The Christmas season is heating up, and with it my market schedule. This month, I’ve got a stand at three markets, the first coming up this Sunday in Hokitika. My husband and I are taking the market as an excuse to spend the long weekend enjoying the West Coast, so my office floor is currently piled with books and market swag to be loaded in the car tomorrow morning. I’m very excited to be selling my latest book (set largely on the West Coast) in Hokitika!
I’ve been folding origami bats this week in preparation for the trick-or-treaters who will be arriving at our door on the 31st.
Although I can’t get into the Halloween spirit like I used to do in the northern hemisphere, I’ve decided Halloween in Kirwee is a chance to let my weird show.
Each year I write a poem on the driveway inviting trick-or-treaters to the door.
Of course I dress up. And I’m a stickler for the kids to be in costume too. If they show up at my door with no costume, I make them perform a trick for me.
I’ve had on-the-spot original rap performances, rugby moves, and songs. Some of my regulars now clearly prepare their trick in advance, whether they’re in costume or not.
I hand out candy, as is expected, but last year I gave one of my books for my favourite costume of the evening. The girl who got it was over the moon.
So this year I’ve leaned further into the weird. I wrote a special spooky story for kids, printed it (white on black) onto squares of paper, and folded the squares into bats to hand out along with the candy.
I hope the kids like my spooky story bats as much as I do!
Not long ago, I attended a workshop on Astrobiology for teachers. I’m not sure which of my two jobs it was more useful for—teaching or writing.
Cool swag from NASA and Blue Marble Space!
My day job, though ever changing, often involves teaching science across years 3-8. One of the strands of the New Zealand science curriculum is Planet Earth and Beyond, so I regularly teach about our solar system and various features within our galaxy. Last year, I did a fun unit with the year 7 and 8 students in which students had to design spacecraft, habitat modules, and promotional campaigns for a colonising trip to Mars.
I’ve rarely touched much on astrobiology, and the questions about life elsewhere in the universe, but the workshop made me think about all the ways that questions about life on other planets reflects on life on Earth. How these questions reflect on our actions as human beings—our treatment of other humans, our treatment of the planet and other living things on it. The presenters made a great case for using astrobiology as a way to dive into big philosophical questions about what it means to be alive on Earth today.
What are our responsibilities to planet Earth and the life on it? What if we are alone in the universe? What if we’re not? Does it change our perspective on our own actions as humans?
Sanjoy Son, from Blue Marble Science, spoke eloquently about how the teaching of astrobiology can give students valuable perspective on life, and how they can approach questions of personal differences, values, and civic responsibility. The take home message I got from his talk was that we are either the caretakers of the only life in the universe, or we are part of a vast, interstellar network of life. Either way, we are all ambassadors of planet Earth. What a great message for kids. What a great way for them to think about their roles as human beings.
As an author of fantasy and science fiction, of course I soaked up the cool facts about the gazillions of planets there are just in our galaxy, the weird ways life might have to adapt to wildly different conditions on other planets, the surprises that even our own solar system has produced in terms of planets and moons on which life could potentially survive, the physics of travel and communication through space. So many story ideas!
You’ll definitely be seeing more astrobiology creeping into my writing and teaching in the future!
It’s Christmas Eve, and I suppose I should be in holiday mode, preparing for our upcoming tramping trip, baking or cooking something, doing last-minute gift wrapping …
But we had our family Christmas celebration on Sunday, because our daughter is already on her way to Southland for two weeks of climbing, and our son leaves tomorrow. So, with the gifts and fancy meals out of the way, I am ready to get back to work.
Not the day job—I still need a break from that—but writing work is calling me. Which means it’s not really ‘work’, I suppose.
I treat writing as a job that I go to two days a week. I put in long hours on my writing days, and there are certainly days on which it’s hard to keep myself at the desk, plugging away. But the fact I was at the computer typing away at 6.30 am on Christmas Eve tells me writing is more than a job.
As it should be. If I was writing to make a living, I’d be sorely disappointed. Turns out, I can’t not write. The past week, filled with family, celebrations and outings has been fun, but I’ve keenly felt the missed writing days. I’ve been snatching moments here and there (hence the 6.30 am writing session on Christmas Eve), but haven’t had a chance to spend long stretches in the writing zone.
Instead, I’ve been gathering experiences, watching people, squirrelling away ideas. When the holiday madness settles, I’ll be primed and ready to write.
In the meantime, I’ve got a new outdoor poetry chalkboard, made for me by my daughter, to fuel some quick writing exercises. I’m wondering how long I could sustain a poem a day, like I did during lockdown. Or maybe I should limit myself to one a week, in the interests of getting other stuff done, too. So many writing possibilities!
I hope you all have a lovely holiday season doing things that inspire you!
I recently participated in ALLI’s SelfPubCon, which focused on the business side of writing. There were sessions on using social media, monetising YouTube, website design, using AI for marketing … I watched video after video that made my brain turn off. Video after video teaching me how to cash in on the advertising deluge we all suffer from online. How do you get those irritating ‘commercials’ into your YouTube videos (so you can make money on them)? How do you use Facebook Ads? How do you cash in on third-party advertising on your website?
