For the second interview in the Writers on the Rise series, please welcome Tez Miller from Australia. You can check out her Livejournal here, and her Wordpress blog here.
Hello, Tez! Can you tell us a little about yourself?
Hey all! Born, raised and still living in suburban Victoria, Australia, I’m a child of the ’80s with a passion for animated comedy and a weakness for daggy pop songs. Indeed, this is the high life.
I’m American, so I’m curious about the publishing world in Australia. Also, has your country influenced your writing?
First off, there aren’t many literary agencies in Oz, and I don’t think any accept e-queries. Curtis Brown is the largest. I’m quite interested in Selwa Anthony, but I think she has a referral-only policy as she doesn’t have contact info anywhere online (and though she’s in a different state, I kind of doubt her info is public in her state, either).
As for publishers: word on the street is that only HarperCollins and Hachette accept/publish fantasy. Of the major publishers, anyway. Sci-fi writer Marianne de Pierres (though under a different name) is having a paranormal romance published with Allen & Unwin, Australia’s leading independent publisher.
Many an Australian has realised that their chances are better in the American market. Keri Arthur and Max Barry were published in the US before anywhere else, because they scored American agents. The UK market isn’t bad as Australia’s, but generally speaking, I think we’re all aiming for careers in the US.
But that’s just as writers. Australia is big on reading (so we’re told), and crime fiction consistently sells well. Non-fiction, too. Book prices vary wildly, though. Mass market adult paperbacks from Hachette and Harper are about $19.95 Recommended Retail Price, but that’s very general. I complain a lot about book prices, I know, and get rather jealous when my American peeps can buy a mass market for $7.
As for if my country has influenced my writing? Isn’t everyone influenced by theirs? I’ve lived here all my life, so it’s what I know. Yes, British and American culture are thoroughly present here, but instead of taking over the Australian identity, they’re more of an added bonus. I don’t think I could write something set in another country simply because I haven’t lived the life. Cheerleaders, pep rallies, school spirit and homecoming dances? I would’ve never survived North American high school, so many congratulations and well done to those of you who have.
But when it comes to manuscripts, I tend to set the spelling-and-grammar check to US-English instead of Australian-English. Use double quotation marks instead of singular. As for certain terms and phrases…I pick and choose from all that’s on offer. When it comes it profanities, I rely on colloquial Irish ones. But since I believe you’re a YA writer, perhaps your YA followers shouldn’t be reading my swears on your blog.
What are you currently writing?
A futuristic YA, currently titled Unfrozen. I’ve never written a futuristic before, and I’m having trouble finding my feet. But though this is rather challenging for me, I think when it’s eventually finished, it’ll be my favourite. Because yes, I play favourites.
In what ways is the futuristic genre challenging you, and what advice do you have for writers exploring genres new to them?
I think I’ve always thought of myself as an ideas person more than an actual writer. It goes for my regular life as well: I know what I want to say, but I have trouble trying to convey it. Or I get to the point, and skimp on the details. Which is why my wordcounts are closer to 60,000 than 100,000.
So with the future comes science and technology. Considering my mobile (cell to those in the US) phone was a hand-me-down that I got in 2004, and it only does calls and texts (no photos, no videos, and monophonic-only ringtones)…I’m so not down with technology The science, however: I’m interested in it, though I don’t quite understand it, which means I struggle to explain it. While I’ve tried to research some stuff, other parts are just exhausting. So I’m using the tried-and-tested fiction writer’s method: making stuff up. Besides, it’s 100 years into the future. At worse, I’ll be laughed at – like when I tried to read Philip K. Dick this year, and he was writing about stuff in the 1980s that…well, never ended up happening in the ’80s. Or even now.
So when it comes to a new genre, writers, your mind may bend. I do recommend you research, and basically pick and choose from what you come across. You want to write an urban fantasy, but don’t like how someone wrote their vampires? What would your vampires be like? Take it from there…
What else have you written?
Two completed urban fantasies – one involving shapeshifters, the other vampires. I got partway through one about ghosts, and a couple of chapters into a zombie novel.
Where are you at on your path to publication?
I queried agents and publishers for the two completed manuscripts, but I’ve stopped for the time being. Last month I tried rewriting the shapeshifter novel, but I stopped because I realised that maybe it’s supposed to be a trunk novel. But I’m pleased to have come to the conclusion that my writing is better now than when I first wrote it, a few years ago.
What advice do you have for writers?
Realise your strengths and weaknesses. Don’t let your ego turn you into a beeyatch. But try to have some level of confidence, as that’s the only thing that’ll motivate you to actually finish something. And I speak from experience: as you can tell by my unfinished works, I have commitment problems. And I think that maybe you shouldn’t read in your genre whilst your writing it, because…well, you can get intimidated by their greatness and it might put a downer on your confidence.
I also find myself occasionally intimidated by the greatest writers in my genre, but at the same time I find their greatness inspiring. What do you think? And how do you balance Tez the Writer with Tez the Reader?
I’m predominantly Tez the Reader, though more often I’m Tez the Reviewer. Reading to review is different than reading just for the fun of it. As a result, now I can’t seem to read without reviewing/critiquing in my own head. But I can’t seem to separate my writing self from me, so I struggle to review/critique my own work. Which is where the critique group comes in…
At the moment Tez the Writer is still mulling things over. My own work is intimidating me, though I assure you I’m in no way one of the greatest writers in my genre. Yet *ahem* “There’s nothing in this section; you just wrote something very vague or inconsequential. These people found out something, but how did they find it out? What happened when they went to…” And so on. My brain blocks me off; says “don’t make me do stuff”. My mind and I don’t get along very well.
