Keep going you fool!

Follower Love Giveaway Hop: Win An Amazon Gift Card and More!

2012-02-06T17:43:00.000-06:00

OK, I have no idea what I'm doing but I hope I get this right. Yes, Dear Reader, for the first time Keep Going You Fool! is participating in a blog hop giveaway, which means you have 300 chances to win something. Many thanks to Kathy of I Am a Reader Not a Writer and Rachael Renee Anderson for organizing this contest.

300 blogs are doing a giveaway post, starting at midnight EST tonight, February 6, 2012, (so if it's Monday you're too early - come back tomorrow) and ending February 15 at 12.01 a.m. (to simplify matters, I'm going to give myself a week off so the next post won't be till Wednesday 2/15). When you've entered your comment to win on my blog, just go to the next one in the list below and see what they're offering.

Why am I doing this? Because I love, love, LOVE my readers. If you're already a blogger you'll know what I mean; if you're not, I can barely describe the warm glow when someone visits my pages or leaves a comment or does the Blogger publicly-following thing on the right. It's like someone coming up to you and saying "here, have a free piece of really expensive Belgian chocolate." Except better.

What am I giving away? A $30 Amazon gift card, perfectly generic and still in its original envelope so that it can be used or re-gifted.

So here are the instructions:

1. Leave a comment on this blog.
2. If, for some reason, you can't leave a comment (Blogger is not always kind to me), email me at keepgoingyoufool(AT)gmail(DOT)com and I will enter you in the order received.
3. Then check out the next blog for another chance at a prize.

And here's the list, and yes, you have to scroll all the way past it to get at the comments form. Sorry. Big list.

UPDATE: Yes, I do accept international entries.

Book Review: Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott

2012-02-06T09:16:00.000-06:00

Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Where I got the book: purchased from Amazon.

Perhaps I'm reading this, one of the writing community's most referred-to books, too late in life. Perhaps as a 20-year-old English major (which I never was) I would have loved this book. That could explain its popularity; it seems like the kind of writing-advice book that will be invariably set as a mandatory read in an MFA program. And that, in turn, could explain why a certain type of writer will, if asked to give writing advice, sound exactly like Anne Lamott.

Maybe that's the problem: familiarity. I've heard so much of this before that it felt, well, stale. Write every day. Write from the heart. Find your own voice. Or maybe it's because I'm a 52-year-old recovering cynic and I'm a little less EMOTIONAL about the whole writing process. The notion of going on a 3-day alcohol (or later, eating) binge because your editor didn't like your book seems a bit excessive. Paying a therapist to help you get through your jealousy of your successful writer friends? Mmmmmkay.

And Lamott's overwrought prose style made me think of Anne Rice, for some reason. Perhaps it's just because they're both called Anne.

There were moments when I was moved and made to think about writing, so maybe one day I'll read Bird by Bird again and see if I can revise this first impression. It could be that the gems contained within the neurotic twaddle are what make the book shine in the memories of so many writers. But I ended up feeling that I'd learned a lot more about Anne Lamott than I'd learned about writing.

View all my reviews

Why Writers Should Network

2012-02-03T09:30:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I spent the evening at the Chicago Literati networking event organized by Kaye Publicity. I've been going to these networking events since Dana Kaye started holding them, and I'm always on the lookout for more networking opportunities.

I've tried inviting writer-friends along, to no avail. Which puzzles me. Yes, it's a long drive (in lovely, lovely Chicago evening traffic) from the far-flung 'burb where I live. Yes, quite often nothing concrete comes out of these events. But seriously, are you only going to attend a networking event if I'm going to 100% guarantee that you'll get a publishing contract out of the evening?

Guess what, that's not how things work. In all likelihood, you'll spend the evening talking to other aspiring writers, which is mostly what I did. I did meet some published authors; Sherill Bodine signed the copy of her latest book, All I Want Is You, that was in my goody bag (this is one of the reasons why my TBR pile is so huge; publicity events = free books). And Blythe Gifford chatted to me about what it's like writing historical romances for Harlequin Historical, and helpfully gave me a bookmark so I'm not desperately trying to remember her name this morning (my dilemma with regard to the lady who's sending me a book to review....)

And came home with some books - I guess I'll get to read my first James Patterson, written mostly, in this case, by Maxine Paetro (that whole business of outsourcing books always amuses me), and I was delighted to score a copy of Julie Hyzy's Affairs of Steak, which recently hit the NYT bestseller list.

So why go to these things? If you're an aspiring author, you might feel intimidated or shy, or think that nobody's going to care that you came. If you're published, you might be thinking that it's not worth it and you've got too many things to do to market your book already...

Reason # 1, 2 and 3: NAME RECOGNITION. Julie Hyzy is a case in point. I'd never heard of her before I met her at the first Chicago Literati. After meeting her, I Liked her Facebook page. And then saw that she had a contest to win an ARC of Grace Interrupted on her blog. I entered, won, read the book, enjoyed it and said so on my review. Now I will put Affairs of Steak high on my TBR pile so that I can read and review it. Okay, I'm not some big shot reviewer, but I've become a booster for Julie's books.

Dana Kaye has written on her blog that you need to see a name (or book) three times before it sticks in your head (she said it a bit more elegantly). In a world where (again, something I read on a blog but didn't keep track) more new books were published last year than in the whole of the 1950s, name recognition is extremely important. Why do people buy James Patterson books? Because everyone knows the name, and if you're standing in front of a rack of books by people you don't know, JAMES PATTERSON is going to jump out at you.

I think it works for aspiring authors, too. I don't believe that marketing should start when you publish your book. I believe it should start when you start thinking that one day you'd like to publish a book. Yes, that early. Before you've even got a book to sell. Because it takes FOREVER to build up a readership unless you find a publishing company that's going to spend big bucks on promotion. And they just don't do that for new authors unless for some reason they are absolutely sure they have a bestseller on their hands.

And networking is the easy side of marketing. You put on some half-decent clothes and go spend a couple of hours eating, drinking, and talking about books and writing. And you're going to feel awkward and shy and badly dressed and all the rest, but so does everyone else. Writers are introverts for the most part, and the social whirl doesn't come easily because we'd rather be at home reading or writing. But if you're going to want to publish some day then you're going to be writing for a readership (or else what's the point?) and you should be out there CREATING that readership right now.

Inspired? Go find a local writer event and sign up right now. It can be an author panel, bookstore event, writing class at the local library, whatever. Or you can go all out and sign up for a conference (even if you've got nothing to pitch you'll meet tons of people that way). Just go.

What's your favorite networking strategy?

That Was The Month That Was - Links for January 2012

2012-02-01T09:30:00.000-06:00

Woah, am I happy I decided to do this only once a month. January was a slow month for clicks. Perhaps this had something to do with the number of posts I sent to my Scoop.It! topic, Can Writers Choose?, which marches to the beat of a different drum.

For another thing, I'm not doing a great job keeping up with my blog reader. I will have to a Reading Sprint, stat!

Anyhoo, without further ado, here are my most popular links for Janaury:

With 92 clicks - 10 Mistakes Leaders Should Avoid At All Costs

With 40 clicks - Positive Facebook Comments Get More Likes, Negative Get More Comments [INFOGRAPHIC]

With 24 clicks - Amazon Has Drastically Changed The Way I Read

With 18 clicks - Not All Sales Are Created Equal—What Your Writer Friends Wish You Knew But Are Too Polite to Tell You

With 16 clicks - 12 Ways To Get More Twitter Followers.

Another 16-clicker - The Myth of the Bestseller

With 12 clicks - My Beef Against Contemporaries

Also with 12 clicks - Why Writers Can't Edit Their Own Wrok

Follow me on Twitter if you want me to send you lots of links. I tend to blab out a link for anything I think is interesting, and my links reflect the blogs I'm currently reading (which changes). Don't worry, I space them out over the day using clever internet finessery, so I won't clog your timeline.

Photo credit: CMSeter at Stock.xchng. Isn't it cool how he's captured the air, or the gas, or whatever it is coming from the horns?

Book Review: Catherine the Great by Robert K. Massie

2012-01-30T09:30:00.000-06:00

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman by Robert K. Massie
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Where I got the book: ARC from LibraryThing Early Reviewer Program

A good biography needs to be chunky, informative and as exciting as a novel. Massie does well on all three counts. Catherine The Great is a lively account of both Catherine's life and the slice of European and Russian history into which she was born, and I greatly enjoyed it.

Catherine, I learned, began life as a princess in an obscure German minor royal household. By the time she died, she had achieved great things for her vast Russian empire, introducing a much higher level of education and artistic achievement and furthering the social and political ideas of the Enlightenment (although, terrified by the French Revolution, she eventually reined back some of the freedoms she had encouraged). Even the lovers for which she was famed were sometimes given opportunities to serve their country in admirable ways (and when you read about her marriage, you understand the lovers).

I knew very little about Russian history, but by the time I finished this biography I felt I had a reasonable grasp of the period, aided by Massie's habit of reminding the reader who a character is in a brief sentence, every time we encounter him or her after an absence. Some may find that annoying--and sometimes I did--but for the general reader, it's helpful.

Less helpful, I found, was Massie's arrangement of his material into topical, rather than chronological, chapters. I did understand why he would want to do this; when you're describing the life of a head of state it's inevitably mixed up with the history of the time, and history has its themes. Still, it was disconcerting to have a character die in one chapter and then suddenly be alive again in the next.

There was also the chapter on the French Revolution, which contained very little about Catherine and Russia. Still, I'll forgive it because it's one of the most succinct and elegantly written accounts of the Revolution and Terror that I've ever read.

Although this biography is obviously aimed at the general audience rather than historians, I did wish the publisher had waited to include the index in the ARC so that I could judge it (it's rather an important factor for me in deciding whether to buy a history book).

On the whole, very good stuff, although I'd have liked just a tad more description of costume and manners. But that might have padded a book that's already nearly 600 pages long. I ended up considerably more interested in Russia than before, and a fan of this great ruler, so I'm satisfied.

View all my reviews

Playtime!

2012-01-27T09:30:00.000-06:00

I've been attending a couple of writer workshops this week, taught by author Rebecca Johns (I bought The Countess and will review it when it works its way through my mountainous TBR pile). It was fun, as these things are, and we got to do some little writing exercises.

Do you like just being asked to write something off the top of your head? I do, because you can be as bad as you like. Unless you have one of those teachers who gets their jollies from destroying students' self-esteem, which can keep you quiet for years afterwards (as I know from my own experience). You can also write differently from your usual style, because it's just a few words on paper, not the Great American Novel. It's throwaway writing.

So what I thought I'd do today is put down something that came out of one of those exercises, and let you play with it. Do what you want - write your own piece in the comments, critique the heck out of the thing (I have grown a thick skin since my early days) or steal it and sell it on the Kindle. It's a bit different from my usual writing voice, but I had fun with it. If you're shy, you can send your piece to keepgoingyoufool(AT)gmail(DOT)com.

There is no right answer. This is raw, unedited writing, and what you do with it is your business.

The writing prompt was to write a scene where a character talks politely but thinks quite differently. So here is Mr. Hoop (and sorry about the lack of indents, but that's difficult to do in html):

*****

She had a mole on her chin. The kind with the hairs, and as she yapped it jumped up and down until I was sick to my stomach.

". . .of course," she was saying, "the wages are slightly less than you'd asked for. But these are hard times, aren't they?" She pursed her thin mouth and the mole stuck out an inch, I swear.

"They are indeed, ma'am. And I'm just ready and willing to work." I'll get to work all right. Wait till I find out where they keep the cash box. I smiled. "I'm really so grateful, ma'am."

Her lips stretched and I could see little jagged teeth. She fingered her ring, a big one with a diamond that made my mouth water.

"That's a pretty ring you got there. If you don't mind me getting personal, ma'am. You've been so kind I feel like we're friends already."

She simpered. "Mr. Binks--my fiancé, you understand--is a jeweler. He only gives me the best."

I'll bet. "I can see he's a good man too, ma'am. I hope I get to meet him." I hope I get to meet the keys to his store.

The mole jumped. "Well then, Mr. Hoop, shall I show you where I keep my little treasures?"

*****

So what happened next? Who or what were the little treasures?

Photo credit: Veo at Stock.xchng.

My Dad Just Bought 11,000 E-Books

2012-01-25T09:30:00.000-06:00

No, it's not a new mnemonic (I'm thinking of My Very Energetic Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas, which doesn't work any more because Pizza is not a planet), but a story. Settle down, children.

I wish I had taken a screen capture of the envelope my 80-year-old Dad held up to his webcam today. "Kindle: 11,000 Books" was scrawled across the front in Sharpie and presumably the envelope held a DVD. I sighed. A new obsession has been born.

Felsted and I introduced Dad to computers when he was 62. He was staying with us and bored without his friends and his daily routine. So Felsted gave him an old Atari games machine to mess around with. We barely heard a peep out of him for the next few days, and weeks after returning home he bought a PC. A year or two later he was the local computer guru. This has been a great boon to me, as they live 3,900 miles from Chicago and Skyping each other allows for much better interaction when we're chatting.

Mum, who is still afraid to turn the computer on lest it explode or something, nevertheless seemed quite happy to read a preview copy of The House of Closed Doors on Dad's latest toy, an Android-based tablet (can't remember its name) that is a popular buy in the UK. Dad read it first, of course, and now the tablet has been lent to one of my sisters so she too can read my chef-d'oeuvre.

Anyway, back to the 11,000 books. They cost the equivalent of $5 or so. "But Dad," I expostulated, "they'll all be books that you can get for free on the Kindle anyway. You've been conned."

"Doesn't matter. Anyway, now I have them all here." Dad loves, LOVES, buying stuff online. Ebay is his playground. If it's a bargain, he's all over it - mercifully it's usually small electronics that don't take up too much room (we have small houses in England). I get blow-by-blow accounts of the interesting people he meets on Ebay, and so far he's not been suckered into anything worse than the digital cameras with the battery flap case that broke after a week's use (he gave me one - it didn't focus too well either).

So I jumped on Ebay and found the DVD he'd bought. Yep, all public domain books, and of course it's perfectly legitimate to package and resell them in any form you want. Yes, Dad could have gone online and got those books free, one at a time. Yes, even if he reads ten books a week he will need to live to 101 to get through 11,000 books (and he just might, you know - he neither looks nor sounds 80).

But: he owns 11,000 books on a DVD. When he was born in 1931, shiny silver disks holding massive amounts of information were the province of stories like The Time Machine and The Machine Stops (both must-reads, and both available for $0 on the Kindle. What are you waiting for?) People were still listening to stories on big old radios with huge glass valves inside them. THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE PAPERBACK BOOKS IN THE UK (they didn't come to the US until 1939).

Think about it. 21 years of reading in your hand, and a little machine for reading the 11,000 books. And I was able to send my parents a copy of my book for them to read (I am now "our daughter the author," even though I'm not published yet. I just love that.)

And you have to realize that my parents are not big readers of fiction. Books take up room that they don't have, and thus much of my at-home reading came from plundering my grandmother's large collection of Mills & Boone romances. They did read some notorious novels like The Exorcist, and then hid them in the back of their wardrobe, in which I rummaged from time to time to find out what I wasn't supposed to be reading. Naturally, I read those books.

So who am I to begrudge Dad his joy in his DVD? He was describing the book he'd just finished reading to me today, and I suspect I'm going to be treated to a Skype book review every time I talk to him. I couldn't be happier.

Photo credit: juliaf at Stock.xchng.

Scoop.It! for Writers - A User Review

2012-01-23T09:30:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure how I came across Scoop.It! but I'm glad I did. I'm a big collector of information - I read a lot of blogs, in other words. MUCH more fun than actually working, don't you think? Of course I'm doing the Big Important Job of keeping myself up to date, and seem to have a reputation, in my closest circles, for always knowing what the latest thing is in geekery. So I suppose that if my aim is to make myself look knowledgeable, I'm succeeding.

OK I just nearly threw my computer out the window - defenestrated it as the Blond Knitter would say. The last thing I'd want as an epitaph would be "She Knew About Geek Stuff." So let's just avoid the topic of the almost-certain futility of gathering information, and cut to Scoop.It! I've mentioned it before, but I want to give an impartial (they're not paying me, honest) outline of how I think this handy-dandy little web app could be useful for writers.

You may have heard of Paper.li - well, Scoop.It! is similar. Both apps allow you to pull content you come across on the interwebz into a "newsletter". Paper.li is geared more toward schmoozing your Twitter friends, sort of like a big retweet as explained on Molly Greene's blog. I haven't used it because it sounds a bit too automated for my taste. I'm often mentioned in Paper.li newsletters as a contributor, but the whole process seems a bit random and impersonal.

When I find something interesting or well-written in blogs or otherwise, I tend to tweet the link because I think somebody else may be interested too. What I was looking for was a way to gather the best stuff into topics - I was doing this with Evernote, but Evernote feels a bit like throwing stuff into a big shoebox, never to be looked at again. I've gradually moved away from the shoebox model - pictures are going onto Pinterest, and I wanted to do something with all the written material I find. There's something addictive about being able to share what you find with people - I wanted someone to open that shoebox and go "OOOO look at all this great stuff!"

Bouquets: I like Scoop.It!'s big, bold default post style. I like that you can "rescoop" posts from other people's Scoop.It! newsletter into your own, giving them the credit. I like that you can star one post to stay at the top - guess what, I do it with my own blog posts, which is called Blowing Your Own Trumpet. I like the fact that you get basic stats to watch your followers grow with the free version. I am very happy that there is no advertising on my free newspaper, although I'm sure it'll come eventually. The blog plugin (see below) is uber-cool.

Brickbats: The free version lacks the ability to format or insert links in your own comments. It also lacks anything beyond basic analytics. The paid versions start at a horrendous $12.99 per month, and then jump to $79/month for the business version (which is the one with the analytics). I just don't think the app's useful enough, in our impoverished writer world, for that kind of money. After all, the incredibly informative Publisher's Marketplace only costs $20/month. And last but not least, the Scoop.It! interface is not that intuitive. It still has a beta-ish feel to it. And the default background is black, shudder shudder.

Still, this could be a useful tool for a writer. Say you were researching Abraham Lincoln - you could collect all the articles you find on the internet into a Scoop.It! topic. And then you could link to that topic on the page that talks about your book, in addition to providing a select bibliography (leaving people to buy your book to get the full bibliography). Better still, Scoop.It! will create a snippet of code for you that you can use to create a slideshow on your blog for your topic (see top right for mine). And I can confirm that the slideshow works on an iPad, which means it is not created in Flash and therefore Apple-friendly (from what I can see, it's a javascript widget).

And although I'm not crazy about the user interface, it's early days and I really didn't have that much trouble finding my way around.

What do you think? Would you want to use something like this?

Machinery

2012-01-20T09:30:00.000-06:00

I have a machine in the bedroom.

I hope you just went 'huh?' because I had a lot of fun thinking about titles for this post. You can take the Brit out of Britain, but you can never remove my love of double entendre.

Alas, it's not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Felsted, who is in great health generally, is nevertheless pushing sixty (he's seven years older than me) and has been diagnosed with severe sleep apnea.

This comes as no surprise to me. Felsted is a positive orchestra of snores, grunts, whistles, burbles, rasps and wheezes when he sleeps. The absolute WORST is the huge SNNRRRK (often accompanied by a jerk liked a galvanized frog) caused by his brain desperately telling his body to reboot because he stopped breathing for a moment.

I completely failed to convince him that this was not normal until, one day, our dentist--of all people--decided to screen his older patients for the disorder. Two surveys, one home test and one hospital test later, enter the Machine.

Do you people have any idea how OLD it makes me feel to have medical machinery in the bedroom? The Machine is quite small and fits neatly onto the nightstand, but still. And it seems like only yesterday that we were young lovers with very few cares in the world...

Aging is a funny process. When you're young, you can't wait to be older. Then at some point in your life (around the time you have kids, I think) everything accelerates, and suddenly there are wrinkles and flabby bits where once there was smooth young skin.

It certainly doesn't bother me to be getting on (although I could do without the sore knees and ankles, but serves me right for doing karate in my 50s). About six or seven years ago I had a dream that I remember very vividly. I woke up and I was a young woman again, and it felt so REAL. I remember looking at my smooth, slender arms and thin hands - I always rather liked my hands. My stomach was flat again - oh joy! But then I realized that what I had lost in the transformation was Felsted and the girls. If I was young, they could not be there.

