Peter M. Ball

I upgraded the calendar tracking yesterday afternoon, after deciding that maybe stickers would make a difference. And, let me say, it probably did: I didn’t quite earn a two jewel sticker for hitting 1,500 words yesterday, but I definitely did way more than the 750 words I intended to write (and ended up pulling double duty on the Patreon/Socials column as well).

Of course, weekends are good for doing slightly more work. The challenge is meeting that same push to do more during the week. I had a very fuck-around-and-not-really-focused morning because we stayed up late Sunday night, and still jammed out my words for the day (which also involved some redrafting and cutting of yesterday’s work, so it’s more productive than it looks).

I’m pondering the success of the calendar today, and why it seems to work a little better for me than the Don’t Break The Chain/Seinfeld method. In a lot of ways, this shares a lot of the psychological tricks that make Don’t Break The Chain motivating — I hate the idea of seeing blank space on the calender, and start my day with the goal of filling it.  

But Don’t Break The Chain comes with one major flaw: the moment you break it, the psychological reward of building the chain is lost. A bad day can quickly turn into two or three. 

There’s an interesting take on habit building in James Clear’s Atomic Habits where he argues every habit is connected to self-image and identity. You put forth an identity you want — I’m a writer — and  stack up evidence to support that through your ritualised and habitual actions. But that can be a double-edged sword, as those actions and habits also tell you what you’re not. 

For something like Brain The Chain, you live on the edge of the sword. While the chain goes up, you’re a writer. When you break it, you not just failed to write, but you’ve shattered your postiive self-image and welcomed in all your worst fears about yourself (this is, perhaps, not something people without anxiety manage, but I’ve encountered enough writers with anxiety issues that  wonder if anxiety and the desire to write a comorbid conditions).

The thing about not breaking a chain or buidling a writing streak is that they’re bets you make with yourself, and they’re at their most useful when you’re on a winning streak. Your identity is, in essence, pass/fail.

And every writer is going to fail, somewhere along the line. They’ll get sick, or their car will break down, or the story will be frustratingly awful. Something will always break the chain, and if you’re lucky it’ll happen several hundred days in when it doesn’t feel like a big thing.

Most folks won’t get lucky. 

The calendar isn’t one big bet, but a series of small ones. Breaking the chain doesn’t matter because the goal isn’t buidling a chain, it’s celebrating the small victories that slowly add up to a finished project, and down the line a fully-fledged writing career. It has the capacity to celebrate different milestones and markers — right now I’ve got stickers for 750 words, but also finishing a draft and submitting/publishing a book and launching a new Brain Jar Project. 

It is, in effect, a cumulative build rather than a pass-fail line. 

And right now, that works for me. I get to celebrate those victories that confirm, yes, this is who I want to be, without the looming threat of failure. It’s a visual record and celebration of the parts of myself it would be all to easy to let slide amid the chaos of the new job (and, it must be said, the relative security of having a steady paycheque instead of living and dying by the release of new books).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta go put a gold star on my calendar.

Now that I’m consistently carving out space to write in my week, I thought it might be useful to get into the habit of touching base with all the projects hat have my attention right now, regardless of whether that attention is active/current or just a nagging sense of oh God, I really need to finish that.

Possibly not interesting to anyone who isn’t me, but occasionally I like to log these things so I can come back and review my work cycles years down the line.  Current status/word counts are included where feasible, details about where things are up to when not.

And I’m breaking things down into different territories because it’s the way my brain works.

THESIS PROJECTS

My thesis consists of two fiction projects and an exegesis, and I’ve got until the end of March to get drafts of all three to my supervisor.

Median Survival Time

A third-person SF novella based on the question “what if Jack Reacher was a space marine, female, and we stopped kidding about the fact that he’s basically got all the hallmarks of PTSD hypervigilance with none of the side-effects.” STATUS: 25,997 words of a proposed 32,000, and there are three or four scenes that need to be drafted.

Cerberus Station Rumble

A first person SF novella that riffs on Robert E. Howard’s Sailor Steve Cositgan boxing stories, except it starts with the premise of “what changes if this character is female and an sailor/MMA fighter in space?” STUTUS: Currently 37,053 words long as a finished draft, but it needs some work before it’s ready to go.