Aye, I have attack of the jealousies often. Reading someone else’s work, I’ll think I’ll never write anything as great as this. But if it weren’t for these authors in the first place, I may not have been inspired at all. The key, I read recently, is “similar, but different”.
Meaning it might be wise for your work to be similar enough to others so that it’s marketable, but different enough so readers won’t think they’re reading what some other author could have written. If you find the balance between similar and different, we all want to know.
What are your inspirations?
For my completed urban fantasies, they were inspired by “has anyone done this kind of shifter?” and “that’s not how I’d do vampires”. It’s true, writers: not every novel you read is perfect for you, so use the less-perfect ones to figure out what you didn’t like, and how you’d improve it. As for my futuristic, I fell in love with the genre through Dorchester’s SHOMI imprint, Gena Showalter’s Teen Alien Huntress novels, Mary E. Pearson’s The Adoration of Jenna Fox and Stephenie Meyer’s The Host. They taught me that not all sci-fi is hard sci-fi, which is why I probably call what I write “futuristic” instead. They taught me it’s not all about the gadgets, space and aliens, but society itself and how it affects people. And let’s not forget real life! When you think about what’s happening in the world, you can’t pretend that it’ll be all right, everything will fix itself. I never forget the possibility that things could be worse – and use that thought to inspire my writing.
What has been the best part of writing?
Feedback from my critique group. Like when they say they laughed at something, it makes me feel that it’s not all bad, that there is some hope for me after all. As for the actual writing, I think I’m best at dialogue. And though like most others I cringe at some stuff I wrote, but elsewhere I’ve read my own passages and think, “Hey, this isn’t too shoddy – it’s actually kind of good.”
What advice do you have for writers looking for a critique group? I know it can be challenging to find a good match, though quite rewarding when you do.
I found my critique group via Kelley Armstrong’s Discussion board. There are several Online Writing Groups there, and as a newbie you’re assigned to a group. Then later as other groups expand or contract, you’re given the option to move to a different group. At least that’s been my experience; I joined in 2004, I think. Not only is my group fabulous at catching my typos, but basically they point out bits they don’t understand, or things that don’t seem to fit. This lets me know that I need to clarify, and explain more, or try it in a different way. Because if you think I confuse myself enough, you don’t want to know how I screw up other people’s brains.
And what has been the worst part?
Rejection. Woe is me, get out the tiny violins… I’m not too good with details. Like what people are wearing, what the room looks like, what’s that smell… But I guess the really worse bit is getting started after a long break. I doubt my abilities, think my skills aren’t up to scratch enough, my plots too predictable, my characters without arcs, etc. In other words, I’m the worst part.
I’m no stranger to self-doubt, and I also look at my writing with new scrutiny after I take a break. What advice do you have for the self-doubting?
Ah, self-doubt – or, as I think of it, being whiny and emo. ”Woe is me; my work’s made of suck…” I have to laugh at myself. If you take yourself too seriously…well, being able to parody yourself puts things into perspective. A few months ago I had a look at a trunk novel, and while I acknowledge that I had some decent ideas, I just wasn’t executing them well enough. Not that my writing/plotting/characterisation is so superfantastic now, but it’s a lot better. I can see improvement. I’m learning. Only maybe applying that learning, we’ll see.
From reading published authors’ blogs, Twitters and whatnot, they suffer from doubt weasels too. But they rewrite, because that’s what authors do…and so should other writers. And if you keep writing but you know you’re still not hitting the mark…well, unless it has a deadline, sounds like the two of you need time about. Have an affair with a different story instead. If you and your troublesome story are meant to be, you’ll find each other again… Okay, I am so not a romance writer, so please insert your own cliche/trope.
Where do you hope to be in a year?
With at least one finished draft of this futuristic. Hopefully, that’s achievable.
And here’s a teaser from Tez’s Unfrozen:
Officially it’s called the Cargo Transporter, but is otherwise known as the Coffin Truck. Off the record, of course, since people smuggling is kind of illegal…
Whether they are dead or undead.
But transporting alive, conscious and fully consenting humans on the way to their choice of destination? It’s moral, though the New Government won’t bypass that law. Once you’re a registered citizen of the Southeast Sector, there’s no leaving – unless you’re court-ordered to the Twin Islands Convict Settlement. If the Government decides not to order your death, that is.
You’ve got to take note of these variables.
I press the button on my headset to initiate communication. “This is your driver speaking,” I begin, deliberately omitting my name. “One by one, please announce your presence and physiological conditions.”
All eight Coffin Critters (officially: “cargo”) take turns announcing their numbers. Except for a little stiffness in the joints, and some mild claustrophobia, inside my truck the people encased in cryogenic tanks – not connected to any power supply – are doing fine.
Business as usual.
“Estimated time of arrival in five minutes,” I announce to my passengers. “Keep holding on, Number Six.”
I sign off just as I hit the outskirts of the State International Airport. The land was not entirely decimated when the bombs hit back in 2102. But still there are phenomenal numbers of parking spaces. Never mind that the airport doesn’t have much commercial business anymore.
Driving is so much more straightforward when there’s no traffic, no vehicles sentinel in their waiting areas.
I haven’t been to the airport in a while, so I have to fudge around until I find the designated spot for Export, where Phillip Island is awaiting my delivery. Formerly a Customs Officer of the government, he is now airport staff and can make up his own damn rules, which is damn handy for someone like me who’s trying to run a black market business here.
And that he happens to have a fetish for youngish redheads certainly helps.
