomprehensible poetry stuff” but I still ask how many of you have ever written a poem?  And, by this, I don’t necessarily mean formula poetry, rules poetry, or rhymed poetry.  I mean language with a heartbeat.  I mean sometimes emotional or fiery “how I really feel” poetry.  I even mean poetry that you’d burn before you let anyone else read it!

Have you–instead of ranting and swearing or hitting the wall with your fist–ever tried writing a poem?

Have you–when sad, bowed under burdens–ever tried writing a poem?

Have you–when bursting with joy, wide-eyed over experiencing beauty, or aflame with love–ever tried writing a poem?

Yes, of course you can do it.

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What got me started on poetry?  Terry, an on-line friend who writes beautiful poetry, did. (http://terrysthoughtsand threads.blogspot.com)  She reminded me that, some years back, at the beginning of my writing career, I wrote poetry, and even sold some of it.  She took me back to my writing roots.   I not only shared one of my own poems on this blog, (see below)  I went to my bookshelves and took down several of the books of poetry I own, and have read in years past. And I began to read and think . . . .

Seems to me, expressing ourselves in poetry can free us from, well,  call it “the daily grind” more than other forms of expression. It’s just us and our thoughts, rolling out. Why poetry and not prose?  Because this form of writing demands we put thoughts in capsules. We need to understand them; we need to  remove the excess, the garbage words.  We need to THINK.  And thinking often leads to resolution and understanding, or even peace.

Proof?  I’ll begin with the opening lines from Robert Frost’s best known and probably best loved poem, MENDING WALL.

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,/ That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it/And spills the upper boulders in the sun,/ And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.”

Probably most of us can picture what Frost is describing unless, maybe, we live in the tropics and have never seen frozen ground heave under a stone wall.  But the wall is a metaphor for me here.  It stands for being in prison, and, in poetry, for how prisoners break the walls around them.

Read this, by a man named Charles Doss:

From the forward to his book, I SHALL MINGLE:

“In this prison cell I am highly resolved that I shall touch mankind, that I shall mingle with the thousands.”

And, here’s one Doss poem, titled “The Philippines of Our Soul.”

“There is an island in the Philippines,/ or perhaps it is a province,/ called Zamboanga./ I know nothing but its name,/do not wish to know more./ It is pronounced in four syllables, / Zam bo AHNG ah,/ and the sound to my ears is beautiful.

“I don’t know why it calls me so./ But I shall sojourn there one day,/ and when I do I shall not be gray and old./ I shall be lean and hard, laughing and gay,/ Filled with hope for the whole human race./ We should all have a Zamboanga,/ lush, exotic and beckoning,/ Anchored brightly in the Philippines/ of our soul.”

Another:

“I sense that there’s an image here/ That needs to be remembered./ There is an autumn in my soul/ That needs to be Septembered.

“There is a tiny stab of pain – / A shudder and a spasm – / And then infinitudes of night/ That form an endless chasm.

“There is a perfect, perfect peace/ That constitutes a corner – / So poised, so cool: just contemplating me/ And knowing I shall turn her.”

Copyright by Charles Doss, 1979.

I don’t know where Charles Doss is now, or even if he is still on this earth.  When the book came out he was in an Arizona prison, under a life sentence.   An appreciator helped, I believe, by his wife, saw that his poems and essays were published in I SHALL MINGLE.

From other men in prison, published in a book “POEMS FROM GUANTANAMO, the detainees speak.”

“Peace, they say./ Peace of mind?/ Peace on earth?/ Peace of what kind?

“I see them talking, arguing, fighting — / What kind of peace are they looking for?/ Why do they kill?/ What are they planning?

“Is it just talk? Why do they argue?/ Is it so simple to kill?/ Is this their plan?

“Yes, of course!/ They talk, they argue, they kill –/ They fight for peace.”

by Abdulaziz, who was captured when he left Saudi Arabia to find his brother and bring him home from Afghanistan.

Or this, (quoted in part) and written by Jumah Al Dossari from Bahrain, who, the book says, has tried to kill himself a dozen times or more while in prison.

“Dreams are shattered, hopes are battered,/ Yet with new status one is flattered!/ The irony of it — detention and all:/ Be so small, and stand so tall

“Years of tears and days of toil/ Are now but fears and tyrants’ spoil;/ Ordainment has surely come to pass, / But endure alone one must this farce.

