Get your Space Marine Chapter Enshrined in the Lore!

On second thought who’d actually want to join this technicolour-blind lot?

Greetings all! It’s been an incredibly busy month here in Robbie’s Land. Regular followers will know that it’s still full steam ahead on the subject of my History PhD (as it likely will be for the next three years). On top of that I’m happy to say that after publishing my first pro short story last month, Black Library have given me a slew of fresh projects to work on. No less than three new shorts will be appearing beginning in December and, even more excitingly, I’ve just started work on a novel commission.

At the moment it’s understandably all hush-hush, but suffice to say the characters they’re letting me play with are fan favourites, and it’s an honour to get to write about them.

I don’t think I’ll be breaking any non disclosure forms by admitting, however, that a Space Marine chapter will at least be mentioned over the course of this mystery novel. Which chapter will that be, you 40k aficionados ask? Well, actually, I’ve decided to leave that up to you.

As a bit of fun I thought I’d let folks suggest their own chapter names for the possible prize of being name-dropped in a 40k novel. Unfortunately it’d be just that, a name-drop with no wider background or context, though if you really want to send me all your homebrew lore then feel free. I just can’t promise I’ll read it (believe it or not, writing for the mighty setting that is Warhammer 40,000 actually requires research, even for a fanboy of sixteen years standing such as myself. Between that and PhD readings, my sleep pattern isn’t looking great at the moment).

How will I choose the winning chapter in the possibly unlikely event that I actually get more than one submission? Answer; imma stick them all in a hat (actually a plastic costume-shop picklehaube) and pick one out. No guarantees, and yes I’ll be having the savant-cogitator eliminate quirky entries, so no Angry Marines (the blessings of Him on Earth be upon them though). To submit just send your chapter name either in a comment on this post, tweet me at @RobbieMacNiven or message the Robbie MacNiven Facebook author page here. Or my brand spanking new 40k-based tumblr. Whatever. Any follows/likes ect will also be appreciated and will guarantee your suggested name actually makes it into the picklehaulb (No! No corruption!).

Happy naming, battle-brothers and sisters!

My First Experience with a Professional Editor

Writing is not a lonely profession. Any author is frequently advised to seek assistance, be it from critique groups, beta readers or fully-fledged editors. Such advice is well-founded, because a fresh eye can assist with everything from overarching plot inconsistencies to the ever-curse that is the Hated Typo.

Editors in particular are much sought-after. The upsurge in independent publishing and small presses over the past decade has corresponded with a rise in people selling their services, sometimes at incredibly high prices, in order to give manuscripts a helping hand. It’s an oft-repeated adage among indy publishers that if you don’t shell out a bit of cash to have someone at least semi-professional look over your work, you’re doomed to failure even before you click “publish.”

I’m not here to question such received wisdom. Indeed, I think anyone seriously considering getting into independent publishing would do well to seek the assistance of a well-recommended editor. I’ve used one before, paying him over £250 for a reasonably thorough comb-through of one of my older attempts at a novel. I don’t feel the money was wasted, but at the same time it’s never fun pouring cash into something when the back of your mind is telling you that – despite all the advice – it isn’t worth it and you can do fine without the “pro” help.

The conundrum of paying an editor was thankfully one I recently managed to circumvent. You may remember that a few months back I had the honour of landing my first ever professionally-paid piece of short fiction with wargaming giants Games Workshop (or, more accurately, their publishing wing, Black Library). Boyhood dreams were swiftly swept aside by nervous waiting after I sent the first draft of my commissioned piece off for assessment by Black Library’s in-house editors.

This really was crunch time. Editing is famously one of the most painful processes involved in writing, and I couldn’t kick the feeling that I’d totally mucked up and the draft I received back would be so edit-heavy it’d be barely recognisable.

When it did eventually reappear in my inbox one afternoon there certainly were plenty of “red lines,” as the phrase goes. But what surprised me, after reading through all the suggested changes, was that there were no major overhauls. There was certainly a lot of work to be done, and my rooky effort required a lot of tightening up, but in everything my editor was polite, encouraging and, above all, his suggestions were extremely relevant. My second draft turned out so much better thanks to this. I couldn’t have done it alone.

The fact that I was getting a comprehensive, free editing service from my publisher  was a huge bonus. What was even more surprising than my near-painless first encounter with a professional in-house editor was the realisation that not all writers react so well to relevant criticism. Editors and writers are symbiotic creatures, and the successes of one breeds off of the other. Criticisms by professional editors are only levelled at manuscripts with an eye towards assisting the writer in improving on them. It’s certainly nothing personal, though seemingly that’s a fact that can be lost on some writers, new and old alike. Maybe I’m biased because my first proper editorial run went so smoothly, but it helps to think of writing as a boat with two oars. As the writer, you’re only going to go round in circles if you pull in the opposite direction to the editor. He/she will be aware of that fact as well, so give and take is important. Ultimately, all great books are team efforts, and the writer who is able to build a close working relationship with a good editor is privileged indeed. One day I hope to benefit from that on a more permanent basis.

