You had reasons, of course.

You were busy, you were reading something else, or maybe you weren’t really in the mood for that particular book. But  when you finally got around to reading it, you asked yourself, why did I wait so long?

That’s kind of what Collective Inkwell has been for far too long to us, that book we were too busy to get to.

What started strong almost two years ago, we set aside as we grew our ghostwriting business and worked hard to bring our own books to print this year. My way of thinking was, we needed to step back a bit from blogging here until we finished a few of our books. Otherwise, we’d still be trying to get our first book out.

We tried to keep the Collective Inkwell engine going with occasional posts and half-assed attempts to cull relevant news about self-publishing.

Big mistake.

Without consistency, what’s the point in blogging? It’s a disservice to the readers and ourselves.

Sean and I got to talking about what we wanted to do with Collective Inkwell. We know it can be a great site… IF we invest it with the passion and love we have for writing and self-publishing. Consistently. That was something I couldn’t commit to until AFTER we had a few books under our belts.

And now those books are under our belts. We released Available Darkness this summer and started publishing our monthly post-apocalyptic serialized fiction series, Yesterday’s Gone in August. We’re now doing what we’d been talking about wanting to do for years.

And it couldn’t feel better.

And there’s never been a better time for us to come back strong.

So that’s what we’re doing in October. We’re bringing back Collective Inkwell and we’re putting our everything into it. We’ve sat on the sidelines too long as self-publishing has exploded. It’s time we get back into the conversation and share some of our experiences with you.

What I’m looking forward to even more than writing about our experiences though, is getting back to one of my favorite things — interviewing other writers about their processes, experiences, and thoughts on self-publishing.

I’ll update here later in the week with exact details on what we’ll be doing and when we’re re-launching.

Thank you for reading,

David Wright

One area of this whole self-publishing, Print On Demand, e-book thing that seems to still be mired in confusion is the whole question of ISBNs. I myself am still confused about it, so let’s see if we can work it out all, shall we? I’ve mined the magical interweb for the answers to my ISBN questions, but they aren’t always presented in the most straight-forward way.

Some of the questions she answers:

• Do you need an ISBN for a Kindle or Smashwords e-book?
• Do you need one for a self-published hard copy at Createspace?
• Should you use a free ISBN or your own?
• What’s the advantage (and cost) to using your own?

And lot’s more.

Check out her post, which will clear up any ISBN-related questions you have.

But how do you know which e-book version matches which print version? If a new edition is released, it could be out of sync with the e-book.

And that’ just one of the copyright page errors that Self Publishing Review highlighted in a recent post.

So I started my study. I picked 30 ebooks and analyzed their copyright pages. Somebody must have missed the memo about what information is required and what format it should be presented in because we had a variety of formats and information, to say the least. Although 30 ebooks is not a very big sample, only one of them came close to what is needed to ID the source.

Amazon has seen the need to add the source information in their on-line product description to help. They have added a line: Page Number Source ISBN. But my ebooks didn’t have a clue to the original source.

Read the whole post here.

That’s what Craig Lancaster, a journalist and author with two books, is doing.

Lancaster’s first book, 600 Days of Edward, was borne from the NaNoWriMo challenge, after a motorcycle accident injury.

“I’m really very excited how Craig reaches out to his readers, goes into livingrooms, does his blog tour.”

Lancaster said marketing is one of the things that takes a writer away from his work. But in today’s publishing world, it’s something all authors must do.

Besides Lancaster’s active Twitter feed, blog and website, he’s taking “The Summer Son” on a “blog tour,” visiting other writers’ blogs and reaching out to a wide audience.

Read the whole article here.

As writers, too many of us settle for rejection all too easily.

The timing isn’t right. The market isn’t right. Our work isn’t right.

We get in a rut and lose faith. We settle.

While we usually like to summarize posts at Collective Inkwell, this might be a case where you’re better off just going to the post and reading for yourself.

Then I had children.

I no longer have the time, resources or stamina to keep up with sonic gems as I once did. Like many parents, my time is now restricted and my auxiliary hobbies reduced.

But I will always make time for Beck. When he comes out with something new, I buy it.

Why?

Because Beck is an exciting artist. He’s always interesting and has never let me down. His music is instantly warm, familiar, and each time not quite like anything I’ve heard before.