“Now ‘patience is of virtue’ taught/ And virtue is of iron wrought;/ So poetry is in motion set/ (Perhaps, with appreciation met).

“Still the paper do I pen,/ knowing what, but never when — / As dreams begin, and nightmares end — /I’m homeward bound to beloved tend.”

The torture of Jumah al Dossari at Guantanamo was detailed in INSIDE THE WIRE, by former military intelligence soldier Erik Saar.)

A large number of legal professionals, professors, and human rights advocates contributed to this book, including those collecting and translating.

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Yes, if these men can, then we, too, can safely express our deepest thoughts in poetry.

Radine     http://www.RadinesBooks.com

I have read a lot of poetry.  Don’t know how things are now (must ask friends who are teachers) but when I was in school, we read a lot of English and American poets, beginning with Chaucer and a bit of Beowulf, traveling up to Shakespeare, and bouncing through Burns, Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, Tennyson and many more.  We read American poets, too, including Edgar Allen Poe,  Robert Frost and Emily Dickenson.  Poems written by some of these moved me greatly as a teen, and some still do–when I have time to read them.  I suspect they had a big part in birthing my love of what one could create with the written word.   Words from people you never knew and never would know could make your heart beat faster. They could make you sigh, cry, smile, and even laugh.  They could paint word pictures on your soul!

As an adult and a writer, I added current day American poets to my reading list, several of whom I’ve met–Maya Angelou being a special favorite. (Delightful woman who is, as you may know, Arkansas born.)  A current favorite is Miller Williams, who lives down the road a piece (well, actually about 40 miles) in Fayetteville, Arkansas.

One thing these people have in common is that their work speaks to me.  Not all poetry does that.  We used to live in Tulsa, OK, and for a time neighbors across the streets were English professors at the University of Tulsa. Both were poets.  I remember so well attending a launch party for a poetry chapbook published by the husband.  The Nehrings, of course, bought a copy, as did most of our neighbors.   Comparing notes later, we were all in agreement.  We didn’t understand a single poem in that book.  Wish I still had it, I’d give you an example.   Maybe the words made sense to  people who were part of an “in group” this poet gifted with his presence, or perhaps his students fawned over the writing.  Don’t know.  The book did give those of us who weren’t “in” the giggles.  I guess that was worth the price of the book.

So, as you can see, I can’t claim to be a connoisseur of the poet’s art.  Dare I say (stand back!) that I do know what I like?

When, as a mature adult, I began my writing career I enrolled in a two-week poetry writing class. I had already sold quite a few essays about the Ozarks to national publications, and decided I’d “upgrade” my abilities to include poetry.  Classes were held in Tulsa’s Philbrook Art Center, and one of our assignments was to write a poem about a work of art in the museum’s permanent collection.  Well now, I had, as a teen, worked at Philbrook, was certainly at home there, and ended up writing all my class poems about art or the museum itself.  I even had the clever idea that I would eventually create a chapbook of these Philbrook poems, and the museum would happily sell it in their gift shop.  (See, I was promotion-oriented, even then, but nothing came of the idea.)

The training as a poet still serves me well, however.  It did, indeed, give me more of a feeling for the power of words and, even to this day, I will re-work a prose sentence until, to me, it sings much as a line of poetry would.  I eventually sold a book of essays with many lines that were poetic (the evaluation of others, though I felt it myself) and, as a genre writer today, still spend time on singing sentences here and there.

One of my Philbrook Art Center poems eventually sold to The Christian Science Monitor and was published on their Home Forum page.  Since this is an international newspaper, a publisher in Germany saw the poem and, through the paper, contacted me.  He eventually published my poem in a book for advanced students of the English language in Germany.

So, brace yourself.  Here is that poem :   (You’ll find it written in paragraph form here since I can’t figure out how to put it in the form poetry usually takes without skipping two lines throughout.  Instead, I’ll simply put / where a line break should go.)

ART CENTER SONG, copyright 1987 by Radine Trees Nehring

Why is it so quiet?

An awed hush echoes in marble halls . . . /steps softly on gallery floors. / People nod heads, looking wise/ before images on stands and walls…/ sharing only the few words that viewing calls for!

Should it be this quiet?

Does the look of history and its art,/ or present paint and clay/ so awe us that we cannot speak aloud?/ Do we lack in knowing what to say/ or fear disturbing others/ who are meditating?