The Fear

“Fear” by akirakirai on deviantART

When you sign up to be a writer you expect lots of difficulty. First drafts, redrafts, long days, sleepless nights and the full gamut from corrupt Word files to the plot not making any sense. If you know the game, you know that’s what you’re in store for whenever you set fingertips to keyboard. What you may not be anticipating, however, is the fear.

You’ve probably felt it if you’ve ever submitted your work to others, be they publishers, agents, beta readers or even just friends and family. It’s the fear that you’re no good. The fear that you’re a terrible writer. The fear that, even if your readers come back to you with praise, in reality they’re just trying to mask how God-awful you work is.

I’ve never really known that fear before now. Yeah, I’ve had things read by a whole range of people, and I’ve submitted plenty of stories to publishers and agents. For me the entire process feels too detached to inspire anything like genuine worry. Out of sight, out of mind, that’s me. Normally.

The thing is, it’s different when a publisher asks you to write something for them. Usually it’s the other way round. I submit things, unbidden, and they get accepted or (mostly) rejected. That’s the writing world. Responses take months, and one way or another you just forget to get too worked up. But when a publisher specifically commissions you, well, let me tell you, that’s a different game entirely.

It happened recently to me. I’m so glad it did. It’s literally a life goal realised. And yet, with it comes The Fear like I’ve never known it before. The first draft is done, dusted, sent. The waiting has begun. The silence is stretching. Against all advice, that first draft has been re-read half a dozen times already. Pointless now that it’s already been sent, right? That doesn’t stop me looking at it. Is it good? Is it terrible? I can’t tell. I’m now totally blind towards it. For all I know it’s no better than my early teenage fanfic, and a poor editor is currently trying to work out how to salvage something, anything, from the wreckage. Maybe, heaven forbid, it’s so bad I’ll never be commissioned again.

These are worst-case scenarios, but a writer’s mind should always be a febrile place, and mine has a habit of concocting disaster. There’s other work to be getting on with, of course, but I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t refreshing my inbox every 10 seconds.

Hopefully these are just newbie jitters. Hopefully I’m underestimating myself. Hopefully I haven’t blown my big break. Only time will tell. In the meanwhile, there’s always The Fear for company.

History’s 8 Biggest Plot Holes

• So the Americans create these super-weapons that they used to end Earth’s second global war, but then don’t use them in a single one of the dozens of conflicts since? I bet they’re keeping them for the season finale…

• Sixty six years from the first successful human flight to landing on the moon, year right!

• Right, so a “meteor” killed off ALL the dinosaurs, clearly the writer had no idea where to take the story.
• They call the Titanic unsinkable, then it sinks on its first voyage. Far too much prophetic irony usage there!
• C’mon, who would actually attack Russia in winter?
• Are we seriously meant to believe Gavrilo Princip just happened to run into Archduke Franz Ferdinand – who he’d tried and failed to kill an hour earlier – whilst he’s ordering a sandwich?

• Napoleon Bonepart, recurring villain much? As though he’d be able to escape Elba that easily.
• The whole WW2 being use to set up the USA vs Soviets thing was brilliant, but are we really meant to be satisfied with the whole “Cold War” just gradually petering out?

Plucked shamelessly from this post!

 

One Lesson on How to Decrease your Chances of Getting an Agent

When I first began writing this blog I was more than a little intimidated by the discordant plethora of writer’s voices already online, giving sage advice on everything from the best fonts to the “snowflake plotting technique.” What could I possibly add to all this? Who’s going to pay attention to one new voice among the million already established?

Try to create unique content, I thought. Maybe my personal experiences and ongoing adventure as a budding author would be the most interesting topics for blog-fuel. That train of thought holds true today, but I realised this morning that I’d been overlooking a very good reason behind the fact that so many “writing advice” blogs already exist. I was, to use a tired phrase, missing the woods for the trees.

A literary agent I recently submitted to began her guidelines page by congratulating the reader on already doing better than most, simply due to the fact that said reader was actually bothering to check the guidelines. The majority, apparently, do not. And therein lies the reason for the evergreen market for posts like “top ten tips for submitting to literary agents” or “Things to avoid when writing from the female point-of-view” – no matter how many millions of people seem to be blogging on commonplace writing matters, there are billions of fresh-faced writers very much in need of the basics. If anything, dispensing tried-and-tested advice is a public service.

That’s why I hope to do more basic posts in the future – as far as I’m concerned, there can’t be enough words of wisdom on the many aspects of being a wannabe author, and if I improve just one writerkin’s understanding of the industry with my own meager knowledge, I’ll be doing something worthwhile.

So, lesson number one – if you really don’t want to land a literary agent, a great way to start is by not even reading their submission guidelines! Take five minutes out to do that and you’ll already be running ahead of the pack.