The Exegesis

The dreaded theoretical component, which needs to be 20,000 words long (and as my supervisor is fond of reminding me, doesn’t need to be a word more than that). Status: There’s apparently a draft that’s 22,586 words long, but I haven’t looked at it since my dad died so I wouldn’t swear it’s usable. My gut says I’ve got closer to 10,000 words that will fit, but my brain doesn’t hold this stuff terribly well.

Eclectic Projects – Fiction

Can’t See The Undead For The Trees

A mosaic zombie apocalypse novella set in the mountains of the Sunshine Coast here in Australia. Third person, past tense, because I’m not used to writing in either and want to get some practice in. Current wordcound is under a thousand words typed, but there are about thirty pages of notes and handwritten drafts getting me to this point. STATUS: Active project, 912 words in. Nailing down the voice of the eight POV characters.

Bad Neighbours

Short Story riffing on three billy goats gruff. A bridge troll moves into a ground floor apartment, then struggles with the noise from the shitty neighbours upstairs. May have been written as a coping mechanism while our old neighbours were being dicks. STATUS: 6,242 words and in need of a strong conclusion.

Gun Mage (Keith Murphy 4)

Urban Fantasy Thriller. Picks up after Keith prevents Ragnarök, and finds himself stuck on the Gold Coast sa a free agent with a mythical sword he’s got no desire to use. Has to learn to use magic in order to fend off a fey take-over of the city. STATUS: Blocking out early scenes and characters.

The Fall of Iron Hold (Blades Against Death 1)

Novella. Part of an ongoing fantasy serieal which basically asks “what if Dumas wrote a zombie apocalypse novel in which the Church guards were the good guys and D&D magic was a thing”. Third person, past tense. Status: 6800 words of a proposed 30,000.

The Secret Gig (The Kaleidoscope’s Children 3)

Third phase of a mosaic series tracing the after-effects of a cult band with uncanny powers happening on the gold coast. Big X-Files vibe, with a loop back to book 1. A concept that was badly derailed by the shift to publishing other people with Brian Jar 2.0, and never quiet reclaimed its place in the work queue. STATUS: About ten thousand words of really rough draft I’ve been meaning to get back to since December of 2020.

The Gun Witch of Half-Moon Bay (Crossbones & Sorcery 2)

Novella or novelette following on from The Last Great House Of Isla Tortuga. First person, pirate fantasy. Another project that was seriously derailed by the implementation of Brain Jar 2.0 in the middle of 2020. Status: 7751 words of a draft done, but I’m stalled until I can do some research into piracy and warfare in the age of sail.

Night of the Cavvy (Creature Features 1)

Novella, Contemporary pulp horror. A crew of RPG geeks find themselves haunted by demon possessed guinea pigs. Some books I just plan to write because they will entertain my partner. STATUS: Locking down early scenes and characters.

Untitled (Century City 1)

The daughter of a pulp era sidekick returns to the seedy, post-golden age “city of the future” pulled together by the science heroes of the fifties. She investigates dad’s murder by working her way through a series of folks who are riffs of classic pulp characters and the Doc Savage support staff, trying to uncover a very old secret. Status: Blocking out a structure, characters, proposed length, and what the series might look like.

The Rabbit Says Run

Weird thriller idea based on a book cover I designed. A young man is kidnapped and chased through an underground complex by a rabbit-masked, shotgun wielding killer, while a hyperactive game show hosts delivers commentary. STATUS: Blocking out structure and potential series plan (especially now Squid Game has brought the genre back into prominence).

Thirty Minute Run (Hell Track Part 1)

Fantasy-Cyberpunk novella about a motorcycle courier with a dark secret and the demon-sponsored corporation determined to bring her into the arena of death that entertains the masses. Theoretically, this was going to be the first original Brain Jar project back in 2017, but I couldn’t figure out how to structure it without writing a 400,000-word monster. STATUS: Need to pull some details out of the original draft and re-think it as a novella serial.

Eclectic Projects – Non-Fiction

What Writers Out To Know About Die Hard 2.0

A rethink and redraft of the blog series, incorporating new ideas and interest that have built up since the original stalled. I largely started a Patreon in the hopes it would get this progect finished. STUTUS: 14,000 words drafted, and about half done with the long-awaited Act Two, Part Two section.

Living That Ampersand Life/Part-Time Creative

Non-fiction series about splitting your focus between competing priorities as a creative. Originally planned to do it as a newsletter series that doubled as a book draft, but it got a little unwieldy. STUTUS: 10,000 of a proposed 15,00 to 20,000 words done, but I need to re-scope the project a little.

