A Simplified Explanation of JukePop’s Investment Feature

It came to my attention today that some folks don’t really get what JukePop’s new Investment feature is about. The messages from the two authors currently in the program (Brian Guthrie of Rise and myself) don’t quite explain how people will profit from donating, and the only FAQ page on Investment is reportedly rather confusing. In the interest of goading more people into considering contributing to Prelude, here’s a full explanation of the Investment feature–simplified.

So Basically

Firstly, the “Investment” feature on JukePop is just a fancy way of saying a “crowdfunding” platform, like Kickstarter. “Investors” are people who donate money toward the book’s goal.

JukePop wants to publish some of its stories to retailers like Amazon and iBook. This way its authors can get paid and JP can earn a portion of the profits to keep itself going. Before doing that, JukePop needs to have a finished product from the author, not the unedited mish-mash that most stories turn into during serial writing. That will often  entail professional editing, a cover art rehaul, and marketing. In other words, that will require money.

Hence, Crowdfunding

Hence, the crowdfunding campaign. Authors write a pitch to their audience, set a funding goal, then they leave it to the masses to determine whether their story will get the services it needs to become that “finished product.” As of this writing, Rise has already hit its funding goal, and Prelude is more than 1/10th of the way there. Considering that both of these stories were pretty popular during their run on JP, I suspect that +Votes will be a future measurement of how likely a campaign is to succeed.

The Investors Getting Paid Part

Now, most crowdfunding platforms have “perks” that go out to donors to incentivize bigger donations. Some of you may have seen this. Donate $5, get a T-shirt. Donate $10, get a gift card for the mall. JukePop doesn’t swing that way. Since the only things that will be funded on JP are books, the reward scheme has been revised towards a completely different incentive: shared profits.

That’s right. Donate $5, get a share of the profits. Donate $10, get a larger share of the profits.

Each campaign will tailor this differently, so for the sake of keeping this simple I will use Prelude as an example.

The goal for Prelude is $2,000. That’s how much I need to get editing, cover art, and to market the book. When I signed up for the program, I listed that as 50% of the net profits I intend to make when the book launches. That means that if someone donates $2,000, they will have provided 50% of the book’s net sales. And you know what that means? It means they’ll get 50% of all future sales.

Okay, $2,000 is a lot. What if you donate only $20? According to math, you’ll have provided 0.5% of the net sales. That means you’ll get 0.5% of all future sales instead. Obviously, the less you donate, the less you earn, and the more you donate, the more you’ll earn. But the bottom line is that no matter how much you donate, you will be getting a stake of the profits.

Whaaat

I know, too good to be true. Except it’s not, when you think about it. This is a purely low-risk, high-reward system, which any real financial investor worth their salt should jump at.

Here’s some more maths for you. Prelude will launch at $8.99. If just 500 people purchase the book on launch day, the profits (before fees) will be nearly $4,500. 50% of that will go to me. The other 50% will go to everyone who donated to the campaign. Investment goal: $2,000. Return on investment on launch day: $2,250. What does that mean for you? Profits.

Did you donate $40? Here’s $40 back. Did you donate $100? Here’s a Benjamin for your troubles. $200? $300? Take it back, take it back! My profits are yours; your profits are yours.

And you know what happens afterwards, when the book hits 1,000 sales, or 2,000, or 5,000? That’s more and more money going back into the investors’ pockets. YOU are getting paid for having contributed to a book’s publication.

I think this is a groundbreaking development in the indie publishing scene, but hey, what do I know? I’m just  a guy who writes books. Prelude still has about 25 days and $1,765 to go, so if you’re interested in helping it become a success, do give it a read, and contribute what you think the story is worth. I’ll make it WORTH your while.

Metal Shadow Prelude is Getting Funded…by You!

It’s begun. Metal Shadow #Prelude’s crowdfunding campaign to be published as a novel on Amazon has officially launched on JukePop. Don’t everybody line up at once!

I’ve written all the deets over on this page, so check it out when you can. But here’s a brief summary to whet your appetite. >:D

What’s Happening?

Crowdfunding. Prelude is accepting donations so it can be edited, prettyified with cover art, and be advertised on the NYC subway. Again, read all the deets here.

How’s it Happening?

Through JukePop’s new “Investments” platform. This isn’t your typical Kickstarter: this is crowdfunding with *punch*.