This was one of the rare occasions when I woke up crying, and that dream still haunts me and brings a tear to my eyes. If I ever look at the aforesaid wrinklyflabby bits and sigh, I recall the dream and feel much better. Who needs mirrors anyway?

And being older is a great thing for a writer. The perspective that you get from having experienced the good and the bad--triumphs, childbirth, breakups, weight gain, weight loss, the death of loved ones--makes it much easier to put yourself into the head of your protagonist. In addition, you've hopefully read a ton of books in your long life, which is a guaranteed way to learn how to write well.

Quite a few writers don't reach their prime until well into middle age, and some make their debuts in publishing at an age when many are thinking of retiring. Younger writers, it seems to me, are often more insecure about their abilities.

And for good reason, I think. Despite the thoughts that frequently pop into my head about how, if I'd started writing fiction sooner, I would have a whole pile of books published by now (my inner dialogue lacks modesty), in truth I know that my writing now is considerably better than it used to be.

Two of my friends have sons who wish to be opera singers. Their stated intention is to work in casual jobs--waiting tables, bar tending--for the next few years. They know they won't even have a hope of getting into their chosen niche until they're in their forties and their voices have matured. Don't you just love that long-term view? Supposing we did that with writers? There'd be no Twilight for one thing...RESIST THE COMMENT JANE.

So I guess having a husband with Darth Vader tendencies can be seen as compensation for having attained the age of wisdom. And going to sleep last night without the familiar sound of sawing logs really was rather pleasant.

So...if you're young, what bothers you about aging? If you're not young, what do you think you've gained and/or lost?

Photo: Stock.xchng

A Historical Fiction Book Blogger Tells All

2012-01-18T09:30:00.000-06:00

Well, not ALL. But I do love an eye-catching title.

I met book blogger Sarah Johnson on Twitter, and (as I do) immediately hopped over to her blog. And found a treasury of historical fiction info, which is hardly surprising as Sarah has been editing the Historical Novels Review since 2000 and has written two guides to historical fiction (more details here).

I've always enjoyed historical fiction, but my interest in it has really started to perk up since I discovered I liked writing it as well as reading it. So I was looking for knowledgeable friends to guide me into this reading and writing niche, and I certainly found one. Being nosy, I had a bunch of questions I wanted to ask Sarah, and I thought you'd enjoy her answers:

JS: Please say a little about yourself: who you are, how long you've been blogging, what kind of books you review.

SJ: I'm Sarah Johnson, and my blog Reading the Past has been online for nearly six years. I cover historical fiction exclusively.

JS: And why do you do it?

SJ: I started my blog as a way of sharing information about historical novels with other readers. There weren't many other historical fiction blogs around in 2006 - just a handful - and we formed a small community that discussed our favorite reads, random observations, pet peeves, and other interests. I talked about cover art a lot - the good, the bad, and the very tacky. Reading the Past didn't start out as a book review blog, but publishers found me and began offering me review copies, and I decided to accept some of them.

I enjoy the discussions that spring up in the comments, and each new book gives me the opportunity to stretch my reviewing or interviewing skills. One goal is to highlight each novel's unique features or strengths. I enjoy most of what I review, but the trick is to make the reviews fun to read even if the books weren't!

JS: How do you decide which books to review? Do you pass on many books, and why?

SJ: Some of what I review are books that publishers or authors offer me; others are my own copies. Historical fiction is a diverse genre, so I try to write about a wide selection of books - from cozy historical mysteries like Mignon Ballard's Miss Dimple Disappears, set in WWII-era Georgia, to Canadian literary fiction such as Joan Thomas's Curiosity, about 19th-century fossil-hunter Mary Anning.

I pass on books that fall outside my interests; I have a review policy that spells out what they are. I love sagas but am not so keen, personally, on alternate history or "big battle" fiction. There isn't enough time to read everything I'm offered, either, so I pick and choose. If I have more than a dozen books on the pile, I hold off accepting others until I'm more caught up.

JS: Where, in your opinion, is the most interesting historical fiction coming from? Who are the rising stars? Have you spotted some interesting trends?

SJ: I review books from mainstream publishers, small presses, and the occasional self-published novel, and can't point to any one venue or press as being a particular favorite. Collectively, they offer a huge variety that I think is wonderful. For me, the most interesting historical novels are those that put new spins on familiar events or focus on less common settings or historical characters.

Some historical novelists whose debut works I thought were especially strong, and whose subsequent books I look forward to reading, include: Elizabeth Loupas (The Second Duchess, a suspenseful and romantic mystery about the story behind Browning's poem My Last Duchess); Stephanie Dray (Lily of the Nile, fantasy-tinged fiction about Cleopatra's daughter Selene); Katherine Webb (The Legacy, a terrific Gothic saga); and Rebecca Lochlann (The Year-god's Daughter, an amazing debut that absorbs you in its world of ancient Crete; an impulse Kindle purchase). Also, these authors have been around for a while, but Kate Morton, Stephen Harrigan, Sally Gunning, and Susanna Kearsley have written some of my favorite books.

Within the genre, the "strong woman" trend has been around for a while, and it continues. World War II fiction has suddenly become very popular, and when I pointed this out on my blog, it received an impressive response from readers.

JS: People are saying online that book bloggers are becoming the new "gatekeepers" for promoting good books. Do you get contacted by many writers looking for a review? Can this be off-putting?

SJ: I'm contacted by a good number of writers about reviews, and I don't find it off-putting. With so many authors acting as their own publicists, it's getting to be the norm. Nearly all are professional and polite. The exceptions are those who haven't read my review policy and who argue with me when I turn down something outside of my stated interests.

JS: What's your advice to a new writer (traditionally or self-published) trying to get his/her historical fiction talked about? What should they NOT do?

SJ: Get started with marketing early on, well before the publication date. Not everyone blogs or tweets or Facebooks, but these platforms can help writers build a network so that by the time their book appears, they have a large audience already set to support them and provide advice. (I've seen this work for many writers, and historical novelists are generally a very supportive group.) It also lets readers follow them along their journey. Goodreads, LibraryThing, and Amazon offer opportunities that let publishers get their books into readers' hands early; these are all good venues to try. Self-published authors should ensure their book is the best it can be - with regard to the writing, editing, and production quality - before releasing it to the public. Word of mouth isn't something that can be controlled, but it can be powerful when it gets going - and writers can give it a good running start.

Not being a historical novelist myself, I may not be the best person to give advice on this, but some other suggestions: Adopt a professional attitude. Attend conferences and other events to connect with other writers and readers in person, if you can. Contribute to forums and discussion lists, but without being overly self-promotional. Avoid arguing with reviewers about their opinions, especially in reader forums; this can backfire quickly!

JS: Do you have any suggestions for writers who want to try their hand at book blogging?

Book blogs written by writers are often differently focused than those run by readers, so it depends on what they want to achieve: whether they want to discuss the writing process, expand upon their research techniques, point out books they've enjoyed themselves, etc. The key is to have an authentic voice and interesting content and be eager to interact with their audience. All of these are what blogs are all about.

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Wow, thanks Sarah! If you're a reader or a writer, I strongly recommend finding some good book blogs. I have come across many excellent ones, but they often review/discuss genres I'm not crazy about. So finding a blog that matches my own tastes is a treat.

The other thing I love about Sarah's blog is the excellent community of knowledgeable and encouraging commenters, some of whom I'm starting to get to know online. I now need about five years' sabbatical in order to read enough history books and historical novels to get myself up to speed. Anyone care to make that possible?

Readers, do you read historical fiction? Who's your favorite author?

Take the Risk, Take the Money?

2012-01-15T01:15:00.000-06:00

OK, I'll come clean. The money aspect of novel-writing matters to me. I'm of the opinion that it should be possible for a writer with some talent who's ready to put in the hard graft necessary to produce a decent novel should be able to aspire to making a modest living from writing.

When I started writing fiction back in the ancient days of 2009, novel writing seemed to be viewed as a Noble Pursuit that made money for very few people. New writers were (and still are) being warned to expect advances of around $5,000 if they were lucky enough to get any advance at all. And then about a buck a book on units sold, once you'd earned out your advance. And this tremendous fortune was the culmination of years of knocking on doors, honing your craft and spending $thousands on conferences and classes. We were conditioned to expect to start in negative numbers and then work for practically nothing for the sake of our Art.

Seasoned writers with several books could earn bigger advances, of course: this is a pretty interesting look at what you get when you make the New York Times bestseller list after a few years of hard work. And in the follow-up post later that year, the author reveals that in the year or so since her book launched, she had still not earned out her $50K advance (which is her gross figure, remember, because she still has to pay her agent, expenses and taxes) but her publisher had grossed over $450K on the book.

Author - $50,000
Publisher - $450,000. Nine times as much. Plus they get to own the book for a very long time.

Fair enough, right? The publisher puts up a large sum of money long before a cent has been made on a book. They pay editors, designers, publicists and others, thus contributing to employment in the book industry. They have overheads: they need office space, usually in one of the most expensive locations in the US.

And they take on 100% of the risk that the book fails. If the author gets a $50K advance and the novel's a complete flop and sells less than a thousand copies, the author keeps the $50K and the publisher swallows the loss. I'm not here to argue against Evil Publishers. It's a business, and business involves risks, and who takes the risk reaps the benefits if the risk pays off.

What's new in 2012 is that taking the risk yourself has become a respectable course for an author. It's called self-publishing. You've probably heard of Amanda Hocking or J A Konrath by now, right? Hocking is sitting on $millions, and Konrath is jumping for joy because he just made $100,000 in three weeks.

But if you drag your gaze away from these superstars, you'll also find self-publishers who report that they made $43.75. Or $130.10. In other words, almost certainly a loss. Even buying a single ISBN to identify your book costs $125.

I'm putting money into the two things everyone says you really need: a copyeditor to ensure that you don't shower the world with typos and bad grammar, and some good artwork because, although my graphic design skills are better than average, they still ain't great. So my loss is likely to be a whole lot more than that of the self-pubber who edited herself and designed her own cover, but that's my choice. I have Opinions on the way things ought to be, and I'm putting my money where my mouth is.

And like all small businesses, I accept that there's an elusive element to success. You can make a rockin' product in any field but just fail to connect with the right buyer. You can write a good book and see it sink without trace. Right now, my chances range from zero to infinity and everything in between.

I also realize that readers don't care how much a writer makes. So if you're not interested, apologies and thanks for reading thus far anyway. I'm not going to bang on about the biz ALL the time, but this blog reflects what's on my mind, and currently it's this.

Now You See Me, Now You Don't: The Politics of Online Friendships

2012-01-13T09:30:00.000-06:00

Who are 'friends?' The people you send Christmas cards to? If you even send Christmas/holiday cards any more. I know quite a few people who've given up on the whole business, and I can't really imagine Wasabi's generation doing it. By the time they're proper adults (meaning with jobs and mortgages and silverware and stuff) I'm not sure there'll even be a postal service.

I'm like most people: in real life I have a few friends and lots of acquaintances. But online, it seems, we all have to be 'friends.' Twitter talks about 'followers,' but the Twitter community is more likely to refer to each other as Twitter friends or tweeps. Friendliness is the online version of courtesy--the polite nod, the door held open, the cautious smile at a stranger with whom you make eye contact.

Online, we learn pretty quickly to be nice. Rude, aggressive, petulant, sulky, vindictive or crass behavior on social networking sites hangs around, waiting for people--LOTS of people--to notice. I liked the old days when you could only vent your venom at the people standing around you. The thought of teenage me on Facebook is enough to turn my hair white.

Facebook and Twitter are now so universal that new forms of etiquette are springing up. Guides abound to bring the clueless up to speed on details like NOT USING CAPITAL LETTERS BECAUSE THAT'S SHOUTING and being very, very careful before you hit that "Reply All" button (been there, done that, still embarrassed about it).

So what happens when you want to end a relationship? On Twitter, you simply unfollow people. They can keep following you till Kingdom come, blissfully unaware of the unfollow because you wouldn't tell them you unfollowed them - that's bad Twitterquette.

Of course, some people take unfollows personally. I don't, and neither should you. a) both Twitter and Facebook sometimes decide to end a relationship for absolutely no good reason (gremlins?) and b) everybody has their own follow policy and could we get some perspective here? You won't even meet many of these people in person.

There are sites that'll tell you who unfollowed you on Twitter, but I don't use them. My own policy is to follow back nearly everybody who follows me, as long as they're 1) sane 2) not connected to the porn industry and 3) not just trying to sell me stuff. To keep my numbers balanced, every day I trim off 10 people who didn't follow me back in the month since I followed them, even if they're people I'm really interested in. I figure that if we're meant to connect, we will some other way, and the lack of a Twitter relationship is no big deal.

On Facebook, things are a bit more personal because I know about 95% of my Facebook friends in real life (occasionally I'll friend someone I know well from online interactions). So, what do you do when your Facebook friends are driving you crazy with their political rants or poetry?

You've got choices, that's what.

If it's not your friends but their interests that bug you, and you think you'll be heading for the loony bin if you see their games or the articles they're reading or the music they're listening to or their horoscope ONE MORE TIME, just block the apps themselves. I do that a lot.

If you don't want to hurt people's feelings by unfriending them, you can hide their updates. Useful if that nice woman you used to work with is in the middle of a bad breakup and is a bit out of control. You don't know her well enough to offer comfort or counsel, but you really can't take hearing about her ex's habits any more. Hiding stops you from getting annoyed at people, but as far as they know, you're still listening.

Unfriending is used a lot by the younger generation, and sometimes by adults who think it's an effective way of showing people what they think of them (it's not; it comes across as juvenile). When you unfriend someone you can still see their updates and comments, so it leaves a back door open to a renewal of friendship. I always think of unfriending as a statement, although I do know people who, without malice, cull their friend lists down to just the people who interest them. But one of the joys of Facebook is getting to know people better, so restricting yourself to a small circle is like hanging around exclusively with your clique at high school; you miss SO much.

Blocking is the our-paths-are-sundered-forever option, because it makes you invisible to each other. You can't see a trace of the other person on Facebook. Not even a comment. It's the option to use in cases of harassment or in other circumstances where you'd really like to keep your business away from certain eyes. So if Gossipy Glinda unfriends you but you're still mutual friends with Amiable Ann, you may have to block Glinda to keep your girls' night out photos--yeah, THOSE photos--away from Gossipy Glinda's gleeful gaze. (If Ann posts her photos of the party, you're toast. But seriously, there should be a special setting on cameras to prevent them taking shots of drunk people.)

You can also set options for individual friends or statuses, but that's way too complicated for me. If you're a friend, you're a friend and that's it. I protect myself by sticking to Jane's Golden Rule: never say anything online that you're not prepared to have quoted in the newspapers.

Because you never know.

Of course there are many other social networking sites, and best practices vary. What have YOU noticed about online social etiquette?

Is Writing an Art, a Craft, a Vocation or a Profession?

2012-01-11T09:30:00.000-06:00

One of the books I'm currently reading is called Before Victoria: Extraordinary Women of the British Romantic Era. In it I find this remark: "Above all, Romantic artists see art as a vocation, where the eighteenth century often saw it as a profession or a craft."

Sensible eighteenth century, I thought to myself. And then I fell to musing (as I do, particularly when I'm procrastinating) about how the Romantic view of art still affects us today, particularly when it comes to writing.

I'm often struck by the amateurish side to publishing--and I'm not talking about the brave new world of e-publishing and POD, which has self-publishing 'experts' and social marketing 'gurus' popping up like mushrooms on a damp fall morning.

No, I'm talking about things as they were even before the Disruption. After all, you don't need any qualifications to be a writer. And you can set yourself up as an agent, editor, bookseller, publicist or publisher without passing any exams as far as I know.

That's not a dig at such people, by the way, because I love them all (except the shady ones); it's just a fact. Compared to the rigors of law school or the medical profession, publishing is a cakewalk. To sell houses you have to be licensed. To be hired as an IT person you need to show experience and skill, and back that up with a degree or diploma (and then you're STILL underpaid). To be a lawyer or a doctor, woah baby--you need really good grades and financial support for YEARS. To be a politician...well, let's not go there. I live in Illinois. To make money in almost any aspect of the book trade, you just need your wits and a willingness to work hard.

So is writing an art, a craft, a vocation or a profession? My guess is that your answer will depend on what kind of writer you are, so here's my lighthearted look at who will answer what.

If you think writing is an art, 'being a writer' is probably very important to you. You like to buy writer stuff; you have one of those clocks, a mug that identifies you as a writer, and perhaps a very special chair. If you're a romance writer, all of those items are pink. ALL your acquaintances know you're a writer. You introduce yourself as "Hi, I'm Jane, I'm a writer" and mention your writing about once every five minutes, if not more frequently. You have routines for your writing, like starting each morning with exactly the same food and beverage or playing special music to summon your muse. Your life's goal is to be published by a publisher that everyone's heard of, and your head swivels round faster than that Exorcist chick's when anyone in the room says 'Random House."

If you think writing is a craft, you WORK at it. And boy, do you let everyone else know it. Your family are carefully trained to Respect Your Writing Time, and the entire vacation budget goes into writing-related trips. You probably wear a lot of loose, black clothing, and are to be found at every quality writing class for a hundred miles around. You probably seat yourself near the teacher and nod a lot. You sneer, ever so subtly, at the neophytes and people who think writing is easy. You may or may not have an MFA, but you aspire to one when you can afford it (i.e. when somebody finally recognizes your genius). You read Real Literature, or if you are a genre writer you personally know every author in your chosen genre and have read every single one of their books. Your goal is only to submit your very best work, which could take years, and no publisher that lets their books stray into Wal-Mart will ever receive a submission from you.

If you think writing is a vocation, your bio probably includes the words "Jane has been writing since she was an embryo" or "I was born with a pen in my hand..." You do not consider anybody to be a writer who has not had articles published in their high school magazine, or won a poetry prize as a child. You write ALL the time, and if you go a day without writing, you feel physically ill. You have nightmares about writer's block, and agonize over rejections. Your day job torments you. Your family and friends are MATERIAL and will find their way into your novels, thinly disguised. You write for half an hour in your journal every morning, without exception, and have a special shelf where you keep the 5,235 journals you have produced in your long, long writing life. No need to ask what kind of publisher you want; you have been published already, and are on your 20th book.

If you think writing is a profession, you cheerfully admit to wanting to earn money from your writing. In fact, you even own up to doing the occasional SEO gig when things are a bit slow on the fiction side. Rejection doesn't bother you much; there's always another opportunity. You've probably explored all sorts of writing, and fill in with side jobs such as editing, public speaking, writing textbooks or ghostwriting. If it fills the coffers, you'll do it. You don't have a day job because writing IS your day job in one form or another. You're self-employed and keep meticulous records of every penny you spend on books. You probably self-publish your novels AND have a well-known blog on how to self-publish your novels. AND are invited to conferences to tell other people how to self-publish their novels.

OK, in reality we probably all have traits from each of these descriptions. And whatever kind of writer we are, our business is to write as well as we can, to be as professional as we can, and to encourage those who are dipping their toes nervously into the water. I don't think there's ever going to be a perfect formula for writing, and perhaps that's why the industry will always be ever so slightly amateurish. God bless us, every one.

The Blog Evolves

2012-01-09T09:30:00.000-06:00

If you're reading this in a blog reader, let me just show you my new look. D'ya like it? After three years, my blog is evolving.

Of course, this may cause you to step away, and that's OK. In fact I've recently eliminated some old friends from my blog reader: blogs I've been reading for years, in some cases.

Sometimes it's because the writer's started to repeat his/herself. Quite normal, when you consider that our thinking tends to run in tracks (well, mine certainly does). This is often true of writing advice blogs of all kinds; they are very useful for a while, at a certain stage in your career, and then after a bit you start to feel comfortable with what you know and just don't need the advice any more. Which is fine, because there are always new writers coming on the scene, and the writing blogs will be invaluable to them.

Sometimes it's because the blog has evolved in a direction that no longer interests me. And then, sometimes it's just because I can only keep up with a certain number of blogs and I have to cut back somewhere.

But I continue to follow ~~a ridiculous number~~ a sufficiency of information sources about the publishing industry (both the traditional and indie sides) and about the whole writing biz. I tweet the links to anything I find interesting, but lately I've also begun to collect good posts I come across into topics on Scoop.It!, an interesting curation site that seems to be quite useful. Take a look at the two topics I post on regularly, which are:

Can Writers Choose? where I collect articles on all sorts of publishing topics
The Big List of Book Lists because I'm always coming across good reading lists

The top right-hand corner of my blog page will usually feature one of my information offerings, and I hope to change it regularly to keep it fresh.

