Category: On writing

Although my work title is still officially, ‘Technical Writer’, that’s only because no-one has yet come back to me and said, “Hey, when was the last time you did any technical writing?”

“Um, about five years ago.”

Nowadays I’m more of a cross between a developer—back to my roots—and a user interface person. I work in a graphic design team. I’m not necessarily the person you’d choose to design your website, but I’m a good person to build a site someone else has designed, and in my team we have three good designers so I get to dabble in the fun, back-end technical stuff which I enjoy.

Last night, though, I was thinking about query letters, and about my time as the team leader of a technical writing team.

One of my jobs in that role was to go through the resumes and select people we’d interview for any technical writing jobs.

[Note: Yes, I have deliberately left the acute accents off the e’s on résumé (é). It is, technically, a typo, but getting them to display properly on everyone’s browser is a pain, so I have left it as resume.]

Most of the applicants came through agencies.

I don’t know if you’ve had anything to do with job applications from agencies, but the first thing the agency normally does is rewrite the applicant’s resume to fit their own standards, which is the last thing you want when you’re trying to assess a technical writer’s suitability for a position. So much so that I always asked to see the applicant’s original resume as well as the agency version.

Why?

Because the resume tells you a lot about the person writing it. Does it look clean and tidy? Is it spaced out well or crammed together on the first half of one page? Is the spelling and grammar correct? You’d be surprised how many spelling and grammar issues were introduced when the agency rewrites someone’s resume. (Or maybe you wouldn’t.)

More importantly, did the applicant use styles in Word or did they manually style every heading? Have they used styles consistently? These things may sound trivial, but if the writer does it wrong, it doubles the rework and makes documentation much harder to manage.

Is it easy to read?

Can they actually write?

It’s a lot like querying really. If you don’t write your own query letter to a prospective agent/publisher, how are they to assess what your writing is really like?

Yes, most of us write terrible query letters. But it’s still your own writing, and it says a lot about you.

On Wednesday night we went to a Dymocks Camberwell dinner talk featuring John Connolly.

Connolly is here in Australia for the Sydney Writers’ Festival and to promote his latest book, The Wolf in Winter.  This is the second time I have heard him speak. He’s an entertaining speaker, and very generous with his time in talking to fans. It was an enjoyable night.

If you get a chance to hear him, I recommend you take it.

 

The CFO from our agent’s company emailed the other day. Did either of us have ITINs?

“No, but we’ll find out how to get one,” we said, and went looking on the internet.

What is an ITIN?

An ITIN is an individual taxpayer identification number (ITIN). It’s used for people who pay tax in the US but are not eligible for a social security number. In Australian terminology, it’s a US tax file number for people who aren’t from the US.

We qualify as non-resident aliens, which is always nice if you write science fiction, don’t you think.

Why do we need one?

If you don’t have an ITIN the person paying your money (in this case the publisher) withholds 30% of the money and sends it to the US tax office, the Internal Revenue Service (IRS).

Australia does the same thing for non-Australian residents.

We could just write the 30% off as lost money. However, the tax treaty between US and Australia is very good. The tax rate for things like royalties is 5%. That’s means if we don’t get an ITIN we lose 25% of our income in unnecessary taxes. Add in agent fees and suddenly we’ve lost almost half our income.

Did we want an ITIN? Definitely.

What we need to apply for the ITIN

We determined fairly quickly that we need to fill out a W-7 form and send it away. For this we needed:

• A certified copy of our passport
• The tax treaty paragraph number
• An exception letter.

There’s a lot of information on the web about obtaining ITINs, but not a lot specifically about Australia.

The process for obtaining them had changed (just a little) over time, so there was conflicting information about what documentation was required, particularly with regard to what constituted identification. Some sites said you had to send the original passport, some said you could send a certified copy. Most sites said the certification had to come from the US embassy or a registered certification company. We weren’t sure which options were valid currently.

