The Inquisitive Inkpot
Exploring Tales and the Art of Telling
The Exile: a Golden Review
I always feel a mix of anxiety and excitement when another writer leaves a review for one of my books.
Every review counts, of course, but those left by other writers are the ones that carry the most weight. Just like every golfer feels more self-conscious about his swing when playing alongside seasoned golfers, every writer simultaneously fears and revels over the feedback from his or her peers.
There is a unique excitement, though, when I receive a review from someone I have never met, who has no points to earn or honor with me. Someone who never minces their words. Someone who writes their mind and speaks their mind unashamedly in this shame-inducing world in which we now live. And yet someone who does so with tactful authenticity, not with cultivated political correctness. My friends, I give you Sam “Goldie” Kirk: the author of The Daily Flabbergast.
The Daily Flabbergast was one of the first blogs I followed when I first joined the bandwagon of blogging, because I was stunned by the author’s creativity and unapologetically analytical mind. It only took a month or so before I knew that I wanted to hear Sam’s thoughts on my historical fiction novel The Exile.
And so I give you those thoughts, in Sam’s own words…
“The Exile” is a story of an unlikely alliance. The characters learn to lean on one another in order to survive, even though they probably would not be each other’s first pick for a companion. Most of all, it is a tale about friendship, including the good and the bad that comes with it. The novel showcases exponential personal growth of both characters, influenced by their past, present, the hope for the future, and one another. At the beginning, their outlooks on the world could not be any more different. But, as the story progresses, Clare learns to see the world through Delta’s eyes and vice versa.
They draw upon one another’s strengths to create a powerful team… As I flipped the digital pages, I became involved in the struggles the main characters had to face. As the story progressed, more wrenches were thrown into it, and I kept wondering what would happen next. “The Exile” is a great story about perseverance and sacrifice. If you like tales about women who slay, yet who are very relatable and down to earth, this novel is definitely for you. This is not a women’s empowerment story just for the sake of being a women’s empowerment book.”
The rest of the review can be read here.
If you, like Sam, however, found one particular loose end in the plot bothersome, I have news for you coming next week. Stay tuned.
If you have not read The Exile, now is a fine time to start! Copies can be purchased from The Inquisitive Inkpot or from Amazon. If you have already read it and not left a review, I would love to hear your thoughts!
And lastly, if you find yourself in need of refreshingly sardonic humor, quirky short stories, or incisive insight into current events, make your next stop The Daily Flabbergast. You won’t be disappointed.
Stay golden!
The Romance that should (never) have been
Are you tired of romance?
No, I don’t mean tired of your spouse or significant other. I mean tired of seeing romance in book after book, movie after movie, show after show, as if every writer thinks he or she invented the thing.
No? That’s fine, too.
Let me clarify: I love a good romance. Anything from Jane Austen to rom coms—if the story is tasteful and well told, I’m in. But looking at media today, you’d think that the only thing audiences cared about was watching fictitious people fall in love—or, in some cases, just fall into bed. What’s unique about romance, as a phenomenon, is that it pervades literally all other genres in ways that other genre-phenomena don’t. Aside from the actual market of romances, this theme sells itself by seeping into stories of all kinds.
For example, having a couple of car-chase scenes will probably make your film a thriller. Send a tumbleweed blowing across the screen, and you’ve got a Western. Add just one alien to the cast of characters and, well, you’re in sci-fi territory now. But you could add love to any one of these stories without making it a proper “romance” novel or movie.
A masterpiece that weaves together elements of both a romance and a murder mystery is Charles Dickens’ Bleak House. If you look it up, you will see it categorized as a “crime/drama” story… even though it ends with the protagonist’s happy and long-anticipated marriage to her true love. And yet somehow the presence of romance in this story does not define its genre.
Why is that?
Well, Bleak House, like many other stories with love in them, tells a story much bigger than two people falling in love. The plot’s primary tension lies elsewhere. But what I find interesting is that so many stories that are not “about” love feel it necessary to incorporate romance in some way, shape, or form. No doubt this is partly because romance is one of the most core human desires, and a story that depicts at least a little romance will hold a broader audience. There’s nothing wrong with that.
