The Open Author

Growing up I was incredibly shy. As an adult I’ve become much more social. Sometimes I suspect that it’s because I spent so long hiding in a shell that now I enjoy being with other people. Heck, I drive up to Logan twice a month, just so I can hang out with the coolest board game group ever. I like socializing.

So why am I trying so hard to become a full time writer? Writing is a very solitary experience. You lock yourself in an attic for 6 months and bang out a manuscript. Sure, if you become successful then you get to meet a lot of people–fans, agents, publishers, critics–but even then, you have to return to that attic and spend 6-8 months every year in solitary confinement, banging out yet another script before your publisher lets you out into the fresh air so you can interact with people again.

For me, the best part of writing is that I get to meet and hang out with other writers; all of whom are interesting. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being not very interesting, and 10 being very interesting, writers usually land at about 85. Honestly, they are all crazy, but the incredibly interesting crazy, not the grow a beard and mutter crazy (well, Rob Wells is both kinds of crazy).

For me, I write because I love to hear from people who have read what I wrote. I love the feedback. And I love talking about writing, not just doing it. For me, I would almost pay money to sit in other people’s outline sessions as they hammer out characters, plot, and setting. It’s why I was so into role-playing games when I was young. Well, that, and the simple fact that I was a nerd.

Because of this, I’ve often thought that writing a book with somebody else would be the epitome of awesomeness. You would have the strengths of two authors behind a single book. One might be great at world building, another good at dialogue. Both would be able to give feedback and keep the manuscript out of the potholes that many writers fall into. With two authors working on a single manuscript, you may end up where the sum is greater than the two parts.

So why don’t we see more books by teams of authors? Do most authors like being locked in the attic alone?

It’s because finding a writing partner is more difficult than finding a spouse. Think about it. First, your writing skills have to be on the same level; otherwise one of you becomes dead weight. Second, you have to have an interest in not only the same genre, but the same idea. Believe me, if you’re going to write for 6 months, it better be something you’re passionate about. I think about my books when I eat, when I shower, when I’m going to sleep, when I sleep, and yes, I even think about my books when I’m talking to you. I keep nodding and smiling at you, but that is only because I just came up with an incredible idea, and I can’t wait to get home and start writing. Third, you have to get along better than you do with your spouse, because writing is chock full of difficult decisions. I know couples who get into fights over what kind of faucets to put in their new house. What happens when you’re making life-changing decisions about your protagonist?

So even though the payout would be so grand (really, wouldn’t you like to see what kind of crazy would come out of a joint effort from the Brothers Wells?), I think the obstacles of forging a really good writing partnership are unfortunately almost insurmountable. How can you ask somebody to write with you unless you’ve first gone on writing dates? Gotten to meet their writing parents? Had that first awkward yet blissful experience of collaborative composition with that special someone?

And so we writers go, back into our attics. We bang on the keyboard until we’re lonely and crying. We peek out the tiny window, hoping to interact with somebody, anybody, other than our bunny slippers who have now both developed full-fledged personalities with psychotic tendencies.

And we look forward to the day we finish the manuscript, and can once again return to the land of the living.

I put together a short little trailer for my upcoming book, Almost Super. I’ve also started a kickstarter campaign.

What is a kickstarter campaign? I’m glad you asked; it’s kind of a cool concept. If you have an idea or a product but you don’t quite have the funding, you can post it on Kickstarter.com If people like your idea, they make a donation. Often there are rewards for certain levels of donation. If enough money is donated, then the idea is funded.

In my case, I’m raising money to publish a small print-run of Almost Super, and offering signed and numbered copies of the book as a reward.

Why not go the traditional route to publishing? Well, I am. But that route is a long one. My first book came out 16 months after I signed my contract. Almost Super is done, and I’m far to impatient. I want people to read it already! I’m hoping to find an agent and publisher for this book, but in the meantime you can get a copy much earlier by going to the kickstarter site. And if this book ever makes the big time, you’ll have a true first edition copy.

Interested in what the book is about? Or would you like to read the first chapter? If so, head on over to AlmostSuper.org.

If you’re not interested, then you should at least check this out. Because it’s awesome.