Are we quiet here

Because we think the world itself / would fall apart/ if we shouted, or danced, or/  spoke out loud, and from the heart/ praised the wonder of this art/ and laughed at seeing so much beauty!

The silence in these galleries is a song!

Radine, http://www.RadinesBooks.com

The story below this post, CHEERING FOR OTHERS, leads into this:

How many of you have mentoring stories?   Will you share them with us?

Writers tend to be self-focused, and often must be to properly tend to their profession.  (MY writing, MY work toward publication, MY book promotion, and so on.)  But is this the whole story?  Writers know it is not.

Because, as I have become increasingly aware over the years, writers are a community of mentors and helpers.

In meetings, get-togethers, conferences, magazine articles, on the Internet and through various web sites, blogs, groups, and lists, we share ideas on, not only basic writing and promotion, but on how to figure out this web site; how to work out this Internet problem; how to submit to X, Y, or Z; where to find a cover artist, a web designer, an editor.

And we support, we encourage, we mentor.

Did/do you have a special mentor?   I sure did and do.  Back in the late 1980′s after many of my essays and feature articles had been published, I enrolled in an adult no-credit writing class on book writing and publishing at what was then Tulsa Junior College.  The teacher, Peggy Fielding, sat on a stool in front of a room full of true novices and had us laughing in a couple of minutes. “And,” she told us, “I am assuming that every one of you knows how to write a simple, correct sentence in English.”  Then she went on to pour information, examples, and rules into our heads.  There were a lot of rules:  how to prepare a manuscript page, how to address the editor or agent whose name, in Peggy’s example, was always “Ms Poo-Poo.”  (And we darn sure better know that name and spell it correctly.)  On and on, in bits and pieces we learned the writing business.  We heard, over and over, “write every day.”  She so firmly believed in this that, at the beginning of each class, every single person present was called on and asked, “Did you write every day?”  We soon learned that we had better be ready to answer “yes” honestly, or at least lie about it.  Being  sick was no excuse.  “Fevered brains come up with some magnificent ideas.”  (Peggy lived up to this years later when, recovering from a serious illness, she wrote in her hospital bed.)

In her class, she somehow, magically,  made us believe we could do it.  We could, and would, be published.  By the end of that class each member had written a query letter that passed muster with Peggy and the rest of the class.  Each member had begun writing his or her book.  Each of us finished that class with a firm can-do feeling that (for me at least) lasted through future trials and rejections until–finally–I DID do it!  And so did many of my classmates.

Peggy and I became friends and fellow members of Tulsa Nightwriters, a support group for writers at all stages of their careers.  I am still a member of that group.  And, I ended up taking every single writing class Peggy offered, no matter what the subject.  I took the final classes after we had moved to Arkansas, commuting to Tulsa for every class session. Why?  Thinking back–beyond the knowledge, she was an almost constant cheer-leader in my writing life.  (And, in fact, still is.  I even have a photo of her on my desk, a serious, black and white picture of a stern-looking woman I can hear saying “Get busy, you can do it!”)

Okay, that’s my mentoring story.   Will you share your’s?

Radine        http://www.RadinesBooks.com

Frequently, on one or another of the on-line groups of writers and readers I take part in, someone will announce good news — a review full of praise,  good publicity, or, perhaps most important of all, the acceptance of a book manuscript by a publisher.  And other authors in the group cheer, sometimes publicly, sometimes only in our own thoughts, but we are happy for the happy author.

Because we know what it’s like.  I do.  I remember very well the phone call from New York that came to our home on a Sunday evening in 1993.  The voice said:  “Radine, I want to talk to you about your lovely book.”

Exhultation!  The long wait, the letters of rejection were done with.  My words were going to become a REAL BOOK.

Around sixteen years ago, just after that first published book of mine had come out, the chamber of commerce in our small town asked me to teach a writing class.  In fear and trembling I accepted, and, a month or so later, faced a class of beginning writers. One member of the class was a woman named Lou, and, like the others, she had come to find out what possibilities there might be for her in the world of writing.

The class went well, thank goodness, and after it was over, my students wanted to stay together, so we formed a writing critique group and began meeting regularly.

Over the years, members came and went.  A couple of sincere ones achieved publication, others moved away, some decided the writing world wasn’t for them.  But in the group, a constant, were my husband and myself.  And Lou.

