My hunt for a web writer continues. I’ve been knocking on doors, sending out emails, calling friends, pitching hard. I’ve gotten one writer lined up, but I’m looking for one more.

Here’s the idea:

I want to publish a Wovel, or web novel. The concept is to allow readers to participate in the formation of the plot arc, while leaving the writing, characterization, setting, description, and problem solving up to the author.  

Here’s how the Wovel works: The author posts an installment every week, say every Monday. Every post ends with a plot branch point. For example: the heroine, chased by zombies, reaches her car. The car a) starts, b) does not start. The readers get to decide. Every installment is between 1,000 and 3,000 words: long enough to get somewhere, but short enough to read Monday morning in your cubicle at work.

The post would go up on Monday, voting would be open until Wednesday, the writer would work on a draft until Friday, I would edit it, turn it around for final correx on Saturday, to repost it Sunday night.

Sound like a magazine or newspaper schedule?

It is. And that’s one of it’s strong points.

We wouldn’t be asking the readers to read fifteen or twenty pages of text. We’d be asking them to read short, and then vote. It could work out magically.

To my knowledge, this structure for writing on the web has never been tried before. There have been other variations, and each has had its own failings. Remember Steven King's much-publicized e-book The Plant? He kept it up for six chapters, before bowing out, saying that too many readers had jumped ship. The Wovel form, by contrast, gives the readers a stake in the book, providing them a reason to come back for more.

I’m incredibly excited by this idea. As with everything on the web, though, it takes a certain slantwise look to understand how it would work, and what the practical benefit would be.

For the author, the benefit would be a pure and simple readership build. The principle is that the more people read, the more people want to buy it. Interest equals monetization. It’s the same principle behind publishing for pittance in quarterlies.  

The author would come out of the Wovel term with a workable manuscript for possible reprint in the traditional book form. Some authors and agents say that publishers won’t want a manuscript that’s been online already. It seems to me, however, that the growing trend of print publishing blogs has well paved the way for a second print life for a Wovel. In fact, I would think that the print life would equal the online life, the two would build off each other. Heard of how well the Radiohead album In Rainbows is doing, despite being offered free online? What about the book Julie and Julia? It sold more than 150,000 in trade and cloth, and it was based off a blog.

For the publisher (Underland), the benefits would be to drive traffic to my site, to increase interest in my books, and to build my stable of authors. It’s a no-brainer for me, if the author and I can make it good, and if the readers keep coming back for more.

There’s a certain amount of experimentation that goes with this online territory. I don’t yet know what will happen with the Wovel, and there’s a possibility it will fall flat on its head. What do you think? Good idea? Bad idea? Scary idea? Interested in hearing more? I’m still working on my web site. I have a holding page up there now with an email capture. Sign up, and I’ll send you news as it comes. Underland Press is online at www.underlandpress.com. Or email me directly. I’m at victoria@underlandpress.com.

Next week is my last week as a guest blogger for ForeWord. I’m planning on announcing my first-year title list, plus announcing who my Wovel writer will be…

Posted by: Victoria Blake

A few months ago, I invited a group of my smartest web developer friends to sit at my big table, bought a case of Terminal Gravity, a pack of Oreos, and said “Go.”

They went.

Among the ideas for the web page: an RSS calendar that ticked through the worst things that happened on the day in question; an “eye” that hacked into the computer’s on-screen camera, re-routed the feed, and reflected the user back to himself; a room that the user could wander inside, picking up knives, opening doors, finding links, etc.

Impressive? Yes.
Overkill? Possibly.
Exciting? Absolutely.

My intent with Underland has always been to try to use the web not only to market and sell the books that Underland publishes, but to push the boundary of what is currently being done with text on the web. It occurred to me early on that print publishing is where music was in 1996: pre-Napster, ready for something big.

I don’t think that big thing is going to be the new digital readers. I’m in the camp that thinks paper and ink are pretty close to the best technology we need for books. But text has gone digital, and we haven’t yet figured out what to do with it. The issue might not be a readability issue. Finding and keeping online readers might require a new way, or at least a new style of writing.

