I was bogged down. In the beginning of Reynard and the Witch, as I was describing Reynard's trip from the village near his den to the town of Bresht, I wondered why I was having such a hard time writing this section. I finally realized that I didn't want to write it because it was boring. What difference did it make, what flowers were blooming in the dust on the side of the road, or what the smell and consistency of that dust was, or the ways in which Reynard concealed himself? Tolkein can do that, because he's Tolkein (and nobody's going to admit to skipping the boring parts). But very few other writers are going to get away with describing tedious journeys and get their readers to slog along.

How was I going to fix this? I needed to get Reynard to Bresht, but clearly I was going about it the wrong way. Then I thought about Elmore Leonard. True, we don't write in the same genre, or tell the same kinds of stories, but Leonard is a master of pacing. I defy anyone to find a spot in a Leonard novel where they're bored and feel like skimming ahead. So how does Elmore Leonard get a character from one place to the next?

Like this: Leonard gets his hero from the island where he lives (for example) to the high-rise apartment where the next scene takes place, not by telling us how the character got into his boat, started the engine, and motored across the bay; what other ships were on the bay and what the weather was like; the conversation he had on the dock while he tied his boat up, how long it took him to catch a cab and what the cab driver looked like; how he fumbled through his wallet for the change, how he convinced the doorman to let him in and the muzak that was playing in the elevator; what the 30th floor hallway looked like, and that the character hesitated at the door, then pushed it to discover that was was open. No---Leonard tell us that Joe grabbed his gun and patted his dog on his way to the boat. When he got to the apartment, the door was already open. Bang! Trip done, in the space between one sentence and the next.

Any time I find myself describing every footstep of a journey---literal or metaphorical---in my narrative, I think of Elmore Leonard's writing advice and cut it all away until I'm telling the actual story.

Here's the short version of Leonard's writing advice:

The full version of his New York Times article, with examples of when to ignore each item, is here: "Easy on the Adverbs, Exclamation Points and Especially Hooptedoodle."

(with thanks to John Ward, who introduced this subject and Leonard's advice in his Google+ thread today)

What's the best use of a blog?

I've been considering ways to make my blog a more effective tool for marketing myself as a writer. Yes, I know marketing is a blasphemous word in creative circles, but I don't just get joy from bringing the ideas in my head out in writing, I also get joy from enticing others to read what I've written. Unless I want to keep importuning my friends, I need to reach out to people I don't already know and interest them in my work.

So, how can I best use my blog to do that? Here's what I've come up with:

1. Don't just blog about writing. Other writers aren't the primary audience for my work. I need to write about things that will appeal to a broader audience.

2. Identify my "voice" and write consistently in that voice. Am I humorous? scholarly? profane? earnest? I need to find and focus my public-facing voice.

3. Make my blog representative of my work. No typos. No sloppy language. Always tight and well edited. My blog may be the way some readers first encounter me, and a poorly written blog isn't going to convince anyone that I'm a good writer.

4. Vary the presentation. I think writing a big block of text every time may not be the best way to catch people's interest. I'm going to work on including a bigger variety of posts (like lists, humorous outrage, anecdotes, or recommendations for things like books, recipes, and entertainment).

5. Tie in to what I write. If I want to interest readers of my blog in my fiction writing, maybe I should write about my process: how I came up with the ideas for certain pieces, what I went through to get those stories published, what they mean to me. I want to engage potential readers with my work from an insider's perspective.

What do you think? When you read blogs, what kinds of things interest you? What kinds of things make you less interested in following a blog?

Last week, a meteor came blazing down over Russia like a flaming spear. Out of the blue sky came a shockwave that blasted glass out of windows. Many people were injured, and many more demonstrated the very Russian trait (according to my Russian friend) of being completely unimpressed by anything.

Fabulously Crabby Friend: Ha! It's not just science fiction. And let this be a lesson to you. Next time I aim for a more populated area!

Me: We concede, your worshipfulness! How may we placate you?

FCF: Tithing.

Me: <places cheesecake and martinis on the altar and slowly backs away>

FCF: You shall be spared. Possibly promoted. (Depending on how delicious this cheesecake is....)

. . .

FCF: [voice somewhat muffled by mouthful of cheesecake] Henceforth, Torah Cottrill shall be appointed Grand High Inquisitor. ASIDE: What shall your first edict be?

Me: Those who tailgate shall be struck by lightning, and their charred bodies impaled on mile markers as a warning for others.

You've finished your book and uploaded it to Amazon, promoted it on all of your social media sites, made a web page for it, and blogged about it. So why isn't it selling?

It could be any of a number of reasons, of course. Ebooks are a crowded market, as self-publishing gets easier and easier. And a single book's sales don't tell the whole story: the more books you publish, the better your backlist will sell as satisfied readers look for other things you've written. And you're likely to sell more copies if you also have a print-on-demand option instead of only an ebook. And you might need to adjust your genre placement in Amazon, or your book summary, or your cover. But there might be another reason.

Maybe your book just isn't that good.

"Wait, no!" I hear you saying. "I was by far the best writer in school, and I slaved over this book for more than a year. It's the story that was burning to get out of me, and it's brilliant. I know it!"

Mmm-hmmmm. Tell me, would you describe the opening chapters by saying, "It starts slow, but then it builds to a really riveting meditation on a grand idea/complex character revelation/important historical moment"? A slow opening is a great way to convince people to put your book down and never pick it up again. Come on, you're a writer! Figure out how to start at a place where the reader can't wait to find out what happens next.

Now tell me, who were your beta readers? You know, the people you gave the book to and asked for feedback. Were they related to you, your close friends, or others similarly unwilling to be unkind to you? Were they people who don't regularly read the kind of book you wrote? You have to show your book to people who are avid readers of your genre or subject, and who are also prepared to hurt your feelings by giving you brutal feedback. Your grandmother, your best friend's sister, or people you see at <insert favorite hobby> every week are not the only people you should be getting feedback from. They won't tell you if your book stinks. Find people who will. Join a writers' group, either in the real world or online. Go to a workshop or take a community college class where you'll get feedback from the instructor and from other writers.

Did you hire an editor? Without exception, if you've written a novel, you must have an editor. At the very least, hire a developmental editor to look at your outline and first chapter; this will be less expensive than a full edit if you can't afford it and don't expect to make enough money from book sales to recoup the expense. And if you don't want readers rolling their eyes and remembering your book as "the one with all the mistakes," you must either hire a proofreader or have a very detail-oriented friend look at your final manuscript before you publish. No matter how good a proofreader you are, you can't proofread your own work. Your brain will automatically see what you meant to be there instead of what actually is there ("He took off his shoes and went bed" instead of "went to bed"); and if you firmly believe that the expression is "sneak peak" instead of "sneak peek," you won't see the mistake. But a proofreader (or your eagle-eyed friend) will help you find these things.

Even if you did all of this, though, it simply may not be a very good book. But here's the thing: Most people who say they want to write a book "one day" never start, and most of the people who start never finish. You, my friend, finished a book and then you put it out there for other people to read. That makes you a writer. So take what you learned from this book, and make your next one even better.