Isn’t that the type of author you’d like to be?

Your model doesn’t have to be Beck. He’s a good example for me because I’ve always been drawn to his music and style. I’m sure you have your own artist.

The artist you love probably shares many of these qualities.

Beck Followed His Muse

When Beck signed with Geffen for less money than other labels were offering, it was because they offered him creative control.

Good move.

Beck’s spent his career marching to the beat of his own drum and millions of fans have remained marching behind. He’s continued to make the music he wants to, enjoy his choice of collaborators, and follow his own artistic blueprint.

When it comes to your art, make sure you’re the one making the rules. Of course, you should listen to constructive criticism, but ultimately it’s your art. Bending it to make others happy will warp its individuality.

Be Persistent

Beck was living on the streets when he was signed.

I remember reading a interview in BAM!, a now-defunct but then free black and white circular that filled the music stores and littered the streets of LA back in the day. In that circular, Beck said the best thing about being signed was that he finally had his choice of breakfast cereal.

Beck kept doing what he wanted to do without changing it to suit the needs of anybody, despite the difficulty of his situation. He continued working hard because he knew that one day his hard work would pay off.

Of course that’s easier to do when you’re not even twenty and don’t have children, but we can all find the time to do what’s truly important.

Don’t Listen to the Naysayers

If Beck had been shopping for opinions in 1993 when recording his breakout hit, “Loser,” then somebody probably would’ve told him that the lyric, “My time is a piece of wax falling on a termite that’s choking on the splinters” was too incomprehensible to ever find its way to airplay.

But it launched his career and is now just one of countless loopy lines from the original Loser.

Many music critics doubted Beck would be anything more than a one-hit-wonder, relegated to the cut out bins. However, Beck continued to follow his muse, experimenting with different musical styles and found more success in 1996 with his second major label release, Odelay, which garnered him two Grammys.

Even the best authors have been told their stories weren’t good, right for the market, or were unoriginal. However, the truly good authors don’t give up on themselves or their stories. They find a way to persevere and find the right audience.

Just Do it

Beck didn’t wait to get signed, nor did he a need million-dollar studio time to generate a hit. “Loser” was recorded on a friend’s 8-track, picked up by local LA stations, then spread across the country.

Soon enough there was a bidding war. The rest is history.

You’ll have your own way of doing it, but it will never happen if you don’t get started.

Create what’s inside you, as authentically as you can, then get it in front of as many eyes as possible. With social media, artists have never had more power to find the audience that’s perfect for them.

Then, when you are successful, remember the true you and continue to nurture it.

Your audience will love you. Even more important, they will make time for your art even after their lives become crowded with too much to do and not enough time to do it.

Be your best writer and see your book to print. Subscribe to the Inkwell for free updates by RSS or Email.

I thought it was pretty exciting when Mr. Platt let me guest post over at Writer Dad on Wednesday, but the Inkwell is even better. I’m usually not even allowed to read this site because my dad said that sometimes it’s inappropriate. I tried to tell him that was really only on Fridays and not even anymore since they moved their horror story to its own thingy, but then he asked me how I even knew about the story in the first place and then I had to leave the room.

Anyway, Mr. Platt said it might be kind of fun to publish something at the Inkwell since that’s where a bunch of other authors hang out. Then I said that I wasn’t really sure if that was a good idea and that I didn’t consider myself an author. I’ve only written the one book after all, and it hasn’t even really come out yet. Besides, I’m only in sixth grade.

“Did you write a book?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re an author.”

My mom gets really mad at me when I argue with grownups so I just said okay. Then I started to get excited.

I don’t want to be one of those writers who repeats themselves all the time, so I won’t talk about what the book is all about like I did at Writer Dad. Instead I’d like to talk about what I plan to do with the book since that’s probably what you’re more interested in anyway.

A couple of days ago I released my new book, Penny to a Million in a really pretty PDF and it’s available as a free download. I wrote all the words, of course, but I had Collective Inkwell do the book cover because whenever I try to draw something my sister Nicky makes fun of me. Making a book cover that a whole bunch of people are going to see would probably be like a million times worse.

I’m gonna put the book in print, probably in a couple months or so. But I’m giving the PDF to the first 1,000 people who want it. After that I’m going to charge like five bucks.