In summary, the more you donate, the more you’ll earn back in profits from the book’s sales. That’s right–YOU will earn profits if you donate to MY book! FOREVER! The going rate is $10 for 0.25% of profits, but you can raise your own income from there. Since the price is so low, I expect there to be quite a large number of people who will be on the investment team, and I intend to coordinate all of them in marketing efforts. Join us, eh? You can pitch in as low as $1 or even just tell a friend.

When’s it Happening?

NOW. RIGHT NOW. AND FOR THE NEXT 30 DAYS. AND THEN YOU GET MONEY FOREVER.

That’s really all there is to it. Jump over to that deets page and get informed. In the meantime, I’ll be updating Prelude with Phase 1’s edited chapters throughout the campaign. Look forward to that!

The Thing About Other People’s Writing Advice

I just deleted the opening sentence of this blog for about the millionth time. Part of the reason is because I keep calling out the names of other authors, which simply isn’t nice. Another part of the reason is because I can’t figure out how to put what I want to say into words. Typical writer’s block.

I’m gonna just say it, then: if writing were 90% art, 10% science, then that would mean 90% of all the advice about writing is bullshit and anecdotes, period.

This isn’t some universal truth or anything; that’s just my opinion. My unpublished, unbestselling, uncritically-acclaimed opinion. As much as I respect other writers, some of them follow the rulebook way too closely. They have all these ideas about writing a certain word count each day and reading books every day which are just…ugh. Not true. Everything is undergoing evolution in this intricate Matrix we live in, and writing and language are among that. The conventions that worked yesterday aren’t guaranteed to work today.

Allow me to go through some of my favorite examples of very popular advice that now fall short of being universally applicable. (Hopefully some of you reading this will have an open mind and not bash my head in afterward.)

Show Don’t Tell

The “show-don’t-tell” rule is meant to make writers focus on creating visual imagery in their text. By using descriptive words for actions, objects, and even concepts, the scene gets painted in the reader’s eye the way the author visualized it. This is supposedly important because readers are humans, and humans are visual creatures. If a paragraph in a narrative contains not even a single word about something people can visualize, then by contemporary standards it is considered a bad paragraph.

This is 90% bullshit.

Take a look at the paragraph I just wrote to you. There are barely any visual objects in there. Bad paragraph? No, of course not. All I’m doing is talking to you, explaining something, and you, being the human you are, are processing this information as efficiently as if you could actually hear my voice. This naked relay of information from me to you is called “exposition,” and it’s a wonderful freaking thing.

The show-don’t-tell rule disdains exposition. It sees exposition as boring, lazy, unskillful. Yet exposition helps readers understand what the hell is going on, and thus is entirely necessary in every story worth its salt.

Don’t get me wrong; visual imagery is nice. I think it’s just as important to have imagery as exposition in your works. But we can’t keep knocking on exposition, because it takes skill to write that too—especially when weaving it in between action and dialogue. The number one rule should be “Show AND Tell.”

Active Voice Over Passive Voice

Passive voice is when two verbs show up to the party and don’t even have the audacity to enter one at a time—“pass through the door,” as I say. Eg: “she was running.” The was and the running are just all up in there, groveling at she’s feet. This is bad for several reasons: the writer wastes words; the reader has a harder time visualizing the action; and in some cases, the double-verb creates confusion. Active voice is better because it aids in imagery and is more precise. “She ran” is infinitely cleaner to read.

This is also 90% bullshit.

I forget which author mentioned this, but Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” is passive as shit, yet how many readers actually care? Harry Potter too, and, I’m willing to bet, countless other bestsellers. If that’s not evidence enough for you that the “active voice/passive voice” conflict is just made up jargon, I don’t know what is. The fact is that passive voice, for most writers, is sooo much easier to write, and thanks to that, allows the writer to focus more on their story and less on political correctness. Most readers don’t care about anything but the story. What else did they purchase the book for?

However, let’s be sure to take the scientific 10% into account. Active voice does create better imagery. Thus, the number one rule should be to “Switch Voices as Necessary.”

The Serial Comma

The serial comma, also known as the Oxford comma, is a comma which appears before “and” at the end of a list. Eg: “him, the bear, and the orange.” This is recommended by The Chicago Manual of Style to be used at all times because it enables precise listing and disables any room for confusion. The classic example is “they called his parents, Mother Teresa and the Pope.” This is clearly wrong because no one has those two people as their parents (I think).

