Face your fears - by Lu Hersey

 When I watch other writers speaking confidently in front of audiences, I feel a mix of total admiration and massive envy. How do they do it? What magical skill helps them not stutter and freeze in front of the crowd and how come they NEVER balls up their presentations? Why is it my powerpoints can randomly jump to some picture of my cat watching TV, or make the school internet crash completely?

Yes, I've done a few events where everything's worked properly, and I've even remembered to breathe. But the truth is I suffer from glossophobia - a fear of public speaking. It's paralysing. The moment everyone's attention is turned on me, I feel sick, my mouth goes dry, and my mind is a completely blank space. Not zen empty, just blank. 

I'm also more than capable of sabotaging myself. I realised this many, many years ago, at a writing diploma award ceremony. Everyone had to read out a piece of their work in front of the collected students, friends and families. I was going to read the spooky start of a ghost story I'd written, which I'd practised reading aloud in front of a mirror, over and over again. But as I started reading aloud on the stage, I realised the printout I was holding was a totally different piece from the one I'd practised. HOW DID IT EVEN GET THERE? 

Turning a whiter shade of pale, I fumbled with the paper like Boris when he ended up talking about Pepper Pig. I had no choice but to keep going with what I had in front of me - a piece from the autobiography module about trying to hide a plantation of cannabis plants from my parents, and stopping a very unpredictable housemate from dropping acid in their tea while they were visiting. Totally unsuitable for the occasion.  I'd meant to make my audience's spines tingle, but instead everyone laughed. (Fortunately it was meant to be funny.) It took me DAYS to recover. Even now, I cringe when I think about it.

The problem is, as a writer, you HAVE to be able to talk to audiences. It's how you promote your work. We're expected to entertain people in real life, not just in books. 

The basic advice given to us glossophobia sufferers is embrace the fear and do it anyway - but that, as I know all too well, is easier said than done. Very gradually, with a lot of practice, I've got slightly more used to it. These days I manage to talk to a hall full of people without needing a week lying down in a darkened room afterwards to recover - but it's taken me a good while to get here.  

If you're a fellow glossophobia sufferer, here are some ideas that might (or might not) help you get through:

1. A popular method is to imagine everyone in your audience is stark bollock naked. To be honest, this doesn't really work for me. The audience are still staring at me, waiting for me to say something, and none of them seem to care that they aren't wearing any clothes. However it might work for you, so give it a go.

2. Lucky charms. I go for overkill with this. A recent spring clean of my laptop bag produced three hagstones, a bag of runes, a Cornish Piskie, a hand of Fatima, a corn dolly and a horseshoe. If it helps, go for it. Wear your lucky pants, your grandma's moth-eaten scarf - anything that makes you feel better. It won't make the school wifi work, but it might help you breathe.

3. Think of that old adage, What's The Worst That Can Happen? This is quite a good one to remember - try it. Go through every worst case scenario you can think of in your head, and probably what actually happens won't be quite as bad, so long as you're still alive at the end. If you're dead, it really wasn't helpful, but at least you won't care.

4. Try asking the audience questions. Get them to talk for a bit while you breathe. The problem is you have to listen to them while you're breathing, otherwise you have absolutely no idea what they just said and you'll lose your thread. But the principle is sound - people often like taking part, so long as you don't pick on them, and it helps engage the audience. (At the very least, it helps the time to pass more quickly.)

5. Planning. This really does help. A lot of planning. And have far more material available than you think you're going to need.  I take props everywhere too, because of my almost magical ability to manifest a total, inexplicable technology fail. If I have a bag full of objects relevant to the book, at least I can wave those at the audience instead. And print-outs of images. They're good too. (It also takes a while to hand them around, which takes another few seconds off your time slot.)

6. Smile a lot. If you look friendly, the audience might be more kindly disposed towards you. (Probably advisable to try this out in front of a mirror first. You don't want to grin like a psycho, especially not on a school visit.)

You might never get totally used to public speaking, but it does get easier over time. It's a bit like arachnophobia (I have that too). If you have to deal with a lot of spiders, eventually escorting them outside (with the help of a large glass and some stiff card, obvs) gets easier. You can even learn a bit of respect for them and lose a little of the fear. 

Finally, here's a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt to help you onto that stage:

"You gain strength , courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, I have lived through this horror, I can take the next thing that comes along. You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

You never know. You might even get good at it.

