January 2015

SF/F Commentary

Patreon Updates: Rewards, Milestone Goals, and February Offer Madness

In case you missed it, I made some changes to my Patreon page, which include the following: Added 5 reward levels, which give Patrons various special abilities and what not Added 3 Milestone Goals (the most expensive goal involves me starting an sf/f writing podcast where I talk to authors about their process) Added more detail in the description (for reasons) Do check it out and consider supporting my blogging efforts there. On a side note:  since I didn’t have any of these things on the Patreon page from the start, I decided to give everyone the Ninja Hamster Master level for February if they became a patron before the 1st.  Do with that magic information what you will. Regular programming will continue soon…

SF/F Commentary

On Self-Publishing and the Hugh Howey / Data Guy January 2015 Report

(Parts of this post originally appeared on my Google+ page and in the comments on Mike Reeves-McMillan’s post on the report.) You may be aware that Author Earnings, a data analysis site run by Hugh Howey and someone called Data Guy, recently released a report on ebook sales and the market share of those sales by the various publishing methods.  There is a lot of interesting information here, so I do recommend checking it out if you have the time. As you may expect, I have some issues with the report and with responses to the report — and to my questions regarding the report.  I should start by saying that I haven’t bothered with the self-publishing vs. traditional publishing debate in any serious sense for years because I find the entrenched positions on either side to be, in light of the current publishing climate, monstrously stupid.  There are too many pundits out there trying to prescribe the “right” path for publishing while rejecting any alternative as viable; yet, so few of them have much in the way of hard, objective data to back up their arguments.  As it stands, most of the debates about which method is better are based almost entirely on anecdotes or reports like the one I’m going to talk about here.  Unfortunately, that invariably means these arguments are fundamentally faulty.   While I don’t doubt that a lot of the data here is accurate (and interesting), there are two immediate problems that come to mind: 1) As a statistical study, it does a poor job of maintaining objectivity.  From the start, it is clear where the author’s biases lie, and it’s hard not to think that that perspective affects how the authors interpret and compare the data.  Given that Hugh Howey, a fairly staunch pro-self-publishing pundit, is involved here, that’s not surprising.* That’s a serious issue for me, because I find the debates concerning traditional publishing and self-publishing to be largely fought on ideological grounds.  When that ideology creeps into the data we’re using to talk about either side, it will invariably change the way data is perceived either by the reader or the one doing the analysis. 2) The data doesn’t actually tell us much in any usable sense.  Honestly, I don’t know why data regarding sales is a valid metric for determining who is better off:  a self-published author or a traditionally-published one.  Short of instances where one author or another is clearly getting a raw deal (bad publisher or Amazon contract terms, for example), sales figures really don’t paint a clear enough picture of the writing life for either group — or the hybrids that arise from either end.  There are more factors than sales here.  How money is allocated, whether literally in the case of a traditional publisher or based on effort (or via a hire of some kind) for a self-publisher, is actually a more useful application of the data.  If the average self-publisher makes less / the same / more per hour on average than a traditional publisher, that tells us something useful. I just want hard data without the bias.  Objective data analysis.  Given how long these industries have been in play, you wouldn’t think that would be so hard.  But it is… Obviously, part of this argument didn’t go over well with everyone.  As I noted on Mike’s original post: There are very VERY successful people in either camp, and some VERY successful people who do it both ways.  Some have to do PR.  Some don’t.  Some like to.  Some don’t.  Some spend more time doing PR than they do writing — to little effect; some have great success for the effort. But basic sales data and market share doesn’t divulge that kind of information.  I don’t know if anybody actually knows how the two publishing lives compare, except via anecdote.  But I think we desperately need that data so we can have actual useful conversations about both forms of publishing. Mike was receptive, stating that he thought that data would be of interest, too.   Another commenter by the name of Brian Rush was less enthused: It’s not valid to assume that indies spend more marketing time than the traditionally published. That’s almost certainly not true. Indies do spend more time and/or more of their own money on editing, cover design, and formatting than the trads, because all of that is handled by the publisher. However, for successful authors it’s a trivial difference, because it’s a fixed per-title cost, not a per-volume cost. Look at it in dollars (although in fact you can trade time for money for a lot of it, dollars make it easier to calculate). If you go full-on professional in all three categories, you’re probably talking about $2000 on the average. If you sell 10,000 copies, that’s 20 cents per copy. If you sell 100,000 copies, it’s 2 cents per copy. See what I mean? Trivial, unless the book doesn’t sell well. I pointed out that unless you have hard data to back these claims, you have no way beyond anecdote and self-reported information to know how hours are allocated based on publishing method, nor how those hours change depending on publisher, format, sites used, etc.  Hours worked ≠ fixed per-title cost.  There’s no available data to compare the average SP to the big name examples that are pointed to as “the successes,” nor the same for the alternative OR for hybrids. Without that information, any claim about either method that offers an analysis of its efficacy is faulty. We cannot use sales numbers alone to assess anything but the size and health of an “industry” in totally superficial terms. That would be like using touchdown numbers to determine how good your football team is. Brian disagreed, resorting to tactics that are probably pretty tame by comparison to the kinds of verbal abuse faced on the traditional publishing vs. self-publishing debate: Everything I said is easy to know, and you’re just dumping