Consider: A journalist writes an A1 story differently than a newspaper feature, differently than a long-form magazine feature, differently than a front-of-book news item. Each of those forms has its own requirements and limitations and opportunities. Indeed, professional journalists are extremely good at writing for all the various content platforms: newspapers, magazines, radio, TV. They have courses for this in their degree programs. They specialize.

Fiction writers? Fiction writers are lagging a bit behind. The majority of fictional prose I read online is originally written for print. Or it might have a second life in print. Or it wanted to be print, before it was put up on the web.

When I hear industry people talking about web publishing, I hear them talking about intellectual property rights and technology issues. I have never heard anybody talk about writing style and form issues. I recently had a writer send me a sample as a "audition" for an Underland Press web novel. The sentences were long and complicated, the paragraphs were long and complicated, and I couldn't find a story outside of the synopsis.

I don’t know if I’m right about this, but it seems that in order for prose to be successful online the sentences would have to be shorter, the story more obvious (ie less subtle), and the paragraphs would have to move more quickly. Chapters would have to be shorter, too. Maybe even short enough to read in the cubical at work, with the back turned to the hallway and the finger on the minimize button…

You know. Like blogs.

I’m going to keep thinking about this problem. I’m going to talk to the writers I know. I’m going to talk to the lawyers. I’m going to talk to my web guys. I might not be the one to crack the problem, but I’m in the generation of publishers who will.  

As before, and as always, I welcome your comments. Unlike print journalism, the blog gives us a way to talk back. I love that, though it might force me to develop a thicker skin.

Posted by: Victoria Blake

Say “genre fiction” and you bring to mind books about aliens, about vampires, about mutilation, about kidnapping, about incest, and about straight up good old fashioned murder. You bring up images of mass market trim sizes and covers with foil and embossing and a dark road with maybe the shadow of a tree and noose in the background. You also bring up the idea of books that are more plot driven than character driven, books where the language and syntax sometimes seems ignored, books that rely on cheap thrills more than craft for effect. Say “genre,” and the nice lady talking to you at the dinner party will turn away.

With this in mind, I’m going to describe a book, and I’d like you to tell me if it fits in “genre.” Here goes:

After a catastrophic nuclear event, America has become a vast, deadly field of starvation, crime, and man-against-man contests for survival. Through this wasteland, a man and his young son walk along the left over roads of America, confronting their basic fears and searching through the rubble of civilization for hope.

Know the book? It’s one of the best genre books to be published in the last twenty, if not fifty years. It has murder, suspense. It has mutilation and cannibalism. It sold incredibly well—about a million copies so far according to Bookscan. It’s a page turner: Everybody I know read it in forty-eight hours, and passed it on to everybody they knew. Its author won a well-deserved Pulitzer, as well as a spot on Oprah’s list.

Know the book? It’s The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, and I swear it’s as genre as they come.

Here’s my argument. It’s the argument at the center of what I do and what I’m interested in, and it’s the creative push behind Underland Press. Here’s the argument: A genre is a body of work defined by similar characteristics. A category is a marketing niche. The two things should not be confused.  

When I say genre fiction, I mean fiction that takes on weird and scary subjects. I mean books about aliens, apocalypse, vampires, mutilation, kidnapping, incest, and murder. Weird is my genre. Horror, fantasy, dark fantasy, those are my categories, my BISAC codes, my cover designs. When I say genre, I do not mean fiction that ignores craft in favor of the cheap, easy thrill. The word “genre” does not imply a license to ignore character entirely, nor does it allow a writer to write badly. When I say genre, I mean books that entertain me. Books that I can pass with confidence to my friends and family members. Books that keep me coming back. And yes, sometimes books that make the nice lady at the dinner party turn away.
    
Argue with me. This is slippery terrain, and it’s something I think about a lot. How do you define it? What do you mean?

Posted by: Victoria Blake