Author: James H. Pence

I never intended to be a collaborator.

For the record, my plan was to be a wildly successful, insanely rich novelist. People were going to mention me in hushed, awestruck tones along with other “last name only” fiction writers. You know: Peretti, Dekker, Grisham, Koontz, King, Pence.

I broke into book publishing in 2001 by writing computer books. In 2003, my dream was fulfilled. I was a published—and soon to be famous—novelist. By 2005, despite excellent reviews, my “career” had pretty much ground to a halt. In fact, in May of that year I hung up my keyboard and joined the prison ministry staff of a large Dallas mega-church, feeling that my grand experiment in full-time freelance writing was a failure.

God had other plans.

In an earlier post (Oct. 1, 2011 – “You Never Know”), I told the story of how God took a single page from my out-of-print novel Blind Sight and used it to change the life of Terry Caffey, a man whose family was brutally murdered. God not only used that page to change Terry’s life; He also used it to change the entire direction of my writing.

In January of 2009, Terry asked me to help him write a book that would tell his story.

I hadn’t written or published in four years and, as I already mentioned, collaboration was not in my long-term plans. However, because I wanted to encourage Terry, I agreed to help him write a book proposal.

Because of the intense media interest in Terry’s story, Tyndale snapped up the proposal and put the book on an accelerated publication schedule. We signed a contract in March of ’09 and the book was set for a September release.

I had to write it in twelve weeks.

The accelerated writing schedule was probably a good thing because I didn’t have the time to give in to sheer panic. I’d never collaborated before, and I had no earthly idea how to go about it. But it was a door that God had opened, and so I trusted Him for the wisdom.

I dusted off my little digital voice recorder and began interviewing Terry. Then I worked at outlining the book, selecting the stories that would go into it, even using my fiction-writing skills to lay out a plot-line.

As I worked with Terry and wrote what would become Terror by Night, I began to notice something unexpected.

I was enjoying myself immensely.

I love telling stories, but I had no idea how much I would enjoy helping other people tell their stories.

And so now I happily call myself a collaborator. Since the publication of Terror by Night, I wrote More God, the amazing story of Nate Lytle, a young surfer who made a miraculous recovery from a massive traumatic brain injury. I also collaborated with bestselling author Stephen Arterburn on a novella titled The Encounter. Soon I’ll begin writing the story of Herb Samme, a dad who lost his son in Iraq and then went there–at age 59–as a civilian contractor to finish his son’s tour and walk in his footsteps.

I never intended to be a collaborator; I wanted to write my own books.

But God led me through an unexpected door and down an unplanned path. He showed me that I can be a blessing to others by using my writing abilities to help them write their books. And in doing so, He changed the direction of my writing ministry.

Has God placed some unexpected doors or unplanned paths before you? I hope that in 2013 you’ll take a chance and go through them.

You never know what God might do.

“A person plans his course, but the Lord directs his steps” (Proverbs 16:9, NET Bible).

[Tomorrow, Dec. 13th at 3:30 p.m., Central time, James will be leading a free webinar titled “Writing with Others: The Art of Collaboration” over at The Bestseller Society. You can register for the webinar here: http://www.bestsellersociety.com/events/the-art-of-collaboration-with-james-pence/ ]

There’s no other way to say it. Print on Demand (POD) was a game changer.

Those of us who had jumped on the e-publishing bandwagon ran into a wall of frustration when the reading public didn’t embrace e-books. Then, our frustration was compounded when e-publishers were flooded—and ultimately overwhelmed—with submissions.

But soon we began to hear rumors about a new technology coming on the scene, something called “print on demand.” Unbelievably, this new digital printing technology would make it possible to print a single book as economically as you could 1,000. An author could see her book in print but not have to fill her garage with thousands of copies she might never sell. Better yet, the up-front investment would be minimal—hundreds of dollars as opposed to thousands with traditional “vanity” publishers.