SF/F Commentary

A Conversation with Josh Vogt About the Internet and Perverted Things

(Trigger warning for anyone bother STD analogies…) SCENE:  In the minutes before Shaun’s new editing website went live, an unsuspecting Josh Vogt is gifted an exchange of adolescent absurdity on Facebook. SHAUN:  I want to announce this thing, but I can’t do it if the stupid thing doesn’t propagate.  Make Internet love and spread already! JOSH:  You make it sound like an STD. SHAUN:  It’s kind of like one…It waits for an unsuspecting server to touch it in its delicate place, and then infects it with new information.  That’s all STDs are.  New information.  We just perceive it as genital warts. JOSH:  Ew.  Though that’d make an intriguing character POV. SHAUN:  I’m actually laughing right now because that’s funny shit right there. JOSH:  Someone who worships disease because it’s just information and information must be shared to have value. SHAUN:  I’m going to tweet that… JOSH:  No no! I’m stealing your idea.  You’ll see it in a book someday. SHAUN:  That’s cool.  I just want to tweet the convo.  Because it’s funny.  But I can save it. JOSH:  Naw. SHAUN:  I’ll use it as blackmail when you sell the story. JOSH:  Spread the love SHAUN:  I will spread Internet genital warts. Yes. JOSH:  So is Twitter an orgy then? SHAUN:  Yes.  I can’t tweet this.  Some of the sentences are too long.  Can I put it on my blog? JOSH:  Sure nuff. SHAUN:  Woot!  IT HAS PROPOGATED! JOSH:  Heheh SHAUN:  http://thedukeofediting.com/  My Internet genital warts virus has flowered! JOSH:  I really hope this isn’t anything I dream about tonight…Soon, websites will instead be known a webstds SHAUN:  We’re part of the future, Josh.  Part of the *FUTURE.* THE END

SF/F Commentary

Movie Review Rant: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2010; dir Jon Turtletaub) — A SFF Film Odyssey Review