Lower down on the right-hand side of the page, you'll find my 20 latest book reviews on Goodreads; I don't put all of my reviews on this blog by any means. I have had to eliminate and simplify a bit to keep this list where I wanted it to be; if you desperately miss any particular gadget just tell me.

Does all this bookish stuff mean I'm becoming a book blogger? Not really. I still don't want to focus Keep Going You Fool! too narrowly but the book reviews are a) popular and b) a source of constant new material. I will continue to write nonsense whenever the silly side of life strikes me, and generally reserve the right to do whatever I darn well please.

I'm also hoping to get more interviews with all kinds of people in the publishing industry and beyond. I'm fascinated by all the options out there for anyone who loves books and fine writing, and I want to ask lots of nosy questions. So if you have a question you'd like to have asked, let me know! keepgoingyoufool(AT)gmail(DOT)com is the email address to use.

And I'll be adding some more pages over the next few weeks. Not quite sure how they'll turn out, but I have a few ideas.

Have you evolved recently? I'm a big believer in change (because, for one thing, I have a very low boredom threshold) but I feel like I'm an exception. Do you love to change, or do you prefer things to stay the same?

Book Review: The Transformation of Bartholomew Fortuno by Ellen Bryson

2012-01-06T09:30:00.000-06:00

I have started a survey of historical literature about late (post-Civil War) 19th century America, based on this list to begin with but I may branch out a bit. I'm going to start a new page soon listing the books I read that fall into this category, and as always I'll review the ones I like best on this blog (the complete set of my reviews is available on Goodreads and LibraryThing). Here's my first Late 19th Century America review:

The Transformation of Bartholomew Fortuno by Ellen Bryson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Where I got the book: from my local library.

This is one of the most unusual and compelling historical novels I've read in a long time. I don't want to say much about the story, because this is definitely one of those novels where you want to start off knowing as little as possible, and then discover each little detail with a sense of delight.

The setting is P.T. Barnum's American Museum in New York, in the mid-1860s. The protagonist is Bartholomew Fortuno, billed as the World's Thinnest Man, and the action centers around the Museum with its cast of Fat Lady, Contortionist, Strong Man and Missing Link. Only these characters have names and personalities, and we are quickly pulled away from an external view of their differences into the feelings that lie behind the odd appearance.

Finding out how Barthy's life changes when a new act is introduced, and why he is as he is, was a fascinating experience. The pace of the writing was a little stately, and I wasn't entirely thrilled with the way Bryson handles the dénouement, but overall I just loved reading this novel.

Recommended for lovers of superior historical fiction.

View all my reviews

That Was the Month That Was: Links for December 2011

2012-01-04T09:30:00.000-06:00

I'm introducing a new feature this week, and I would love to know if it resonates with you. If you follow me on Twitter, you'll know I tweet a whole bunch of links, usually about writing or publishing but not always. This is because ~~I'm online way too much~~ I read many blogs and online articles, many of which are pretty darn interesting.

(How do I find time to do this? I don't watch TV very often. Especially not TV news, because, seriously. The only news worth watching is BBC World News, and I figure that if anything important happens, I'll hear about it anyway. So the blogs and stuff ARE my news.)

So...drumroll...New Feature! It! Is! Links!

Yes, other bloggers do this. Not exactly original. But I'm only going to do it once a month, and my choice of posts is determined by which links got the most clicks on Twitter. Yes, I analyze that stuff. I know.

But first, this. How a writing duo rose to the top of the UK charts while waiting for agents to respond to their submissions, and then had to send rejection letters to agents... That's not the title of the post, but sort of my summary. And there is SO much more to this story. It rewards very careful reading, especially if you're an aspiring author. I think it's a great illustration of how writers shouldn't just jump at the first offer they get, but weigh all proposals very carefully.

And now. The links, in order of how much they impressed my Twitter followers.

The one that made me go EEK! because it got 2,146 clicks: 10 Reasons Why You'll be Using Google+ in a Year. Needless to say, I'm now paying more attention to Google+.

With 116 clicks, Seth Godin on the trap of social media noise. This was the article that inspired this post.

With 67 clicks, Michael Hyatt on How a Shift in Your Vocabulary Can Instantly Change Your Attitude. I love glass-half-full people.

With 63 clicks, an article on six things Charles Dickens gave the modern world. Humungous apologies to the 63 people who clicked on the link I originally posted and found themselves back on Twitter; I must have done that one very early in the morning.

With 45 clicks, why you should date a girl who reads. We bookworms are quality. Just quality.

With 38 clicks: Why Your Novel is a Tall, 6-Pump Vanilla, Breve Latte Grande, Extra Hot, Heavy Whipping Cream, Extra Dry Cappuccino (Or It Should Be) - how the Starbucks concept of imputed value should be applied to e-book pricing.

So there you have it...and I'm only going to do this once a month. As I said above. I really want you to know this, obviously.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

2012-01-02T09:30:00.000-06:00

It's New Year's Day. At the time of writing, that is. Of course by the time you read this, January 1 will be so one day ago. Or possibly ancient history if you're reading this in the year 3012, in which case, Greetings. Please use your personal time machine to pop back and say hi, unless the human race has mutated into something even worse, in which case, Go Away.

Anyway, on January 1, 2012, the house is blissfully quiet. Wasabi and Bobo, after the usual you're-my-best-friend-I-hate-you-I'm-sorry-you're-my-best-friend routine, have gone out. Orangina is also out, with her best friend whose code name will be Sparkle. I love Sparkle to pieces and she was the inspiration for one of the characters in The House of Closed Doors (which is getting published in 2012, watch this space!)

And this blog has now been in existence for three full years. Happy birthday, Keep Going You Fool blog!

Each year I have posted on and around January 1. In 2009, I was musing about good taste and cultural mores. In 2010, I made some resolutions at which I now laugh hollowly. At some point in the last couple of days we watched Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason in which Renee Zellweger delivers the line: "...and I will always be a little bit fat." Well, I think I have to resign myself to the reality that my office will always be a little bit of a pigsty. The rest of the house (apart from Wasabi's and Orangina's rooms--they DEFINITELY inherited an untidy gene) looks fairly good, but my poor office is like my brain. Stuff is everywhere.

And then in 2011, I talked about writing and editing, and it's not a bad post as posts go. Except that it contains a list of five classic novels I intended to read in 2011. I DID NOT READ THEM.

And the moral of the story is, I will not make any resolutions in this post. Except to tell you that I intend to change up this blog's appearance a bit. So if you go directly to the blog rather than reading it in your reader, you will soon no longer see the familiar green and gray. I'm not sure which design I'm going for, but it will be a fairly minimalist black and white - as simple as possible so that I don't have to put up with the formatting glitches that occur with this design.

Given my past experience with the way life derails my plans, I hesitate to say any more. But I do in fact have Goals written out in my journal, and intend to make a printed version for the noticeboard. They are exciting Goals. But I'll tell you about them IF I achieve them.

Of course, Wasabi regularly informs me that the world will end on December 21. (I particularly liked her reassurance that we would get to go see The Hobbit just in time, as it opens December 15.) So with that cheerful thought, I leave you with all best wishes for a blessed 2012 or the first 359 days of it, depending on your degree of pessimism. Thank you, thank you for reading my blog and sharing my obsessions.

Book Review: The Sleepwalkers by Paul Grossman

2011-12-30T09:30:00.001-06:00

The Sleepwalkers by Paul Grossman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Where I got the book: LibraryThing Early Reviewers program

Inspektor-Detektiv Willi Kraus's new case involves a corpse whose leg bones are the wrong way round. And a sleepwalking princess. Stringing together the clues drags him into contact with history; in Berlin in 1933, Hitler's National Socialists are gaining more power, more rapidly than anyone could have imagined. And they seem to be implicated in the mysterious disappearances.

Kraus starts out thinking that he's looking for an ordinary serial killer, but soon realizes there's a lot more involved. His contacts within the traditional power structure, and his knowledge of the Berlin underground, are of great use to him; but he has one huge disadvantage. He's a Jew, and his friends and family are saying just one thing to him: get out of Berlin now.

It's such a pleasure to be able to give a five-star review to a debut author. I loved the way Grossman combines the elements of a murder mystery with the history of 1930s Berlin, blending fact and fiction together with great skill. His characters are well-drawn and memorable, and the novel is loaded with descriptive elements that pulled me right into its setting. The writing jarred at a few points, but these were minor quibbles compared to the novel's overall high quality.

Recommended for thriller fans who like their reading to have a certain literary quality and a fascinating setting.

View all my reviews

Indie and Trad CAN live together: interview with Samantha Hunter and GIVEAWAY!

2011-12-28T09:30:00.000-06:00

You may have heard that I don't generally choose novels with a lot of sex in them. So what am I doing, I hear you asking, displaying a book cover with "Forbidden Fantasies" on it? Today, dear Reader, I'm interviewing Samantha Hunter, author of both steamy romance novels like Straight to the Heart over there (to be released in January 2012), and of cozy mysteries such as Once Burned (released this month).

Since 2004, Sam's been successfully published through Harlequin, igniting the, er, imaginations of readers all over America and beyond. And since 2010 she's been enjoying a burgeoning career as a self-published author of cozies. She uses the same name for both genres and lists all her books together, in chronological order, on her website as if it doesn't matter. Gasp!

It's my understanding that many traditionally published authors are starting to have Forbidden Fantasies about ~~keeping the wolf from the door~~ expanding their range by incorporating a little self-pub into their daily routine. So let's lift the curtain and take a peek into the mind of an author who's proved she can sizzle at whatever she puts her mind to. And at the end of the interview, you can win your choice of book in a GIVEAWAY!

JS: Sam, you've seen the pros and cons of both traditional/category publishing and indie publishing. What would your advice be to a new writer hesitating between the two options?
SH: Yes, I do write for category, which is traditional publishing, and I would like to publish in trad single-title romance at some point. Personally, I am a huge fan of traditional publishing, and I know that's not something we're hearing much these days, but I have learned so much and gained so much from trad publishing that has helped support my indie writing. Working on hard deadlines with my editors, going through production processes, and many other things that I've experienced with trad publishing--including many, many rejections--all gave me hard-earned skills that have allowed me to write indie books more confidently. And even with Past Tense, my indie book that was rejected by trad pubs, I had good feedback from editors who liked it, but didn't buy, and from my agent, so I was able to indie pub it with some confidence that it was a good book. This all helps, as well as building name recognition--tens of thousands more readers read my romances through sheer distribution.

The cons for each: With trad publishing, obviously, you may be knocking at the door for a while, you may be rejected several times, you might have to do heavy revisions, and you may not earn a ton of money (depending. I sold my first book, and rejections came later). You could have editorial clashes (I am lucky enough never to have had this happen--I have wonderful editors at Harlequin), but you do have to get used to seeing your work as more "collaborative" in nature. This is not a bad thing. It can push you. But it can also present some tough challenges. You may have to learn to revise or sculpt your writing to suit more than your own liking--but you can also learn to be very creative within a given framework, and that's valuable.

For indie publishing the cons are, in my opinion, that especially if you are brand new, you don't get the benefit of learning about the industry and the production of a novel with experienced editors who can really help you learn to write well, know what's marketable, etc. Also, like I mentioned, name value--I have some benefit (like others who are publishing from a trad base) of having had my name out there and developed a pretty large readership over eight years before I put indie books out. Readers respect traditional publishing, and I think writers should, as well. There's a lot of history there. And if you are brand new, getting that name recognition from an indie base will be very, very hard. Not completely impossible--there are obviously some indie authors who have become huge, but they are really the minority. And let's put it this way: even with my established trad base, my indie sales are still a nth of my trad/print sales. This is something to think about.

JS: Your traditionally published books are steamy romances, but your indie books are cozy mysteries. What's it like writing two very different genres at the same time?
SH: Technically, I don't write them at the same time, since I tend to work on one thing at a time--each book has my full attention until I move on to the next one (yes, that means to write 3-5 books a year, I am writing pretty quickly--another benefit of having good editors.). But for me, this gives me variety and stretch--writing the same thing over and over can deaden your creativity, so being able to try new things allows me to stretch as a writer. I'm always pushing myself, trying something new, the next hardest thing, because that's how we get better, go farther.

There is also overall benefit--writing mystery allows me to be a better plotter in my romances, and writing romance allows me to have more insight into characters and relationships in my mysteries. People have commented often about loving my main characters in my mysteries; they are invested in the relationships, and I think I can do that characterization and relationship work because I have refined it in writing romance. Likewise, reviewers often mention the plot points of my romances, which sometimes have suspense/mystery elements, because I work with those in my indies. It all comes together.

JS: Do any of your fans from the Blaze side tell you that they enjoy your cozies as well? Or do you have two separate readerships?
SH: Both--I definitely have crossover readers who read both books, but I do think that crossover goes more from romance to mystery rather than from mystery to romance. I think my romance readers like my mysteries because at the end of the day, all of my books are about relationships--the sexiness, while fun, is not the focus--falling in love, negotiating family, friends, life, and various conflicts are the commonality on all of the books. However, for whatever reason, romance readers tend to be more willing to cross over. I guess we'd have to ask them why that is, LOL. But it's just an observation on my part.

JS: Why do you think the indie/traditional publishing debate is becoming so adversarial? Do you think the readers are missing out because of what's happening right now in the industry?
SH: I do think readers of trad books are missing out to some extent because there are a lot of really cool and original ideas that readers would love to buy--and are buying--and trad pubs are not taking chances on them, whether it's due to the economy, marketing, or whatever. I hope that will change--it's clear from the success of a lot of indie work that there is a lot of good reading material there that trads have either passed on or never saw in the first place.

While there is a lot that could be in the scrap heap in indie as well, I love the "wild west" feeling of indie, I LOVE that people write because they LOVE to write, and polished or not, many good stories come from that enthusiasm and desire. Readers want good stories--that's the bottom line, and there are a lot of them out there in both markets, trad and indie. You have to trust the reader will find what they want--but it has to be out there for them to find.

I think readers are more open and smarter than trad publishers often give them credit for--for instance, I suspect trad pub would not have wanted me publishing mystery and romance under one name as they think readers get "confused"--no, readers do not get confused. They know what they want, and they know how to tell one kind of book from the other.

Why is it adversarial? Because people like to argue, and there's money, ego and power involved. Personally, I think, let the powerhouses and publishers, corporations, etc fight it out. I'm a writer. I write. My concern is readers and getting my stories out there to them--whether that's through trad, indie, or some other venue we haven't heard from yet. Whatever one of them can help me do that, that's who I'll work with, trad and indie. And I think the best route is doing both, because you learn things and gain from each things that you can't get just doing one (unless you are writing just because you love it, not to build a career in it--to build a writing career, I think you need to cast a broad net).

******

So what do you think, readers? Are you just looking for a good story, or are you picky about where your fiction comes from? I think Sam does a marvelous job at seeing the positives on both sides of the industry, but if you want to defend either side, GO FOR IT.

And don't forget to tell me in the comments which of Samantha's books you'd like to win. ("Either" is a valid response, and unless you specifically say you DON'T want to be entered for the giveaway and forget to declare a preference, you will be entered as an "either.") We've got 2 copies of each book to give away: Straight to the Heart in either paperback (US, UK and Canada addresses only) or Kindle/Nook, and Once Burned on Kindle/Smashwords.

Why I like Amazon

2011-12-26T09:30:00.000-06:00

I'm an unashamed Amazon fan. A couple of minutes' research tells me that I made my first purchase in October of 2000 (did you know you can see every purchase you ever made? That's one of the things they do for you.)

I also love small, indie bookstores, like the wonderful Lake Forest Book Store which always seems to be full of people. I ADORE antique bookstores like Jarndyce's opposite the British Museum, where you have to ring a bell to get in but then they let you fondle the most marvelous books.

So I read Don't Support Your Local Bookseller with a slightly wry chuckle. I thought writer Farhad Manjoo made some pretty good arguments, but he hasn't convinced me to be anything other than what I am: a hybrid book consumer. I also acquire books from other online stores, through library sales, from the clearance cart at B&N, on my Kindle, and through the giveaways that abound in the publishing world. I am a Bookavore.

And that's why I like Amazon. I can get almost any book I want from its virtual shelves, including many that are out of print or otherwise impossible to find. Often the older books are discoveries I made at my local library; if I love it, I'll buy myself a copy.

Usually when I review a book, I'll say where I got it. That's for my benefit, so that I can keep track of my purchasing habits (I'm an analyzer) but I hope it's of interest to someone, somewhere. In fact, my new year's resolution is to enter the place of purchase in my LibraryThing reviews (Goodreads doesn't have that feature: this is why I store my reviews in two places!)

OK I'm going to do something really geeky now. (Is it possible for me to get through a post without a rabbit trail?) See these books? That's part of my physical TBR pile. 39 books. Out of which:

23% were giveaways
15% were purchased from Amazon
13% were purchased at indie stores
13% were purchased at library sales
10% were gifted to me
10% were bought at retail price at big box bookstores
8% were bought from the clearance rack at big box boostores
8% were sent to me for review

Of course having done this I now want to do a PROPER inventory but hey, let's get to the bottom of this post, right? Anyway, there you go: Amazon's at 15%. Not exactly dominating my life.

My point (here it is!): I don't see any reason to make Amazon the villain of the publishing world. As Manjoo points out, "Amazon doesn’t host readings and it doesn’t give you a poofy couch to sit on while you peruse the latest best-sellers. But what it does do—allow people to buy books anytime they want—is hardly killing literary culture. In fact, it’s probably the only thing saving it."

In the eleven years I've been purchasing from Amazon, the other thing I've noticed is that they tend to do things right. I have purchase HUNDREDS of items directly from their store or by the third-party sellers they support (has nobody else pointed out that they have fostered countless home-based businesses through their seller programs?) and never, NEVER have I had a problem. Items have arrived on time in pristine condition, returns are smoothly effected...when they lowered the price of the Kindle one month after I bought it, I sent them an email asking if it was possible to recoup the difference. The $70 was in my account the next morning, and I got a charming email to boot.

No, if there's a problem with main street book selling, the blame lies elsewhere. I'm old enough to remember just how unfriendly small bookstores used to be (especially if you were a kid). And then came the great big humungous stores with coffee shops and couches, and the small, unfriendly stores closed. And the big stores were OK except that they didn't just sell books but tempted you with assorted tat and food smells, and drew people away from the books toward videos and CDs. And you could never find the book you wanted anyway, if it wasn't a best-seller, and had to walk past shelves of huge shiny Danielle Steel hardbacks to get to the interesting stuff. And people took the books off the shelves and dog-eared them or spilt coffee on them before you got a chance to buy them. And then the big shiny books began turning up in WalMart and Target, because by now we had the idea that books were a cheap commodity like magazines.

If Amazon's destroying anything, it's that. If it can make us see beyond the shiny consortium-written bestsellers and go for what readers really enjoy, then more power to its algorithms. If it continues to allow just anyone to e-publish on really very fair terms, I say yippee! Who knows what great but quirky authors (for which read unpublishable in traditional terms) may emerge from its fold? There are quite a few things that remain to be worked out: how to stop publishers or individual authors from gaming the reviewing system is one. How to avoid stupidities like being seen as the enemy of main street stores is another.

But my guess is that in the end, the survivors will be Amazon and the really stellar indies.

What's your prediction?

UPDATE: Over the holiday week, we watched a lot of videos on the blu-ray player Felsted recently bought from Amazon. And came to the conclusion that it was defective. So at 6 pm on a holiday, he asked me to retrieve the order and ask Amazon if we could return it even though the 30-day period was over and we'd thrown away the box. At 7 pm we got an email which basically said "Sure! I'm sending you a new one. Here's the free shipping label to send yours back." THAT's what I'm talking about.

Twitter Strategy for Authors: Engagment or Enlargement?

2011-12-23T09:30:00.000-06:00

This post was inspired by Seth Godin's post on social media 'noise.' It's worth your while reading the whole post at this point, but don't do what I do, which is get distracted and three hours later you're shopping on Amazon. I don't know how that works, but it does.

So Seth says it's wrong to do these things (on social media in general, but it's obvious Twitter is the main focus here):

Follow a ton of people to get people to follow back
Focus on the # of followers, not the interests of followers or your relationship with them.
Pump links through the social platform (take your pick, or do them all!)
Offer nothing of value, and no context. This is a megaphone, not a telephone.
Think you're winning, because you're playing video games (highest follower count wins!)