Also, on the internet a lot of the information applicable to writers had been written self-published authors, many of whom had opted for an EIN instead of an ITIN, because they were easier to get. This wasn’t applicable to us.

So we went hunting further. We called our own Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) first, then we called the US Internal Revenue Service (IRS).

We went through this process in May 2014.

Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT)

We called DFAT first. They told us to ring the Passport Office – 13 1232 and choose option 0.

The Passport Office confirmed that they could do an apostille certificate for us, and gave us the address (including which floor) to go to, opening hours, etc.

Internal Revenue Service (IRS)

The number we called: +1 267 941 1000

Calling IRS is a lot like calling the ATO. You hold on the line for ages (27 minutes, in this case) until someone answers. You explain what you want. “I’ll just put you through to the appropriate department,” and you hold on the line for another 20 minutes.

A cultural aside here. Everyone at the IRS introduced themselves formally. “This is Mrs Brown”, “This is Ms Green”. I remember, when we first contacted our agent, we started out with ‘Dear Ms Blasdell’ because the advice on the internet recommended the formality. It wasn’t until a few emails in that we started using her first name. It actually felt strange, because here in Australia it would have been ‘Dear Caitlin’ right from the query, and the tax person would have introduced themselves as, “You’re talking to Yvette,” or similar.

Also, a tip. After they introduce themselves the consultant will give their ID. Be ready and write it down. We didn’t. We just wrote down the name. We got excellent service from the IRS person who answered our questions, so we went online and filled in a feedback form to say so. However, our consultant’s name is a common one so it’s hard to believe the feedback will get back to the right person.

The questions we asked

Do we need an ITIN

We were pretty sure we did, but it always pays to ask. The answer:

Yes.

For all the reasons given above.

Who can certify a passport?

We already knew we wanted to use our passports for proof-of-identity. Otherwise you need multiple documents.

We also knew that we needed a specific type of certification of the passport called an apostille. Our big question was, who would IRS would accept the apostille from? Some sites said only the IRS or a US embassy, some sites said IRS/US Embassy/approved people.

We knew that our own Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade (DFAT) could provide such a service. We just didn’t know if the IRS would accept it from DFAT.

The IRS consultant said certification could come from any one of:

The agency who issues the passport
IRS
US embassy
Certification acceptance agency

DFAT is the agency that issues Australian passports. So DFAT certification it was.

What proof do we have to provide and who can it be from?

Aside from the passport to prove who we were, we knew we also had to provide evidence that we were going to be paid US money. We didn’t know whether it had to be a letter from the publisher, or whether one from our agent would suffice. Or even if we could just wait until we got the contract and send them a copy of the contract.

The consultant said:

The letter must be from the person paying the money, not the person distributing it. That is, the publisher, not the agent. Furthermore, it has to contain specific information.

It must be on the company letterhead.

It must show your name. (Our name, in this case. One for Sherylyn, one for me.)

It must be signed.

Even better, she referred us to a document on the IRS website. Document number 1915—which for some reason we hadn’t seen in any of our ITIN searches, I don’t know why. She said:

There is a sample letter on page 35, showing what needs to be included.

Document 1915 is Understanding Your IRS Individual Taxpayer Identification Number ITIN.  It covers pretty much everything you need to know to fill out the form.

Once we have our ITIN, do we need to lodge tax returns?

The answer to that was:

It depends on how much tax has been withheld.

She looked up the tax treaty and told us that the tax rate for royalties between Australia and the US is 5%. Thus

If you have been taxed more than 5% then yes, to get back the difference.

If we did have to lodge a tax return, what form should we use?

1040NR.

Do we still need to complete a W8-BEN?

Yes.

You must fill out the W8-BEN and send it to the payer of the income. Your ITIN should be included on that form.

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The consultant was extremely helpful, and very patient. We Skyped the call, and the lag on the line was terrible. If you’ve ever watched the Eurovision song contest, the delay was about the same as the delay you see when they’re giving the scores. All up, the call took over an hour.

