And I made a small, but rather profound, discovery.  

I usually meditate in the afternoon.  My energy just seems to sag then.   I should live in a country where they have siestas.   So I use my meditation as the chance to recharge my batteries and get myself refocused for the rest of the day.   It’s not a bad use for the time and it wor… so I’d never thought that much about doing it differrently.   Most of the time I use a tape so it’s a guided meditation about whatever theme I’m in the mood for that day.   Loving Kindness.   Healing.   Creative Visualization.   Simple Relaxation.   It varies.

The miorning meditation at Miraval is (surprise, surprise) in the morning and it’s a mindfulness meditation.   In other words,  the instructor doesn’t talk to you much.   She simply guides you into with a small focus on breathing and then it’s all about simply being in the moment.   Noticing sounds or bodily sensations, letting thoughts pass by like leaves in a stream.   It’s silent and still.   Mindfulness is considered a bit harder than a guided meditation…..there’s no canned speech to keep pulling your attention back when your mind wanders.

But I found the morning meditations profound.     I’m not sure if it’s because it was a different type of meditation.   That was probably a factor, as was the great ambient energy of having an instructor and other people in the room.  But I suspect the biggest change was the time of day.  

I’m a morning person.   I like to work then.  I’m fired up and focused.   It seemed silly and counterintuitive to take a time when I already feel good and meditate, which I’ve always used like an emotional bandaid.    Besides, my mind is at it’s most active then….geared toward work and checking off my to-do list for the day.   And when I sat at 8 am at Miraval, my mind was indeed extremely active, bouncing around like a sugar-jazzed toddler.    Did I pack my shoes for the 9 am aerobic class?   Did I remember to return that call?   Wonder what omelet they’ll be serving at breakfast?

But once I got on the other side of that monkey mind stuff I felt more lucid and calm than I’ve felt in a long time.   And there was a real post-meditation high, something I don’t get a lot.   On the last day the group was small and full of fairly experienced meditators so the leader said we would go a little longer.   It still seemed to fly by in a flash and when she dinged the Tibetan bowl to bring us out, I was surprised.   I said “That seemed fast” and she shrugged and said we’d gone 45 minutes.

45 minutes is a pretty long sit.   Over twice what I do on my own and besides, I flatter myself that I have a pretty good internal clock.   No matter what I’m doing or how engrossed I am, I rarely lose total track of time.   So I was shocked….and I was happy.

The challenge, of course, is to keep it going at home.   I’m doing it first thing in the morning now and I’ve set myself a little ding on my iPhone so I won’t get lost in a mindfulness meditation.   I can’t say it’s been as powerful as it was at Miraval,but I want to try this new way for a while and see what it yields.

So what does all this have to do with writing?   A lot of writers meditate, I believe, and there are definite similarities between mindfulness and the headspace you need for writing.     Writers don’t always think about their books, at least not in the way that non-writers think we think about them.   We don’t sit with a fist to our mouth and a furrowed brow.  When I speak to groups and classes, someone usually asks about plotting, or “working it out” or”making choices” and of course we do all those things.    But a lot of times it’s not conscious thinking.   It’s more like mindfulness.   We hold the open space of our mind and let the book come into it.   Every writer I know has had some variation of this experience:   He’s come to an impasse, written himself into some kind of corner.    He’s thought and thought about how to fix it.    And then he lets go of thinking about it, and at some point – maybe a week later, maybe a month – the answer comes to him in a full blown vision.

Meditating is a bit like that.   We try not to hold on to thoughts.   To notice them and let them go.   But in the absense of actual thinking something else awakens, a new way for the mind to be.    The post-meditation high I got in Arizona was a bit like the high I get after a great day of writing.   I didn’t necessarily work something out, but something definitely worked its way through me.

And then…..there’s traditional publishing with a large publisher.    The author gets some up front money in the form of the advance.   The advance can vary wildly, depending on whether or not you’re Stephen King or, let’s just say for the same of argument, Kim Wright.   But, large or small, after the advance is paid back in the form of profits from copies sold, the author begins to participate in the royalty stream, usually to the tune of about 15%.