Here’s the issue I see with a number of non-romances that play the love card:
The problem isn’t the presence of romance in the story, but rather the placement of the romance between the wrong characters.
I would argue this mistake is easier to make in cinema than in literature. When reading a book, we expect and accept that we do not witness the entirety of the characters’ lives. We do not watch the characters’ facial expressions, although the narrator may describe them. We cannot see a character’s face and body in order to decide whether or not they are attractive—or more importantly, whether they might hold romantic appeal for another character. Our impressions of romantic chemistry are much more malleable in literature because we only know what the author tells us.
In cinema, though, we are granted the illusion of seeing it all. (And sometimes, we see way more than we really ought to.) We can size up a pair of actors and look for the glimmer in their eyes when they share the screen. We can notice when it’s not there.
But whether or not we as audience members decide if a pair is visually well-suited, the fact remains that a character’s romantic attachments paint a fuller picture of him or her.
While the romance may be somewhat peripheral to the major plot, it does shape the characters. Or, in some cases, misshape them.
The misshaping happens when a character’s visible convictions, values, or goals are contradicted by the way he/she governs his/her love life. That being said, I am fully aware that human beings are living paradoxes. Not everything we do makes sense to us or to those around us. But there is always a reason behind the apparent inconsistencies between our behaviors, whether we can identify it or not. The trouble is that stories rely heavily on their characters in order to communicate anything meaningful—and unless a story’s point is to illustrate human inconsistency, it doesn’t help itself by injecting romance between two characters whose relationship is better off without it.
Perhaps this is residual from my frustration with the over-eroticizing of human relationships (sorry, Freud). But I see many meaningful relationships in the real world with no element of romance—and they are better that way! Just because a story features a male and female alongside one another does not mean they have to fall in love (or bed) in order for the story to be worthwhile!
Unfortunately, I think many readers and viewers out there are more interested in seeing tension built and resolved in the form of a sexual encounter than they are interested in any message the story has to offer. And many writers are all too willing to give it to them.
What do you think?
Are there any stories you know where the romance just didn’t work? Or where it detracted from the main themes?
The Trope that Romantic Comedies can’t live without
Do you ever see real-life romantic comedies playing out?
Think of all the romantic comedies you’ve seen and read. Do you see situations in your life that reflect those events?
Most of us have probably had at least one sitcom experience, in which we feel that we’re a character in some cheap drama unfolding around us. At times, I’ve even felt like the female lead in the first few minutes of a rom-com. The scenario goes something like this:
A young woman leaves work after a long January day. She exits the building and shuffles through the snow to her car. Halfway there, she drops her keys. She bends over to dig the keys out of the fresh, powdery snow and, in doing so, spills her coffee onto her coat.
Upon recovering the keys, she completes the trek to her snow-covered car and stuffs her belongings inside. Arming herself with an ice-scraper, she then begins to etch the snow and ice off of the windows—unable to clear the middle portion of the windshield because of her height (or lack thereof). At last, the young woman piles into her car and closes the door, heaving a sigh that only a single woman could heave, who has no man to scrape her car for her. Her breath is visible inside the car.
Mind you, my rom-coms rarely get past the “first few minutes” stage… aside from the occasional unwanted sequence of Mr. Collins-like encounters (read up on your Jane Austen if you don’t catch the reference).
My guess is that most of you can somehow relate—and to that extent, most of us do see some elements of rom-coms in daily life.
But there is one particular pattern that seems to define romantic comedies of all eras, which I highly doubt we see happen in real life.
You guessed it: the rivals who become lovers.
Think about all the rom-coms you know, from old classics to new.
Here’s a brief list, just to name a few examples:
La La Land (although this is more of a drama)
While this list is far from exhaustive, most of you will recognize this trope in some of them. The love stories all begin with the same theme: boy and girl meet. They don’t like each other. Either they find the other person off-putting or they feel threatened by him/her. But they’re somehow fascinated with each other. Pretty soon, they’re kissing.