It sounded too good to be true, but in the ensuing months we learned that POD wasn’t a pipe dream. Such technology really existed.

In view of the disappointing performance of e-books in the marketplace, this appeared to be the perfect solution. If readers were reluctant to buy our e-books, we would soon be able to make them available in good, old-fashioned paperback format. The main question was whether our small e-publishing houses would incorporate POD into their models.

Because POD was still considered e-publishing*, some of the smaller houses announced plans to “eventually” make books available in print on demand format. www.miamimovers.info has the best deals on Miami moving companies. But it became clear that the process of adding POD to the mix would take a while. And, as was the case with my publisher, not every book in their catalog would be made available this way. At least at the outset, only select titles (i.e. the better-selling ones) would be among those chosen.

Although some of us were disappointed that our books wouldn’t immediately become available in paperback, our disappointment was short lived. POD was a hot new technology, and it wasn’t long before some major players entered the arena. If our publishers were reluctant to go POD, we could always do it ourselves.

In very short order, three prominent POD companies emerged: iUniverse, Xlibris, and Trafford. There were others, of course, but these were the big ones. And they all had a considerable amount of credibility. Barnes & Noble was the power behind iUniverse. Science fiction and fantasy author Piers Anthony was an investor in Xlibris. Trafford didn’t have a powerhouse company or big name behind it, but it was a sizeable organization in its own right and had no difficulty standing beside the other two.

Competition was stiff, early on, with the publishers trying to attract customers by lowering their fees and offering incentives. I remember that, briefly, Xlibris offered a “free” publishing option. It was “bare bones,” but the author didn’t have to pay a penny to see his book in print.

Unpublished writers were in heaven.

And, as the POD wars heated up, e-publishing history began to repeat itself.

Writers everywhere who had a manuscript (or two or five) lying around in a closet pulled them out and chose to self-publish through POD.

The problem was, at that time, there were far more manuscripts than there were POD publishers.

And this led to what I affectionately call, “Logjam 2.0.”

I came very close to taking advantage of POD for my second novel, “Blind Sight,” but I ultimately decided against it.

I’m very glad I did.

And I’ll tell you why in the next installment (on October 29th).

*Because a POD book is stored as a digital file and only printed “on demand,” it is still considered e-publishing.

I’ve lectured on e-publishing at least once a year since 2000 and I’ve never given the same talk twice. That’s because the history of electronic publishing has been nothing less than a wild roller coaster ride. As with any good coaster, the ride began with a climb. But in the  case of e-publishing, it wasn’t a long, slow climb.

Electronic publishing took off like a rocket.

When Hard Shell Word Factory published my Young Adult novel, Friendly Revenge, in 1999, there were only a handful of royalty-paying e-publishers. But within a year, that changed drastically. Soon, e-publishers were springing up like dandelions. In a brief time, the number of e-publishers ballooned from a handful into the hundreds.

E-publishing had entered what I call The Era of Optimism.

Most of us who were involved in the infancy of e-publishing felt that we were on the cutting edge of a major revolution in publishing. Many were convinced that in a few short years e-books would replace print books. Of course, not many people were reading e-books yet, but we weren’t worried.

We knew things were looking up when none other than Stephen King jumped on the e-publishing bandwagon.

In 2000, Stephen King wrote Riding the Bullet, a novella released exclusively as an e-book (although it eventually came out in print). He followed up that same year with an “experiment” in e-publishing. King released The Plant chapter by chapter, as a serial e-book, with downloads costing one dollar each. Results for both were mixed, but there can be no doubt that Mr. King’s entry into the e-publishing arena was significant.

With Stephen King as an advocate, how could we not be successful?

E-authors also had their own organization. EPIC (The Electronically Published Internet Connection)* was formed in 1998 to encourage e-published authors to network with one another. EPIC even created the “Eppie” awards for the best e-books.

Another encouraging sign on the horizon was when major publishers, e.g. Simon and Schuster, began releasing some of their “name” authors’ books in electronic format.