I read the thing I was supposed to read over at SmashWords, so next week I plan to get the book in a whole bunch of different formats and stuff. I hope to get it done quickly, but I’ll get in trouble if I finish it before I’m done with my science project. Our teacher gave us the prompt in September, but I haven’t even started mine, even though it’s due in March. My mom is trying not to get mad at me, but I think I’m pushing her.

Anyway, when I’m all done with SmashWords, then I’m going to do the podcast. Except I’m probably going to have Mr. Platt help me record since my voice has been a little squeaky lately.

Mr. Platt said I could come back and talk about what it was like to put the book on SmashWords and record the podcast, but he also said it was up to me. I might blog about it over at my site, but I haven’t decided. I have a lot on my plate and everything. Plus, there’s this girl I really like and I heard her tell her friend Wendy that she thought blogging was nerdy. I’m on Twitter though, if you want to follow me.

If the book does well, I’ll write another one because a LOT has happened so far in sixth grade.

If you want to be one of the people who gets to read my book for free, you can download it here.

Thanks for reading!

Be your best writer and see your book to print. Subscribe to the Inkwell for free updates by RSS or Email.

We apologize for the lack of Available Darkness updates for the past two weeks. First we had the holidays and then we’ve been getting Collective Inkwell 3.0 ready behind the scenes. And we’re VERY excited about the changes, including a brand spanking new design, which might be my favorite yet. You can check out the changes on Monday, Jan. 4th.

We look forward to seeing you then.

Thank you for reading.

Swallow enough pills and sleep eventually finds you. For Jack, it came quickly. His breathing relaxed and he found himself deep in his dreams, though he wasn’t in the bedroom of his youth. He was somewhere else.

Jack stood on a deck overlooking a pristine white shore, familiar, though only through the hazy fog of fragmented memory. He was more relaxed than he’d remembered feeling in a while. Chasing criminals has a way of owning you even when off duty. Prior to their mutual “I do’s,” Julia used to continually complain, both with words and dancing eyes, about his inability to unplug from work and just be happy.

Julia!

He remembered the shoreline; the pristine white sands of Aruba, where he and Julia spent three amazing weeks on their honeymoon. Which was, oddly enough, probably the last time he’d felt at peace. Julia had made him promise to take three weeks off from work, a luxury he’d never experienced, even though he’d probably built up a half year’s worth of vacation time. He didn’t want to. He had too much work and knew it would pile up without his constant attention.

“The world will still turn and the job will get done without you,” Julia had said.

And she was right. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he found his shoulders relaxing long enough to let him enjoy life. An epiphany, Jack returned home with renewed purpose. Life was his to create. Family first, a husband’s duty.

That vow lasted almost until the end of his first week back until Jack found himself buried alive with a case that kept him hostage to the office from early light to mocking moon. One case turned to two, then weeks to months and months to years until just like that, he found that he’d slowly surrendered his limbs to the shackles of fate without even realizing it.

Waves lapped. Jack took a sip of wine. Behind him, he heard a muffled voice from the other side of the double French doors of their honeymoon villa. Though he was deep into dream and memory, a part of him was also aware of the waking life in which his wife was long since dead. His eager heart sped in his chest.

It had been so long since she had visited his dreams. Even though he’d wake up sad, these brief moments were better than nothing. He opened the door and…

…was again a child, back in the middle of that awful night which had been blotted from his memory ever since, stepping gingerly into the darkened hallway. Downstairs, his father was still screaming at his mother. The shadow man was just ahead of him, at the landing of the stairs. He turned back and in that dissonant voice, warned Jack to wait.

And Jack did.

Moments later, he heard his father cry out, “What the fuck?”

The end of fuck was severed by a ripping sound followed by a wet thud and a splash which sent chills down Jack’s spine.

He’s dead.

While a part of him should have been happy that the man who tormented he and his mother would no longer do so, the reality of murder did not bring the relief he’d sought. Panicked tears welled inside and warm piss trickled down Jack’s leg.

His mother screamed. At first Jack assigned the sound to the horror of seeing her husband murdered. Yet the scream held an elevated fear which went far beyond the terror of a frightened witness, sharp as it was with the acid panic of self preservation.