At some time during this period, Lou found out she would soon be deaf.  She learned sign language and began helping deaf children in school and elsewhere. She decided to write a book featuring a deaf child.  She wanted hearing children to know what being deaf was like, and also to learn that, except in just one way, deaf children were just like children everywhere.

Over the years, her book about Ricki moved from a simple sharing of mild events in a young girls’ life to a story about challenges and victories, about sharing and caring.  She was finally ready to  send queries to agents and publishers. She began accumulating rejections. Eventually she became discouraged, wanted to give up. I told her that the Ricki  book was too important to give up on!

And, in the meantime, the writing group continued, a constant in her life and mine.  (During those years I wrote and sold seven additional books to publishers.)

Others in the group wrote books, completed them, began sending submissions to publishers.

And then . . . then . . .  last night, Lou, and one other member of our group, announced, in surprisingly quiet and shy tones, that they had received contract offers from publishers.

I already knew.  Both told me days before. I had already done my grinning and cheering and happy dancing.

So we can believe in ourselves, in writing, and in miracles, can’t we?   After hard work, of course.  After, perhaps, dozens of rejections, after discouragement and doubt, and, well, after sixteen long years, the miracle happens.

What about you?  Could you stick to a dream for sixteen years?  Or longer?

http://www.RadinesBooks.com

Most of you have probably read about Nature Deficit Disorder, or seen programs about it on television.  (Maybe it’s too bad we’ve come to identify so many problems as a “disorder” of one type or another, but at least that’s less negative than something like “Nature Deficit Illness” or “Attention Deficit Illness.” )  In any case, nature deficit is aligned with obese children–and fat adults, too.

The English word “nature” comes from Latin “nasci,” to be born. I guess that suggests  our roots in nature go back to our birth, beginning, and awakening.  But, the human body itself did not evolve amid concrete, asphalt, and steel.  Those things did not  exist when our distant ancestors roamed the land in search of food and shelter.  Our background is in nature, our “natural” tendency is to awaken and be more fully alive in nature.  Even today, many people who live in paved-over city areas head out into nature whenever the opportunity is offered.  Good for them!  Children are being encouraged to head outdoors for periods of running, climbing, and exploring, at least when wary parents can manage to allow this.  In fact those wary parents  would do well to spend more time in nature themselves.

I have lived outside some of the time for most of my life, and I survived and thrived.  (See my non-fiction book, “DEAR EARTH: A Love Letter from Spring Hollow,” for more information.)

Until recently, when the demands of a full-time writing career took over both our lives, my husband and I grew most of our food, climbed our hills, roamed the forest we live in and,  on vacation, camped out in living nature.

My first published works as a writer were all about nature. They were non-fiction; and essays and articles about outdoor life in the Ozarks–everything from making a garden on rocks and clay, to confronting snakes, ticks, and chiggers without trauma–appeared in magazines and newspapers around the United States, and even in some other countries, for many years. I was identified fully as a nature writer, and DEAR EARTH is made up almost wholly of my experiences among wild things.

Then my career evolved into news broadcasting, and I spent more and more time in meetings, and interviews. Nature appeared in my fifteen-minute news programs only rarely.

Another evolution came when I began writing fiction.  But, instead of continuing the evolution away from the natural world, it took me right back into it.  Plots in most of my mystery novels involve activities and events among Ozarks trees, hills and hollows.  Nature even provides clues in several of the stories.  (Most strongly in A VALLEY TO DIE FOR, and A RIVER TO DIE FOR.

As I write this, I have decided my next series novel will have to take Carrie, Henry,  some of their friends–along with this author–back out into the woods!  I hope you can join me.

So, how do you feel about “nature writing?”   If you are a writer, what place does the natural world– the world of wild things–have in your work?

http://www.RadinesBooks.com

There may be as many answers to the above question as there are published authors, but a fairly major one today would be, “I do.”  Whether through frustration over a long drawn-out submission process, the simple wish to be in control of one’s own publishing destiny, or another reason, that’s certainly a valid answer.  Good self-published authors understand the need for critical, independent editing, for a willingness to do massive promotion, and careful keeping of business records. Then it’s “go for broke.”

However, for many years the center of book publishing was in New York.   A number of mostly successful companies controlled the destiny of writers, most often benevolently.  Companies worked through agents who represented a “stable” of authors whose work they saw as promising, and sold to company editors who agreed.  Though there were certainly disappointments a-plenty on both sides, for the most part, the system worked.