We were doing well—until we hit the first logjam.

As the popularity of e-publishing ballooned, so did the number of submissions. It seemed as if every writer who had five or ten unpublished manuscripts gathering dust decided to submit them to the new e-publishers.

The flood of new submissions overwhelmed most of the fledgling e-publishers, and many of them had to close down to submissions.

That was only the beginning.

As the adage says, “What goes up must come down.” The e-publishing industry ascended like a rocket, but now was headed for its first crash.

*EPIC still exists, but has changed its name and purpose to include the entire e-publishing industry. It is now the Electronic Publishing Industry Coalition.

(For the next part of the story, check back on September 14^th.)

Many authors will tell you that they never read their reviews. Usually they’ll give one of two reasons. Some say they don’t want to get puffed up by their good reviews. If they read the positive things people are saying, they might start believing their own press clippings and develop an over-inflated ego.

Others say that they don’t want to read the negative reviews because the experience is too painful and discouraging. They end up dwelling on the bad things people say about their book and then get depressed. So they just don’t read any reviews at all.

Whether to read reviews is a personal choice, so I don’t criticize those who choose not to. They have valid reasons, and I respect that.

As for me, I read all my reviews.

Every single one.

Sometimes it is a potentially painful experience. Recently, an Amazon reviewer referred to my book, Terror by Night, as “a piece of trash.”

That could certainly ruin an author’s day.

The funny thing is, it didn’t bother me at all. I chuckled and said, “Wow! Why don’t you tell me what you really think about it?”

A few years ago, I wouldn’t have reacted that way. I’d have been sullen and depressed. I’d have walked around my house with a hang-dog look on my face. And I’d have driven my wife crazy with my pouting until I finally got a good review to cancel out the bad one.

So why was I able to smile when someone described as trash a book I’d labored, sweated, and prayed over?

Because I read all my reviews.

Every single one.

And as I read, I learn.

I’ve discovered that there are essentially three kinds of reviewers.

There are the gushy ones, the ones who think your book is the best thing since “To Kill a Mockingbird” and describe you as the next great American novelist. One dear lady (and I am not making this up), compared me to Ernest Hemingway, Sidney Sheldon, Lawrence Sanders, and Stephen King—in the same review.

Scout’s honor, she is not my mother (or any other kind of relative) and I did not pay her for her kind words. And although I thought her review was just a tad over the top, I still enjoyed reading it.

Give yourself permission to enjoy the gushy reviews. You worked hard for every gush.

Just don’t start believing them.

Next, there are the “acidic” reviewers. These are the ones who, for whatever reason, absolutely hated your book and they’re not afraid to tell the world what a lousy writer you are. Sometimes these sting. There’s something about the anonymity of the Internet that causes some people’s inner nastiness to come out and they write venomous things that they would never say to you in person.

I read the acidic reviews because they keep my ego in check. They remind me that not everyone is going to like my stuff and that, contrary to what I might want to think, I’m not God’s gift to the publishing industry.

By reading the nasty reviews, I cultivate a thick skin–something every writer needs.

Don’t take the acidic reviews personally. Instead remember what you tell yourself when you receive a rejection letter from an editor: “It’s just one person’s opinion.”

Finally, there are the “thoughtful” reviewers. These are the people who offer well-reasoned critique and are often the writers of your 2, 3, and 4 star reviews. The reviewer describes the book’s strengths and weaknesses, offers insights, makes recommendations, and doesn’t gush syrup or spew acid.

Sometime the opinions expressed are positive; other times, negative. Some are mediocre or to put it in current lingo, “meh!”

All are valuable and worth reading. I learn a lot from the thoughtful reviewers and quite often find myself carefully considering their critiques. These reviews have high take-away value for me as a writer.

But if I never read my reviews for fear of the gushy or acidic ones, I would never see the thoughtful ones.

That’s why I read all my reviews.

Every. Single. One.

And with each review, I take another step toward maturity as a writer.