A few months ago somebody wrote a comment asking if I wanted to come to Sanpete county and speak to a few elementary schools. I haven’t done school visits in a while, and they are always so fun. so I said yes. I’m glad I did.

I love small towns. I grew up in one, and currently live in a big city. It was refreshing to drive until all you can see is lots and lots of earth. No buildings, no cement, no asphalt; just earth.

Actually, I saw more snow than earth, but I used my imagination.

Anyway, the school visits went great. Nobody booed, and I didn’t get rocks thrown at me like last time, so I’m counting it a success. I met many people who had read my books, and many more who seemed genuinely excited about discovering them for the first time.

Best of all I got to meet Kate Palmer, and found out that she is a fellow writer. We listen to the same podcasts, know the same people, and it was fun to talk with her as we drove from school to school.

I was filmed for the local television channel, so if one of your hobbies is seeing a grown man stare awkwardly at the camera, boy have I made your wildest dreams come true. Luckily you have to live in Sanpete County to see me, so most of you (thankfully) are out of luck.

Best of all was I premiered my new book trailer–the one for Almost Super–and the kids seemed to like it. I’m hoping to have it posted here by the end of the weekend, so stay tuned.

I had to post about this video. If you haven’t seen it yet, you’re in for a treat. It’s a public service announcement like none you’ve ever seen. Check it out.

I can’t help but analyze what makes this video so effective. It starts out with a father driving an imaginary car. A wife and child sit nearby on the couch, and it’s clear that everybody is having a grand time. They are safe at home; all is right with the world.

Then something breaks up this peaceful scene. The father is still driving but it’s clear that something is not right. I love the look on the father’s face. It isn’t one of exaggerated horror. He simply casts his eyes down. Despair. Resignation. It’s as if he is saying, “all is lost”.

Then we switch to the mother and child on the couch. There is no discussion. There is no moment to pause and reflect, not even so much as a glance between the two. Father is in danger, and so they leap. Their response is complete and resolute.

It is not an accident that the child wears wings. She is both her father’s Little Angel, and now his guardian angel.

The girl reaches around and hugs her father’s waist. Every day when I return home from work, my six-year-old, who can’t reach any higher, hugs me in exactly the same way.

The wife’s hugs is more tender, almost intimate. And it comes just in time.

The director could have filmed the next part in a number of ways, but the method he chooses is powerful. The entire scene has been shot in slow motion, but the impact of this imaginary car occurs with shocking rapidity.

Something on the table gives us the impression of broken glass, and the man is almost folded in half from the violent impact. Anybody who has been in a wreck knows this is exactly how it happens. The power at which you are hit is beyond description.

And then it is over. Mother and child still hug the father. He in turn touches both of them as if to convince himself that they are still there; that he is still there.

The ad finishes with a simple message. No stats. No further convincing. Just a message.

Embrace Life.

People are tweeting and blogging about the latest spat between Amazon.com and Macmillan Books. What exactly is going on? Apparently Amazon has pulled all of Macmillan books from their store over a price dispute. But this is just the result of a much deeper problem. What it really comes down to is the fact that one of these companies doesn’t know what business they’re in.

A hundred and fifty years ago people didn’t buy candles so they could be candle owners. And they didn’t buy ice from the ice truck because they wanted frozen water. Consumers wanted light, and consumers wanted cold food, and candle making companies and ice delivery services that didn’t understand this fact disappeared when the light bulb and the refrigerator came along.

So what business is Macmillan in? That’s an easy question to answer. Macmillan is in the business of printing, distributing, and selling hard copies of books. Macmillan doesn’t want Amazon to release their ebooks until the hard copy version has been out for seven months. Printed books are their business. It’s the one they have become comfortable with, and it’s the one to which they are currently clinging, hoping that the life they now understand will still be here tomorrow.

The problem lies in the fact that readers don’t buy books to own wood pulp and ink.

They buy books because they want stories.

Amazon is in the business of connections. They connect people who have stories with people who want stories. They allow almost anybody with a book to put it in their store. But they don’t stop there. They also make it so that you can download books from Project Gutenberg. They know that good stories aren’t just the new releases, but the classics as well. It’s not about selling enough hardback copies to cover the bottom line, it’s about providing a rip-roaring good story to somebody who needs the escape.

