On Which Side of the Interactive Divide Do You Fall?

In one of those synergistic moments with the world, Nathan Bransford posted on interactive books yesterday. Imagine that. Me, ahead of the game instead of behind it. I'm so grateful to be part of technology's newest foray into the fiction experience. I loved reading through the comments, too. It seems to be a good cross-section of opinions, albeit a little heavy on the let-books-be-books side of the debate.

I've been putting off organizing my writing space. This is my way of delaying the inevitable: making that decision about which project to go with. Two novels need editing, one begs to be completed. That, along with another ghostwriting venture has my brain percolating with indecision.

I'm gorging on the last few movies in my hero-inspired list from said interactive novel just completed. It seems I'm reluctant to leave this particular Brit behind. Right now, I'm watching an indie historical flick where he has, perhaps, two script sheets of dialogue when combined. Two hours just for a few nuggets of heart-melting brilliance? Hell to the yeah. It occurred to me two days ago that I need to focus on new hero inspiration for a new project. Unfortunately, this epiphany hit while at the water park. Ask me if I found inspiration among the camouflage swim trunks and keg stomachs. If my next hero has an unfortunate farmer's tan, you'll know why.

What do you think about interactive ebooks? Would you enjoy reading a novel via tablet or smart phone if it offered a new aspect to the reading experience you couldn't get with a Kindle or Nook? How much interactive content is too much?

Semi-Neurotic Liberation

I waited to write this post because I wanted the fullness of the ghostwriting experience, from conception with client to full-length novel publication. Publication is nearly upon us; and with it, I'm sure, the semi-neurotic mood swings all writers go through when putting words out there for public consumption. I'm prepared for them. Been there, done that. What I wasn't prepared for in this process was how liberating it was.

I no longer had to worry about marketability of concept. I'm not a marketer. I no longer had to worry about titles and pen names and cover art and the thousand and one other decisions that go into a fully-formed project. I no longer had to anticipate a media blitz, reviews and social media-ing myself until I was hugging my knees in the corner of the closet, rocking back and forth, a feeble "tweet, tweet," whispering from my lips. I'm not a publicist or a software expert or a saleswoman. I am a writer. I wrote.

And therein lies true liberation.

I often think I was born in the wrong age. A hundred years ago, when the gatekeepers to the publishing world were the only path, writers were free to do what they did best. Create. Edit. Ponder. Write some more. The current publishing climate is for control freaks and workaholics and jackanabes that subsist on every review morsel, be it nourishing or not. I know, because I am one of them. Or was. I can feel my diet shifting back to a healthy dose of what this gig is all about. Creating. Editing. Pondering. Writing some more.

And loving it.

If you're interested in my latest project, be sure to follow me on Twitter. I'll be providing a link the day it hits virtual shelves.