The Neo-Pulp Manifesto

An essay looking back at the habits and strategies of the pulp writers, and what’s worth importing into the new pulp era given that certain market conditions are similar (you can write and release in huge quantities again), while others are definitely not (your backlist is permanently available, rather than disposable). STATUS: I’ve got a collection of notes and rough ideas that need to be formatted into something cohesive.

Pivot Fast and Trust The Data: Launching Brain Jar Press 2.0

A long essay about the revamp of Brain Jar, written with the goal of walking people through how to launch a small press using the tools and philosophy that worked for me (and the pitfalls that derailed me). STATUS: Draft is 4300 words long and about half done.

Everything I Know About Running Cons and Festivals I Learned From Professional Wrestling

Random post that I’ve half-drafted, based on a realisation I had while talking about festival design with people who definitely don’t think the way I do. STATUS: about a thousand words in draft format.

The Best of Man vs. Bear

A sequel book to You Don’t Want To Be Published, collating a series of blog posts I’m proud of from last decade. Status: I’ve got 70 blog posts selected, totaling 112,000 words. I need to decide how to order them and break them into themes, and maybe remove some that could be their own books (Trashy Movie Writing School and Everything I know About Writing I Learned From Pro Wrestling).

The Arcane Art of Title Development

A white-paper about title design offered free to aspiring writers/publishers, built from prior newsletter fragments. STATUS: I need to write one final entry, and it’s pretty much ready to go.

A White Paper Of Common Writing Scams

A free ebook I want to write logging signs that you’ve been scammed by a vanity publisher or not-so-ethical small press whose operating in the grey zone. STATUS: I need to break down what I really want to cover, and pull together some existing twitter threads and blog posts that can be repurposed.

Note From the Brain Jar Quarterly (Ebook Archive)

Compilations of the newsletter archive in ebook/PDF form, downloadable and accessible. I was originally going to this by month, but quarters made more senses. STATUS: I’ve got files ready for all the newsletters from 2017 to 2020, but I need to do formatting, proofing, and cover designs.

Freelance Jobs

Design Job 1
A cover design and interior layout for a student press out at UQ, and my third or fourth time around doing some iteration of this gig. We’re at the fine-tuning stage of the work, which is always the worst part – hyper-enthusiastic young editors will frequently scour the manuscript for fixes that can’t be done, or want to implement copyedit changes at the proofing stage. Deadline isn’t until February next year at this stage, but I want to get it clear before the end of November because February next year is two months away from running a festival

Design Job 2

A straight cover design for a new client, who commissioned me during the brief window when I was open. The design is mostly done at this stage—I just need to swap in the final art and do some last-minute tweaks, then find out whether they want a cover.

Making Your Backlist Work For You

Two-hour Workshop for the RWA Conference, now scheduled for December 10 2021. Which, now that I’ve written own, is far closer than I’m thinking and totally a justification for doing this exercise.

You Don’t Want To Be Published

A workshop I may or may not be delivering in 2022, depending on how it can be rescheduled (It was originally scheduled for the week in May where I’m not running a festival)

One of the most confronting terms I’ve seen thrown around in contemporary indie publishing discussions is minimum viable product. It’s a phrase we’ve inherited from the software side of the industry, where developers release an early version of their programs with a core baseline of features that will be useful to early adopters. Later iterations of the product then build upon the feedback of that core user base, guiding the future development and building up the buzz around the product.

On the indie side of things, the first person to use the term appears to be Michael Anderle, a coder-turned-author who applied the philosophy to his early science fiction offerings. Books went out with terrible covers, not-so-great copyedits, and structural edits to be applied later, using the speed of publishing to lure in a particular type of early reader and gauge the future potential. These days Anderle is better known as the founder of 20 Books to 50K, but he lays out his earliest publishing philosophy in his 90 Days to 10K white paper from 2016.

I do a lecture on digital publishing workflows for UQ every year, talking to a crew of aspiring editors, and the response when I lay out Anderle’s philosophy and approach to publishing usually involves a physical recoil. He works completely at odds with the expectations of anyone involved in the velocity model of publishing, where books absolutely need to come out in the best viable form in order to nail the one-month sales window. At the same time, Anderle has built a publishing empire in the space of five years, with LMBPN Publishing putting out a hundred or so books a year.