Obviously there’s much more plot to each of these stories, but the central plot of numerous rom-coms depends on the same trope of the rival-to-lover transformation.
Why does this reality-defying pattern define romantic comedies?
Most males and females who clash at first sight do not wind up together. At least, not in my observation. They start gossiping about each other. They start name-calling behind each other’s back. It seems to me that most individuals who make the wrong first impression don’t get a second chance—much less get a lover out of the deal.
So why do so many rom-coms use this trope to set the stage for their love story?
I suspect that once upon a time a writer thought he would make his love story unique. Write a story about two people who don’t get along at first, and then—surprise! They fall in love. The readers will never see it coming.
Maybe it worked back then. Maybe the first audience was surprised. But now every time I see a male and female character butt heads, I begin to yawn, because 98% of the time they are going to fall in love. Now, the process through which they fall in love might actually wake me up, but the ending is basically a give-away. So why do so many quality stories follow this pattern, if everyone knows how the story ends?
Here’s a thought: maybe some writers don’t intend to surprise us with their love story. Maybe they intend to challenge us.
You see, any time the two principal characters feel threatened by one another, that betrays some weakness. Some insecurity. Any number of things could happen in the plot, but we know that in order for them to fall in love, these two people will first need to overcome their own egos or insecurities. In short, they will need to grow personally in order to appreciate one another relationally.
Once we look at romantic comedies through this lens, I think we might find we can learn more from them than we expected. Sure, some are cheesy. Sure, some are saccharine. And sure, some are just vulgar. But some actually illustrate elements of human prejudice, arrogance, cynicism, and willful ignorance that we would do well to examine in our own lives.
And additionally, they help us laugh at ourselves. And that’s never a bad thing.
What do you think? Have you seen real-life rivals fall in love?
Do you find the presence of this trope boringly predictable or amusing?
What are some rom-coms that you think use this trope to expose a character’s insecurity and need for growth?
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
When Does a Signature become an Autograph?
Autographs: we worship them.
We cut in line for them. We spend money for them. Everyone has that person whose autograph they would do most anything for. And yet, what makes an autograph so special? Isn’t it just a glorified signature?
Yes, basically. But what is it that makes the signature glorious? Is it the fame of the person? Is it their level of skill? Is it simply a select audience’s obsession with the person?
I’m tempted to think that fame, not genuine admiration, has way too much to do with an autograph’s perceived value.
Would Prince’s autograph mean much to me? No. Katy Perry? No. (I’m aware this will ruffle some feathers.) Jane Fonda? No. I’ll refrain naming political figures whose autographs I would not covet, but believe me, there are plenty of them!
But even if I didn’t personally value any of these people’s autographs, my human weakness would still be somewhat enamored that I had one of their autographs. Maybe I don’t admire their work or careers, but my silly, egotistical side would get some boost out of possessing such an envied item. This is the concept called triangular desire: when we desire something simply because we know others desire it, not because we actually value it. And in some cases, we may not even view the person as talented—yet we would still feel pretty cool if we had their handwritten autograph.
What does this say about us?
And when do we start to consider someone’s signature worth something?
This came to mind as I was recently invited to hold my first official book-signing at a local store. I had a table and chair with a stack of books, poised right outside on the sidewalk so shoppers during my town’s fall festival could come and get their signed copy. It was a rather surreal experience, and the most fun I’d had since reading The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock to the elementary school.
Aside from the sheer excitement of seeing parents, grandparents, and kids smile when they saw and purchased the book, it was surreal to see that people assigned value to my signature. I’d signed copies of my novel before, but rarely handed them to buyers directly—and those that did receive the novel directly from me were people I know, which makes the signature feel even less like an autograph.
But even as I wrote my name over and over on the title page of each book with personalized notes, it occurred to me—it’s just my name. The same name that goes on each waiver I’ve signed. Each petition I’ve signed. Each contract I’ve signed. Each letter I’ve signed. What makes my signature more important when it’s on a title page?
I would argue that the objective value does not grow or dwindle between autograph and signature.
After all, what does a signature mean?