OK, I thought, makes perfect sense. So the first thing I did was tweet the link (highly ironic in view of the third item) and then I hopped on Twitter to follow Seth. And discovered that his only 'official' account is followed by 132,192 people AND FOLLOWS 0 PEOPLE. AND ITS SOLE PURPOSE IS TO PUMP LINKS TO HIS BLOG.

THE IRONY.

And now, instead of getting on with stuff, I have to vent about something I come across all the time on Twitter. I am working very hard on increasing my Twitter numbers, and I'm proud that I've passed 2,000 followers (added 1K in 58 days! Yay! Can you tell I like stats?) But my aim isn't to sit back and brag about how many people follow me.

You see, I've discovered that for every hundred or so people I connect with on Twitter, about 10 will connect with me in some way, and one or two will become online friends and enrich my life. So, my thinking goes, if I connect up with lots of people on Twitter, I'll have lots of friends. And I'd really like one or two of them to be multi-published authors, because that would be a great way to network with the minds behind the books.

But.

Experience shows that the people least likely to follow me back on Twitter are the multi-published. They're followed by many but follow a few. WHY? The people following them are their readers. They are trying to connect. Following them back commits you to very little apart from the possibility of receiving weird private messages from them (at which point you just have to click the 'block' button).

Why in the name of Steve Jobs would an author NOT want to know who his/her readers are? Not want to see their daily lives? The readers are what matter in an author's life. Not the agent. Not the publisher.

A shining example of How To Do It is Laurie R. King, mystery writer and creator of the inimitable Mary Russell. She (or her assistant, because, y'know, sometimes she's writing books) proactively connect on Twitter with people who express an interest in her novels. One of my happiest days on Twitter was when 'Mary Russell' followed ME.

Another good example is Kate Kerrigan, an excellent Irish writer. I reviewed her novel Ellis Island favorably; she left a very nice comment, with a link to her Facebook fan page; I subscribed to the page; after some further interaction on Facebook, she also friended me personally. Will I buy her next book? That's 100% affirmatory.

Both of these authors have turned a casual reader (yours truly) into a fan by connecting. They are going out looking for their readers, and making an effort to shake hands digitally. They're not ignoring the people who buy their books.

So, Seth, you're absolutely right. It's not a numbers game. But you're not following your own advice, and you're wrong in one respect. Connecting with more and more readers/potential readers/potential allies in the struggle that is modern life is important, because you're allowing the power of the internet to bring new friendships to you.

Scared to write a novel? Here's why you shouldn't be

2011-12-21T09:30:00.000-06:00

It never fails to amaze me that the most popular post I have written on this 'ere blog is the one about how I'm too lazy, scared and untalented to write a novel, and I did it anyway.

(As a complete aside, that particular novel is "on the shelf." Editing it threw me into a Spiral of Doubt, and by the time I'd recovered my faith in the novel (which happened about three months ago) a whole new set of interesting possibilities had suggested themselves. The novel, whose working title is now Deep Within, may take years to perfect, but that's OK. It's very dear to my heart.)

Anyhow, that post still gets an impressive number of page views, which leads me to conclude that there are a lot of wannabe novelists out there who are scared that they lack what it takes to be a writer. So, with Christmas approaching, I decided to offer the gift of Encouragement.

Here is my view on why you might be scared to write that novel, and why you shouldn't be.

You're afraid it'll be no good and nobody will ever want to read it. Yep, I'm going to tell you right now that there's a strong possibility your first novel won't be the greatest thing EVER. Especially if you've never written a whole lot. Dear Reader and future Writer, say this to yourself: This is my practice novel, and I'm doing it for fun. It can stink if it wants to, and I don't care. Remember, the Brontës wrote great steaming piles of doodoo before they got to the stage where they could write genius masterpieces and become famous. (That's one of my favorite posts, by the way, and shows me that occasionally I can write coherently.)

You're afraid that your family and friends will laugh at you. Again, yes, this might happen. It happened to me, big time. IT SHUT ME UP FOR OVER TWENTY YEARS, for crying out loud. I am nearly in tears with the intensity of trying to communicate to you that their laughter should never, ever stop you from pursuing your writing. They are jealous because you have aspirations and they don't. They are the fools, not you. Here is what you say to them: Jane says: 'Go boil your head.'

You're afraid that you'll start and not finish. This year's National Novel Writing Month had 256,618 participants, out of which 36,774 writers managed to hit the 50,000 word count that made them a 'winner.' (Caveat: 50,000 words is not a novel. You need to be thinking in terms of anything between 70,000 and 120,000 words, depending on your genre.) So that's only a 14% success rate, meaning that the other 86% ran out of time, energy or ideas. Depressing? Well, most novels aren't written in a month. Some take years. Look at it this way: if you write just 250 words a day, every day, in about 18 months you'll have a 120,000 word first draft. So your mindset should be that of the tortoise rather than the hare: say to yourself, I'll finish when I finish. It's not a race.

You're afraid that getting published is really, really hard. Well, yes and no. It's complicated, like most relationships, except that this relationship is between you and your readers, with the publishing industry as a sort of annoying little sister who won't leave the room when you want to smooch. And if you're still thinking about that novel rather than writing it, you're a good two years from even having to worry about getting published. And there are a bazillion resources out there in cyberspace to help you understand your options. But for now, say to yourself: Getting published isn't important. Getting my words on paper is what matters, and it's only a stinky practice novel anyway. By the time you've finished your first draft*, you'll have a much deeper understanding of what fiction writing is, and will probably have made friends with more experienced writers who'll help you get to grips with the mysterious world of publishing.

You're afraid that you'll waste hundreds of hours of your time on something that'll get you nowhere. First, let me ask you this question. How much time do you waste watching TV? Surfing for pix of Taylor Lautner? (No, you don't, do you? Seriously?) Playing Angry Birds? Lying on your bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about writing a novel? Say to yourself, reading and writing are never a waste of time. As Sir Francis Bacon so pithily said, "Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man." (Or you can adopt the Jane Mantra, which goes thus: Reading makes you smarter; TV makes you dumber. Ask my kids how many times they've heard that one.) Writing really does do something for your inner self, something that's quite hard to describe but trust me, you'll love it.

And even if your very first novel stinks, just think: it will be there on paper to bear witness to the person you are now. One day you'll look back on it with great affection. But you never know...you may end up writing something good.

*When you've written your novel, it's a first draft. You must edit, get advice, edit, give it to readers, edit, proofread, polish, rinse and repeat before it's even close to ready for publication. DO NOT take my encouragement as license to upload your first draft onto Amazon and expect to hit it big. Unless you really are a bona fide genius, in which case WHY ARE YOU READING MY BLOG? Go write.

Book review: The Lady of the Rivers by Philippa Gregory

2011-12-19T09:30:00.000-06:00

The Lady of the Rivers by Philippa Gregory
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Where I got the book: review galley from NetGalley.

Philippa Gregory takes a step back farther in time with The Lady of the Rivers; after exploring the lives of the various Tudor women in a succession of novels, she now dives into the rich and complicated history of the Wars of the Roses. This was a period in the 1400s in which two branches of the Plantagenet royal family struggled for power over England (and various bits of France).

The protagonist in The Lady of the Rivers is Jacquetta of Luxembourg, who is not generally a well-known historical figure. The story covers Jacquetta's life from adolescence to middle age, and Gregory fans will realize that it ends with the beginning of Gregory's 2009 novel The White Queen.

I've been critical of Gregory's kings-and-queens novels in the past, mostly because I would like to see more pure fiction from her, but I enjoyed The Lady of the Rivers. As usual, though, I did not find the protagonist particularly interesting; I felt that she was an observer of history rather than being a participant in it. Of course, in those days a noblewoman's role was to run the house and lands while the men fought (Jacquetta does plenty of that) and produce children (Jacquetta had sixteen). So maybe the impression of passivity that I received was due to the necessity of sticking fairly close to historical fact. The bits of white magic that all of Gregory's heroines inevitably indulge in do not come across as exciting enough to compensate me for the lack of action.

And yet there were some definite improvements over recent novels in the series. For one thing, Jacquetta gets to travel around quite a bit, and even though she's not in the battles I did get a better sense of being near to the action than I usually do. And the supporting cast was good; I particularly liked Margaret of Anjou, Henry VI's queen, and I found the account of Henry VI's mental illness compelling. There were several other memorable characters; in fact, I now understand the Wars of the Roses a whole lot better. So if you read historical fiction for the history, you'll be satisfied.

I'm not going to say much about Gregory's writing idiosyncracies here, since what I was reading was a galley (which had not even been edited for capitalization and paragraph layout; that surprised me). I desperately want to send her the gift of a big bag of semicolons, though. Gregory is the undisputed queen of the comma splice.

One last comment; I have been reading Gregory for years, and am fascinated to note that the novels are getting less sensual as time goes on. This one was PG-rated.

Overall impression: a good Gregory, and recommended for lovers of English history.

View all my reviews

Hate to be a prophet of doom, but...

2011-12-14T09:30:00.000-06:00

Yes, Blond Knitter, I also called you a Prophet of Doom (POD for short) when you were predicting snow in, what was it, October? Check out that 50 degree December weather.

But that's beside the point. I am not here to dispute the possibility of snow in Chicago, which last February was host to the weather event known as Snowtorious B.I.G. (two days off! Woot!) No. I am here to explain why I am inching daily closer to a decision to self-publish the House of Closed Doors series before I've even made an effort to break into the traditional publishing industry.

So I'm going to talk about the future of publishing. An industry in which I have never worked and about which I consequently have only the knowledge of an attentive observer. So please feel free to take my opinions with a grain of salt.

But first, a story. Back somewhere around 2007, I happened to be working for a large retail chain. I got recruited into this just after I finished my master's degree, back in those heady boom days when stores were hiring like crazy, and I enjoyed the job. I got to chat to a lot of people and sell them pretty stuff, and I could walk out of the door at the end of my shift without a responsibility in the world. My co-workers were some of the nicest people I've ever met.

The downside, of course, was Human Nature as displayed by (a minority of) the customers. Talk about material for a book. In the end I realized I wasn't really made for retail, and had another job offer on the table (oh, the good times!)

But in the months before I left, I listened often to the BBC World Service News in my car on the way to work. And they kept saying that the USA was heading for a recession, and it was going to be a doozy. I relayed this idea to my co-workers and friends, and the response was always, "No way! Things are going great! We'll just go on getting richer and richer! The BBC is being a Prophet of Doom!"

Well, you know what happened next. By the time I was ready to leave, a black cloud was hanging over the entire retail sector. And the moral of this story is, sometimes the prophets of doom have got it going on.

And there are lots of them circling around the publishing industry right now. Although I don't really believe in the imminent collapse of Publishing As We Know It. My guess is that one or two large companies may go the way of Borders, but the rest of them will find ways to adapt and survive. The many talented people who work in the book biz will forge their own paths through the Wild West of the e-book boom; they may have to draw on different skills than the ones they use now, but some of them may even find greater prosperity and happiness in the process.

What worries me is what's going to happen to the new and newer writers who are entering the market hoping to get published the traditional way. The business is going to change; change takes time; mid-list writers who enter into contracts in 2012 may conceivably find publication of their book suspended or even canceled as people move around and companies change hands. You could sign with Company A in March and find that your words belong to Company F by December. Again, I point out that I'm no expert. But I've been around long enough to see boom and bust a couple of times, and I know how things work.

And self-publishing is no longer considered the sport of losers. Every day the internet brings evidence--with book sales and earnings figures attached--that self-published authors are making anything from a very modest income, but still an income, to quite a decent income from e-publishing their books. Authors are moving between self-publishing and traditional publishing in both directions, and sometimes doing both.

And all this comes with greater connection between the author and the reader. And in the end, that's what it's all about. Whether you make a little money or a lot is a bit of a crapshoot, but the real thrill for me is being read. That's why I blog. I'm afraid that if I try to go the traditional route in this time of upheaval, it might be years before anything happens with my fiction. It would happen, I'm sure of it, but look--I'm used to a pretty fast-moving business world, and it's hard to adapt to the slow pace of publishing.

And if, by the remotest chance, any publishing industry professionals read this, no offense meant. I think that agents, editors and publishers have an enormous amount of added value to offer to writers who decide to keep control of their own work. I would have no idea how to negotiate foreign rights, for example, or get my book on the shelves at Wal-Mart (alas, the bookstore of the future). And I predict that in five years' time (or maybe a lot less) there'll be a whole new set of relationships out there between new writers and the industry.

By which time, I hope I'll have a few readers for my novels.

5 strategies for catching up

2011-12-06T09:30:00.000-06:00

If you've been paying attention you'll have noticed that I've been ~~moaning~~ ~~whining~~ ~~whingeing~~ ~~bellyaching~~ writing a lot about BEING BUSY. Well, yeah, c'mon, I wrote a novel last month you know. Then there was a long, long freelance project and the whole general business of being Senior Household Executive and Dictator-for-Life.

And then, suddenly, like the tide going out, it was all gone and I could see the sand again. And lots of seaweed. Wait. I'm straying into metaphor again, aren't I? This. Must. Stop.

In plain English, I am no longer overloaded/crushed with work. I am back to what's laughably called "normal" around here, which still means that I don't have free time as such, just the ability to decide what I do rather than have my day dictated to me by the word URGENT.

And now it's time to play catch-up, whoopee! I don't know about you, but I dread the moment when I start looking through all the things that I should have done over the last few weeks and find at least one very important thing I've missed. Happens every time I get really busy. But I'm getting my life back under control, and since I've been writing on the subject of productivity a lot lately, I thought I'd tell you how I do that.

I make a list. Or several lists. Lists help me to cut down the fog a little and think about what I'm doing. I've had a whiteboard sitting behind my door for weeks waiting to be put up so that I can write lists on it. Hmm, wait. OK, just added 'put up whiteboard' to the list.
I declare a computer-free day, or at least a large chunk of computer-free time. This is because I have a tendency to neglect tasks on the outside of the wonderful world of WWW, so ignoring my Macbook is a great way to be more productive.
I group tasks. I'm trying to answer my emails in chunks, unless they're urgent, for one thing. And tedious stuff like paying bills and reconciling bank accounts is best done all at once, like swallowing Pepto-Bismol.
I make an executive decision: do I pick off the low-hanging fruit first, or swallow that frog? I'm usually more of a low-hanging-fruit-picking type of gal, but this is an important decision and needs careful consideration. Chocolate can helpfully be introduced at this stage.
I get stubborn. Oh yes. As, for example, when I decided to chunk my way through all items that involved sending mail and nothing, not even Wasabi's latest crisis involving TWO trips back and forth to college, stood in my way. Goldurn it, that paperwork was going DOWN.

What's YOUR best method for catching up with yourself? Do you ever get the chance, or do you feel like you're drowning?

Stream of Consciousness

2011-11-28T09:30:00.000-06:00

So many thoughts are currently swirling around in my head that I thought I'd just sit down and type, to see what comes out first.

Normally when I set out to compose a blog post, I have some kind of subject in mind. But many of the subjects I have in mind I can't really expound on right now, sometimes because I just don't know enough about the matter under discussion (and when does THAT ever stop you? I hear you cry) and sometimes because I might inadvertently say something that will harm a business relationship.

So, today you get my stream of consciousness. I chose the nice picture you can see up top because it's a stream choked with leaves, and I'm feeling a bit that way. I appear to have an awful lot to digest right now.

One of the things that's on my mind is this blog. When January 1, 2012 rolls around, I will have been blogging for three whole years. And in all that time I've managed to churn out only 134 posts, which isn't spectacular. Mind you, with 12,700 total page views over those three years, that's...hang on, need calculator...an average of 95 eyeballs per post. Not exactly JK Rowling, but I've grown fond of the feeling that I can communicate with a small, select audience on a regular basis.

(My most popular post, with 773 page views to date, is this one. It continues to get looked at consistently, week in week out, at the rate of just over 1 a day. Which shows you how many people are out there with a novel inside them fighting to get out.)

So anyway, my blog feels like it's leaving infancy behind and embarking on childhood. And I want to help it grow. So it's soon to get an overhaul; I want to abandon the current theme and go for a more minimalistic background, a bit like my neglected tumblr blog (I really like tumblr but right now it's low on my list of priorities) and some extra pages. And I really WILL try to stick to a more regular blogging schedule, even if my posts have to be mind-dumps like this one.

Part of my effort to make my blog grow is Twitter. When I came back from the ACFW conference at the end of September, I had around 800 Twitter followers, and then I read Molly Greene's excellent post on how she got to 4,000 followers fast. Ooo, I thought, I can do that, and then when I write a blog post I have slightly more chances of people discovering my blog.

So I followed her advice, adding in a couple of tweaks to suit my own ways of doing things. As I write, I have 1,862 followers--no, hang on, 1,863--on Twitter (go here if you want to add to their number) and the number of new follows per day is growing in leaps and bounds. That's in, what, less than two months? At this rate--hang on, calculator again, math isn't my strong point--I could have 10K Twitter followers by the end of 2012...I wonder, will that make me successful or simply insane? Or will I just decide that it's all imaginary numbers, like I did with Klout?

Will any of these efforts result in much change? Who knows? I'm not a consistent blogger, and that doesn't help me. I tend to talk about one subject area one day and another the next.

Wait...light bulb appears above my head...ANALYSIS. Y'know, I think I'm going to have to enter the Big Grownup World of bloggers who analyze.

Any suggestions? Other than rude ones. Well, you can be rude if you're constructively rude. What else can I do to freshen up this blog? I want to make it more fun and more interactive. Any ideas?

NaNoWriMo: Muscles and Manure

2011-11-23T09:30:00.000-06:00

"First draft = ca ca."

Thus the wisdom of Katharine Grubb the 10 Minute Writer, because yours truly was complaining--yes, complaining--about having finished NaNoWriMo on November 22 with 'only' a 65,000 word count. Look, it's all relative, OK? I was aiming for 90K but as usual I got through my story too fast. I tend to leave out the descriptive bits, because they're in MY head--you readers don't actually need to read about them, do you? You do? Ah well, thank heaven for editing.

Are you doing the math yet? I finished on November 22, so yes, I did about 3K/day (2,947 if you REALLY want to know). For me, that's like running uphill with weights on my feet - it was OK-ish for the first two weeks, after that it was KILLING me. Too. Many. Words.

(Especially as I was also finishing off a big freelance project at the same time. Seriously bad timing. And somehow I also managed to get some exercise (Wii Fit, but hey) and put in considerable effort to grow my Twitter following.)

And now, Dear Reader, I am bereft of a WIP and once more able to:

blog
do things around the house
pay the bills
read
write book reviews (oh my goodness, I'm now behind by 7)
and generally think straight. Ish.

So having trained really hard in NaNo to pump up my writing muscles, what's next? The Next Big Challenge is to learn to be a multitasking writer - to be writing one novel while editing another and researching a third, and at the same time trying to sell my work. Because whichever route I take--and right now, even though I've gotten farther with the traditional publishing people than I dared to hope with The House of Closed Doors, I'm watching current publishing events very closely and considering my options--I'm going to be very busy as a published writer. I'm going to have to learn to put all of these pieces together AND carry on with the rest of life at the same time.

All this is made easier by the fact that the freelance work is tapering off, and I'm not looking for any big projects right now. There's a lot going on in the House of Steen, and it just happens to work out better that I keep my schedule very flexible and let Felsted get on with the bacon-bringing-home. (That's not anti-feminist, just practical. We're a team.)

So over the next few months I'm hoping to be able to produce a whole lot more words on a 1K/day schedule (SO easy after the last 22 days), work on some ideas that I have for setting up small revenue streams so I can pay for my own gadgets and conferences, and generally Be A Writer.

Which brings me back to the manure metaphor, and the new pile of poo somewhere in my hard drive. I'm also, as some of you may know, fond of gardening. And like any gardener, I know that fresh manure is no good to anyone. It has to be left for a while, then turned over (first edit) and left again, and then spread about (beta readers). And then, after some time has elapsed, it can be dug in (second edit). And then I'll be ready to grow the Enormous Hollyhocks of Publication and the Sunflowers of Success.

OK, that was a bit of a stretch. Normal brain function will be resumed soon. In the meanwhile, I'm alive, I've missed you guys, and I'm BACK.

Oh, the WIP? Working title is Eternal Deception, and it's the sequel to The House of Closed Doors.

Let Me Be To Thee As The Circling Bird...

2011-11-03T09:30:00.000-05:00

Now why on earth am I sitting here writing a post at 10:20 in the evening? When I should be heading for bed (don't laugh, I'm OLD) to rest my brain for another NaNoWriMo 3K tomorrow.