On to small publishing with a university or independent press.   The author may get an advance but often does not, and if he does it’s usually smaller than what a large publisher can offer.   To compensate for the teeny or nonexistence advance, small publishers often pay out a larger royalty percentage, sometimes as much as 25%.

And then self publishing.   No advance at all, of course, but once Amazon/B&N take their cut, 100% of the subsequent royalty stream comes to the author.

If it looks like there would be pluses and minuses to each route, you’re right.  It’s a matter of accepting that going in, doing a bit of research, and choosing the method that most suits you.   If there’s only one route open to you,  then it’s time to get busy convincing yourself that way is the best.

And, as alwaysm the truly smart cookies develop multiple projects and consider spreading them out over multiple publication avenues.   It’s an analogy I’ve used before but it still works – right now the publishing world is a great big casino, so you may as well lay bets all over the table.

For starters, when I arrived a lot more interviews had been scheduled than I’d anticipated.   A good sign – a sign they believe it’s going forward.   And then, through the four days, it was like any time I needed a certain piece of information or a particular expert, the help was simply there.    As if a thousand hands, both seen and unseen, were nudging the idea along.

It’s like that sometimes.   Serendipity at every turn, practically hanging from the trees like Spanish moss.  I want to remember this and take it back into other aspects of my writing life.  Often I get trapped into thinking that I have to push and that it’s my job to make things happen.   A lot of the messages from my family of origin and the culture I live in conspire to convince me that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.   I don’t expect help, I don’t look for it, and if it happens to be offered I am sometimes suspicious and cynical.

So I want to remember this week.   How sometimes, as Natalie Goldberg writes, it almost feels like you’re falling.   Like there is an inevitability to the movement, as if you’re being blessed in both obvious ways and in ways you can’t see.

There’s no telling if any of these things will work, and by work I mean lead to something else – a sale or a contract or even a contact.  I’m trying to be super zen about the whole thing.  In other words, it’s not my job to worry about what happens, it’s just my job to keep putting ideas out there.   Trust isn’t interested in specifics.   Trust just keeps moving.

But I think it’s important to recognize that I’m capable of generating lots of ideas and that ideas aren’t limited.   We don’t have to guard them so carefully or always gestate them quite so long.  It’s January 13, very early in the year.  I’m curious to see how long this remains easy to do.

When you’re selling a first novel, one of the questions that agents and editors often ask is “Who do you see as your target reader?” The answer will help them categorize your work—in a good sense.  It lets them know where on the marketing spectrum your potential audience resides and how to make the right publicity and promotional decisions to reach that audience.

Writers frequently respond to this question vaguely, with something along the lines of “Anyone who enjoys a good story,” or “This theme is universal.” They try to imply that their book has equal appeal for men and women, young and old, that it cuts across all racial and national lines and thus has the potential to be a best seller.

Hmmm…yeah.

Industry professionals are rarely impressed by such claims. If they ask a specific question, they expect a specific answer. Give them generalities and you may as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, “I haven’t thought about this AT ALL.”

So, as you begin thinking of revising your NaNo book or other novel project, stop for a moment and consider the target reader.  There are two basic reasons you’ll need this information down the road.

1.  If your publicity team—even if you self-pub and your team consists of you, your mother, and your dog—is going to pitch the book to certain magazines or blogs, it will be because it lines up with the demographics of those magazines and blogs.   There are a million places to promote a book, so you need to spend your time courting the ones that will lead you to your target reader demographics.

2.  Thinking about your target reader will help you revise with the needs of that reader in mind.  The first draft of a book—especially if you write it fast and free as NaNo demands—is about just getting the words on paper. The second draft is about figuring out which of those words don’t fit and need to go. The third draft is about finding holes in the narrative, then developing scenes and descriptions to fill those holes.

Not sure where to begin?  Think back to what motivated you to write the book in the first place.

Let’s say you have an 11-year-old niece and you’ve watched with alarm over the past year as she and her friends have become increasingly obsessed with their appearance, their clothes, and a disturbingly premature sort of sexuality.   Perhaps, not completely by coincidence, your YA book features a plucky, tomboyish heroine and is in part a message to your niece that there’s more to life than being popular and cool.

