One way to meet SWFA’s membership requirements is to have three publications in professional-paying magazines, which it defines as markets paying at least five cents per word. That’s not chump change. Some writers (a subset that does not include me) can knock out a 5000-word story in an afternoon. Sell to a pro market, you just snared $250 on one sale. That in itself isn’t bad.

However, it just occurred to me I get paid at better rates than that doing freelance work for my newspaper. (For the print stuff, anyway. My online rates work out lower because they’re flat fees and it doesn’t matter if I blather on and on online.) The sum total of these princely fees I command barely covers my rent, which I split with two other dudes in a shabby house built by the government during the 1940s. (Originally I mistyped that as 1490s, which wouldn’t be unbelievable if you got a look at our Cask of Amontillado-esque basement.)

Two common misperceptions of making a living as a writer are a) we all live like Stephenie Meyer and J.K. Rowling and b) no one except those two can pay the bills selling words. But if I were writing full-time at professional SF short story rates, my back-of-the-envelope calculations which I actually did in my head show I’d be living right around the poverty line.

I started this post thinking pro rates are unliveably low, but I just convinced myself they’d work as a valuable income stream for someone like myself–young, no real expenses, renting in an inexpensive part of the country, and a small but steady paycheck doing other freelance work. If I could bank on a handful of pro sales a year, I wouldn’t need to find that much more work to subsist in a dayjob-free existence.

Huh. Uh…anyone got any writing or editing they need done?

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In celebration of the site’s 500,000th hit, Moonrat at Editorial Ass is running a contest giving away a partial manuscript crit. In celebration of my newly-developed ability to take shots on unlikely but useful career opportunities like this, I am posting about it to become eligible.

You shouldn’t, though, because that would decrease my chances of winning. Even though it could be some of the most useful feedback you’re likely to get prior to your Amazon reviews. So seriously, don’t do it, other writers. Unless you post under my name, too. Thanks in advance.

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As usual, here it is!

Watching this movie, you could almost mentally recreate what the makers of The Blair Witch Project thought as they watched it: “Dude, this movie kind of sucks, but some of the ideas and techniques are great. Like, what if we took what works and expanded that to be the whole movie? Think that’d go anywhere?”

I ain’t criticizing them for this, either. The Last Broadcast has a lot of flaws. It’s got some very innovative facets to it, too, but the Blair Witch creators separated the good from the bad and made one of the greatest horror movies ever as a result. It’s kind of like sampling, but when the Beastie Boys do it.

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Publication history: Appeared in M-Brane SF #5. Happily, this issue was reviewed by Tangent Online; “Steve Kendrick’s Disease” went on to make Tangent Online’s 2009 Recommended Reading List

Genesis of the story (SPOILERS ENSUE): I’d been watching a lot of movies where everyone dies at the end, which got me thinking about a college workshop I was in where the professor decried stories where your protagonist dies as cheating. Yet these movies worked. How’d they do it? How could I write a story where everyone dies without it being nihilistic and obnoxious?

First off, I gave them a dangerous, desperate job that would land them in their particular trouble. I wanted to flash a bit of the pink behind my ears by showing how people on the fringes of existence get forced into methods of survival that are much, much riskier than what most of us have to face on a daily basis.

As a slight twist, I decided to give them advance warning they were going to die. I wanted to see how they’d react once they realized all the old rules no longer applied and they could basically do whatever they wanted in the meantime. Those pages were very, very fun to write.

But I didn’t have an outline, and the ending was killing me worse than it was killing my characters. One thing those movies had in common was their characters always redeemed themselves just before (or through) their deaths–in other words, they gave their deaths meaning. Looking back on the logic of my story, the answer suggested itself: they had to ensure what happened to them wouldn’t happen to anyone else.

I didn’t come up with the very last lines until the very end. I’m glad I did. Not only did they add a lot of resonance to the story, it gave me a technique to steal when I wrote my next novel a year later.

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Available here. This isn’t the order the stories will appear in the book, but several of those names are going to be familiar to regular M-Brane readers. I’m pretty excited to get this thing in my hands (current release date August ’10): the experience of reading a batch of different people all writing in the same world with no idea what the other authors are up to is going to be strange and enthralling.

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Sold not one but two stories to the first Aether Age anthology (Hadley Rille, 2010). The first, “The Inspiration of Philocrates,” is the story of four Greeks on a secret mission on the eve of war–and the man who intends to betray them. (Like that dramatic summary? Learned that reviewin’ movies!) The second, “The Arms of the World,” is about a small society of Persians exiled to the moon and their effort to get back home. Which involves hijacking an airship.

Publication date isn’t set in stone yet, but they’re estimating an August release right now. I am excited with a capital excited.

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Done at 100,500 words, which is what, 8.5K more? By “done” I of course mean “…with the first draft,” which means that, once I’ve given the manuscript a couple weeks to cool off, I get to do all kinds of revising and rewriting. I’m not complaining. That process is just as fun and awful as writing the first draft, but in a completely different way. I think it’s very necessary for novels, too. With a short story, you can often hold the whole concept in your head at once, translate it to the page, and find that, barring a bit of line-editing, you’ve more or less recreated that vision.

At 5000 words, give or take 2.5K, a short story is 5% as long as this book. There are going to be things I didn’t account for and need expansion, and things that felt promising as I wrote them but ended up going nowhere and need extraction. Taking care of both these things makes a book much, much stronger.

Think I’m done with progress reports for now, though, mostly because I’ve discovered they’re boring as shit. Bye!

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My story, “Steve Kendrick’s Disease” (M-Brane #5), made Tangent Online’s 2009 Recommended Reading List.

Time to do the Porky Pig strut.

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11K words; 93K total. No disruptions put me off pace, it was just harder. I had consistent output every day I sat down, but instead of finishing an all-day session with 4200 or 3500, I’d end up at 2400; instead of 2.5K on my short days, I was lucky to see 2K. I’ll probably see my total drop even more next week.

Why? Because I’m currently about a third of the way through the final chapter, bitches. I won’t be popping the champagne (or, more accurately, cracking the Smirnoff) just then, though. Well actually I will, tonight and tomorrow, but that will be for general-purpose drinking, not celebratory inebriation.

Point is, after the final chapter wraps up, I’ve got to go back and thread a reworked short story as interstitial material between chapters. Long-time me-fans–hi, Mom–will recognize it as “All Man’s Children,” my first short story I ever sold. Gonna be a little trickier than cutting and pasting, though. As my first real attempt at some structural experimentation within a novel, I’m looking forward to the challenge and hopefully learning a new trick.

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Gave The Crazies a B-, but in some ways that’s overrating it. Still, even as my brain lost interest, I was caught up in a gut-level way I can’t deny.

Incidentally, got some good–nay, great–news of the most useful variety: the kind I can’t share in public just yet. Not that there’s anything “public” about this wasteland. Updates when I’m allowed.

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