Ugh!
I hate the constant bombardment of ads for crap no one needs. Do I really want to be a part of that, even if it can make my writing business profitable? Is that really why I write—so people’s interest in my writing can sell salad spinners, ‘miracle’ weight loss pills and erectile dysfunction products?
I despaired until I stumbled across a session on selling physical books. The panelists in this session talked about selling books at markets and fairs, doing school visits, exploring unusual sales outlets like tourist destinations, how to encourage people to buy your books face-to-face.
Yes! This was my kind of marketing. The kind of marketing I’ve been focusing on in the past year. Talking to people, talking about my books, being in the same physical space with potential readers, watching how people interact with my books. Getting that personal connection with readers in the real world.
Start talking to me about SEO, CTR, and ACOS, and my eyes glaze over. But throw me into a room with a bunch of potential readers, and I’m all over it. Watching the session on physical book marketing, I finally realised that it’s not that I can’t understand the online marketing game, it’s that I don’t want to.
Making money from random pop-up ads in my online content goes against my values. Putting my own random pop-up ads in someone else’s online content goes against my values. Bombarding potential readers online every day goes against my values.
And that’s okay.
I don’t have to participate in that madness.
And, yes, perhaps if I had to pay all my bills with my writing, I would feel differently, because god knows it’s hard to make a living selling books at markets. But I like my day job. And while I would love to write full-time, I know that I gain a lot of writing benefit from my day job. I would be a poorer writer without it.
And if making art is about expressing yourself and your values, then why wouldn’t your marketing reflect that as well?
Indeed, how could I, in good conscience, make money from plastic widgets advertised on my website when my books and stories contain so many environmental themes?
So I will continue to trot out my books at local markets, beside other local artists. I’ll continue to work on the board of the Tamariki Book Festival to help other authors do the same. I’ll chat with readers, listen to grandparents talk about the sorts of books their grandkids like to read, discuss dragons and my favourite dragon books with kids, hand out stickers and bookmarks, visit schools and tell children how hard writing is even for me. And I will sell a few books, sign people up for my newsletter (people who actually want to hear from me), and probably end up spending half what I’ve earned buying art from others.
Is that so bad?
Sounds perfect to me, because it is much more aligned with my values. It values personal connections and supporting others. It recognises the value in the art itself, rather than measuring the value of the art in terms of what else can be marketed alongside it.
And maybe I won’t ever be able to support myself with my writing. But I will be true to myself.
And … um … not to deluge you with marketing, but if you happen to be in the area, come say hello and pick up some Christmas gifts at these upcoming markets:
Like many writers, I’m often discouraged at how difficult it is to actually make a living by writing. And like many writers, I dream of the day when writing actually pays the mortgage and the power bill.
To hopefully take another step closer to that day, I’ve started a Ko-fi page, where readers can give a one-off donation, or buy a monthly subscription to get stories and behind-the-scenes peeks not available to anyone else.
For as little as $1 a month, you can get access to Two-minute Tales: weekly podcasts of micro-stories written just for you. Or purchase a $5 or $10 subscription for more stories, sneak previews, and early access to stories and books.
By subscribing, you’ll not only help me afford the editors and cover designers I need to produce more books, but you’ll also help me transform my books into audiobooks, which I’ve been wanting to do for years.
This is my first foray into offering a subscription service, so let me know if there are other things you’d like with your subscription. I’m sure I’ll be adding things as I go.
Head on over to my Ko-fi page to find out more about how you can join me on my writing journey!
I was cleaning out my purse this morning and noticed I had two notebooks in there. It seemed excessive, even for me. So I paged through them both to see which had more empty pages. As I did, I happened across this little gem of a poem, scribbled down at some point. I don’t remember when. Most of my on-the-road scribbles are just kernels of ideas and need lots of work or fleshing out, but I thought this was pretty good for an on-the-fly poem.
It was certainly better than the sticky old mints that had fallen out of their package and were lying at the bottom of the purse …
So I thought I’d share the poem (the mints went into the rubbish).
Late night on the Interstellar Highway
Twin lights glitter Down the long corridor of black
You are not alone, then.
Or you are more lonely than before, Screaming through the void Of interstellar space. The long road trip Without a yellow line. Without the neon Of a late-night diner. Without a single signpost Saying Earth 2 million km Keep left.
You hail the approaching ship-- Regulation words Generated by your onboard computer, Acknowledged by the other ship’s computer. No life forms involved. You blink and they are gone, Not even the friendly spray of gravel To crack your windshield.
And you remember fondly The stifling days of youth When you chafed Under Mum’s touch. The embraces you shrugged off Were priceless. The currency of the traveller Light years from home.
A couple days ago, I sat down at my desk, knowing I had a lot of ‘business’ to deal with. I was determined to complete these necessary but uninspiring tasks (cashbook marketing, etc.) quickly, so that I could get on to the writing I wanted to do.
First job was to check my email.