Now why on earth is it that just when you think you're getting somewhere, you get hit with another round of shenanigans and find weevils in the pantry cupboard again? (That's not a metaphor. It's a sad truth.)

Now why on earth is it that I can't find my really small crochet hook? I hate it when stuff goes missing.

Now why on earth is it that I'm beginning every sentence with "Now why on earth is it"? Talk about annoying.

And these, of course, are all first world problems. Except that I've decided to eschew the expression "first world problems" because it's smug and patronizing. So wait, I just uneschewed. Autocorrect changed that to "unscrewed," and it's almost right.

I should really go to bed and read something now. Something really funny. Except that I'm finding it harder and harder to read anything when I'm writing a first draft. My own characters keep intruding on whatever I'm reading. The solution, of course, is to take my Kindle upstairs and book-hop until I find the right mood, which probably won't be fiction. Philosophy or poetry sounds about right.

Let me be to Thee as the circling bird...*

Yes.

And by the time you read this it will be morning, and all these evening matters will be submerged under a torrent of tasks, not the least of which is another 3K to add to my novel. So I bid you, Dear Reader, a pleasant Thursday, and I leave you with the words of a tormented poet who, nevertheless, said on his deathbed "I am so happy, I am so happy. I loved my life."

And if you can sort some sense out of this post, then bravo! You've been reading my blog for a while.

*

Let Me Be To Thee As The Circling Bird

Let me be to Thee as the circling bird,
Or bat with tender and air-crisping wings
That shapes in half-light his departing rings,
From both of whom a changeless note is heard.
I have found my music in a common word,
Trying each pleasurable throat that sings
And every praised sequence of sweet strings,
And know infallibly which I preferred.
The authentic cadence was discovered late
Which ends those only strains that I approve,
And other science all gone out of date
And minor sweetness scarce made mention of:
I have found the dominant of my range and state —
Love, O my God, to call thee Love and Love.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Jody Hedlund Contest Winner!

2011-10-21T12:06:00.000-05:00

Many thanks to all who commented on Monday's post, and especially to those lovelies who are now following my blog - I hope I'll get time during NaNoWriMo to post enough silliness to keep you smiling.

Oh, what? You want to know who won? OK. Nine people qualified to enter for the draw, so I asked Random.org who won and it said....

The very first commenter! LesleyfromWI!!

Lesley, you have a great read in front of you. And depending where you are in Wisconsin, you might soon get some nice cold weather to make snuggling up with a good book the best option. Here in the Chicago 'burbs we had a light frost on Wasabi's car this morning, to delight us with the thought of months of snow and ice ahead.

By the way, for you new people, I use code names for my family:

Felsted = the husband. Rather old-fashioned except when it comes to writing code, at which he rocks. Really quite nice about the whole writing thing; has his fingers permanently crossed that I will Make It Big and buy him a house with a built-in movie theater.

Orangina = oldest daughter. Special needs young adult, lives with us and has many opinions that you're welcome to if you've got, say, two hours or so.

Wasabi = youngest daughter. College freshman. High maintenance. Has both beauty and brains, and was once told by a Facebook friend that she's the hardest-working lazy person he knows. Which about says it.

Lesley, your email is in my head and may even make it into writing. Enjoy the book! And many thanks to Jody for the interview...

Jody Hedlund, the writer's life and a GIVEAWAY!

2011-10-17T09:00:00.000-05:00

Ooo, I love posts where I can put GIVEAWAY in the title. They generate healthy traffic, a principle well known to sellers of breakfast cereal and magazines. Strange, I suddenly have a craving to eat and read.

Resisting the temptation to have breakfast. . .dear Reader, we're here to talk with Jody Hedlund, who is making a name for herself both as a writer of historical romances and as a blogger who focuses on the writing life in a helpful way (unlike Yours Truly who just talks about herself). On Jody's blog you'll find lots of advice and links to help you get started if you're new to the writing game, and she's very honest about her own challenges and struggles as a writer, which is an inspiration in itself. I will confess RIGHT HERE AND NOW that I totally swiped her character checklist for use in writing The House of Closed Doors. Thanks Jody!

And at the end of this post we will be giving away a copy of Jody's latest book, The Doctor's Lady. I read it recently and really enjoyed it; lots of adventure and romance, and I'm starting to get very interested in American history so I loved all the real-life details and the characters that the heroine, Priscilla, meets on her dangerous journey to Oregon County with her husband-of-convenience, a rugged but gentle hunk of a doctor called Eli.

Jane: Jody, what was the inspiration behind The Doctor's Lady?

Jody: This book is inspired by the true life story of Narcissa Whitman, the first white woman to brave the dangers of overland trail and travel west. In 1836, she married Dr. Whitman, and then the next day left her childhood home and would never return for the purpose of starting a mission among the Nez Perce natives.

It was my hope in this story to bring Narcissa Whitman to life. This heroic woman has often been ignored and at times even disparaged. In reality, she exuded incredible courage to attempt a trip many proclaimed foolishly dangerous. It was called an “unheard-of-journey for females.” Because of her willingness to brave the unknown, she led the way for the many women who would follow in her footsteps in what would later become known as the Oregon Trail.

Jane: My readers will see from your description that there are plenty of movie-ready moments in your book. And, let's be honest, we all dream of having our books made into movies, don't we? I know Felsted is just longing for me to make movie ~~money~~ magic. So, imagine the great day has come and you're going to see your story on the big screen: who plays Priscilla and Eli?

Jody: Dr. Eli Ernest needs to be played by Kevin Costner whose rugged, scruffy look in Dances With Wolves is exactly the way I envisioned Dr. Ernest. Eli is a man full of passion and unafraid of danger, and yet willing to learn and grow through the challenges he faces.

Priscilla White needs to be played by Gwyneth Paltrow. Priscilla is a beautiful and elegant lady with Gwyneth’s looks in Emma. She’s not physically strong and she’s a bit naïve, and yet she’s determined and courageous.

Jane: Hmm, Dances With Wolves meets Emma. . .what an intriguing thought. "A puff of the peace pipe, Mr. Knightley?" But Jody, before we get to the movie, the book has to be written. One of the things I like about your blog is your honesty: you tell us how you're scared to death when you first submit a book, about being tearful over your revision letters and about feeling insignificant next to big-name authors. So the published author's life isn't all roses?

Jody: I struggle the most during the editing phase of each of my books. The love affair that started during the first draft comes to an end. I fall out of love with my books. By the last edit—called the Galley Review—I finally reach a point where I loathe the book, think it’s the worst thing I’ve ever written, and wish I could just throw it away. During the Galley stage, I’m fraught with insecurity and fear. My agent did a great job of talking me off the cliff during my fears with The Doctor’s Lady. She encouraged and inspired me to keep going no matter what happens.

Jane: Yes, I met your agent, Rachelle Gardner, at the ACFW conference. AND I met you. AND your critique partner Keli Gwyn. Wait. . .OH NO I'M A STALKER!! Or possibly just paying attention to your blogs. Anyway, Jody, you're doing pretty well. Your first published book, The Preacher’s Bride, hit the CBA Best Seller list on two different occasions and has won multiple awards. Your blog is a roaring success with wannabe authors. So give us your advice on what it takes to be a successful author. . .

Jody: One of the key qualities in becoming a successful author is learning to be an enthralling and captivating storyteller. Writers can (and should!) work on improving their techniques—how to write good dialog, how to write tightly, how to develop their characters, etc.

But first and foremost, I think readers are looking for stories that blow them away. At least as a reader, that’s what I long for!

Jane: Thanks for the chat, Jody! (Switching back to normal haranguing of her blog readers) and talking of stories that blow us away, my lovelies, we are going to give away a copy of The Doctor's Lady to a commenter. No, no breakfast cereal. Just a fast-paced romantic adventure you can get your teeth into! (Geddit? #lamejoke oh dear I've been on Twitter too much lately.)

All you have to do is leave a comment with your email address (write it as address AT website DOT com if you're afraid of spiders and bots) and an honest answer to this question: could you have been a pioneer out in the Wild West? Now the only restriction is that the winner must have a US mailing address, so if you're popping in from anywhere else in the world you're out of luck. But you can answer the question anyway.

Oh-oh, Jody's gotta go--back to writing with one hand while homeschooling her five kids with the other.

Were we talking about feeling inadequate? Bye Jody, and good luck with your next book, which will be set in a lumber camp in Michigan in the 1880s. Don't feel discouraged when you get to the edits!

Overwhelmed

2011-10-11T16:25:00.000-05:00

Oh for heaven's sake, I haven't posted for nearly a month. Better get some words on the screen, right?

Hi there! How are you all? Been busy? Yeah, me too. Let's see, last time I wrote I was Pomodoro-ing like mad toward two deadlines, being the completion of the second humungous revision of my MS for the ACFW conference, and a freelance deadline that's still kinda sorta hanging over me, because that's what freelance deadlines do.

Now I'm, what, three weeks out from the conference, and have spent those three weeks in the writer-cave bringing order out of chaos. It's KILLING me. I swear this project has been going since the Dawn of Time.

I have a brief respite today, which is a good thing. Because there have been shenanigans. Big shenanigans, that have left me fondly looking back to the days when I could just spank a certain person's little tush and carry her to her room for a major time-out. So if you pray, send up one for us, huh?

On the upside, the conference was stupendous. Exciting things happened, and my stretch goal was achieved. No, I'm not going to be publishing a book just yet. This is the real world, and these things take time. But let's just say it was encouraging, and in some ways quite astonishing. And there's still work I need to do as a follow-up, not to mention outlining the next book because AAAAAAAGH Nanowrimo's 21 days away AAAAAAAAGH... None of this is helped by the fact that my first book, my practice novel, keeps invading my mind and saying "rewrite me." You know, considering the darn thing was in my head for 14 years, you'd think it would have grown up and left home by now.

And I'm feeling rather overwhelmed by the whole kit and caboodle. (Do you say that here in the US? Included the link, just in case you don't.) The kind of overwhelmed that makes me think bed, for about a month, would be a good place to be. The kind of overwhelmed where you stand in the middle of the room and get nothing done because there's so much to be done. Know what I mean?

But I've made some decisions that have been bothering me for a while, about how much time I should spend on the various areas of my life, and I feel good about those. In short, more writing of the kind that I want to do is on the horizon, supported by more of the activities that bolster that writing rather than wear me to little shreds of fed-upness. I need to look after myself more, too. Feed the mind, body and soul.

And more time spent with the family definitely seems to be on the books...the shenanigans will pass, as they do, but in the end the reasons I write are intricately bonded to my everyday life, both the Life of the Mind and the life of experience. And when you're a materfamilias (I love that term) much of the life of experience happens in that hub of crises, the home. I am turning this all into fiction in my head AS WE SPEAK...I am reading A.S. Byatt's spellbinding novel The Children's Book right now, which touches on how this process happens but not nearly enough.

And I might even get back to a proper blogging schedule. AND I might even make Felsted read my MS...discovered last night that he thinks I've only written one novel. Silly man.

What are YOU doing? Tell me anything.

Picture courtesy of the Art Inconnu blog.

Is Reading Work?

2011-09-15T08:48:00.001-05:00

I have to report that the whole Pomodoro® thing is going pretty well. Measuring my working time in 25-minute chunks is an effective way to keep my mind more or less concentrated on the task in hand, although I admit that it's been drifting quite a bit these last few days and I have a tendency to forget to set the timer. And being able to analyze what I've done over several days is giving me a realistic picture of how much work I'm able to do - should be quite helpful when I'm planning in the future.

But I've come up against a question. Is reading work? I'm sort of going backwards and forwards on this one. Technically, I suppose, I'm a professional reader. I review the books I read (although I now have a review backlog because I've been too busy) partly for fun and partly because, well, I just love books and I'm on a mission to promote good books and give the writers of slightly less good ones my honest opinion in the hope that they might try harder. (I'm not generally that hard on authors, though, with a few exceptions--I tend to rip into self-help books, and if the author is a big name earning lots of money out of his/her readers s/he'd better not phone it in or I will POUNCE.)

But I don't earn anything from reviews, except a few free books. So is reading them work? Should it go down on a Pomodoro® sheet?

And what about the books I read for fun? And if I'm reading a review copy of an author I'd read for fun anyway, is that fun or work? Or both? And then, supposing I'm reading for research purposes and then I find I'm enjoying the book?

In a sense, when you're a writer ALL reading counts as work. Every word you put into your noddle helps to build up your knowledge of the English language. Even bad writing teaches you something. You know, even the IRS recognizes reading as work since a self-employed writer gets to count all publications as business expenses (that was definitely an OH YEAH! moment when I found that out).

So it's work, right?

What if I'm eating my lunch and reading at the same time? (A deplorable habit, but show me a keen reader who doesn't whip out a book at solitary mealtimes.) Am I on a break or having a working lunch? And yes, I'd love to try deducting the cost of that lunch as a business expense on the basis that I'm reading and therefore working. But no, that piggy won't fly.

And let's not even consider whether bathroom breaks are work if you take a book in there... OH COME ON YOU KNOW YOU DO.

And should I count the times I pull out my Kindle when I'm in a waiting room or sitting in the car waiting for someone? (Apparently I'm not done with being Taxi Mom yet. No, not by a long chalk.) What about the times I use my phone to read blogs while I'm standing in line? I do this quite a bit.

And what if I'm in the car listening to an audiobook?

So in the end, sometimes I count my reading on my tracking sheet® (okay, that ® is definitely getting sarcastic on me) and sometimes I don't. Because reading is one of those activities that to me is more like breathing. I am awake, therefore I read. I write because I read. The first thing I want to do when I jump out of bed is either read or write. Seriously.

And now I have to go shower because I'm Taxi Mom again this morning. Tell me, do you think reading should be work? Or am I just trying to pump up my Pomodoro®®® hours?

Sheep and Wool and the Friends Who Love Them

2011-09-12T09:00:00.000-05:00

7:40 a.m. "In-in-in!" The Blond Knitter is in a hurry. Kate jumps into the front seat and immediately pulls out her latest knitting project. In the back, I discover how hard it is to type on my phone while rattling along what appear to be very rural roads. Seriously? We haven't left Chicagoland yet? I would complain to somebody political if I had a vote, i.e. thought they would actually listen.

We are on our way to the Wisconsin Sheep and Wool Festival. Ah, a day off at last. No, wait. I have to write this blog post. So I'm. . .working?

9:51 a.m. We're here! It smells like grass, wool and manure. Kate and Tonja are hypnotized by yarn. . . Oooh, drop spindles. I don't know why I covet these - I have no intention of learning to spin.

This is the "shopping" part of the outing. We all have our goals--at least the other ladies do. I think my goal is not to spend as much as usual. My yarn stash is reaching serious Project Squirrel proportions, a situation exacerbated by a major ailment known as Too Much Writing. People talk about going off-grid to relax; I need to go off-life for a month or two and just knit.

I buy a shawl pin in the only design I've ever found that doesn't drive me crazy by slipping around. Deep breath. . .it was $5 so all is good so far. Resist, resist: do you KNOW how hard that is in a place filled with yarny gorgeousness?

I have been helping Kate with her quest for a cream-colored yarn for a birthday present shawl. We arrive at a rather good stall where I spot the absolutely perfect thing: a skein of ivory-colored pure silk. Of course the moment Kate has decided she's buying it, I WANT IT. Fortunately the stall owner roots around in a bag for me and brings out another skein, because my Inner Child was going to sulk for the rest of the day otherwise.

12:15 p.m. Replete with homemade goodies from our tailgate lunch, we are now in the sheep and goat barn watching the sheep judging. Interesting to hear the judge comparing the structure of one sheep to the next, although it means very little to me except that now I know a market lamb should be opened up in the chest, whatever significance that may have. And why, when he's judging rams in the "meat" ring (yes, the Final Destination of these little lambies is shashlik), does he grab them by the. . .very clear evidence that they are male? I'm sorry, I have an inquiring mind. So if anyone can enlighten me I'd be very happy.

At some point I open my bag for a quick Gloat, otherwise known among the kniterati as a Fondle. This is when you stroke your yarn with the light of love in your eyes, trying not to think about how much you paid for it. Oh yes, and I also bought a silk scarf for an extremely reasonable price. Well, I have a conference coming up and I need to look my writerly best.

And I have restrained myself, really I have. I was sorely tempted by a champagne colored alpaca poncho but it was $175 so let's sell that novel first, eh?

2:50 p.m. After we're done gazing at sheep and have looked in on the fleece judging and silent auction, we browse the remaining vendors and then head for home. I can proudly say that I've never spent LESS at a yarn event. I need to knit faster and use up my stash so I can buy more. Darn this writing.

9 Great Ways to Put Off Writing

2011-09-07T07:00:00.000-05:00

One: Decide you're going to write a serious blog post about a serious subject for a change. Even go so far as to discuss it with The Blond Knitter. Sigh. I should know better than to force my writing into a genre/style into which it doesn't naturally go. Square peg, round hole. You know this is happening when you write one paragraph and then stare at it for a long time, realizing that it lacks Gravitas. Seriously, even in Paragraph One some silliness is creeping in. Admit that you're never going to win the Pulitzer Prize for Commentary, mostly because your view of the world always starts with your own tiny little life and then, if we're really lucky, takes a very short trip into the Life of the Mind. Delete paragraph, start over.*

Two: Eat a large lunch. I have a theory that nobody writes well after a large Sunday lunch. Even though we touched not a drop of wine. I wouldn't advocate starving in a garret, but being weighed down in the tummy area is not conducive to literary brilliance. This is why writers eat so much chocolate: real food is bad for them.

Three: Start thinking about chocolate. Thoughts about chocolate, while writing, can do long-term damage to your grammar. I mean, will you take a look at point 1 again? An editor's nightmare. Who is "you" in this paragraph? And it's not even consistent. I must have been thinking about chocolate. Which, considering I'm still full of Sunday lunch, is very nasty of my brain. By the way, I have no chocolate.

Four: Look through your "blog ideas" notebook and decide that EVERY SINGLE IDEA IS UNSUITABLE. "But," you stammer (to yourself; nobody else is listening) "they were such good ideas! What happened to them?" What happened, you answer yourself, is that you are seeing them with objective eyes. Of course some of them would have made good blog posts at the time. This is because at the time, I was seeing them from an angle that made them interesting. When I'm looking at them on the pages of a notebook, I'm seeing them straight on. And they look flat and one-dimensional. Wait. Do I mean two-dimensional? I'm not good with dimensions.

Five: Start comparing yourself to every other blogger in your blog reader and let the insecurities creep in. Other bloggers don't blather on like this, do they? And they can keep their pronouns consistent within a paragraph. Start thinking about chocolate again, and return to point 3.

Six: Decide it won't hurt to check Facebook for five minutes, because, seriously, this post... On the other hand, reading statuses makes you realize how much the world loves trivia, and you return, encouraged, to your task.

Seven: Resort to alcohol. Worked for Hemingway. On the other hand, the man drank REAL alcohol, not a strange fruity spritzer thing (with sake!) that you bought on that extremely manic money-no-object grocery run last week. What happened to "make a list and stick to it," you think as you imbibe orange-colored liquid and remember that you don't really like weird fruity drinks.**

Eight: Start thinking about how nice it would be to put your feet up with a really good book. One that someone's, like, worked on. Gaze at the spines of the serious tomes you really intend to get round to reading, and then decide you'll just read that nice easy novel. After all, it's Sunday.

Nine: Run out of ideas.

How do YOU put off writing?

* Strangely enough, I can write perfectly good serious prose FOR MONEY. Hire me and see.

** This course of action is only recommended if you're over 21 and your life is so dull there's absolutely no chance of driving anywhere for the rest of the day. Write responsibly.

Frances Hodgson Burnett, Harry Potter and a post-cynicism manifesto

2011-09-01T17:13:00.002-05:00

I have to make a confession. I'd never read The Secret Garden until a couple of weeks ago. As one friend said on Facebook, that was a gaping hole in my literary education. So if people ever talked about the book I'd naturally nod sagely, because don't YOU hate admitting you haven't read that book everyone else has read? Oh come on, you're not kidding anyone.

In fact I'd never read any Frances Hodgson Burnett at all. So as soon as I'd finished The Secret Garden I zoomed through A Little Princess (and let me just say how absolutely nauseating are the covers of the editions available on Amazon, so no wonder I'd never read it) and Little Lord Fauntleroy (not a nauseating cover on this edition, but completely irrelevant to the book. If I ran the publishing industry, designers would have to read the book they are designing for. Just saying.)