Amazon isn’t perfect, but they do know their business. Publishers who figure it out have a good chance of staying in business.

Anybody can review familiar products like the Kindle, beef, or gravity. But I like to review products you may not have heard about. I should mention that I am NOT receiving any compensation for this review, and I’ve paid full price for the product.

I just posted my new year resolutions, and now I’m off doing entirely different things. Why didn’t I post that one of my goals was to raise ten thousand dollars for an educational website? Then I could post this, and pat myself on the back. Instead, I’m posting this and wondering if I’m losing my mind.

But this project is too cool to not try to get off the ground. You can visit the kickStarter page by clicking on the image below. The goal of the fundraising is to create a site that will make it easy for schools and organizations to create their own TwHistory project. As Josi Kilpack, Annette Lyon, Carole Warburton, and others can attest, right now it’s a bit tricky to make everything work.

So click through and check us out!

Ok, usually I’m not one to make resolutions around New Year’s Day. I usually just make fun of them because…well, because I’m a stinker.

It’s not that I don’t set goals, it’s just that I do them as I think of them, not at the beginning of the year. But after reading Josi’s post, I figure what the heck. I know that none of you are that interested in my goals for 2010, but I figure if I post them here, I might be motivated to actually accomplish them. If I don’t accomplish them, you have my complete and full permission to mock me mercilessly come 2011.

• Run a 5k, a 10k, and a half marathon
• Start a business, and get at least 10 customers
• Either find an agent, a publisher, or collect 100 rejection letters
• Complete my last two practicums, and finish my comps
• Tweet two historical events
• Make a complete fool of myself while I MC at the LDStorymakers

I believe in setting at least one goal that I know I’m going to nail, which is why I included the last one.

I hate yeast. I hate bread. I don’t mean I don’t like to eat it. I love to eat it. Fresh out of the oven, nutty whole wheat, flaky and crispy. I love it all.

And while I pride myself on being a pretty fantastic cook (I cook 90 percent of our meals when I’m home), I have never been able to make bread. I can’t do it.

I’m a follow-the-recipe kind of guy. I don’t vary from the recipe. I don’t mess with how much corn starch, flour, sugar, etc. Somebody did a lot of scientific research writing that recipe, and I’m not about to substitute white flour with whole wheat flour willy-nilly.

So yesterday I found idiot-proof bread recipe. You don’t even have to knead it, for crying out loud. There are only three ingredients, but one of them was yeast–my arch nemesis.

It’s a new year, I told myself. I’m a grown man, I told myself. I can do this.

Well, apparently, no I can’t.

The first problem came when the recipe said the dough would be shaggy. What in tarnation does that even mean? I know Shaggy from Scooby Doo, but that didn’t seem to apply. And shaggy means hairy, but my dough (thankfully) didn’t sprout hair. What it did do was look exactly like an albino cow pie, and about the same consistency.

The dough is supposed to raise for 12-18 hours; the longer the better, the article said. So I dutifully waited 18 hours. The dough is supposed to have bubbles, the article said. And it did! Maybe I had finally found the one kind of bread I could make.

What piled out of the bowl was soupy, runny, and still sticky. The jury was out whether or not the dough was shaggy, because the jury didn’t know what shaggy meant either. I had followed the recipe to a T, but the dough was still a horrible mess.

I pressed on. I dusted with flour, I covered with plastic, I folded and tried raising it. Two hours later my pile of dough still looked like a cow pie. The article says, “dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger”. Mine didn’t double at all, and just sticks to your finger. It looks exactly like something that grows in size and takes over the town in one of those movies they used to show late at night, or on Saturday afternoon on the UHF channels back in the 80s. The dough sits there, like a sleeping sentient being. Like a bloated pimple on a whale. It’s cooking right now, and it smells delicious, but I know that when it comes out of the oven it’s going to be a flat, hard, tasteless pile of crud.

Because that is how all my bread turns out.

I’m going back to cooking bacon. I have a few new recipes to try.