A signature is like a written oath. We sign formal agreements to indicate that the words in the document are binding. We sign letters to ensure that the preceding words are ours.
Your signature is a symbol of your identity and integrity, folded into one.
An autograph is the same… plus a flair.
It carries the same weight as any other signing of your name—only it represents something fully original and unique to you. It signifies that the work, the time, and the ownership of this creation are fully yours—and like an agreement, you stand behind it.
I think we would all work harder at the various tasks before us if every one of them required our autograph. You see, some people believe a signature becomes an autograph only when you accumulate a certain number of fans or groupies. I believe the difference between a signature and an autograph lies in the degree of ownership that you take over the article being signed.
What do you think?
Do you take pride in your signature?
Is there anyone’s autograph you would do just about anything for? What makes that person’s autograph so valuable to you?
Do you think there is any qualitative difference between an autograph and a signature?
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
Of Saplings and Stories: What We can Learn
When I’m not writing stories, I work with trees.
Let’s be clear: I’m not the one cutting trees down or doctoring them up—no, no, you will not see me wielding a chainsaw or fertilizer. Instead, I run the marketing and communications department for a top-notch tree company in West Michigan, Treeworks, Inc. More specifically, I am the marketing and communications department.
Sound like I’m bragging? I’m not, you’ll see.
When I first started, all I had was a degree and the desire to make things happen. Well, they happened all right, but in a rather swim-or-sink fashion, as I’ll elaborate in a later post. Suffice to say that I learned a great deal in the first six months of juggling the day-to-day demands of clients with the long terms needs of marketing and brand management. There’s still a ton to learn!
But one of the many joys of what I do lies in the daily opportunity to make tree puns and get paid for it. I mean, it’s Advertising 101: use language that will catch people’s attention and make them smile. Needless to say, this keeps me thinking in terms of trees and the many facets of their leafy lives. If you’ve read any number of articles on The Inquisitive Inkpot, you’ve probably gathered one thing:
I love making connections between stories and life.
This time, I’m taking it a step further—going out on a limb, you might say. I want to point out a core parallel between stories and trees.
Stories, like many saplings, need a balanced diet of sunlight.
Like any baby, infant saplings are at their most vulnerable. This is why we keep them in greenhouses where they can avoid the scorching heat and light of the sun. Only once they have reached some level of maturity do we plant them in the wild, dangerous world.
A young story is equally vulnerable. I’ve written on the importance of inviting feedback from select people, but what I want to expound here is the need to protect underdeveloped ideas from the outside world until they are ready. Note that this is only until they are ready. Just as you don’t want to coddle a tree forever in the faux oasis of a greenhouse, you can’t keep your story to yourself indefinitely—assuming you believe it’s worth sharing.
But don’t all ideas need criticism early on in order to become better?
Yes! Yes, they do. But for any writer working with a complex character or plotline, you must give yourself some time to develop these elements on your own. While I don’t have statistics to back this up, I can at least speak from experience: sharing ideas prematurely can either stunt or mis-form a promising plant.
Raw ideas are like seeds. Raw ideas that have converged are like seeds that have taken root. Merged ideas that begin to spin a story are like a fresh green shoot showing its face above ground for the first time. And a developing story is like a young sapling whose little trunk is just beginning to harden.
The danger of exposing sapling stories to the elements too soon lies in the power of others’ opinions.
Like it or not, we care (to varying degrees) about what people think. If someone tells us early on that our idea is lame or colorless or unoriginal, this has the potential to sap our creative energy. (Yes, pun intended.) OR… if someone suggests something different during the nascent stage, this can actually destroy the originality of our idea. There is a fine line between incorporating external feedback and redefining our story’s DNA based on someone else’s idea. You might compare this to pruning a growing tree, as opposed to trying to replace its trunk. Feedback should hone and fertilize our story—not swap out its spine. If we don’t spend enough time with our characters before introducing them to other people, we may find someone else reinventing them before our very eyes.
What’s your take? Do you tend to share your ideas with others right away or wait until they’re more developed?
Have you ever regretted opening up about an idea too soon?