Lu Hersey

Twitter: LuWrites

Why I don't want to self-publish again

(Kate Wilson of the wonderful Nosy Crow asked me to write a guest post for her on my experiences of self-publishing as a published author. For your info, she didn't know what those experiences were, so there was no direction or expectation. I have re-posted it here, with permission. Note that this is personal experience, not advice.)

Many writers, previously published or not, talk excitedly about why they enjoy self-publishing. Let me tell you why I don’t.

I’ve self-published (only as ebooks) three of my previously published YA novels and three adult non-fiction titles which hadn’t been published before. From these books I make a welcome income of around £250 a month – a figure that is remarkably constant. So, why have I not enjoyed it and why won’t I do it again?

It’s damned hard to sell fiction! (Over 90% of that £250 is from the non-fiction titles.) Publishers know this. They also know that high sales are not always about “quality”, which is precisely why very good novels can be rejected over and over. Non-fiction is easier because it’s easy to find your readers and for them to find your book. Take my book about writing a synopsis, for example; anyone looking for a book on writing a synopsis will Google “books on writing a synopsis” and, hey presto, Write a Great Synopsis appears. But if someone wants a novel, the chances of finding mine out of the available eleventy million are slim. This despite the fact that they had fab reviews and a few awards from their former lives.

But some novels do sell well. So why don’t mine? Because I do absolutely nothing to sell them. Why not? Well, this is the point. Several points.

First, time. I am too busy with other writing and public-speaking but, even if I weren’t, the necessary marketing takes far too long (for me) and goes on for too long after publication: the very time when I want to be writing another one. This is precisely why publishers tend only to work on publicity for a short while after publication: they have other books to work on. We may moan but it has to be like that – unless a book does phenomenally well at first, you have to keep working at selling it.

Second, I dislike the stuff I’d have to do to sell more books. Now, this is where you start leaping up and down saying, “But published authors have to do that, too!” Yes, and I do, but it’s different. When a publisher has invested money because they believe in your book, you obviously want to help them sell it. But when the only person who has actually committed any money is you, the selling part feels different. It’s a case of “I love my book so much that I published it – now you need to believe in me enough to buy it.” I can’t do it. Maybe I don’t believe in myself enough. Fine. I think books need more than the author believing in them. The author might be right and the book be fabulous, but I tend to be distrustful of strangers telling me they are wonderful so why should I expect others to believe me if I say I am? And I don’t want to spend time on forums just to sell more books.

Third, I love being part of a team. Yes, I’ve had my share of frustrating experiences in the course of 100 or so published books, but I enjoy the teamwork – even though I’m an introvert who loves working alone in a shed; I love the fact that other people put money and time and passion into selling my book. It gives me confidence and support. They won’t make money if they don’t sell my book and I still like and trust that model.

And I especially love that once I’ve written it and done my bit for the publicity machine and done the best I can for my book, I can let it go and write another.

See, I’m a writer, not a publisher. I may love control – the usual reason given for self-publishing – but I mostly want control over my words, not the rest. (That control, by the way, is never lost to a good editor, and I’ve been lucky with genius editors.) So, yes, I am pleased with the money I’ve earned from self-publishing and I love what I’ve learnt about the whole process, but now I’m going back to where I am happy to do battle for real control: my keyboard.

It’s all I want to do.

Nicola Morgan has written about 100 books, with half a dozen "traditional" publishers of various sizes from tiny to huge. She is a former chair of the Society of Authors in Scotland and advises hard-working writers on becoming and staying published, and on the marketing/publicity/events/behaviour that goes along with that.

She has also just created BRAIN STICKS™, an original and huuuuuuge set of teaching resources about the brain and mental health.

On The Road - The Victory Dogs Book Tour... Megan Rix

Before the Tour:

My days are usually spent walking my dogs and then writing while my dogs sleep on the bed, or the office floor, before reminding me they need to be played with or fed. So when Puffin asked if I'd like to do a book tour, for my book The Victory Dogs, something I'd never done before, I was surprised and delighted, and immediately said yes without really understanding what it would entail.

Once I knew I'd be talking at 11 schools in 5 days I started to worry - mostly about my voice holding up and what if I got sick, authors who do lots of school visits always seem to be catching colds. What if I was in a large hall and the children at the back couldn't hear me? What if my carefully prepared powerpoint presentation didn't play on the schools' computers?

Hannah from Puffin was on hand to reassure me - they'd ask for a microphone and we'd send my powerpoint to the schools beforehand so they'd have it all set up when we arrived. But I'd also bring my own laptop with it on, just in case.