Then things began to change rather rapidly.  Publishing companies themselves were gathered into stables under the umbrella of a massive investor, often outside the United States. The theme became “sell-sell-bestseller,” and many felt that new quality work was being overlooked in deference to books displaying big names,  maybe revealing meaty facts (or gossip),  or for novel number umpteen in a top-selling author’s output.

The advent and popularity of e-books added to the mix, and we ended up with a multitude of frustrated authors and a need for something to fill the gap.  The answer?  A ballooning number of smaller publishing companies.

There have always been small publishing companies, but in the void left by New York business decisions and an expanding number of people who write,  smaller companies “out here in any state not named New York” have been a growing, many of them successfully.

Most of these small-to-mid-size publishers do take chances on new and promising authors. Many know well how to evaluate the talent and promotion possibilities of an applying author.  Sure, there are still rejections (which maybe tells the applying author something?)  but a large number of writers are chosen by one smaller company or another, and make it, often very successfully, into print and also into the e-book field.

So, the question now becomes, what makes a good book publisher?  If you are one who will settle for nothing but New York, go for it!  Though advantages there are diminishing almost daily, it’s still a big deal to be published by a big name house, and many organizations and reviewers pay attention to those big names.

What are your ideas about a good publisher?  I can only tell you mine.

My first (non-fiction) book, DEAR EARTH: A Love Letter from Spring Hollow, was published by one of the smaller New York houses.  I was as green as they come, so, back then, it was lucky that publishers took care of book promotion for the most part.  Publicist and publisher did the work.  I followed instructions.  But, observing, I learned.   (Un-agented, I had sent my book out to many publishers listed in WRITERS’ MARKET, accumulated rejections, and eventually sold the manuscript to Brett Books, a publisher I found written up in one of the writers’ magazines. Brett gave a significant advance and generous royalties.)

After I decided to try writing mystery novels, I began the submission process all over again, but this time I acquired an agent I had pitched to at a writers’ conference.  She seemed enthusiastic about my work and, for a couple of years, submitted it to New York publishers, acquiring nice words leading to rejections. We parted company, and I decided to try submitting on my own.

I eventually read about a promising publisher in Kansas that was written about in the Mystery Writers of  America magazine.  St Kitts in Kansas bought my first mystery novel, A VALLEY TO DIE FOR, and ended up publishing five books in the series.  I got a small advance and very generous royalties.  Then the two women running the company decided to devote full-time to family demands and the company closed.  (Always a hazard with small companies.)

Publisher number three was met on-line through list discussions about a cause we both believed in.  He was also recommended by friends.  This was a one-man company, but many things about it appealed to me.  Again, there was a standard contract and royalties. Things went well for a while, but then he bowed to financial pressures and quit the royalty part of publishing.  I decided to move on.

I am now with my fourth publisher,  Oak Tree Press, headquartered in Illinois.  Larger than any of the others, with more employees and, wonderfully,  more terrific ideas, we are on our way with book number seven in the mystery series, just released.  Every sign is good.

All these publishers helped in some degree with promotion, with numbers one, two, and four being outstanding.  But one other BIG thing stands out with all of them.  I can call every single employee of every publisher I worked with my friend.  In all cases, they are people I admire.  In all cases, they are people who have earned my gratitude for many reasons. And, in all cases, they are life-long friends.

(In fact, publisher number one and I exchanged conversational e-mails yesterday.)

How about your experiences?   Are you published?   If so, are you happy with how things are going?

Comments?   Questions?                      (http://www.RadinesBooks.com)

Books in Bloom is one of Arkansas’s premier book festivals, and, without a doubt, the most beautiful. Held each spring in the gardens of the 1886 Crescent Hotel in Eureka Springs, it draws book lovers from several states.  Authors are all there by invitation, and are right to feel honored when invited to appear under fluttery tent roofs spaced throughout the gardens during the festival. Flowers are everywhere.

This year was to be a special Books in Bloom for me. My newest novel, A FAIR TO DIE FOR, was near its release time, and my publisher said work on the book could be expedited so at least one case would be ready in time for Books in Bloom. I offered to pay the nearly $50.00 extra shipping to assure quick arrival, and UPS guaranteed delivery by the Friday before the event, which always begins at noon on a Sunday in May. So–in spite of the fact several earlier blips had come up to slow the novel’s appearance (vanished e-mails about cover art,  for example)–everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and I left for an already scheduled book signing featuring my earlier novels in Branson, MO. The new books would be safe on our porch until my return.