Your target readers aren’t just a demographic—they’re also your motivation.  When you read through your work the second time, keep your 11-old-niece in mind. Would she be interested in what the three leading characters in school are wearing on the first day of school? Probably. Would she be interested in a two-paragraph aside about how the town the girls are living in was established in 1799? Probably not. Does she want to know what song is playing on the main character’s iPod when she first sees the boy of her dreams? Sure, that’s a vital clue. Does she need a description of the band that’s playing the song? Nah, she already knows more about that than you do.

You can use this same formula no matter what type of book you’ve written or who your target reader might be. A retired military man is going to respond to a different story telling style than a young urban woman reading a book on the subway. He’s going to find different jokes funny, have greater curiosity about some details than others, prefer a certain type of dialogue and voice.

So when someone asks you “Who’s your target reader?” don’t punt with a thoughtless answer like “Everyone.” Aiming your book toward the right demographic is a big part of revision, finding the best possible agent and publisher for the project, and ultimately reaching an audience.  You can’t hit a target if you don’t know where the target is.

No amount of former success can shield you from it.  Nor does it matter if it’s politely stated, if it comes with a light dusting of sugar, or reassurances that the rejection has more to do with the limitations of the rejector than the rejectee.   Predictions that the next man will want you, the next editor, the next employer….

Or reassurance that it’s just an awful market.   Look around you, everyone’s suffering.

None of that helps at all.

But rejection is so much a part of the writer’s life.   It not only comes with the territory, it is the territory.  I know that how I handle it – who I choose to vent to and what steps I take next – will determine my career.   The ability to handle rejection intelligently and keep moving forward is as necessary to my chosen profession as literary talent or good ideas.  

Right now I’m so disappointed.   It sits like a pit in my stomach and it will sit there for a time.

But what I do tomorrow, and the day after that, matters.   It’s easy to be a writer when things are going well, just as it’s easy to be soldier in peacetime or a stockbroker in a rising market or a doctor whose patient is healthy.   You earn the noun of your profession when things aren’t so swift, when in fact, it looks like your career as come to a standstill.

God it gets dark early this time of year.

The standard rap against self-publishing is that it allows so much literary crap to flood the market.  Traditionalists argue that the whole agent-editor-publishing traid serves a screening function.   In other words, a book had to be pretty good to make it through the traditional publishing process.  And now, lacking those filters, anything can be packaged as a book and loosed on the unsuspecting public.    Even if it’s just that guy from The Shining typing “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” five thousand times.

To some degree, the traditionalists are right.   Self-publishing eliminates the gate keepers and, in many cases, the whole editing process, and as a result a lot of bad books are lurking on Kindle.   No one can argue that.

But, on the other side, the traditionalists are wrong.   When they say “Hey, there’s a reason all those self-published writers couldn’t sell their books,” they’re ignoring what’s been happening in conventional publishing for years and what has really accelerated in the last two.   In the present economic environment, the Big Six publishers won’t touch a book unless they believe it has commerical potential and commercial potential translates to “we think it will sell 50,000 copies.”    50,000 copies is a lot of books, a high bar for a first time author without an established audience to clear.  For a debut literary novel to sell 50,000 copies is a rarity and the agents-editors-publishers know this.   So excellent, highly polished writing is turned down every day. 

Ergo, the irony.   Yes, some of the self-published books wouldn’t  make it in the “real world” of NY Big Six publishing because they’re crap.  But some of the self-published books failed to make it through the “real world” system because they’re too well-written.   Too literary.   Too quiet and thoughtful.   Or perhaps they’re concepts that could draw a small audience but don’t have mainstream appeal.   In other words, some people would want to read these books.   Just not enough to tempt a big publisher to take a gamble on them.

What’s coming out of the Big Six publishers now are books that they believe will sell.   The agents-editors-publishers may hold this believe because the books are really good, compulsively readable, interesting and engaging.   Or they may believe these books will sell because they’re flashy and tied to a current pop culture fad.   To say that all self-published books are shoddily written is foolish, just it’s equally foolish to say that all Big Six bestsellers are beautifully crafted. 