Though not the first live-action remake of a Disney cartoon, 2010’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is part of what might be called Disney’s 1st Phase of Live Action Remakes, sitting right between the last of the Pirates of the Caribbean (At World’s End; 2007) trilogy films and the much more interesting Maleficent (2014).  If this is a phase of live action remakes, then it is a loose one, with an unclear path — a test bed, if you will, since the previous remakes have mostly taken the form of almost faithful adaptations of existing stories (101 Dalmations in 1996 and Alice in Wonderland in 2010, for example) or adaptations of existing characters or rides:  The Country Bears (2002), Pirates of the Caribbean (2003, 2006, and 2007), and The Haunted Mansion (2003).  The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, along with Alice in Wonderland, appear to be “cusp” films, resting on the precipice of a second phase of live action remakes. Now, Disney has or plans to release a torrent of remakes or adaptations in what seems to be its second phase:  Maleficent (2014), Cinderella (2015), Tomorrowland (2015), The Jungle Book (2016), Alice in Wonderland:  Through the Looking Glass (2016; the sequel to Burton’s previous adaptation), Pete’s Dragon (2016), and Pirates of the Caribbean:  Dead Men Tell No Tales (2017). So how does The Sorcerer’s Apprentice measure up in this new “renaissance” of live action remakes or adaptations?  Unfortunately, about as well as you’d expect:  on par with The Haunted Mansion, a less-than-stellar film which probably shouldn’t have been made in the first place.  Unlike Maleficent, which was flawed but thematically compelling, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is a muddled mess of an adaptation.  Tonally inconsistent and obsessive in its need for grandiosity, this film is the mark of a studio that has yet to develop a clear path, which makes The Sorcerer’s Apprentice forgettable and mediocre at best. Let’s begin, shall we? The Plot(s)(s)(s)(s) The Sorcerer’s Apprentice isn’t exactly a torturous film; a better description might be painfully mediocre.  The film opens by committing what I consider to be one of the Sins of Filmmaking:  opening with a narrated prologue that turns out to be more interesting than the actual main narrative.  Right from the start, we’re told that Merlin had three apprentices — Horvath, Balthazar, and Veronica — who vowed to maintain order against a sect of sorcerers known as Morganans — the followers of Morgana le Fey (Alice Krige), who decided, as evil people are wont to do, to destroy the entire world, presumably so she could remake it in her own image or something like that.  The apprentices seem to have Morgana and her followers under control; that is until Horvath (Alfred Molina) decides to betray Merlin, allowing Morgana to murder the famous sorcerer and steal his power.  In the final moments, Veronica (Monica Bellucci) casts a binding spell, merging her soul with Morgana’s and forcing Balthazar (Nicholas Cage) to entomb both within a nesting egg as part of a kind of stasis spell.  With Merlin’s final breath, he tells Balthazar to find the Last Merlinian using his magic Merlinian-detecting dragon ring. Thus ends the first part of the narrated prologue.  I kid you not.  The first 5 minutes of this movie are spent telling us a story that would barely fit into a movie of its own.  And there’s more.  There are entire minutes of Balthazar wandering around the world for centuries in search of the Last Merlinian, all with someone (I assume Molina) narrating it for us.  This is followed by our first introduction to our supposed main character, Dave (played initially by young Jake Cherry and later by Jay Baruchel), who lives in modern day Manhattan, has a crush on a girl, and can apparently wander off in the middle of a field trip with nobody immediately noticing — especially if he wanders off in search of his “do you like me, yes or no” note.  Go figure.  That paper magically flies into a mysterious shop, in which Balthazar lies in wait, ready to pounce like the predator that he has become.  Dave is somehow convinced that he should stick around and let a weird creepy older man put a dragon-shaped thing in his hand.  And then all hell breaks loose.  Dave accidentally opens a giant nesting egg, which releases Horvath, who has, like others before him, been entombed for quite a while.  There’s a wicked cool magic fight (seriously, the magic is pretty cool in this movie), Balthazar and Horvath are trapped in a weird gizmo, and Dave has a total freakout, only to be laughed at because that’s what happens when you try to tell people there are wizards and what not. That’s the end of stories two and three, by the way.  There’s more.  Yes.  More.  Finally, we get to grown up post-therapy Dave, who has somehow become a physics nerd cliche.  Horvath and Balthazar are finally released from the giant weird urn that sucked them up in the first place, there’s yet another fight over Dave, who was the last person to see the remaining layers of the nesting egg, and finally, we get to the point:  Dave is special McSpecial because he’s the Last Merlinian; Balthazar will teach him (because he actually needs Dave to fix the binding spell on Veronica and banish Morgana forever; I know, there’s a lot of shit here), and all of that has to take place while Horvath is having crazy fits of, well, crazy trying to either kill Dave, capture Dave, release Morgana while trying to kill Dave, or generally trying to hurt Dave somehow, but never actually doing it except in really small ways, because no movie villain would be complete without being utterly inept at the one job they were gifted to do:  kill the “good” guys.  Meanwhile, Dave has a crush on a girl from elementary school, and she’s suddenly back in his life, so he tries to date her and be super suave; oh, no, I’m totally bullshitting, because Dave spends the entire movie

SF/F Commentary

Announcement: The Duke of Editing is Now Open for Business! Bring Your Grammars!

Some of you already knew this was coming, but you didn’t know the name of my new freelance editing business or the full extent of the shenanigans to be had now that I’m trying desperately to behave like a professional. But it has happened.  As of this moment, The Duke of Editing is open for business.   Please spread the word! On a related note:  I would like to say thanks to the following folks, who were kind enough to offer their opinions before the launch: S.L. Huang Cecily Kane Josh Vogt Robert MacAnthony Louise Hughes and Nathan from Review Barn OK.  Time to get back to work…

SF/F Commentary

On the Hugo Awards “Best Fancast” Category: Eligibility, Vote Value, and the Unlikelihood of Change