But they weren’t. The porch was empty. Frantic phone calls to UPS, reaching mostly recordings, finally told us that the books were re-scheduled for Monday delivery because there was a mistake in the address. (We later learned it was three numbers off–11444 instead of 11447.  We live in a rural area and no one has an address close to ours, so if it had been our regular driver the box would have been left. He was on vacation, and the substitute had to work to rule.)

My husband decided to make the sixty mile round-trip to the UPS distribution center to see if they’d release the box to him.  I prayed that some miracle would bring us those books.  The answer to my prayer was “No.”  My husband returned without the books.  For a time I wondered if I could claim that some awful disaster made it impossible for me to be at Books in Bloom and not mention I had no new books.  Then I changed my prayer to one asking that I could be able to see whatever good things were in store for me the following day.

That prayer was answered.  Eureka Springs’ residents are a cross-section of every type of humanity, from left-over hippies to sedate church ladies; from those living whatever their chosen alternative lifestyle might be to Mr. and Mrs. Mainstream America.  They were all at Books in Bloom, including many from adjoining states who were just as colorful and varied as local folks.  I think all stopped by my tent to chat, and many bought one or more of my earlier books. My publisher had sent publicity material to a large part of the USA, and some did come to buy a copy of A FAIR TO DIE FOR.  However, not a single person seemed upset when learning why the books weren’t there.  Though I offered to mail books, postage paid, to some, no one took me up. I gave the name of area bookstores and also information about how to connect with other sales venues. I suspect it was too beautiful a day tor anyone to be unhappy.

The case of books arrived Monday evening at 6:30.  Most are already spoken for.

Aren’t life’s lessons interesting?

http://www.RadinesBooks.com

Writing is a profession, a business as much as an art, and if I’d known that back in 1985 when I wrote and sold my first essay about the Ozarks, I might not be a writer today.  I didn’t know I was starting a business.

Eventually I learned that, while the creativity and art may come first–if you want to make it, writing words the public, and not just you, your family, and perhaps your high school English teacher will see–there is much more to it, especially if you are talking about publishing a book.

Through what I call practice and process, a successful writer creates, not just an artistic product, but a saleable one, made to fit the market.  During this phase in a writing career, we practice writing, over and over.  We look at our product,  and process it, not just with a creative mind, but with analytical intelligence and reason, and answer the question, “What does this product offer the reading public?  Something of value?”

If the answer is yes, then it’s time to sell ourselves as well as our product.  And that’s the hard part, not back-breaking work, but sometimes heart-breaking, because it frequently takes a long time to get noticed as a writer.  There are thousands of people out there who write well and want to sell their writing, or at least share it publicly.  Many today are choosing to publish their own work as an e-book, and that’s a satisfying outcome for some.  It is demanding, business-wise, however.  You have to learn the ropes, understand the financial arrangements, know how to format your work for readers on Nook, Kindle, i-phones, and much more.  And you have to keep records.  But then, any writer has to do that.

The writing business includes detailed record-keeping.  True, if  you connect to a traditional publisher, they handle some of this for you, as well as much of the sales effort.  But you still have to keep records of your work schedule, and of any business-related travel or study.  (The IRS will ask for this if you are ever audited.)  Do you stock and sell your books for events when the venue hosting you demands this?  This requires more record-keeping.  Know how to print invoices if you take your books to a signing or leave them on consignment.  Keep records of where each book goes.

Keep records of income–from book sales, and from talks or teaching.  Of course books cost you something, so, in the end, you deduct all related expenses from the price you got for each book.

Another aspect of the business is promotion.  Again, your publisher may help you with this, but many writers hire a publicist to arrange events such as radio and television appearances and bookstore signings.  Otherwise, making these arrangements is all done “in-house.”  In other words, by you.

And there’s Internet promotion:  A web site to maintain, blog-writing,  various social networks to keep up with.

I think you begin to get the picture.  Reading words you have put in an order that pleases you, and seeing what wonderful ideas they can express and share is a glorious thing and a wonder.  Just remember, though being a creative artist is primary, you are also running a small business.  Today, these two facets of a writer’s life must go hand-in-hand.

Learn more at http://www.RadinesBooks.com