Now as an adult reader in the 21st century I can definitely find some faults with these books. The moralizing, for one. But as a fan of the 19th century I'm well aware that the prevailing wisdom of the day (until the Realists stuck their oar in) was that the purpose of art was to uplift and instruct. And if your art was aimed at children, then multiply that by ten. So Burnett was in fact being quite restrained. Then there was the seriously strange juxtaposing of a sort of paganism with the Christian Doxology in The Secret Garden; it made sense to read that Burnett drifted away from orthodox Christianity in the direction of spiritualism, although at first I just thought she was being rather Church of England.*

And then of course we can get into the racism and general assumption of British superiority that pervades most books written before about 1960. Different culture back then, end of discussion. One day they'll all be available in "updated" editions with the bigoted parts cut out, and then will we have any clue about how far we've come?

And yet...they were great stories that had me glued to the page even while I was analyzing the values behind the text. Something of the greatness of C.S. Lewis's Narnia books, I thought. And then I realized I was also thinking of Harry Potter.

There have been quite a few attempts to analyze why people love the Harry Potter books, and I'm not going to start listing them (although I like this one). I just want to say that these books, like Burnett's, like the Narnia Chronicles, are marked by an absence of cynicism (although Lewis cleverly puts the cynicism into the mouths of the "progressive" adults who occasionally appear in the real, non-Narnia world).

It seems to me that cynicism (and its younger brother irony, the begetter of many Facebook statuses) initially crept into books with the Realists but didn't get going full steam until about the 1960s, which ironically (!) enough was when people started DRESSING like children, have you noticed? If you want to see the pre-cynical age contrasted with the post-, watch Pleasantville (a wonderful, deep movie on all sorts of levels).

And no matter how often the cynics have mocked the non-cynical, I think we still need forms of belief where good is good and evil is evil (the best kind of literature distinguishes them while still providing nuances) and you can tell the difference between the two. And good is pretty obviously going to win even on page 200 where things are looking pretty bad for the Right Side. That, I think, is what kept several hundred under-25s completely silent at the midnight showing of Deathly Hallows 2 I attended back in July. That is what lights up tumblr and other places where the young congregate with fan material focusing on moments such as Snape's revelation that he always loved Lily. I couldn't help thinking that in the next decade most of those kids will have kids of their own, and they'll be reading the Harry Potter books to them.

As long as there's Hollywood (and Disney is probably the worst offender) it'll probably take us another century to grow out of irony. But have we grown out of cynicism? Are we--and by we I probably mean the generation now 30 and under, so not really me--Post-Cynics? Is it hopelessly uncynical of me to think so?

*no offense to the C of E, of which I'm quite fond.

I Started a Completely Different Post But It's Not Working

2011-08-29T09:00:00.002-05:00

A blogger's life is not an easy one. I've been trying hard to write something about living with a Prophet of Doom (Felsted is fond of the pole shift theory) but it's just not working out. So now I'm writing a blog post about a blog post that didn't work out, because we writers are nothing if not a) persistent, b) possessed of an amazing ability to re-use material, and c) I have no idea what c) is but there has to be a c).

I'm not one of those bloggers who uses their family members as material. Although there's gold in them thar hills, as Jen Lancaster (who lives about 5 miles from me I think) has discovered. Seriously, if I REALLY GOT GOING about the doings and ponderings of Felsted, Orangina and Wasabi, I could keep you all on the edge of your seats* every day and buy myself a mansion in Lake Forest.

And yet I exercise restraint, mostly because I don't really want my family to hate me.** I think it's fair game to write people you know (heavily disguised) into novels, but into a blog? Nah. Writing people into fiction is parasitical on a threadworm scale when you just take little bits of one, little bits of another, and blend the whole into an interesting new character. That's psychology, that is. A science based on the observation of human beings.***

But family blogging? Even with the consent of those blogged about (and let me tell you, my lot are NOT on board with having their stuff out there) the family blogging thing could easily become a tapeworm in the Steen body. (You HAVE to hit that last link. Felsted and I were the guinea pigs for this essay, AT DINNER. It was ham. I've never forgotten.)****

So you may never see the Prophet of Doom post, which was boring anyway.*****

If I told you it's been a long day (I wrote this yesterday), would you believe me?

* of course you might be on a couch, or in bed. In which case you wouldn't be on the edge of your seats. Am I the only one who takes clichés this seriously? I remember being reduced to a puddle of mirth at the phrase "her eyes flew across the room and rested on the chair" at the tender age of 15. The rest of you were probably doing something much more sensible.

** more than they already do. Look, I've been married for 20+ years and have teenagers. Love/hate relationship, DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED.

*** There's definitely something wrong with that picture. Science is rational, humans are... well, turn on the TV and flip to any given reality show.

**** and strangely enough, I still like filet américain, though only in sandwiches. The raw, glistening reality of unsandwiched filet américain cannot be countenanced.

***** seriously? You're reading the footnotes?

The Pomodoro Technique®, or Why My Life is Measured in Tomatoes

2011-08-25T09:00:00.000-05:00

I think I've been meaning to write this post for about two weeks now, so it's kind of a minor miracle that I've gotten round to it. I was worried when I decided to force myself to post twice a week--wouldn't I run out of material by, say, September 1? But that's the odd thing about making a DECISION to put butt in chair and write to a deadline. It just happens. You sit down and the words are there. Ideas for blog posts now pop into my brainpan at least twice a week, and there you are. The Power of the Will.

So, yes, the Pomodoro Technique®. It's all about time-chunking. I've been doing my own time-chunking for a while, but only when things get really busy. I'd set the timer on my phone for 50 minutes and determine to do one task only for that 50 minutes. This is tough for someone with a mind that jumps around like a grasshopper that just drank a venti Starbucks. But there again, its The Power of the Will.

Yes, I know, I could make it more ordinary and just say willpower. But I love Portentous Capitals. I'm hoping, Dear Reader, that you can cope with that. [Look how I just made you more important there. Don't ya love it?]

So why Pomodoro? If you haven't bothered to hit that link above, btw, it's called the Pomodoro Technique® because the Italian guy who started it in the 80s needed a timer. And the one he had at hand was a kitchen timer shaped like a tomato. The point is that you don't need a fancy timer. Or anything, really. The website offers a free download of the book and free to do and inventory sheets, or you can just use your own. (I use the To Do list as a running list, not one per day because I'm not quite that anal, yet.)

My method is a slight adaptation of the technique. The original idea is that you set your timer for 25 minutes (a pomodoro) during which you do one task, then you take a five minute break, then you do the next pomodoro, and every four pomodoros you take a longer break. Which may work for some, but I can't deal with taking actual breaks. I'm a doer.

What I do (because I work at home, which as most freelancers know means neglecting your house entirely while you tap away at your computer) is I work for a pomodoro or two (sometimes without a break, gasp!) and then get up from my computer and go do some household task. I'm going to put together a list of all those little things I could be doing during this break, but right now it's pretty easy because, y'know, tons of things to get on with in a house once your kids go back to school. So my "break" lasts as long as the task lasts - today it'll be stripping beds & washing stuff, and blocking the last of three lace knitting projects that have been sitting on my desk for too long. If the task actually lasts 25 minutes, it counts as a pomodoro! Which is how I turn sheets into tomatoes. There's a joke there somewhere.

The point of doing household tasks isn't just to pay attention to my house, although that's good too. It's to get up from the desk, because there's been all this research lately that shows that sitting at your desk all day is bad for you. Did you know that the electrical activity in your legs SHUTS OFF ENTIRELY when you're sitting at a 90-degree angle? Scary. If I really can't face another housework task, I take myself off for a quick circuit of the neighborhood. At some point my body will, I hope, thank me for this (what a strange thought).

My timer just rang...

So I got up, just relishing the feeling of all that electrical activity in my legs, and stripped Orangina's bed and shoved her duvet in the washing machine. Yes, my kids are adults. Yes, I'm still doing their laundry. Let's just draw a veil over that and move on.

And now I'm back at my desk for another pomodoro. Oh yeah, and when the timer rang I marked down 1 on my tracking sheet against the item "Write blog post." Because the tracking thing is why I'm doing this in the first place.

So I need to get my novel revised for the conference, AND I have specific freelance projects, and then all the rest. I've been struggling with the freelance work lately for various reasons, mostly kid-related, and I've decided I need to increase the number of freelance hours to back up where they should be. At the same time, if I don't commit to at least two hours a day of revising, this novel ain't going nowhere. So I track:

Billable (freelance) pomodoros
Writing pomodoros
Household pomodoros
Unbillable pomodoros, which is all the stuff like doing email, plugging through my blog reader and writing in my journal.

the idea being that I can see if one area of my life is unbalancing the rest. Right now the writing tends to be the heaviest item, and I'm trying to bring the freelance hours back into balance with that.

And I don't track absolutely everything: there's a sort of white space around the 8 hours or so I track every day, which is filled with things like lunch, answering the phone, taking time to smell the roses and so on.

Is any of this making sense to you? I think it'll make sense if you're a freelancer and you know what working at home is like. Do any of you use any sort of time tracking? Is this inspiring or depressing? There was a time of my life when all this would have seemed ridiculous, but when you're trying to run a many-ringed circus, it makes perfect sense.

(I was trying to find the post I wrote about the many-ringed circus back in May, and IT HAS DISAPPEARED. I only know I wasn't dreaming about writing it because I have it on Google Reader. And one of my tumblr posts has disappeared as well.)

Incidentally and apropos of absolutely nothing, would you like me to change anything about my blog? What?

OK that was 2 pomodoros, I'm done. Back on Monday.

And the house seems so quiet...

2011-08-22T08:52:00.005-05:00

I was going to write a post on the Pomodoro technique yesterday, for publication this morning. So what happened to yesterday? Watching (because Orangina and Felsted were) an edited version of Titanic on one of those channels where they stick a badge with upcoming shows on every frame, complete with commercials, was part of it. What the heck? I don't even like TV. But there was something so Sunday-afternoonish about the activity, and the house seems so quiet...

Then there was the Russell/Holmes garden party on Twitter to attend. I'm sure I lose a bunch of Twitter followers when I attend chats, because suddenly I'm tweeting three times a minute and naturally saying complete rubbish at times, because you do when you're in a virtual crowd of people and you get into several conversations at once. Especially when you're in a very specific world known only to readers... the wonderful fantasy world of fandom. Author and "Miss Russell's literary agent" Laurie R. King does an excellent job at world-building, as evidenced by the general politeness and sanity of the garden party. And I found some new Twitter friends, which is why I do these things.

And the house seems so quiet...

Because Wasabi is now living on a college campus not too many miles from here (so I still get to do her laundry), hence no morning arguments over the bathroom and evening arguments about almost anything between the girls. But also no singing around the house and strange random conversations with miscellaneous teenagers, either online or in person. Orangina not being much of a one for entertaining. I dare say I'll get used to it, and I DO need a quiet life with the workload I have on at the moment.

So the next post is likely to be about time management. I just wrote a reminder on my Dilbert daily calendar, which sits on my desk to remind me why I'm a freelancer. Of course, I could change my mind.

Man, this house is quiet.

As for the Life of the Mind, it's a bit murky right now, all my brainpower being directed into getting The House of Closed Doors revised in time for the conference. Evidently I only have so much intellectual energy to go round.

Perhaps things will pick up once I get used to it being so quiet around here.

Look, I Don't Wear Makeup, OK?

2011-08-18T09:00:00.000-05:00

I chanced this week to be working on a photo shoot. Doesn't that sound glamorous? It wasn't. I hired a Photographer-Friend to take some "real people" shots for a print piece I'm working on, and while he was working I hung around trying to look busy, mostly in sheepdog mode rounding up ~~victims~~ subjects to be photographed.

They were given no warning of the event, and the reaction of about 95% of the women was "GAAAAAA! I'm having a bad hair day! My makeup's not right! I would never have worn THIS outfit!" and so on. The guys were fine with being photographed in T-shirts, unshaven, etc. etc. but that's men for you. All the photos will look great. Trust me.

I DID have warning of the event and wore halfway decent clothes. Because I intended to ask PF to run off a quick photo or two of Yours Truly in between tasks. If you've been paying any attention you'll know that I'm going to my first writers' conference at the end of September, and with any luck* I'll have a completed manuscript to talk about.

I'm on a newcomers' email loop for said conference, and much virtual ink has run on the subject of presentation. You know, clothes, appearance in general, having the right marketing materials with you and so on. I predict I'll start getting very nervous about pitches, one-sheets and formatting in about, um, two weeks.

So I got my photo taken, to which my reaction naturally was AAAAGH I LOOK SO FAT, quickly followed by resignation as PF is good at his job and I know that what he saw with his camera was me, real me, not me as I looked 20 years ago. (THAT version of me still inhabits my imagination but has ceased, alas, to inhabit my mirrors.)

OK, I am armed with resignation and a photo and will soon put "getting postcards printed" on my to-do list so that I'll have something to help the people I meet remember me by. All well and good. But... you know those dreams when you suddenly realize you're naked in the middle of a crowd of fully dressed people? I'm starting to suffer from a similar worry about finding myself amid hundreds of beautifully dressed, manicured, and nicely-made-up wannabe authors in my facial and fingertipial nakedness. I don't wear makeup, and I garden and do karate, two activities which are incompatible with manicures.

I gave up makeup many years ago, swearing that I'll start wearing it again when Felsted does. This is generally a no-problem attitude (although slightly problematical for weddings and other dressy occasions) because most of my existence is, well, dull in a busy sort of way, and involves looking ordinary and writing. But this conference is Unknown Territory, and is likely to be filled with authors looking like the photos on the backs of their books. How can all these people be so glamorous?***

I'm not usually insecure**** but I admit to being slightly rattled by this thought. Hence my delight when I read this post by one of my favorite bloggers, Mary Beard, who is too busy being a Cambridge classics professor, author, speaker and radio/TV personality to worry too much about hair or makeup. I tweeted her on the makeup question, just to make sure, and she tells me she doesn't wear makeup. Not even when she's on TV? I should have asked. And she feels insecure about going to beauty salons. Not surprising, really. I imagine the whole point of those places is to make you feel more insecure than you already do about your looks--so that you pay for more services.

So am I going to start wearing makeup for the conference? Nah. I shower at least once daily, wear clean clothes and observe dental hygiene; if that's not enough for an agent or editor, they're not for me. My photo will show a nice fat lady without makeup, and I hope that's how people will remember me. Oh, and the British accent. The accent ROCKS when it comes to getting people to remember who you are in the States. Just ask Rhys Bowen (who sounds posher than me btw, not that American ears are generally tuned to Brit class distinctions).

What do you think? Should I, after all, abandon my principles and put on some warpaint? Do you want to see the postcard when I get round to it?

*and a WHOLE lot more writing...

** don't advise me to have my eyelashes dyed. Just not going there.

*** although some of my favorite authors look reassuringly eccentric. No, I'm not naming names.

**** says the woman who downloaded Beth Moore's So Long Insecurity onto her Kindle because she was insecure about being seen reading a book on insecurity. True story.

The Help: The Book, The Movie, and a Slightly More Coherent Post Than Usual*

2011-08-15T09:00:00.001-05:00

The Help has been on my TBR list since Kathryn Stockett's debut novel began climbing the bestseller charts. Yet I didn't get round to reading it until I found myself staying with one of my sisters, and discovered the novel in her bathroom. I'll just read the first couple of pages, I thought.

[Quick plot rundown for those of you who've not yet gotten around to reading it: The Help is set in Jackson, Mississippi, in the segregated 60s. A successful attempt by one of the young White characters, Hilly, to persuade her friends to build separate outside bathrooms for their Black maids on the grounds that "they have diseases we don't" is the catalyst that brings together Skeeter, a White woman, and Aibileen and Minny, two Black maids, to write a book about what it's like being "the help" in a social system that's only the smallest step up from the days of slavery. Skeeter's risking becoming a social outcast, but Aibileen and Minny are risking their jobs and their very lives to tell the truth.]

Anyway, there I was in the bathroom... a fitting metaphor, because The Help emphasizes our common humanity through the basic symbols of food, blood and pee... So the next day, in order to avert familial strife, I bought The Help on my Kindle. It was that unputdownable.

I've seen those discussions about whether an author of one race should try to depict characters of another race (on the whole I think that writers should be free to imagine any character of any race or creed whatsoever) and I've seen the very valid arguments about all the Black authors who have tried to write similar stories and haven't been published. But when it comes down to it, Stockett's a good writer. Her story has pace and warmth, great dialogue and monologue, and a lyrical, easy flow to the writing. That's why she got published.

I'm not saying it's a GREAT book. I never could warm to Skeeter, for one thing, and some of the action points came across to me as plot devices rather than believable events. But it does manage to convey, to my mind, the raw pain of being treated like a sub-human. It shows that the damage runs both ways, too: the Whites are clearly damaged spiritually by what they're doing, even if their fault only lies in failing to acknowledge and remedy the wrongs that are being done.

The movie was a fairly close adaptation of the book and, because of course in the movie the actors are really African-American rather than being a portrayal of a race by an outsider, that degree of separation from the subject is removed--a rare case where the film medium has an advantage over a book. Similarly, the love that crosses racial boundaries--that between the White children and the maids who raise them--can be much more effectively portrayed in film, by simply the touch of a hand. It's a perfect example of how showing is better than telling.

Viola Davis (Aibileen) and Octavia Spencer (Minny) steal the show, and if any Oscars are handed out they should be getting them. The rest of the cast turn in very solid, convincing performances; I particularly liked Jessica Chastain as Celia Foote, the White outcast with a low-class background, although the movie overly simplifies her character's role. Some of the scenes played up the comedic elements a bit too much and at other times too much effort was put into heightening emotion; I prefer such moments to be underplayed. But on the whole I found myself carried along by the story. And ended up actually quite liking Skeeter in the movie version.

The society scenes were horribly familiar to those of us who live in the land of Ladies Who Lunch. In fact, living as I do in an area where the lawns are mown, the houses cleaned, the children cared for and the tables bussed by Latinos, I'm tempted to think that not much will ever really change as long as there are such large disparities of wealth in America. Exploitation may wear a kinder face today, but it's still exploitation.

I've seen calls to boycott the movie from African-American sources, so I was quite surprised at how many Black people I saw in the movie theater. Hilly's pronouncement about disease brought quite a gasp from the audience, as well it should; even to those of us who remember the casual racial slurs that were still being openly uttered forty years ago, it's shocking language today. Thank goodness. Although the insults are still there; they've simply been driven underground, transmuted into more subtle signals.

With the audience nicely united against Hilly and her creed, they cheered on every bit of ascendance that Skeeter and the maids gained and laughed hilariously at the movie's lighter moments. And this was one of the rare times that I experienced a movie being given a round of applause at the end. Whatever your opinion may be on The Help--and I'd love to hear what it is, either of the book or the movie or both--both were a quality product.

In two years' time it'll be the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington and Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech, and it would be great if The Help could set free a whole lot more voices, Black and White, to tell the story of the Civil Rights Movement and the abuses that made it necessary. As a non-American**, the scars that slavery and segregation have cut across this nation are pretty clear to me, still pink and unhealed. Some talking needs to be done, and perhaps it can best be done through narrative, either fictional or factual.

*At least, I hope so. Ever the optimist.

**We British aren't exactly a model of peace and harmony, but on the whole the races tend to jog along better together. We divide along class lines rather than race, and class lines don't follow racial lines nearly as closely as they seem to do here in the US.

Herding Hamsters, or The Pace of Life

2011-08-11T11:34:00.004-05:00

As I mentioned, I've been getting around lately. And this gave me reason to reflect on how the pace of life varies depending on where you are. This may not exactly be an original observation (I'm not given to wild originality, as you've probably noticed) but it matters to my writing life. Because writing is an activity best done when everything else around me is dull, dull, dull. I need a great deal of routine to write well, and I think that's true of most people.

I remember reading in a pretty darn good biography of Darwin that Charles D. had the dullest of dull lives when he wasn't doing exciting things like sailing around the Galapagos and Shaking Christianity To The Core: work, lunch, then a nice walk around the (large) grounds of his house (always the same walk: I've followed that path, it's pretty dull as walks go), then more work and perhaps popping off to London once in a while. Of course he did have the benefit of a wife and servants to ensure that he didn't have to worry about making dinner (just did that, thank heaven for the crockpot) or discussing with the A/C guy why there's water all over the floor (did that yesterday), but I'm not going to start complaining about not having servants AGAIN. Besides, Virginia Woolf didn't like hers.