Have you ever regretted not opening up sooner?
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
When Political and Social Ideas are Born
As much as I enjoy historical fiction, I weary of seeing modern political agendas pasted into historical settings.
We’ve all seen it: a character in a book or movie openly shares a fully developed opinion that never would have been expressed during that period of history. It’s a form of anachronism. I find myself thinking, “There is no way anyone would have talked like this back then. I understand if you have a point to make, but don’t pretend people have always thought this way.”
That being said, however, we have to reckon with one thing: there was a time when nearly every political and social idea was “new.” There was a first for everything.
There was moment in time when someone suggested the novel—or the preposterous.
And there was a moment in time when many people laughed at him (or her), while a few others quietly agreed. And in many cases there was a period of time when this group of like-minded individuals with their brand new idea were labeled as revolutionaries, perhaps even dangerous ones. But eventually, after decades or even generations, this new idea became a tenet for more and more people—enough for it to either become an acceptable alternative view or to overthrow an existing system.
Not all new political and social ideas were good ones. And not all of the predominant ones we have today are good. But it’s interesting to trace the development of these ideas over time, and to study the different reactions they received in different eras and cultures. This is what I have seen a few select period dramas and historical series achieve.
1) HBO’s John Adams series offers a masterful portrait of the development of the political and social ideas that informed the American Revolution.
Aside from the stellar cast and costumes, this series elaborately traces the formation and interaction of the ideas that were ultimately solidified in both the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution. One thing that stood out to me was the way in which it is clear the American founding fathers knew they were not the first to invent certain ideas. The characters’ dialogue appropriately reflects the degree to which these documents drew upon the French Declaration of the Rights of Man, along with the Roman concept of a republic.
On the other hand, though, we see the first coining of the phrases “No taxation without representation,” “Don’t tread on me,” and several other American-isms that hadn’t previously existed. We also see the birth of the American conviction that every defendant in court deserves legal representation—this moment is dramatically depicted when John Adams decides to defend the British soldiers on trial for the Boston Massacre.
While many Americans assume that our country’s key political and social ideas originated with the colonists and revolutionaries, I think HBO did history justice by showing the connection between the founding fathers and their European predecessors.
2) BBC’s The Mill presents a believable picture of the landscape in which labor reforms began.
On the heels of Labor Day, I think this series explores some interesting details about the labor movement in England, beginning with the Quarry Bank Mill. The story follows several workers at the textile mill, and their growing dissatisfaction with the abuse and misuse they and their counterparts across England endured in such work environment.
Rather than beginning with the modern premise that men and women deserve equal pay for equal work, and that children ought not be exploited for their labor, The Mill illustrates how these convictions formed. Starting with individuals, who witnessed horrors and tragedy firsthand, these ideas spread and gain traction as enough people gradually begin to say “no more.” As viewers, we watch specific characters face specific perils and punishments in their workplace, all of which eventually lead them to the conclusion that the system needs reform. We also see a single mother resolved to care for her child by continuing to work—rather than trying to find a husband so she can stay home.
Although were a couple lines of dialogue that sounded too progressive-minded for that time period, the series did an overall convincing job of showing the specific hardships that inspired people to expect and demand a more humane work environment for the laboring class.
Political and social ideas and norms are ever-changing…
But everything has a “first.” One mark of good historical fiction is the ability to believably depict the birth of ideas that we take for granted today.
Reading Aloud to Young Listeners
When I found myself reading aloud to twelve hungry-eyed elementary students, I suddenly realized why I had written a children’s book.
Well, “suddenly” is perhaps incorrect, since parents had already been sending me pictures of their kids reading my children’s book. That’s pretty fulfilling. But here, now, in this moment, as I looked into those attentive little faces, I knew they needed a story worth telling. And so I told one.
As a writer, it is very easy to feel isolated by your craft.