The one question we didn’t ask but wished we had was, “What is the treaty number?*” We know we can get this number from the web, but since the consultant looked it up to get the tax rate anyway, it would have been nice to have it confirmed.

Next steps

So far everyone has been extremely helpful.

Next steps are to:

• Get a certified copy of our passports
• Contact our agent to see about a letter from the publisher
• Get the right treaty number*
• Fill in the W-7 form (remembering to do dates in mm/dd/yyyy format)
• Send the whole thing away
• Wait at least eight weeks.

We’ll keep you posted on the process.

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Update July 2014. We got our ITINs. It was relatively painless. Read all about it here.

* The question we should have been asking is what is our tax treaty paragraph number. Big difference. It’s all explained in part 2.

I’ve been living in my own science fictional world the last few days, where my sense of well-being is directly proportional to the level of cold-and-flu drugs in my system. The recommended daily dosage wears off much faster than they say on the packet, so there are times in between feeling okay and feeling wretched where you’re just waiting for the next lot of pills to kick in.

You can feel when they do.

Last night I took a batch of pills at midnight, but they didn’t kick in until 1:20 am (exactly). Between those two times I sat up in bed. My nose was a tap, continually running. I couldn’t lie down because otherwise the gunk ran down the back of my throat into my lungs. My throat was so swollen it was hard to breathe. It hurt to cough, but I coughed all the time. Plus, I was freezing cold even though I had a doona and two blankets.

My mind wandered.

I started off thinking about the drugs and what they were doing to my system. It wasn’t that long ago that people didn’t have access to the drugs I did (and sometimes they had access to stronger drugs). How has that made us as a people? A lot wimpier about illnesses, I think.

How many lives have medications like this saved? Just drying up the mucus alone will save on lung-related complications like pneumonia.

From there I moved on to thinking about science fiction. So many of the things written about in the golden age of science fiction are now fact. Drugs for common ailments. Cars that drive themselves (well, there’s one, so far).  Going to the moon/Mars. Genetic engineering. Mobile phones.

One of the reasons it was the golden age is because back then the ideas were so new and fresh.

Fresh ideas seem harder to come by nowadays. Not because they don’t exist. They do. But in the golden age there were no precedents. We didn’t have a strong history of science fiction to draw on. Every idea was new. Every idea stretched us in a new way, and made us think.

That’s why it’s great to see stories like Ann Leckie’s Ancillary Justice winning so many industry awards. Her story does what good science fiction should do. It entertains, it makes you think, and it pushes science fiction just a little further out.

I hope she goes on to win more awards this year.

We are prepared. Ready and raring to go. (Actually, we’ve already started, but that’s a technicality.)

We have cleaned up our desks.

We have planned.

That’s right. We have a plan.

The first couple of months are stretch targets, but after that we should be comfortable.

So much so that we sneaked (or is that snuck?) an extra orange line into our plan, just above the November 2015 date.  We will be very happy if we fit that one in.

I read Katherine Addison’s The Goblin Emperor this week. If you haven’t read it I don’t want to spoil your enjoyment, so although there are no spoilers, the rest of this post is after the break.*

I’m a sucker for a good writing conference, especially a genre one. I like to meet other writers who are interested in writing, and I love it when they write the same types of stories as I do. Plus there’s something about attending sessions run by people in the business that sends me home more enthused about my own writing.

When I heard about the Conflux Writers’ Day I wanted go, but I couldn’t leave Melbourne until late Friday night, and had to be back early Sunday morning. Do you know how many planes don’t fly in or out of Canberra Friday and Saturday nights?

It’s on this weekend. You can find more details at the Conflux site. If you’re going, have a great time. And if it’s on again next year, you’ll probably see me there.

Last night the protagonist in our latest book had a momentary regret just before she lapsed into unconsciousness. She could have done so much …

“You always give your characters momentary regrets,” Sherylyn said. “It’s a pet phrase of yours. Tegan, in Potion¸ has a momentary regret because she doesn’t get to work with Alun. Acquard has a momentary regret about Gardiner. Even Ean has a momentary regret in Linesman.” (Or had, I’m not sure if she made me take that one out.)