The pace of life really struck me when the kids and I were traveling through the London Underground. Have you ever noticed how fast those escalators go? They were quite difficult for Orangina: of course she was lumbered with a large suitcase (as were we all; hers was by far the lightest) and I wasn't able to give her any assistance aside from glancing back and yelling "Stand on the right!" because if you don't, you get shoved and sworn at by commuters late for their train or their meeting or whatever. Living in London must make you terribly fit*: all those miles of hot, crowded underground passages--like mole tunnels--to negotiate, and oh, the flights of stairs! Great fun when your bag weighs 47 pounds. I came back from two weeks of eating and drinking like there's no tomorrow weighing not an ounce more, and I'm one of those rotund people who put on weight by even thinking about chocolate. Mmmm, chocolate.

Even the trains on the Underground rush into the stations like the Charge of the Light Brigade, preceded by a sudden hot wind that sweeps through the station about 90 seconds before the train appears.

In the Brussels Métro, the pace is much slower. The escalators grind at about half the speed of London's, the stations are spacious, high-roofed places, and the trains or trams (it's complicated) roll up with a leisurely air every 3-4 minutes. As soon as I get to Belgium, I always feel that life just simplified itself: eat, drink, do a bit of work, spend months on end with the same set of paperwork, break all records for the time spent forming a government (I don't think it's got one as I write, but it's really quite hard to tell).

When you get to Amsterdam, life seems slower still. This appears to be partly due to the fact that most people get around by bike, which sounds very healthy until you watch the interesting bike/car/pedestrian interactions that happen every five seconds. I'm not sure my blood pressure could stand it. And then there's the simple fact that for many people, life in Amsterdam proceeds at the speed of Wasted. Plenty of people there are sitting around in coffee shops (yes, THOSE coffee shops) or simply on any convenient step or stair doing nothing at all, wreathed in a pungently fragrant smoke.

The most fun I had in Amsterdam was in a canal bike, which is a 4-person pedal boat you can hire to make your own way around the canals. Wasabi persuaded me to try one and I have to say it's the only way to see the town. Although, after being in the liability-conscious USA, it was strange not to have to sign a waiver or wear lifejackets! And there was that point when, with Wasabi "driving," I was reading the tour booklet and discovered that the waste from Amsterdam's 2,500 houseboats empties directly into the canals. So if we'd capsized we'd have ended up swimming in a toilet...

As I was driving along writing this post in my head this morning, it occurred to me that I needed to say something about the pace of life here in the Chicago suburbs. Now, it might have had something to do with the meeting I'd just attended, but the first thing I thought of was Pinkie.

Pinkie was a hamster who arrived in our household pregnant and gave birth to nine healthy little pink rubber things. Two weeks later, they had evolved into black blobs with legs and, despite the fact that their eyes and ears hadn't opened, were ready to leave the nest. This worried Pinkie; some instinct was obviously telling her home was best, so every time one of the babies escaped, she went out to grab it and bring it back. At which moment another three babies would escape, and so on.

So that's living in Chicago for you: there's always something you have to run after, but while you're doing that three other things will have gotten out of control. Or maybe that's just because my life is insane. Who can tell? What would have it have been like if I'd stayed in Brussels, I wonder?

Where do you live, and how would you describe your pace of life? Do you have time to potter around, or are you like the Red Queen?

*the "hoodies" who've been rioting in London and the south-eastern suburbs (where my family live, unfortunately) may have the collective IQ of a ham sandwich, but from the TV coverage they all looked in very good shape physically. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

5 Internet Time Sinks I Don't Want to Live Without

2011-08-08T09:00:00.001-05:00

This post has another of those catchy titles designed to score big in search engines. Which I always write with my tongue stuck firmly into my cheek. Aaaaaand THAT is the very tenous link with today's picture, which shows King George III smirking while the bloke behind him looks on with a "George III, what an idiot" sneer. Oh OK, my post and my pic have no link whatsoever, but I like it. Another British Museum gem.

So in a few days, as I think I said earlier, Wasabi will be ensconced in her dorm room, Orangina will be back at her Special Ed. program, and yours truly will have to darn well whip herself into shape. I'm going to my very first writers' conference (ACFW*) at the end of September, and I need to get the last big round of revisions done and at least get a pitch rehearsed. Which terrifies me.

So I found myself thinking about ways to save time to devote to writing. And that, naturally led me to think about my online life, which does take up quite a bit of my time. My time sinks probably rank thus in order of time wasted: email, blog reader, Facebook, Twitter, and tumblr. So why don't I just shut myself off from them? I actually do: when I'm in writing mode, I usually get the words down before I allow myself to open up the demon websites. So, why shouldn't I forget them altogether? Let's see.

Email: yeah right, try running a business while simultaneously ignoring your email. Or running a house, or dealing with the kids' lives, etc. etc. etc... email has become the tyranny of my life. I do try to get it dealt with at specific points in the day; I attempt to funnel work-related emails to my phone so that I can be alerted when they come in, but the rest waits until I have time to deal with it.

The trouble is, this policy doesn't work well. I find myself constantly making time to shovel out my inbox because the important stuff is getting buried among the flotsam and jetsam. And have you noticed that it's almost impossible to unsubscribe from emails you don't need? I've tried with some, and nothing happens. Right now I'm trying out Unsubscribe.com to see if that'll help me zap the blasted things, but that still leaves all the legitimate nuisances!

Blogs: As I write, there are 187 posts waiting to be read in my blog reader. "Unsubscribe!" I hear you yelling. But going through blog posts is a bit like reading the newspaper: I don't feel obliged to read them all. The experience is usually "Meh, meh, meh, meh, OOO!, meh..." because it's amazing how much useful information I find in blogs. More so than from newspapers and news TV, which I don't interact with much as the level of bias and outside control depresses me. Like email, the only trouble with the blog reader occurs if I don't tackle it regularly. I miss a lot of good contests that way too!

Facebook: Oh no, I'd hate to give up Facebook. It's my water cooler, the place where I hang out with friends for a few minutes between tasks. I don't play games or spend hours looking at other people's photos, and I'd really miss knowing what people are doing. And if some important thing has happened in the last 24 hours, you can bet that my FB friends will be talking about it. Much easier than following the news.

By the way, I joined Google+ to see what it's about, but so far it's not doing a whole lot for me. I'll just let it lie there until it becomes useful or defunct - I was on Twitter for about a year before I actually started tweeting. Which leads me to the subject of...

Twitter: no WAY am I giving up Twitter. How else would I chat with the 10 Minute Writer (I just discovered she shares my aversion to the phone) or make new writer-friends? And yes, I do have writer-friends I see in the flesh, but I have a whole lot more in the Twitterverse and I love them.

tumblr: a little while ago I wrote about trying out tumblr. I have come to the conclusion that my core readership is right here on Blogger and that's where I'm going to concentrate my efforts. But tumblr, although lower on my list of online priorities, has its attractions. I've found quite a few people there who are passionate about books and writing, for one thing. I've decided I'm keeping my tumblr blog and will continue to replicate posts from this blog onto it, but I will also use it to post other things that catch my eye and occasionally post about stuff that doesn't really fit into this environment. Although I'm devastated that they appear to have removed a post I wrote about a certain (quite serious) literary theory I have about The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, presumably because I mentioned a male body part. Although I find myself wondering whether I actually wrote that post, or only dreamed it. Hmmm.

So what's the conclusion? That I'm a hopeless case. I do neglect all of the above when I'm really busy, but I do it (with the exception of tumblr) at my peril. My life is more interesting and even more profitable when I spend a bit of it online. And I work alone most of the time, so I need SOME interaction with the human race. I'm going to proudly keep my time sinks, and work on getting my Klout score up.

* My WIP really isn't aimed at the Christian market, so why I'm going to ACFW is a bit of a mystery to me. I'm hoping to write for the Christian market as well one day, and would like to get an agent who can handle both CBA and ABA, but only time and experience will tell me what kind of conference I should attend.

Back at Home and Full of Nonsense

2011-08-04T21:18:00.004-05:00

Well, I got back today, after the usual nightmare journey in transatlantic cattle class--which makes me long for some future day in which we can be anesthetized upon arrival at the airport, and dumped at our destination completely unaware of the tortures we've undergone.

So I feel a bit like the poor old guy in the picture. He has been condemned to spend eternity (at least the top part of him has--the other bits were probably used as firewood, a wonderful bit of 19th century recycling, don't you think?) in a glass jar in the British Museum, having no doubt been collected during some aristocrat's Grand Tour for the purpose of being displayed in a country house. What twists of fate, I wonder, led him to the British Museum? Alas, I did not have time to read the card properly, merely honoring Mr. Mummy with a quick photo before moving on to the next curiosity. Asi es la vida.

After my plane ride, I believe I also resembled my Egyptian friend in terms of driedupness and general horrified expression, particularly after the TWO HOUR wait in immigration with the kids doing their best imitation of the Ugly Sisters. "You shut up! No, YOU shut up! NO, YOU SHUT UP!"

And this has almost nothing to do with the Kindle, which is the subject of today's post. I got a lot of remarks along the lines of "but ah, the smell and feel of a REAL book!" when I mentioned the Kindle in England. I love real books, believe me. I spent a happy hour yesterday, with a favorite cousin, poking around in an antique bookstore opposite the British Museum. I sighed over, among other delights, a Book of Common Prayer priced at a mere 240 pounds sterling. You'll be happy to learn that I spent a fraction of this to buy a REAL book.

But my point is, that reading stuff on the Kindle takes me away from all the real book stuff, and that's a good thing. When I read a book I'm very aware of the binding, the texture of the paper, the typeface, the cover design, and all the little things that go into the physicality of a book. It's very OCD of me, I know. And heaven help us if there's a label on the cover. Pick, pick, pick...

So I really like being able to concentrate on just the words. And also I can balance the thing on my knee and knit while I read. It's the little things that make life worth living.

And now I'm going to bed to reset my brain into American Mode. In just a few days we move Wasabi into her dorm room. No doubt this will involve some work on the part of Yours Truly. But I'm hoping to get some WIP-revising done. Watch this space.

"Truth or life or honor!"

2011-07-31T03:59:00.005-05:00

Now that Felsted's back at home guarding the house, I can safely tell you that I'm not there, but here. The girls and I are enjoying a couple of weeks in Europe, and I'm currently sitting in a friend's house in Brussels, having enjoyed time in England and Amsterdam as well (that's me on the Millenium Bridge in London).

But I'm not here to give you a travelogue. Suffice it to say that the aims of the trip—celebrating a significant birthday, seeing family and friends, getting out and about a bit and eating great food—have been quite satisfactorily met so far. No, my concern today is with the Life of the Mind.

I don't know about you, but in between the active bits of a vacation I always look forward to those slow moments, spent in trains, boats and planes, or simply sitting in a house towards which I have very few responsibilities and in which I can consequently play hooky with a clear conscience. During those times I can do two things I really don't have much time for ordinarily: read, and think.

And let me just get in a quick plug for the Kindle. I have downloaded books sitting at tram stops in Brussels and rocking along in an intercity train. Nowhere, it seems, escapes the reach of Amazon's Whispernet network, not even places where I have no phone signal and not even a hope of wifi. The first download came with a polite notice explaining that they wouldn't charge me for downloading books abroad; and since some of my so-called purchases are out of copyright and therefore free, I have expanded my library considerably for little cost.

I read The Help after stealing the book from my sister just to look at the first few pages. Yes, possession is nine-tenths of the law, but in order to avert a family crisis I bought it on my Kindle. That was pretty much unputdownable and left me feeling like Salieri watching Mozart compose; I want to write as well as that.

Then I started on the first part of Les Misérables (yes, in French. You can hate me now) having seen the ORIGINAL first manuscript in the most unexpected of places, the sleepy little town of Waterloo, Belgium.* It's bound into a book about four inches thick, and you can see that Hugo wrote a shorter first draft and then interleaved lots and lots of extra material into the text. I last read this oeuvre thirty years or so ago, and right now it's the extra material I'm taking issue with. I hadn't remembered that Hugo spends the first couple hundred pages on a secondary character, or that his digressions were quite so, well, digressive. I'm trying to imagine any modern writer being allowed this measure of self-indulgence.

Then I happened upon a wonderful re-issue of The 39 Steps at my friend's house, part of a Boys Own collector set. Penguin, if you would only issue these with cloth covers to match your glorious classic editions, I will love you forever. The 39 Steps set me off on an orgy of reading classic adventure tales, something I haven't done for quite a few years. It's a wonderful story, not a bit like the Hitchcock movie but with its own charm (although how Hannay manages to be the same size as all the people whose clothes he disguises himself in is beyond me).

This naturally led to downloading The Prisoner of Zenda, the book that gave rise to one of my favorite movies of all time (and I'm sorry, I still like the Stewart Granger version best, however much the purists prefer the older one on which the Granger movie was based scene for scene and line for line. Buy this set to compare the two). The movies followed the book very closely, and my top romantic line of all the ages: "I love you more than truth, or life, or honor!" is right there in print. Sigh.

I've now started on the sequel, Rupert of Hentzau (which, Felsted has often told me, is very sad) and have She downloaded and ready to go. As much as I appreciate, even revere, the literary merits and gritty realness of books like The Help, I will always have a soft spot for the preposterous coincidence and impossible love dilemma, and this definitely shows in my own writing. And I suspect I'm not alone: look, for example, at the ridiculous Ruritanian-style uniforms worn at our recent Royal wedding which, I am convinced, were all part of a fairy-tale staging aimed directly at the tourist market which is Britain's best hope of economic survival. Compare those uniforms to those worn in the Prisoner of Zenda movies. Face it, folks, we all want to believe in the fairy tale.

And that's quite an important insight about myself as a writer: I would like to be literary in my style, but when it comes down to it I like writing a more colorful and less introspective kind of book. And I've had another, more serious insight. I have been horribly torn between the idea of building up my commercial business, at which I'm quite good, and writing fiction. The closer I get to finishing a sellable MS, the more I realize I want to learn BEFORE I actually sell something. This post by Rachelle Gardner, who writes my favorite agent blog, sums it up: the glory of being unpublished is that you have the time to plumb the depths of the writing craft, and find out who you really are as a writer. Once you're published, you're on the treadmill of deadlines and marketing—which explains the phenomenon I've often deplored in my book reviews of successful writers sounding stale and as if they are parodying themselves.

But now we're putting Wasabi through college, and I need to earn some cash. Hence the commercial stuff that takes up much too much of my time and energy. And I feel obliged to try to sell my fiction, because an income, however small, from such work would allow me to justify making it part of my workday. And trying to sell my debut work will obviously result in a certain number of discouraging rejections, because by definition it's not my best work—but all writers start this way, unless your first book is a bestseller, like The Help, which has achieved moviedom and therefore is now, presumably, making a living wage for the author (sadly, having your novels translated into film seems to be the only way a fiction writer can earn anything close to a proper living).

Ah, the conundrum of creativity: love or money? And now this post is about to achieve novel length all by itself, so I'd better shut up and get back to reading Rupert of Hentzau. Among my many resolutions for the coming months is to blog more regularly, so if you're out there reading (and, more to the point, have made it to the end of this post) a word of encouragement in the comments would be much appreciated.

Au revoir, dag, cheerio and goodbye from Europe.

*In a temporary exhibition. Don't book tickets for Waterloo with the purpose of seeing it, folks.

Sharing Power, Sharing Fears

2011-07-19T09:35:00.004-05:00

Last week started with a bang. Or rather, a WHOOOOOOOOOSH. I was sitting there at my computer, as one does (all too frequently in my case, I fear) and realized it was pitch black outside.

"Oh good," I thought, "rain."

Seriously, woman, how long have you lived in the Midwest? IT NEVER JUST RAINS, at least not in midsummer. Five minutes later I was watching the spindly ash trees at the bottom of my yard bend at a very improbable angle. Two minutes after that the power went out, and I helped Felsted open the garage door as he was supposed to be picking Wasabi up at the station. We looked at the weather conditions and shook our heads. I texted Wasabi to take shelter and wait till it was safe for her Dad to come get her.

Another five minutes went by, and I ran upstairs to tell Orangina to wake up and get down to the basement as every tornado siren in the area was going full blast. And then it was over. A short and sweet storm by Chicagoland standards, but powerful enough to send trees toppling like dominoes all over the place, mostly on power lines, which, intelligently, are always placed right next to trees.

We suffered no damage, except, no power. For three days. And, as you may know, I'm a professional writer (yeah, for reals, I earn money doing this) and if I don't have access to the internet and a juiced-up keyboard, I'm messed up. I worked at a client's premises until a mysterious explosion and a partial outage occurred at the same time; then, I was on my own.

At some point during these hot, humid, powerless days I found myself in a local coffee shop that was large enough and generous enough to have many power outlets. Yeah, right. Every one of them was hogged by someone with a laptop, a story repeated all over the area. I seethed inwardly. Were they playing Angry Birds or chatting with friends on Facebook? Because that should be illegal during a power outage, people. SOME OF US NEED TO WORK.

Stymied, I sat down next to a man I'll call Hank. We have mutual friends, and he's a nice guy but I don't know him well. So I was expecting small talk and groans about the whole power thing to ensue.

But... even before I started eating Hank prefaced the conversation with "I don't know if this is something you want to hear, but..." He then went on to tell me his deepest fear, the true dark night of his soul, and why that fear existed. I think my eyes must have gotten rounder and rounder as he spoke, because, folks, it was quite a story.

I was humbled and honored to be the recipient of that confidence. Not at all sure why it was given to me; as a Christian I believe God sets up these moments, but what was I supposed to do with it? Being a writer, for which read "parasite," I have naturally written and rewritten the most dramatic scene in my head several times already, but you don't listen to secrets and then write them out for all to read. It may remain stored in there for many years and then, like some of the traumatic events in my own life, struggle out of its chrysalis one day in a manuscript, transformed (I hope) beyond recognition by the creative process.

Perhaps this is why Wasabi, after reading the beta copy of The House of Closed Doors, told me it was "weird" to read something written by me. Because writing exposes your soul; however much you try to detach yourself, the tracks burned into your brain by life are visible on your page, faint snakes that wriggle around behind the rows of typeface and that can occasionally be seen out of the corner of your eye.

I have no real conclusion to the Hank story, because I don't think it has concluded. I have the impression that there will be some kind of continuation; that the day in the coffee shop was a beginning of some kind.

But I DO have a great conclusion to the whole hogging-the-outlet story. I got on Facebook (when the power came back) and opined that people shouldn't be allowed to use electricity to play games or chat when it's in short supply. At the end of a long discussion, a friend revealed that she had, indeed, been playing games on her laptop at the library while the power was out.

BUT SHE HAD BROUGHT ALONG A POWER STRIP SO THAT SHE COULD SHARE THE OUTLET.

Duh. D'oh! And other bang-head-on-desk noises. It didn't even occur to me to do this. Like almost everyone else, I'm so accustomed to having my own private realm of selfishness that if I get to the coffee shop and plug in first, yah boo sucks to the rest of you. I have experienced a few twangs of shame since this extremely obvious solution was presented to me. First, that I never thought of it (and I think I'm smart, huh?) and second, that I would not naturally be that altruistic.

Yet I'm so glad I was powerless that day. Perhaps Hank's story was a gift of a power that's much more significant than the stuff our online lives depend on.

Book Review: Love Wins by Rob Bell

2011-07-07T08:24:00.002-05:00

Where I got the book: from the library.

I'm going to try to keep away from discussing the theological points in this book, mostly because I barely know what I'm talking about. Love Wins has been making waves in some sections of the Christian community because of Bell's notion (some say heretical) that there is no such thing as a literal Hell. I prefer to see this book not as an attempt to preach a new truth, but as asking questions there's no harm debating. Bell says at the outset that he's entitled to his opinion, and I'd back him up on that.

I enjoyed reading this book. It's an easy read,

although Bell's habit

of making points

by using lots

and lots

of short lines

can be a little irritating at times, but it sure makes the pages zip by. Bell makes some really interesting points that are worth considering, calling, for example, for more action here on earth to make the world a better place. I can't really fault that.

On the whole, I'd call this wishful-thinking theology; if you've read the Bible enough times, you'll know that Bell's claims just don't really line up with all the uncomfortable stuff that's in there. It's a shame, because Bell's version of Christianity would pretty much reconcile the rest of the world to the Christian religion, and wipe out the you're-going-to-Hell-I'm-not attitude adopted by all too many believers. Humility, anyone?