Writing takes time and solitude, and often requires saying no to social engagements or keeping late hours in order to seize the evasive Muse. I felt this in spades when writing my historical fiction novel, The Exile, and my period drama stageplay, Between the Lines. Even though seeing my play performed was, to-date, one of the most terrifying and rewarding experiences of my life, I still felt somewhat disconnected with the audience. Yes, they were hearing and watching the actors speak the words I wrote. But I was sitting buried in a corner of the audience where I couldn’t see their faces. I couldn’t witness their responses in real time. And aside from that, these were adults.
So what’s so special about reading aloud to kids?
A year or even six months ago, I wouldn’t have had a great answer to that. But after sharing The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock with several classrooms of young listeners, I can tell you there is nothing like it in all the world.
First of all, the energy and eagerness that children bring to “storytime” is an unparalleled reminder of how crucial stories are to our relational development.
Stories are one of the primary mediums through which children bond with their parents, grandparents, and teachers. There’s a reason for that. Not only is storytelling an inherently human activity, but reading aloud to someone is an inherently bridge-building activity. It connects the reader and the listener through the moments of laughter, suspense, and satisfaction that the story provides.
The little titters of laughter and gasps of surprise as I turned each page told me they were not only paying attention—they were enjoying themselves! As someone who is not overconfident in her child skills, I almost couldn’t believe it. With no nieces, nephews, or kids of my own, I’m not used to making kids laugh. I’m really not that used to kids at all. So when I realized that this book had brought joy to even just a dozen little people, I couldn’t have been more thrilled.
But even more special is the knowledge that a book can make a lasting impact on a child’s mind and heart.
Kids are like sponges. The book’s morals, values, themes, and messages— the kids soak it up. Of course, there has to be reinforcement in order for these ideas to take root, but every story has the chance to expose a child to an important aspect of life for the first time. Or to reinforce something important they’ve already learned another way. Stories are incredibly dynamic forces: they have the power to introduce, cultivate, cement, challenge, or discredit entire worldviews.
My favorite moment during the reading was when we reached the part in the story where Melvin the missing sock ends up alone in the laundry pile because his match has been turned into a dusting rag. Here I paused:
“Do you think Melvin can be folded up again without his match?”
The forlorn faces and soft whimpers said it all.
“No,” said a little blond boy. “He looks lonely.”
And he was right—Melvin was indeed lonely.
The fact that these children had become emotionally invested in a sock over the past ten minutes told me they were already learning one of the most vital human skills: empathy.
Fortunately for Melvin (and his fans!), his master finds him again and restores him to the drawer with his match—ending the story on a note of redemption. Will second-graders catch the allegorical value of the book? Probably not—unless their parents explain it to them. But if the story becomes a staple in their childhood reading, as some parents have said it has, these kids will come to appreciate and engage with the themes on a deeper level as they grow up.
A good children’s book gives its young readers something to digest at their current age… and something to chew on for years to come.
And that is what I hope The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock does for many, many little ones.
What is one of your favorite ways to bond with kids?
Do you have fond memories of someone reading aloud to you as a child?
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
If My Book were a Child
If my book were a child,
I would think it most darling
for nudging me with ideas while only
half-conceived.
“I hope you look like me,”
I would tell it with fondness.
For this unborn book would carry my name.
And if my book were a child,
I would think it most naughty
for exerting a will of its own while only a
young draft.
“Who taught you such sass?”
I would demand with a threat.
For it was putting its author and her wits to shame.
And if my book were a child,
I would think it most stubborn
for taking on a life and a look of its own
But if my book were a child,
I would be most proud
for what it became and what it helped me become.
What projects of yours have become like children to you?
How have they helped you grow?
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
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Publishing: When an Author gets down to Business
Any aspiring author will one day come face-to-face with a formidable opponent: that opponent is called logistics.
All right, you’ve written your book. You’ve revised the heck out of it. Maybe you’ve even found an illustrator. And now…?
If the honeymoon phase with your book didn’t wear off during the revision process, it sure will now. Because now is the time when you have to become more than an author—you have to become a businessman.
“That’s not what I signed up for!” I exclaimed out loud when I realized just how many decisions I had to make for my children’s book The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock. Decisions about size, formatting, printing, pricing, marketing and distribution. I had to do math, people!