And this was the first message I opened:
Hi there Robinne I bought your whole Dragon Defence League Series at the Spencer Park Market and you personalised one of the books for my son Mathew. I just wanted to write to let you know that he absolutely loves the first book and is over half way through and keeps telling us all about what is happening in the book. We have never seen him so glued to a book before and he never tells us what is happening so it has made a massive impression on him so thank you so much for writing them.
Well, there’s no better way to start your day than that! This is exactly the sort of thing I live for as a writer. To make an impression, to capture the imagination of a reader is the whole point of writing. And to have my book be the book that opens a child’s mind to the wonder of stories is something special, indeed.
It reminds me of the real reason I write. Oh, I would love to be able to make a living at this. The validation of a living wage would be amazing.
But it’s not why I write. I write to connect with others through words. There’s something magical about having an impact on a reader you have never met.
And I’m regularly reminded that I’m not the only writer who has to fund their passion with other endeavours. On a recent episode of Writing Excuses (a writing podcast I highly recommend), the topic of the week was how to fund the writing life. The whole point of the episode was that it’s okay, normal, and totally possible to purposely engage in money-making activities to support your writing habit, and that choosing activities that feed into your writing is the key to making the most of your time.
So, yeah, I teach three days a week in order to support the two days a week of writing. And because I teach students within my target audience, I know what my audience likes to read, know what sorts of life experiences they have, understand how current events resonate (or don’t) with them. I have an eager and ready population of beta readers at my fingertips, and a ready source of story inspiration.
It’s no different from when I was running the Bugmobile, my science outreach programme for schools. Bugmobile fees barely covered my costs, though I was charging schools as much as I possibly could. So I funded the Bugmobile by doing much more lucrative heritage interpretation consulting for various local and national agencies and organisations. The consulting work was interesting, but not my passion. But the skills to do both were similar, and it was a way to ensure I could continue to run the Bugmobile.
I will admit I ended 2023 feeling guilty for ‘wasting’ so much time, money and effort writing books and stories that don’t pay the bills. But I’m launching 2024 with a different attitude. And with a new realisation.
Back in 2005, when I first developed the idea for the Bugmobile, I wrote a mission statement. I don’t remember it exactly, but it was something along the lines of connecting people with the amazing nature found in their back yards and encouraging people to explore the world around them. I have realised that I’m still doing that as a writer. When I closed the Bugmobile and started writing, I felt like I’d cut off an arm. How could I stop interpreting the natural world?
The answer is I never did stop. I just don’t think I realised it. My Dragon Defence League books, which captivated Mathew, are a celebration of the landscapes and natural history of Aotearoa New Zealand. Yes, I’ve put dragons in there, but only to illuminate our relationship with the natural world and how it’s evolving over time. Only to give me a tool to envision a different way we might think of the natural world and our place in it. Digging deeply into all my stories—fantasy, science fiction, climate fiction, horror—they all contain elements of heritage interpretation.
The truth is, while I believed I was building a business, first with the Bugmobile and interpretation consultancy, and now with the writing, I’ve actually been building a life. A life with meaning and direction.
I still have to make sure I’m paying the bills, and I still need to spend time worrying about marketing, but putting my writing in the larger context, and reminding myself of the larger goals I have for my life, helps me to let go of the feeling that net profit from the sales of my books and stories is the primary measure of success.
But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t buy my books. They’re great! Fun reads, and full of environmental themes … Go on, you know you want to.
Some of the notes about this story I’ve been scribbling over two years.
There’s a live Arlo Guthrie album (I can’t remember which one) in which he’s talking between songs, and at some point he says, “I know I’m supposed to be singing. But you can’t always do what you’re supposed to do.” To which the audience roars approval.
It’s true. You can’t always do what you’re supposed to do.
The second Fatecarver book (Fatewalker) is with the editor, and I really should be working on book 3 if I want to keep the books in the series coming out at a reasonable pace for my readers.
But a couple of weeks ago when I sat down to start book 2, a different book began pouring out of my fingers onto the keyboard.
It was like a flash flood. Within a few days, 15,000 words of a book I shouldn’t be spending time on right now had flowed out. I gave in and have let it flow. I don’t even have a title for the story, which has been kicking around in my head since New Zealand’s first Covid lockdown in 2020, but it’s already over a third written.
Here’s the gist of the story. I can’t wait to be able to share it with you. If things carry on this way, it won’t be long before I can.
Alex Blackburn has inherited all her Grandmother’s possessions. And all her secrets.
When she discovers an ancient book on summoning spirits among Gran’s books, she … sort of accidentally summons one of them.
It’s three metres long and looks like a centipede.
And it’s just eaten Gran’s dog.
She drags Gran’s neighbour, Shelby, into the drama because the book came from his great-great-great-grandmother. Alex can’t work out how to get rid of the demon, but maybe Shelby’s inherited some of his ancestor’s ability with magic.
Or maybe he’s just terrified of centipedes.
While the demon munches its way through the neighbourhood pets, Alex and Shelby scramble to find a way to send it back to where it came from before it …
Has babies.
This fantasy set in small-town New Zealand will have you sitting on the edge of your seat (while checking underneath it for centipedes), and cheering on Alex and Shelby as they bumble their way around magic and each other.
Robinne Weiss 