This is 66% bullshit.

The serial comma is a wonderful tool, but it should not be used at all times. There are some instances where omitting it is aaalright, and incurs no harm on the text.

No serial: She called his parents, Mother Teresa and the pope.
With Serial: She called his parents, Mother Teresa, and the pope.
Difference? Yes. Definitely use the comma.

No Serial: He has a grape, apple and orange.
With Serial: He has a grape, apple, and orange.
Difference? No. Use it or don’t; doesn’t matter.

No Serial: Have some food, friends and family.
Serial: Have some food, friends, and family.
Difference? Yes. You should NOT use the comma here.

There are more examples, but I think you get the point. When it comes to artistic forms like writing, convention doesn’t always equal correction. While I’m sure those writers out there who are giving advice mean well, they often forget to preface their musings with the fact that they are not writing scientists, editing gurus, or grammar wizards, and are only relying on past wisdom for what they are about to say. At some point these people should really figure out where to draw the line between “giving advice” and “forcing other people’s style.”

Authors, please. Write freely. Own your voice. And when other folks try to declare the rules—including myself—let them know: this is 90% an art form, so you’re talking 90% bullshit.

I’m outie.

Metal Shadow’s Current Analytics Chart Looks Like a Badass Rollercoaster

MSAnalyticsSept25-2014

It’s just missing a few loops.

In other news, Vol.1: Road to Exile, seems to be finished. I say “seems” because I’m still drafting the upcoming chapters, and they’re all so closely tied to this arc, plus riding the climactic high created in chapter 34, that I’m considering lumping the next 18 or so chapters into this volume. Would make sense since Metal Shadow Prelude was 52 chapters, and another 18 chapters would put this volume right at that level.

But I’m actually in need of a break from MS. Truth is, I’m unemployed, and this book isn’t paying any bills. For the rest of September I won’t be putting out any chapters of anything as I struggle to find a steady job and fight back with a stick that mythical beast called my student debt.

I’ve come to a startling realization while finishing Metal Shadow. This is something I’ve never shared in public, or at least never written about in a blog: that I have major depressive disorder and am often battling suicidal thoughts. Don’t run off! The good news is that writing this epic fantasy/sci-fi story has slayed the shit out of my depression. The same thing happened while writing the Prelude, but my depression hadn’t been as severe that time as it’s been recently, so I didn’t notice.

If that’s any indication, I’ll be jumping back on the Metal Shadow bandwagon very soon, perhaps even before the end of the year. Therapy and medications have absolutely nothing on writing a book.

Now back to that chart. Look at the little gap which the rollercoaster can jump over and just picture what might happen…

Switching POVs = Bad

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been studying the analytics for my free-to-read fantasy serial on JukePop, Metal Shadow. Looking at analytics isn’t always fun. I’m sure long-time readers of this blog know this. Either the analytics reveal something great, or they reveal something terrifying. I’ve yet to witness a middle ground.

However, analytics remains a very useful tool for testing hypotheses about reader preferences. Today I noticed something both great and terrifying while studying it. I sort of expected it when I set out to write the latest chapters, but it still sort of shocked me.

Exhibit A:

JP Analytics for Metal Shadow
JP Analytics for Metal Shadow

Bleh. I hate looking at those first two dips, the ones on chapters 6 and 10. I wish I could take them back.

But now we’ve got some new dips since before, don’t we? One on chapter 13, 18, and another on 22. Let’s go through each one.

Chapter 13

This dip is sort of enigmatic and minor, and not really one I care to talk about.

Up to this point, the story had been gearing up for a tournament of sorts. Our main character, Lloyde, had become a candidate for a seat on Deep Kuralle’s board of directors, and now had to prove himself out in the field. Chapter 13 was the start of this exam. It was a good chapter overall by my standards, but it did have an accelerated pace compared to previous chapters. I guess readers wanted me to draw things out a bit more, build up the suspense and whatnot. Shoot, if that’s what they’re mad at, then the entire first 15 chapters need to be overhauled. I wrote them like a schizophrenic orphan looking for a fix. (I kid, but then again, I’m so seri’.)

Chapter 18

This one is where the magic starts to happen.