I wondered if a costume would be a good idea? She thought it would. Shopping for the tour was lots of fun as I bought WW2 overalls, two different WW2 helmets; a warden's one and a rusty Zuckerman, ARP whistle, authentic looking evacuees suitcase and items children would have had in them. CDs of Glenn Miller and air-raid siren sound effects.

I knew I was more prepared than I'd ever been for school visits before but I still worried that the children might be bored or the staff not friendly.

On the Friday Hannah emailed to say one of the schools on the first day had phoned to ask if I'd bring Traffy with me, following on from a piece in the local press about her being a reading therapy dog. She'd told them she wasn't sure if I'd think it was a good idea. I say I think it's a great idea. I'd love having Traffy with me and it would make my day to have her there.

Monday

Traffy and Bella, are confused about why they're not going for their usual early morning walk. I feel guilty for leaving them but at least my husband's working from home this week so he'll be with them.

When I arrive at the first school, 5 or so miles away, the staff are all smiles as they look behind me and ask where Traffy is? The Headmaster loves dogs and they've brought lots of treats for her.

'We put that we wanted her to come too on the form we filled in.'

I knew the second school had asked but didn't know about this one wanting her as well. I don't want to disappoint them and I'd love to have Traffy with me, so I phone my husband and Traffy is brought to the school, where she is greeted like a film star. She likes the treats they've brought for her very much but I'm a bit worried that it could be overwhelming for her. My first talk goes well - although not exactly as planned.

Once I've finished signing books I nip back home with Traffy and take her and Bella for a long walk by the river before heading off to the second school of the day. This time Traffy knows what's going on and is much calmer. I keep her with me while I'm giving my talk and she falls asleep on the floor in front of me and wakes up at the end so all the children can pet her.

Everyone comments on how well-behaved she is and I have to agree. I am very proud of her. She's such a good girl.

My husband picks Traffy up and we swap cars so I can drive to Bury St Edmunds, roof down as it's such a gorgeous day, with Hannah from Puffin.

A member of the night's hotel staff takes our bags to our rooms and parks the car for us.

Tuesday

3 schools to visit in Suffolk today. My World war 2 overalls are lasting well although my WW2 warden's hat now has a chip in the paintwork - which gives it a more authentic look.

The children are full of enthusiasm and ask lots of good questions - including one about whether I have a book showing the War from different sides. I tell them my next book 'The Bomber Dog' is attempting to do just that.

I'm starting to get in the swing of the talks and really enjoying them.

Wednesday

Off to St Albans on the train today to visit 2 super schools and chat to 2 lots of press. There's also an email from the local radio station to ask if I'll come in and have a chat soon.

Thursday

The weather has turned incredible. More like the middle of summer than May. I can't wear my hot boots a moment longer and opt for flip-flops instead.

I love all the oohs and aahs at the slides of my own dogs as puppies - before I go on to talk about the two puppies in The Victory Dogs.

Taxi to my next school, near Market Harborough, only to find they're in the middle of an OFSTED inspection. They still want the talk to go on and other schools have been invited and are arriving - so on I go - explaining to the children that the overalls I'm wearing were very practical in WW2 but no one should ever wear flip-flops to do search and rescue work if they can help it. I've already explained how modern day search and rescue dogs wear protective boots so they don't injure their paws.


Friday

Glenn  Miller music plays as the children arrive and I make my entrance in warden's hat and overalls to the real life air-raid siren that we've kindly been lent for the day.

Signing books afterwards I'm surprised when a girl comes up with some of my books written as Ruth Symes.

'Your witchling books are almost never in the library because they're always on loan,' the school librarian smiles. 'They couldn't believe it when I told them you wrote those books too.'

I happily sign away ending each signature with a paw print stamp. And before I know it the last book has been stamped and the last school has been visited and we're saying goodbye.

After the Tour

I'm feeling a bit sad that my Victory Dogs tour is over. I'm going to miss visiting all the schools. I haven't lost my voice or caught a cold, Hannah, Anthea and Julia from Puffin, who came with me on different days were brilliant, everyone we met in fact has been kind and lovely and the technical side of the presentation and Hannah's travel arrangements went without a hitch.

Hope I have another book tour one day but for now I've got two dogs who've been promised some very long walks once I come home, and are giving me meaningful looks to remind me.

The Victory Dogs: 'A moving tale told with warmth, kindliness and lashings of good sense that lovers of Dick King-Smith will especially appreciate.' The Times