By now, however, it’s becoming clear that this is the new standard for the modern-day author.
The modern-day author must not only write the book, but must also market the book—and sometimes, do even more.
As publishing houses continue to pass the buck of promoting to writers, many authors must shoulder far more responsibility than they thought they were signing up for. And if you plan to self-publish, you’re really in for it. I remember hours upon hours of staring at the computer screen, staring at a blank sheet of paper, and staring at my checkbook, wondering how on earth all of this would come together.
But it did come together, and that’s what I want to share with you.
Let me begin with a simple writer-to-writer admonition: have patience.
Most creative writers I know don’t get jazzed over logistics (I certainly don’t), and so this process is almost bound to be frustrating and, at times, disheartening. Don’t lose hope. If you put all that effort into writing and preparing your book for publication, you owe it to yourself to finish. And finish you will.
With that, here is a basic outline of the steps I found necessary to bring my illustrated children’s book to print:
1) Determine size and orientation of the physical book.
Once you’ve found your illustrator, you will need to decide how large the pages will be and which direction they will lie. It’s important to settle this before the illustrator begins the final drafts of the illustrations, since larger pages mean larger pictures, larger pictures mean more time, and more time means higher compensation.
2) Find a printing company.
I would encourage you to choose someone local. A local company may have a higher price tag, but the benefit is that you will receive much more attentive customer service than you will with a mass-production printer on the other side of the country. And shipping will be much lower (I actually went to pick my books up in person), so the final price might actually end up lower than a cheaper, mass-production printer that has to send the books across five states. Once you have decided upon a printer and received a quote, do two things:
a) Figure out your production costs per book
b) Get the printing specifications that the final file must have.
3) Hire an interior formatter and cover designer.
I recommend hiring one person to handle both the format and cover. The formatter is the person or company who will fit the final illustrations onto the page with the text. Some printing/self-publishing services offer interior formatting as part of the production package, but some authors prefer to find their own formatter. I hired mine through 99 Designs—a reputable, international platform that connects designers with writers, and manages the contracting process. My interior formatter was able to design the cover as well, using the cover images provided by my illustrator. I also found the cover designer for The Exile using 99 Designs, and could not have been more thrilled with the process and results.
If you do hire a formatter outside of the printing company, you will need to share the printing specifications from the printer with him/her. This will enable him/her to prepare the final file with all of the technical details in line, so that once the file is ready, it can be printed right away.
4) Create a distribution plan.
If you are using an online platform, such as Amazon, make sure you calculate the monthly/annual rates into your cost. I have not a third-party distributor, simply because of the heavy overhead cost, but plenty of people rely on such platforms. If you plan to ship the books yourself, find out the anticipated weight of your book (the printer can provide you this information) and then calculate the highest possible shipping cost using the furthest possible zip code.
5) Set your price.
Obviously the price must be high enough to cover both the production cost per book and the highest possible shipping cost, while still earning you a few bucks. To set a consumer-friendly price, check out the prices of other books in same genre and size category. And don’t be surprised if the price you set means you have to sell hundreds of books to break even. If you’ve written a quality book and if you go about promotion the right way, you will break even and begin to actually make some money. But again, have patience.
The price will be included on the barcode, so be sure to calculate your price prior to finalizing your book’s digital file. You will need to tell your cover designer the price in advance so that he/she can embed that onto the back cover along with the ISBN. Which leads to my next point…
6) Purchase an ISBN.
The international standard book number is basically your book’s SSN. It is the numerical identity used to track the sale and purchase of your book, and preserve it as its own entity. You will need to provide your cover designer with the ISBN as well, which he/she can use to generate the barcode. Once the book’s interior has been put together and the ISBN, barcode, and price have all been embedded on your back cover, your book’s final file is ready to send to the printer!
And that, my friends, is how an author gets down to business.
Although most of the articles on The Inquisitive Inkpot are not as “businessy,” I wanted to throw out a straightforward help line to any author considering self-publishing or publishing in general. If you found this helpful, feel free to hit “like” and share it to anyone you think would benefit from it. And if you have specific questions, I’m more than happy to expand on this!