You’ll notice a peak in +Votes on chapter 15, the chapter which marked the end of the exams and also dished out probably the best cliffhanger I’ve written in any of my works to date. Chapter 16 was the necessary follow-up chapter to finish off the cliffhanger, as well as the start of the second story arc (chapters 16-34).  Things seem pretty normal don’t they? Alas.

In the second half of chapter 16 I spontaneously did something I had NOT told myself to do in the outlines: I switched the story’s POV from Lloyde Esmonde to someone else. This marked the first time I did this since chapter 5—the story went a total of 10.5 chapters from Lloyde’s POV, before finally switching to someone else.

Then, in chapter 17? I switched from that character to someone else.

18? Take a guess. I switched POVs to yet another set of characters, then halfway through that chapter, switched again to a fourth set of characters.

BOOM. Dip.

“Okay,” you say, “big deal. Maybe chapter 18 just sucked and people didn’t vote on it because it sucked. What other evidence do you have that switching POVs causes a dip in +Votes?”

Chapter 22

Hey graph, come back in here for a sec, would ya?

JP Analytics for Metal Shadow
JP Analytics for Metal Shadow

See chapters 19-21? Notice the steadiness, then the uptick in votes? Those chapters were where we came back to Lloyde’s POV. Apparently, people like his storyline. They’re invested in him. Then again, I also changed up my writing style, and made those chapters a bit more action-oriented and slower-paced. Maybe all that came together to earn those extra 2 +Votes.

…Except, there’s chapter 22, when I switched back to the POV of the guys from chapter 18. Behold The Dip.

…Then I go back to Lloyde in chapter 23, and presto.

Get it now? I think it’s a pretty obvious pattern. By process of elimination, we can exclude the writing style and pace of the story as the factors that most alter +Votes.  Switching character POVs is the more likely reason readers lost interest.

It makes sense. People invest in one main character or group of characters when they first open a book, and when you force them to reinvest in new people, they lose patience. Perhaps you’ve experienced this before, or perhaps you haven’t. Either way, we now have some modicum of proof.

I have a couple more questions based on this data that I’d like to have answered. Let’s see what the charts say in a few weeks. I should also note, this is a pathetically small sampling size. Send some readers my way, would ya? Tell them it’s For Sciance.

Anyway, it’s good to be back on the grind with my favorite story. Gosh, I really hate my writing style from pre-chapter 17. We’ll have to do something about that before the next story arc. In the meantime, onward! New chapters of Metal Shadow will be coming in every week on JukePop.

How often do you switch POVs in your story?

The Winner is…!

When I submitted my story Ratchet Retail to Ksenia Anske’s Mad Tutu Competition, I didn’t expect to win. Writing about elephants, bricks, and purses all at once is no easy task. Imagine my surprise when the results came in, and I didn’t win. It was so…so… Well, unsurprising. I didn’t expect to win. Weren’t you listening?

The winner is this piece of insanity here. Make sure you’re not eating cereal when you read this because you’re likely to spit it out.

A great thanks to Ksenia for the publicity and setting up this hilarious competition. Follow her on the Twits. Congrats to everyone who entered–you’re all winners!

Death and Destruction Ch.1 – The Folly

In the darkness, Midia found it hard to see. He could feel, certainly, but seeing was a task he no longer had the means to perform. He wished he could. The heat, the pressure, the heaviness… It was all around him. It swirled, and kept him plastered to the concrete sidewalk running adjacent to chaos.

He fought to maintain consciousness, just as Jesut had told him to. One false slip, and he would sink into the sea of abyss known as death, never to see the light of the other side. It wasn’t hard at first, but the longer he lay there, unable to pull himself to his feet, the more his mind strayed; the less conscious he became. Right now, he had forgotten exactly what he was supposed to be doing, and how.

An evil laugh rang through the air. Deep, empty, and viscious, it set his heart aflutter and turned his veins into icy acid. Now he recalled. The demon on 3rd St. The one that had ripped the earth asunder and led a hundred people to an early grave. He had to destroy it. Kill or be killed.

He opened his eyes. A crimson canvas hung over the island of Manhattan, with pillows of black swimming through it. Shadowy skyscrapers loomed over him like spectators. He would have tried to stand then, except he was already standing. How? he wondered. He glanced down.

He gasped. He held up his hands and examined them. They were covered in dark red scales and tipped with claws. They were longer, too; perhaps twice as long as they were supposed to be. He looked at the rest of him. The slim, average-height, dark-skinned teenager that had been Midia Donnelly was no more. He had become a towering, red-skinned, dragon-like creature, with one brilliant black cape fanning from his shoulders.