“Hello, mother,” the man in shadows said in a voice of boots crunching atop vomit soaked gravel.

Then, the sound of ripping flesh and gurgling, followed by silence.

Jack waited, fear circling the drain of his throat.

She’s dead, you killed her!

The adult part of Jack was frozen as well. He remembered nothing of this night from his youth, these memories were not the ones of how he knew his parents to have died, yet he knew it wasn’t a dream. This was a truth he’d been hiding from, or … which had removed from his mind. Entombed memories were no less real for their burial. He urged his dream self to take a step forward, to unravel the rest of the mystery.

“Mommy!” young Jack screamed, bolting down the stairs and into the living room.

He saw the still smoldering corpse of his father, flesh still bubbling as his headless body twitched. Wherever his father’s head was, it wasn’t anywhere next to his body.

The next two things he noticed in unison.

The shadow man, now looking slightly more human in form, stood in the center of the living room with his arms outstretched, while his mother, throat slashed and blood soaking through the thin gauze of her night shirt, danced. Her arms were raised, her lifeless head rolling back and forth barely there and maybe only by a thread. Her feet hovered inches above the ground. The shadow man moved his arms wildly like a crazed marionette as Jack’s mother danced some perverse jig. The shadow man continued to vent a smog of chilling laughter during the macabre recital.

Jack screamed. The shadow man turned to him, surprised, and allowed his mother to collapse in an inanimate heap.

“Forgive me, a son should have one final dance with his mother, yes?” The trailing S, a serpent’s hiss.

Jack was confused. He longed to run at the monster, pound him, tear him apart, anything. But fear bolted his ankles to the floor.

“You don’t remember me, do you Jackie?” the monster said, drifting closer.

Jack wanted to turn and run. The adult Jack also wanted to turn away, tears streaming down his sleeping cheeks. Neither Jack could do anything but watch the mind movie that had no pause.

Finally, the child spoke.

“Why did you kill her?”

“Because!” the monster yelled, his voice sounding more boyish and human than before, “she left me. You all left me behind.”

“She’s not your mother!” Jack cried out.

“Ah, what have they done to you, brother? You really don’t remember me, do you? It’s me … Jacob.”

And just like that, the shape of the shadow man dissipated like spider webs in a tornado, and standing before Jack was a boy, not much older than he, wearing a black shirt and pants, coated in the fresh blood of Jack’s parents.

Jack was torn between confusion, anger and a sudden, incredible sadness. None of this was making any sense and his head felt as if it were going to split and spill its contents.

“She made you forget,” Jacob said, “but I,” and he pointed at his head and spread his lips in a lunatic’s smile, “I NEVER forget!”

The monster boy stepped forward and Jack took a step back, shaking.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you two. You‘re my brothers.”

Brothers? Two? Who else is he talking about? Adult Jack was puzzled, though his mind was too entrenched in the dream to work out the logic at play.

The monster headed to the front door, opened it, and disappeared into the night.

This was all too much for young Jack, what was he supposed to do now? His head hurt and more than anything, he wanted to march behind his mother right into the arms of death. Adult Jack was feeling the same feelings as he was experiencing this, in some way, for the first time. Part of him wanted to die right there in his dream. To spare him of not only this, but of living alone in this cold world without Julia.

But he couldn’t.

A tiny voice called from upstairs, “Is he gone?”

Jack glanced up at the four year old peering back between the banisters. A boy so young should not see such things.

Adult Jack was dumbstruck. I have a brother?

“Go back in your room, Johnny!” Jack shouted, tears twisting his voice into a gasp.

Confusion, shock and pain were twined like hair in a braid, but he couldn’t allow himself to shut down. Though he were just a child himself, he had to protect John. Family first, a brother’s duty.

__________

Jack snapped awake.

“John?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Be sure to check out the Author’s Notes in the comments section following each chapter. Also, please tweet this post and help spread the word about Available Darkness and nurture online fiction.

I haven’t had time to write, but I did want to connect. I’ll be laying down my thoughts on Vegas soon. Dave and I have a more definitive direction planned for the Inkwell, though we’ll be sticking with the same pretty decor!

What’s Going Down at the Inkwell from Sean Platt on Vimeo.

Enjoy the video and we’ll see you soon!