“Apart from the fact that you’re telling, not showing, it’s a pet phrase. Get rid of it.”

If I don’t get rid of it, she will, and we’ll work together to convey the same meaning—without the momentary regret—or get rid of it altogether if we don’t need it. I suspect it will go altogether. The story doesn’t need it.

That’s the value of a co-writer.

Even a good alpha or beta reader can point out pet idiosyncrasies.

I have other pet writing habits. I’ve blogged before about names. If I’m naming the characters you can usually pick who’s the good guy and who’s the bad just by their name.

So far, incidentally, we have two Fergus’s and one Feargal (and I think they’re unique every time) and I’ve lost count of how many Caterina’s.

I’m not the only one who does that, by the way. One of my favourite authors loves the names Connor and Jake. If they’re in a book I know they’re the good guy or the love interest. Never the bad guy.

I’m thinking of trying to convince Sherylyn we should do a Hitchcock. His trademark was to put himself into every movie. Why can’t we have a trademark? Each of our characters will have a momentary regret.

Somehow I can’t see her buying it.

The question was posed in a local writers’ magazine.

A friend has just published her first book and has invited me to the book launch. I don’t read in her genre. Do I have to buy the book?

The answer, from an author who had published a number of books, and is respected in the industry, was:

Of course you should buy the book. You’re there to support your friend.

I understand this is what is expected, but I disagree. Totally.

Given the above answer, I expect that friend will make an excuse and not go to the book launch at all.

What makes a successful book launch?

Buzz. What makes a buzz? People.

If I was the questioner’s author friend, I’d just be happy my friend came along to support me. A common writer’s nightmare is the book launch or book signing or book talk where no-one turns up. (Signing in the Waldenbooks, anyone?) The best support your friends can give you is to come.

Not to buy your books.

A lot of my friends don’t read science fiction or fantasy. I don’t expect them to buy our books. If I was doing a book launch I’d be just as happy if they came along. If I’m launching or signing in a bookstore and they felt obligated to buy a book they should buy one they want to read. I’m happy, I get the crowds. The bookstore’s happy, they get a sale. The two combined means it’s more likely they’ll invite me back.

There are some friends whose books I’ll buy when they get published because I want to support them. But I don’t think one should ever go to a book launch feeling obligated to buy the author’s book.

That’s like asking your friends to pay to come.

Why, oh why does that snappy one-liner we worked so hard to come up with always sound so lame when someone asks, “So, what’s your book about?”

You’ve spent countless hours trying to come up with something that works, and all that comes out of your mouth is an almost inarticulate, “Well, it’s a space opera about a guy who repairs spaceships and gets caught up in the discovery of an alien spaceship that two warring factions in the galaxy both believe can help them to win a war.”

Which is technically correct and absolutely nothing like the book at all.

You can see the poor listener’s eyes glaze over. “Oh,” they’ll say, and the conversation stops dead.

That’s the most common reaction, but we’ve had others. A close second is, “So what’s a space opera?”

I’ve got the answer to that one down pat. “Think Star Wars. Space, spaceships, fighting, politics, a little bit of humour.”

The poor listener’s eyes glaze over. “Oh,” they say, and the conversation stops dead.

It’s amazing the amount of in-words we use, that we don’t even realise we’re using. I take ‘space-opera’ for granted. It always pulls me up short when I realise most people don’t have the foggiest idea what I mean.

Then there’s the standard double-take. “You don’t look like you write science fiction.”

What does a science fiction writer look like?

One of my favourites though, was from an editor who works for one of our local science fiction/fantasy imprints for one of the big five publishers who Sherylyn was talking to one day. “It’s a space opera. Think Lois McMaster Bujold.” We lifted the Bujold reference straight from our agent. We’d never have come up with it ourselves, even though we can see why she mentions it.

“Who?” asked the editor, and the conversation stopped dead.

It’s amazing what you take for granted.