The evil laugh rang out again, louder this time. Midia looked turned to look down the street in the direction of 3rd, past a thrashed avenue which might have come out of an apocolyptic movie. He tensed as he saw it: the small, bipedal dinosaur which he had been tasked with killing. It grinned at him as if he had done something humorous. He balled his hands into fists. He had. He had challenged it.

Midia ducked and sprang forward on his powerful new legs. The earth split under him as he sailed down the street into range of the monster. GAAW! He swiped with his terrifying claws. The monster’s skin was rent and wind blasted out from the arc of Midia’s swing, shattering the gravel, concrete, and glass in its trajectory. He hung inexplicably still afterward, hovering before the monster. It pulled out of its recoil to look him in the eye. The grin returned, wider this time.

The monster pulled back its behemoth head, then pummelled Midia in his own. Midia flew back the way he came, crashed into the ground, and drew a long crater from 4th Street to 5th. He lay still, paralyzed from pain eking out of his every crevice. The monster materialized from the sky, sailing toward him, its two steroidal arms raised high. Midia’s eyes widened. He tensed without knowing, bracing himself for impact, and yelled at the top of his lungs in his new, grating voice–

“STOOO–”

Searing flames jettisoned from his open maw. Midia, shocked, kept screaming, unable to hold it back. The fire hit the monster and suspended all its movement; the creature wove its arms in front of its face to protect itself from being incinerated, then hung in the air, getting blasted. The fire liquedated the arms and everything else of the monster’s frontal area. Flesh popped and sizzled to the tune and acrid stench of the roiling inferno.

Midia ran out of breath later than even he had expected. At that, the fire cut off and the nearly-ash monster resumed plummeting. Midia did the rest without thinking. He palmed the ground and pushed himself feet-first toward the monster. He grabbed it by the shoulders with his talons, then drove it back to the ground, stomping upon landing and etching a new crater inside his own with the monster’s body. The monster looked up at him helplessly, and at that moment, Midia felt the power. His cape became wings, and he flapped them. He rose high into the air until he could see the edge of the island on the horizon. He inhaled deeply–deeper than he ever had, deeper than he ever thought possible–then breathed back out all his fury. A beam of fire spewed forth, penetrated the monster and the miles of earth underneath it, then the island blew up into wild chunks, leaving nothing but a wide-open bay in its way.

Darkness wrapped itself back around Midia before the last piece of Manhattan hit the sky. As he faded, he felt his scales return to flesh and his claws return to neatly-trimmed nails. He held onto consciousness again while waiting for he-knew-not what. The voices that woke him this time were friendlier, livelier, though also startled.

He blinked. A blue, sunny tapestry hung over the city. Elegant, gleaming skyscrapers looked down at him as if in awe of his smallness. He sat up off the concrete sidewalk and shook his head clear of confusion. After inspecting himself and finding every part of Midia Donnelly in his possession, he turned in the direction of the voices.

A crowd was gathering up on 3rd St. People had their phones and cameras out and were struggling to record something he could not see. Sirens blared in the distance, and the people nearest him whispered fervently and worriedly. He stood still, watching all of it, trying to understand what was going on. He heard talk of a terrorist; of a sickly man, of an unleashed monster.

Someone tapped his shoulder. He quickly swung around and pinned the end of his gun to their nose.

A scream rang out behind him. Bodies moved quickly, fleeing his vicinity. He didn’t register any of it. He only looked at the gun, wondering how it got there while recognizing it at the same time. That, and the fair young woman at the end of it, clad in a modest blue messenger bag and matching sneakers, who hardly seemed phased by the weapon. He recognized her as much as he did the gun–far too well.

“Come back to me,” said the girl. “Donnelly? We’re on the Upside again. New York City. Human form.”

“Wha…” he started to say, then stopped.

He tasted his gum. It was awful. His whole mouth tasted like iron–like blood. He backed off, keeping the gun on the girl without really thinking, and looking around in confusion, wondering where he was.

The girl sighed. “Not again…”

She reached behind her and drew her own gun to point at him. Midia jolted to his senses. He pulled the trigger, blasting the girl in the neck. At the same time, her bullet entered his mouth and exited through the hole he had recently made.