Recently, I had a Twitter discussion* with Nerds of a Feather about the “Best Fancast” category for the Hugos.**  Briefly, Nerds’ Hugo Nominations Draft Ballot contained several podcasts which I had thought weren’t eligible because of their association with a pro site (Tor.com).  This discussion continued today with Justin Landon’s comments about nominations, which I’ll discuss farther down on the page.  First, some factual bits and pieces: The Hugo Award categories page lists the following definition for Fancast:  “Awarded for any non-professional audio- or video-casting with at least four (4) episodes that had at least one (1) episode released in the previous calendar year.”  Most podcasts would be eligible for this category if not for the word “non-professional.”  According to the Hugo rules, [the] definition of what is a “professional” publication is somewhat technical. A professional publication either (1) provided at least a quarter the income of any one person or, (2) was owned or published by any entity which provided at least a quarter the income of any of its staff and/or owner. Basically, this means that any podcast hosted by a professional publisher or a professional website is considered a “pro publication” even if the individual creating that podcast does not individually qualify in either category.  Tor.com podcasts, in other words, appear to be ineligible.  A lot of podcasts, in fact, are out, since they use sponsors that pay upfront or are funded by donations that go to pay staff, etc. There’s a reason for this, of course.  The fan categories, as archaic as they might seem, are designed to preserve the space that separates strictly “fan” activities from the professional (i.e., paid work) activities on the other side.  In principle, that’s fine, but in practice, it’s questionable.  While fans are right to be concerned about the “invasion” of their space by professionals, the fancast category is already one where that is true anyway.  Professionals are producing “fancasts.”  And they are winning awards (or not, as the case may be).  So the rules don’t actually prevent this, but they do prevent the “mega podcasts” (The Nerdist, etc.) from dipping into the fan well.  And that sounds nice, except the writing of the rules also means legitimately “fannish” efforts are ignored simply because they are associated with non-fan entities.  Tor.com podcasts are, I’d argue, fan endeavors, but they appear to be out of the running simply because Tor.com is a professional market.  Other fannish podcasts may be excluded for similar reasons.  This is almost like “guilt by association,” and it’s that unintentional thematic which rubs me — and others, I suspect — a little raw. But the rules are as they are.  Their intent may be noble and their practice seriously flawed, but they will still affect the makeup of the upcoming final ballot anyway.  This leads me to the next part: Change:  A Beast That Bites Way Too Much Nerds and I had a long discussion about the need to correct the absurdity of the categories in the Hugos.  I noted that we tried talking about this in 2013, but to little effect.  The way the Hugos function on a “legislative” level are such that change is almost impossible, or just downright ugly.  And you’re unlikely to make headway on creating a Pro and Fan Podcast category given that so many people in the Hugo voting pool literally want the Fancast category to die (or because getting involved requires an extraordinary amount of effort and patience, which most of us probably don’t have a lot of, to be honest). Yes, the Hugos need to be changed.  They need better categories, updated language, and more inclusion.  But to get there requires a lot of effort that I suspect most fans won’t put in, not because they don’t care about their favorite whatever, but because they’ll just go elsewhere when they realize how much easier it is to celebrate their favorite whatever in a space where their opinions aren’t routinely rejected.  The people who want change tend to be from that younger generation or outside of traditional fandom, and short of the fluke that was LonCon3, they’re just not going to Worldcon or giving as many shits about the Hugos as those of us who have something invested in it (myself:  a podcast).  Exceptions, of course, exist. That creates a lot of tension.  I spoke with someone at a con last year who lamented the disdain members of the older generation(s) have received from the younger generation — in general, undeserved.  The notion that the older generation(s) should get out of dodge and make room for new ideas came up a number of times.  I mentioned that the coin works the opposite way, too, a fact that becomes apparent when one looks at the 2013 Hugo Awards fiasco.  But the tension that exists between these generations has produced a massive divide in which two fandoms with a lot to offer one another are frequently found doing the mystical game of avoidance (intentionally or otherwise).  I noted as much at LonCon3 during a panel on conventions, because it seemed to me that older fandom were just not as engaged in the same spaces as younger fandom, sometimes because the two had decided they didn’t get along and shouldn’t bother. This is a critical mistake for the sf/f community, and it will have serious impacts on how the Hugos and any other traditional sf/f space develops over time.  One cannot create respect for a tradition on the basis of having been static for so long; that creates resentment, not love.  And in a rapidly evolving geek culture, it’s so much easier to discard those traditions for other spaces, ones where a newer fandom can get what it wants without compromise.  Hopefully, we can see the potential for a cycle here. Your Vote Matters:  Eligibility and Vote Value While I wish more people of the newer generations of fandom were interested in the management of the Hugos, I think it’s unlikely they will

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