So here are my questions for you…
If you are an author, have you ever published or considered publishing?
If not, what would it take to convince you to pursue publication?
What is your read (pun intended) on the publication industry right now? Do you feel there is too much clutter being published, or do you believe not enough voices are heard?
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
Order now and have it within 2 weeks, with FREE SHIPPING!
What Young Writers can Teach Us
When I first met an 11-year-old writer who runs his own newspaper, I felt seriously behind on life.
Those who know me have heard me complain about how old I feel at 22. In fact, one of my father’s friends tried to console me by assuring me I will have a “long shelf life.” Actual years aside though, it is easy to feel old and expired when you come across someone younger than you who has it going on. But when this young firecracker asked to interview me about my children’s book The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock, I realized afresh the unique power of writing in bringing people together, who otherwise may never have met.
And so, I give you Dylan McDonough: author and editor in chief of The Bugle Blast.
Mr. McDonough launched his newspaper in October of 2017, after his grandmother suggested he find a way of compiling all his literary creations into a cohesive form. You see, Dylan was a serial storyteller. He grew up stapling papers together to make books, as well as creating comic strips alongside his younger brother, Daniel. With the seeds planted for a newspaper, he began to plan and outline the format and types of content he would produce. He described the priceless satisfaction of seeing all his work merged into one document, stating that the final product convinced him it was all worth it.
As his own writing skills flourished with the publication of each issue, Dylan realized his passion extended beyond simply creating content—he wanted to share his experiences with other young writers.
This led him to develop an online training course for aspiring writers trying to find their voice. In the mutual interview we conducted together, he reiterated the importance of exploring your creative gifts as you go.
“Writing a lot of different things helps you figure out what you’re best at and what you enjoy,” he explained. He encouraged young writers to experiment with different forms, such as short stories, comics, and opinion pieces.
Dylan also reminded me of the writer’s worst enemy: perfectionism.
“It’s okay not to be perfect,” he added. “It’s not always good the first time. Editing is hard, but you have to focus on the final product.”
And then he offered a piece of wisdom I have never heard from any writer, young or old.
“When you’re stuck on something, you realize your own character flaws.”
Who ever thought of writer’s block as a key factor in your own personal growth?
I certainly hadn’t. Don’t we all bemoan writer’s block as the bane of our creative existence and a plague to be avoided at all costs? (If only masks could protect us against this one.) But Dylan recognizes that, no matter how hard we try, getting stuck is inevitable. And it’s not always a bad thing. It shows us how we react to roadblocks. It shows us how impatient we are—and provides us an opportunity to choose a different reaction. After all, if we only ever focus on producing, and never on becoming… what good will our writing do us? Or those around us?
But the most beautiful thing I learned from Dylan during our interview was the bridge-building power of writing.
He mentioned that one of his favorite parts of writing is the relationships it’s helped him develop—both inside and outside his family. Interviewing his grandfather for The Bugle Blast offered a unique forum in which he could both learn from and bond with his grandpa. How many kids might benefit from doing the same with their grandparents? He has also managed to build a community of peers who enjoy writing and have encouraged one another in their talents over the years. Together, these young writers are learning and growing by leaps and bounds. But you know my favorite part of this whole thing?
I got to meet him because of writing. Or rather, I got to become his friend because of writing. So many people imagine writing as a very solitary activity. And it is, when you’re in the middle of it. But writers, just like everyone, need community. We need people motivating us to become better. We need people to learn from. What I’ve learned from Dylan is that no age is too young to assess your own character, set goals, and actualize those goals. Success and personal growth don’t come overnight, and self-starters like Dylan will have the advantage of years of practice by the time they reach the big leagues. Years of practice mean years of learning. And I can’t wait to see what else I’ll learn from Dylan.
Got kids? Grandkids? Nieces and nephews?
Or are you just plain curious to find out where all the missing socks go? Find out one ambitious sock’s journey by ordering your copy of The Misadventures of Melvin the Missing Sock!
Order now and have it within 2 weeks, with FREE SHIPPING!