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know my stance on the current publishing market.  No one knows what’s going to happen.  It’s all up in the air.   And in light of this it makes sense to proceed on all fronts at once.  Look for an agent.   Try to publish Big Six, if the project has the kind of commerical potential that makes this a plausible goal.   If the project is more literary or narrowly focused, consider small press.  If you’re willing to be an entrepreneur as well as a writer, self-publish.   If you write across many mediums, do all three at once.

But don’t assume that the form in which a book reaches its public is an indicator of its inherent literary worth.

Those of you who have followed this blog or who know me personally have witnessed my struggle to understand what’s happening in the world of contemporary publishing.  I don’t think anyone totally gets what’s happening out there.   Lots of opinions.  Lots of guesses.  Lots of hustle.  But very few real facts.

Since this is my job and the way I earn my living, I’ve spent the last few years in a quandry.   I published a literary novel with a large press.   A how to book with a small press.  And started a self-published genre series.  Psychologically rewarding?  Indeed.   Economically rewarding?  Not so much.

Meanwhile I have struggled to keep my freelance magazine writing career afloat.   But I fear the writing is on the wall for magazines, newspapers, and so much of what we consider classic journalism.   Everything is going online and online writing just doesn’t pay as well as print, and never will.   There is the lingering perception by both readers and editors that whatever you find on the internet is free and, even if written by a professional, is not deserving of a professional paycheck.  

So, bottom line, the last three years have been an enormous financial struggle.   The old ways I used to make money aren’t working anymore.   And I don’t see them coming back. 

In the past few months I’ve been thinking of all the things writing is to me.   It’s a passion and a hobby and a bit of a religion – but it’s also a skill, and this last definition might be what saves me.  I need to find projects that need a writer – credited or not – and offer my skill set to them.   This means ghostwriting novels or biographies and selling my expertise as a how-to writer for various nonfiction projects.   It feels weird to say that.  Ghostwriter.  It’s like I don’t completely exist anymore.

 But I know it’s the best way for me to turn around this economic slide and to be able to continue my life as a full-time writer.

And in the end that’s all that matters to me.   Being able to make a living at the work I love.  Being a writer as both vocation and avocation.  I’ve been extremely lucky through the years.  Not that many people live exclusively on their writing income and I have done it now for decades.   But being a freelance writer – and the “freelance” is as much a part of the job description as the “writer” – has required me to continually reinvent myself.  And in 2012 I will do it yet again.

So, world, I’m putting it out there.  Bring me interesting, lucrative, projects that will let me use my writing, editorial, and organizational skills.   I’m dropping the ego, the stubbornness, the concern over whose name is on the cover and who gets the credit.   I just want to work.

Writers who write a lot – those who are called prolific and who are never blocked – often achieve their steady output through a careful observance of writing rituals.   They write in a certain place or at a certain time each day.   They use a special pen, or a particular font.   Their tea sets on the desk at a prescribed place, or yeah, they even think about the music on the stereo.  

It’s often been said that the people who are most productive treat writing like a business, pure and simple.   They don’t wait for inspiration to strike any more than a dentist expects to be inspired before he drills teeth.   They just get up in the morning and go to work.

I agree with the bit about getting up in the morning and going to work, but it strikes me that finding the right creative headspace is more of a religion than a business.   Some days you get the mysticism, the urge to speak in tongues, the powerful lift of inspiration pounding away like angel wings.   But that’s rare.   Most days you have to start with the dogma and the rituals -  the sacraments of prayer or communion or scripture   Even if they seem rote, rituals have their function.   Van Morrison on the stereo and green tea in the mug might be enough to just start the bowl rolling, getting you moving toward the true inspiration, which – in my experience  – follows writing more often it preceeds it.

So if you do require certain little props to jump start your creative process, I think it’s a good thing.   The fact that you’ve identified and incorporated these tools into your day will help you move through those uncomfortable first steps where things seem uninspired.  You just have to trust that if you’re faithful enough, at some point the dogma will drop away and you’ll start to hear the flap of angel wings.

http://writerunboxed.com/2011/12/12/the-twelve-most-dangerous-words-for-writers/