I’ve used the Minimum Viable Product method myself in the past, despite my reservations. There were books I’ve put out specifically so I can embrace the learning curve, starting with the Short Fiction Lab series and its rapid iteration of cover design and formatting. I’ve released books with the wrong title development (Exile and its sequels) and rapidly worked to update those books. That is Minimum Viable Product in a nutshell, although I wouldn’t have called it that: a confidence that shipping now is okay, because there’s always a chance to fix things and redevelop if it doesn’t work. Even indie writers who don’t believe in Minimum Viable Product, preferring to put out a polished product, still use a variation of this philosophy by releasing books to beta readers and review teams, taking on board their feedback in the lead-up to release.

For all my discomfort with minimum viable product as a philosophy, I’ve found the variation of it that works for me when releasing fiction and non-fiction. I frequently warn authors that I’m completely okay with a Brain Jar Press book launching slow and taking time to find its audience, because I know that all our books will eventually. It’s not something you’re used to if you come out of the traditional publishing space, but that’s part of the charm of working with a small press.

At the same time, there is an area where minimum viable product still causes me to have kittens, and that’s here on Patreon.

One of the quirks of crowd-support platforms like Patreon and Kickstarter is the necessity of defining your minimum viable product before you launch. It’s right there in the reward levels and the promised exchange—support me for this much, and you’ll get this in return—and it’s hard to resist the siren song of promising that little bit more. And while most people are largely interest in supporting rather than rewards, at least in my experience, each of those goals comes with a level of psychic weight for the creator. They’re promises that should be delivered upon. 

We’re eight months into me running this Patreon thus far, and I’m staring down the barrel of another evolution as I learn to work around the day job and figure out the new normal. And one thing that’s incredibly clear at this stage is that the minimum viable product I dreamed up back in March is no longer possible with the time I’ve got.

While I put a lot of this at the foot of the time crunch a day job brings to bear, that’s not the entire story. Where I work is also in a state of flux, and simple changes like writing in a coffee shop have unexpected consequences. I can no longer write and post as a single unit of activity, for example, because the WIFI access is haphazard and dependent on a phone hotspot; and even if I can get online, the bandwidth precludes me from using the online AI copyediting program I use to clean up my messy first drafts before they go live. My writing space is no longer surrounded by a huge pile of non-fiction I can refer to for inspiration and quotes, nor do I have access to my research notebooks as I write. 

Similarly, I’d fallen back into the routine of writing my newsletters on a Tuesday for a few months, doing the whole email in one fell swoop. They’d be uploaded on a Wednesday, giving me Thursday as a back-up if my schedule didn’t allow it. All that changed a few months back, when my Write Club days (which are no longer reserved for writing) switched from Thursday to Tuesday and threw off my newsletter game. Being out of the house five days a week has thrown me off even more, to the point where I’m slowly re-mapping where newsletters fit into my week.

It’s trickier than it used to be, because the time I have to work is both heavily compressed and eats into the time I used to spend hanging out with my partner. So it’s not just a matter of establishing new patterns, but also breaking the groove of two sets of older patterns and expectations about how our life works.

All this is one of the reasons I predicted it would take a few months to hit the new normal, and why we’re only just starting to approach it after finishing up old jobs, clearing freelance gigs, and getting the wedding out of the way. Despite being three weeks into the BWF job right now, it’s essentially three days into figuring out what routines and choices are possible within the new paradigm.

I’d promised myself no major changes to projects until we hit the relative normalcy of December (not a phrase I thought I’d ever use), but I suspect there will be a reconfiguring of the Patreon at the end of this month to bring the expected minimum viable product in line with the delivered minimum viable product.

I think I’ve got regular updates licked at this point—they take place in the twenty minute café window before work, after I’ve done three pages of handwriting on the creative project. That’s the sustainable window in my current schedule, with newsletters and blog scheduling left for the weekend when I’m surrounded by WIFI. I suspect the Patreon will have a bit of a different pitch come December too, given that my focus is slowly inching back towards doing new fiction work.

And while all that feels good—I’ve got the problem of producing new drafts relatively sorted with the current schedule—it means I start looking at the next round of issues. The next thing to feel out is when work gets revised, and how I can manage the shipping/distribution/posting as a sperate activity, and start incorporating time for engaging with comments.