Anyway, NOT getting into the theology, this is a nicely-written addition to some debates that have been going on for the last two thousand years. Nothing to get overly excited about, in my opinion, but I'm glad I read it.

Book Review: The Land of Painted Caves by Jean M. Auel

2011-07-04T12:46:00.003-05:00

A quick investigation of Jean M. Auel tells me that she began publishing her Earth's Children series in 1980, and I must have been introduced to the series in about 1985 whenThe Mammoth Hunters was published. So my impression that I've been reading this series since the dawn of time has some foundation.

The Land of Painted Caves is the sixth and, apparently, the final book in the series. For those of you who don't know, these novels are set in the Ice Age and centered around Ayla, who is orphaned at an early age, lives with Neanderthals who call themselves the Clan, is banished, lives on her own and tames various animals, meets hunka hunka burnin' love Jondalar and returns with him (and some horses and a wolf) to his own people, the Zelandonii.

Having worked through the last two books, I was already beginning to tire of this particular epic, but I'm loyal and wanted to see how the whole thing ended.

I am SO disappointed.

For one thing, have I just grown out of this kind of novel, or did these books always read like an animated textbook? It is pretty interesting to learn about how Ice Age people may have lived, but the author is way too evident in this book, stopping the action every so often to give us a little lecture so that you end up feeling the characters are those models in a museum diorama, spears brandished and hair all over the place.

Then there's the repetition. Seriously. EVERY time someone new meets Ayla (and there is a cast of thousands, most of whose names confusingly begin with J) they HAVE to be awed by the tame horses, scared of the wolf and aware of Ayla's strange accent. And I was starting to yell every time the Song Of The Great Earth Mother was sung.

Oh Yes, The Capitals. They Abound. The novel is larded with titles, the one that really got to me being She Who Is First Among Those Who Serve The Great Earth Mother, and its many variations. This 700+ page chunkster is ponderous enough without slowing things down by putting Capital Letters on almost every line.

And the whole Zelandonii thing is like some vast New Age commune who take their religion with deadly seriousness. I could never have imagined that sex rites, orgies and drug-taking could seem like so little fun or be surrounded by so many rules and rituals. I'm sure it's quite accurate from a research viewpoint, but hoo boy, I think I'd rather take today's stresses and idiocies over this depiction of a natural idyll.

And I could go on. And I'm really not trying to be unkind to Auel, who has obviously taken huge pains to research and write these books. As I said, I've read my way through the series and, taken as a whole, find it memorable. It's been hugely successful and Auel has legions of fans (don't shoot! Please!)

But what really disappointed me was the ending. No spoilers, but there were so many interesting directions Auel's epic plotlines could have gone, and yet I feel that the whole thing sort of fizzled out, as though she, too, had had quite enough of the Zelandonii (who remind me, bizarrely, of the Federation in Star Trek. Perhaps this is the effect of trying to imagine a simpler world.)

I guess I was looking for a bang (no pun intended, and while we're on that subject the honeymoon is definitely over) at the end - it came, in a sense, as a discovery/observation that would profoundly shake the Zelandonii's worldview, but even that could have been more fully explored in the plot. There's an interesting parallel to the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden there, and I'd like to have seen it taken farther. If this had been my book, I'd have cut out all the middle bit about the caves (endless descriptions of cave paintings and lots of repetition of That Song) and finished the series off with a bit more brio rather than repeating a prior plotline.

As a writer, I found myself wondering - would I take on a series that would take me 30 years to finish? I love to read series, but I think it's better for all concerned if the books are written over a shorter period, even if that means the research has to be shallower. The problem of the research eventually dominating the story is all too evident here.

No Comment

2011-07-02T10:48:00.002-05:00

I'm hearing that comments aren't working on this blog. Apparently the problem that has spread around Blogger is now affecting me.

I could drive myself nuts trying to fix the problem. But I think it's a gremlin sitting in Blogger's computers, rather than anything I've done. I don't tend to mess around with my blog's settings a whole lot.

So I have some suggestions for readers who would like to comment on my Words of Wisdom:

tweet me
email me at janeDOTsteenATcomcastDOTnet (mind you, Comcast isn't all that reliable either... what IS the internet coming to?)
follow my other blog on tumblr. I have now added disqus so that people can leave comments, and there are Ask and Submit pages where you can join in the conversation

I'm all over this tumblr thing, despite the nasty spam/phish attacks that recently hit that site. I love the interactivity of this form of blogging, and find myself posting on it much more frequently than here, mostly in the form of shorter posts, photos, reblogs of interesting things I've found, and so on. Any time I have a thought that requires more reflection, I intend to keep posting here.

Let's face it, the internet is changing faster every day. I've been telling the folks at the church whose new website I'm project managing that in five years' time, the traditional website may have become obsolete as a more interactive social-media-based model becomes dominant. Keeping on top of all the changes is a full-time job that I'm glad I don't have (I'm a writer who is willing to deal with websites, rather than a web developer) and it's going to get worse as tablet computing becomes ever more popular, and smart phones become the norm rather than the minority.

So, while I wait for Blogger to sort out its posting problems*, I encourage you to seek me out elsewhere. Yes, it's a nuisance having to get to grips with yet another form of communication. There's always a learning curve. But like learning languages, once you've mastered one form of online community, each new learning experience becomes easier.

I suppose I should go get google+ now. Sigh.

*No, I don't intend to move to Wordpress. I'm not crazy about Wordpress. And while I'm at it, can I just rant against all blogs that don't easily allow you to track replies to your comments via RSS?

When Agents Attack, Or How I Got F-Bombed

2011-06-28T11:06:00.004-05:00

Like most writers whose thoughts are turning to getting a bit o' fiction published, I follow a smattering of agents and editors in addition to my steady diet of writer-friends whose struggles and victories I love to share. I particularly like Twitter in this regard, as I can get a pretty good idea of what people are like without overloading my blog reader.

So it was that this morning, Agent X was popping up rather frequently on my timeline (yep, I checked: 24 tweets so far today). I was tickled by this tweet (turning the sentences around for better readability):

RT @[AnotherTweeter] Can you twitterbully me please? I like the attention. [Agent X's reply starts here] I hate you and everything you represent. And [a particular suburb]. And you smell.

How amusing, I thought. Agent X has made a name for herself by being forthright and rather offhand with everyone, and is usually quite fun to read. So I tweeted:

@AgentX now why didn't I think of asking you to twitterbully me? What a concept.

I have tweeted AgentX maybe half a dozen times in the past few months, and she has often replied cordially. So I was surprised to receive this DM:

Just fuck off.

Ah... um... was this twitterbullying? Was it meant in jest? Agent X is in London, where she has worked for several years with a well-established literary agency. As a Brit, I'm well aware that, as a race, we're a lot more likely to resort to Anglo-Saxon terms than the clean-mouthed Midwesterners I hang out with here. So I decided to go for the light-hearted reply, to see if this was all part of the game:

@AgentX Oh that feels so good.

Agent X's reply was:

Um... right... ok!

My initial doubts were confirmed. She had meant it. No jest involved.

No, I have no intention of attempting to dent Agent X's reputation just because she was having a bad day, or perhaps had one martini too many at one of those fabled lunches that you hear of but nobody you know ever actually seems to get invited to. So no identities will be revealed. I'm trying to make a point here.

This isn't the first time this has happened. A few months back I tweeted an appreciative response to a funny remark made by a New York agent who heads up her own agency, and is also a prolific tweeter. The reply, although not as rude as Agent X's, was a definite you're-the-dust-under-my-feet putdown.

Here's the thing. I know that for every literary agent, there are thousands of wannabe writers who stalk them day and night. I know we may seem like a nuisance at times. I've seen how embittered some writers become when publication eludes them, and how they love to vent when given the tiniest opportunity.

But someday, perhaps, you may want to enter into a business relationship with me. And before I sign on the dotted line, I will pull all of your tweets and blog posts for the last six months and go through them carefully. I will subscribe to your Facebook page. I will go to the blogs and Twitter accounts of the authors you represent and look carefully to see how happy they are with you. I will check your reputation on every available watchdog site, and if I get the chance I will talk to some of the authors you represent. Because if I ever commit myself to the hard work of writing a book every few months for you, handling the marketing of said book where necessary, and handing you 15 percent of my profits, I will behave as professionally as I know how. And I expect you to do the same.

I've already learned, over two years of watching agents, that there are one or two (however successful and adulated by the lit community) that I would rather not work with. I have also found some agents to be consummate professionals, to the point where research would not be necessary. I would put my trust in them because I have found them to be trustworthy with their professional lives.

So please, please, if there are any agents reading this, think before you tweet. If you like to be a little loose-tongued in your Twitter life, get separate professional and private accounts. (And long convos with your authors should be moved to DM, seriously.)

Anyone else had this experience? Am I wrong? I'd love to know.

Oh, The Drama!

2011-06-15T15:38:00.006-05:00

I'm waiting--shall I say breathlessly? yes, let's jump both feet into cliché ON LINE ONE-- breathlessly to receive Season 4 of Mad Men on DVD.* It's not a Jon Hamm thing--although, wow, Jon Hamm--it's a thirst for drama.

I'm not a big TV watcher. I lost my sense of humor in 1992 (as far as TV shows are concerned; I can be found laughing helplessly at books on punctuation, no kidding), reality shows make me want to throw things at the screen, and don't even get me started on American Idol and other talent contests. I'm known to recite the mantra "TV makes you dumber, reading makes you smarter" at my kids quite frequently, although they're long past the age when I can dictate how much TV they watch. (I have noticed, though, that Wasabi, in particular, is watching less and less TV. Bwahahaha.)

When I DO watch TV, my choice is drama. I used to be a big movie-watcher, but lately the short, wrap-it-up quickly format of the average movie has begun to feel a bit lightweight to me. Or perhaps it's the plethora of special effects. Anyway, lately I've been into watching the TV equivalent of the literary chunkster: many-episoded dramas with a rich cast of characters.

And I've noticed something about the dramas I like. They're all a teeny bit over-the-top. Mad Men, for example, is just too visually lush for words, and the screenwriters cram more shenanigans into a season than could reasonably occur over a decade, even in an advertising agency.

And then there's The Tudors, another recent fad of mine. (I tend to wait patiently until my dramas are on Netflix or DVD, so as not to be at the mercy of TV scheduling and commercial breaks.) OK, The Tudors is loosely based on real history, but every character is overacted and carefully photographed to make them all larger than life. And OH, THE COSTUMES! I went to the Harry Potter exhibit with Felsted and Orangina a couple of years back, and had to be dragged away. If they put on an exhibit of the Tudors costumes, I may never come home.

I think this translates into my writing. My imagination naturally leans towards life-and-death situations, impossible loves and heroines who end up in fast-flowing rivers and suchlike. I enjoy literary realism--if there is such a thing, and I have doubts on that score but let's leave that for another day--but I wouldn't like to write it. My favorite books tend to have a touch of the exaggerated, even of the preposterous, about them.

On the other hand, I shy away from actual fantasy. Faerie, dragons, shape-changers and the like hold no fascination for me, either to read or to write. What I like is reality, magnified and molded so that it is very slightly out of proportion and has the iridescent glamor of a butterfly's wing. Perhaps it feels safe. I know, for example, that Don Draper's world is unreachable, so I can enjoy him rather than despising him (although despising him a little is part of the fun).

Do your TV watching habits match up with your reading habits?

* A completely impulsive buy triggered by the 10 Minute Writer mentioning Mad Men on Facebook. But I also bought Stephen King's On Writing, in a moment of professionalism and because I needed $25 to get free shipping and the King book was juuuust the right price.

Book Review: Ellis Island by Kate Kerrigan

2011-06-13T13:34:00.002-05:00

Where I got the book: ARC from LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program. Its publication date is 6/28/11 according to Amazon.

In 1920s Ireland, Ellie's husband has been injured fighting for his country's freedom. Ellie makes the tough decision to take a job in New York in order to send back enough money for his operation. The new life she makes for herself in the US changes her, and puts her future life in Ireland in doubt.

I'm trying very hard here not to put in any spoilers, as I think it's pretty unfair to do that for an as-yet-to-be-published novel, so you'll excuse the brief description. The cover suggests that Kate Kerrigan is a new author on the American scene, and she was also new to me.

Ellis Island was a most enjoyable read. Kerrigan is very skilled at describing place and time with a light touch that hides her research, and there are several lyrical moments in this novel that definitely place it a cut above the average.

We see the story from Ellie's point of view, and what struck me was that her voice is Irish, but not overly so. None of the Frank McCourt street Irish here: we're talking about a girl from a good family with a superior education, and I thought Kerrigan got this exactly right in Ellie's voice. The American parts of the story were pretty convincing too, although the idea that Ellie would fall so quickly into such high society strained my imagination just a little. But--again, trying to avoid spoilers here--the resolution of the story was credibly underplayed. I really wasn't too sure which decision Ellie would take, which is unusual as I generally see plot twists coming a mile off.

I would recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys historical fiction with a dose of romance but a good grounding in reality. Kerrigan is a fine writer, and I'll be looking out for subsequent books.

tumblr - A Strategy For Writers (although I'm still working it out myself)

2011-05-29T18:19:00.005-05:00

I've been blogging for two and a half years now, and have pretty much settled down to a format that I like. As I said recently, I'm experiencing some modest success, and I enjoy my readers. (That's not a foregone conclusion - I've seen many blogs beset by trolls, and I would hate to have to deal with them. But as I said the other day, I'm neither famous nor controversial, and perhaps that's what protects me.)

I'm thinking of making some modest changes to this blog, mostly in the form of adding an "About Me" page and a page that invites professional enquiries. Back in the mists of time, I did start building a website for professional purposes, but it went the way of all good intentions.

In any case, websites - in the sense of the usual static writer website, which is similar to a brochure - are, imho, going the way of the dinosaur.* People are getting too used to interaction to want to look at a website you just, well, LOOK at. This blog's a far more useful vehicle for showing my writing style and inviting interaction.

And then there's tumblr. About which Wasabi's guyfriend (we shall call him Bobo) opined yesterday that it's the cancer of the internet. This is because it's a format that makes it easy to reblog posts you like, and in order to get reblogged many times, the best things to post are photos and videos. So certain photos endlessly replicate themselves around the tumblrverse, and many tumblr blogs are simply other people's reposted material. Wasabi says Bobo's quote isn't original material, either. What-ever.

I've found a couple of people who post original writing that I can actually read, so far. But I've been on tumblr for about a week, so I have hope! tumblr is a very young environment, so much of the writing is the kind of internalized ranting that used to go into teenaged diaries. Good material for a psychologist, but not what I want to read.

Doesn't sound like a good place for a writer to be, does it? But.

tumblr has some definite advantages:

I can intersperse my writing posts with the sort of picture/quote/links/thinking out loud nonsense that goes on in my head all the time. People who just want to read my writing can stay on this blog, while those who want a more layered Keep Going You Fool! experience can stalk me on tumblr.** I'm kind of interested to see how that pans out.
tumblr is remarkably easy to use, so the learning curve's pretty short.
It's got a very decent iPhone app which displays pictures well. Yowza.
You can add an Ask page, where people can easily ask you a question. I really like that idea. I just (gulp) change the setting to allow anonymous questions - but I'll withdraw that permission the moment anyone's mean to me. So there. So--no wait, read the rest of this post first, then go ask me a question.
You can allow people to post their own stuff to you--pictures, text, links, quotes, videos--so any of you can post, for example, something from your own blog to me, and as long as it's clean and doesn't happen every five minutes, I'll post it. So send me your news and views, people! It's like guest-blogging when you feel like it and without any prior messing about with emails; what's not to like?

So I'm going to give tumblr a pretty good try, and see what happens. I don't think I'll get a lot of followers, because I'm not going to follow too many people myself. With the exception of YOU, if you're on there. Send me your details, stat! Either by posting on my tumblr, or in these comments.

*this is confirmed by a recent news article someone sent me, but I don't think he included a link to the source. So not interactive.

** I will be reposting pretty much all material from this blog onto tumblr.*** So if you like the tumblr "enriched Jane experience" but can't be bothered to follow two blogs, go for tumblr. I will try to remember to attach the link to this blog, in case you want to comment. Or maybe someone can tell me how to comment on tumblr, because I have no clue.

*** but not this post. It just seems too circular.

UPDATED Mega huge reason to love tumblr - the queue. Oh, how I love the queue! I mostly have Good Blog Ideas at the wrong time of day, and like buses in England they make me wait for ages and then all come at once. tumblr takes care of spreading my posts through the day. Yes, you can also set posts in other blog platforms to post later in the day/week etc., but tumblr makes it so EASY. And I'm all about easy.

Book Review: The Ghost Map by Steven Johnson

2011-05-28T19:28:00.001-05:00

Where I got the book: from the library. It's been on my TBR list for a while, but when Holly Tucker started a history and science readalong on Goodreads, I knew its moment had come.

The Ghost Map is, in part, an account of a cholera epidemic that took place in London in 1854. I say in part, because the epidemic is really a springboard for a series of discussions. In a sense, this book is the history of an idea: that a disease could be waterborne.

Back in 1854, this idea was startling, and unacceptable to most of the medical and administrative establishment. Johnson does a good job of highlighting the work of two men, John Snow (who did a lot of the thinking that led to the understanding of how the epidemic grew) and Henry Whitehead, who confronted the disease at street level, talking to the survivors and collecting much of the informal data that helped Snow test his theories.

I found it very interesting to read about the struggle that Snow had with the proponents of the "miasma theory," the prevailing wisdom of the time. Back then, people believed that diseases were spread by smells traveling through the air; I've read a lot of Dickens, so I'm well acquainted with the notion of pestilential or noxious air. The fact that this belief seems so ridiculous to us now is evidence of the inroads science has made into our lives.

I had never really thought about the seismic shift that occurred when science began to understand nature at the microscopic level. And I had never given much thought to the correlation between clean water and the expansion of cities to the multi-million-headcount levels that are normal to us today. So on the whole, The Ghost Map was a pretty enlightening book. It's written in an easy to read style, and is a page-turner in its way.

The book ends with an extensive consideration of urbanization and what it means to mankind. I'm not sure whether this enhances the central story, or detracts from it. It's interesting, in its way, but in the end it's only speculation--and speculation is endless. So the end of the book seemed, well, endless. I probably could have stopped reading at around page 217.

Still, on the whole this was an interesting book, and I'm glad I finally read it.

Holy Moly, Do I Feel Encouraged or What?

2011-05-24T20:20:00.004-05:00

Dear Readers, I just got a bit of a shock.

Here's the thing. Really, today, I should have been working a bit harder. I have an entire website to write in oh, let me see, one week. I got trained on Expression Engine today (woohoo!) by the nice people who developed a very shiny new website for my client, and I should really have begun to start writing some equally shiny new words RIGHT THEN AND THERE.

But, y'know, by the time I'd finished the training it was getting late and the kids were home. And I'd also spent a portion of the day attending a webinar on social media engagement for churches, which naturally made me want to spend a few ~~minutes~~ hours working on my own social media presence. I opened a tumblr account, played around with dlvr.it with the purpose of TAKING OVER THE INTERNET by announcing my blog posts to the masses, downloaded Rockmelt - all useful things I'd learned from the webinar.

My purpose, of course, was to road test some strategies for my client. Ahem. Not really to have fun at all.

Eventually, after cleaning the bathrooms (karma, obviously) I discovered PostRank, which has a plugin that plugs into Google Reader and ranks blog posts according to how much attention they get. Anything above 5.4 is Great, anything above 7.6 is Best.

Well, it didn't take five minutes before I decided to put this little blog to the test. I was expecting mostly 1s, and I got quite a few of them. But. Look at the picture at the top of the page. And I got five 10s recently.

Oh, my gosh. I then went to a few of the most successful blogs I follow, the ones that get like 300 comments per post. I appear to be able to hold my head high and look those blogs in the face. And yet on a screamingly good day I get, what, six comments?

This leads me to the following conclusions.

1. You are reading my blog, internet. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

2. You don't comment a whole lot. Therefore, I have shy readers. But obviously very nice ones.

3. I write good titles (I have noticed that many of the hits on my blog are repeat business that come from people googling around for info on certain topics, which would explain why they don't leave comments).

4. I am neither famous nor controversial. Both types of writer seem to attract the most commenters.

5. You don't have to be famous or controversial to have a readable blog. Just keep writing. For the first year of this blog's existence, every post was a 1. For your information, many of the blogs I follow rate very low in the stats, but I find them interesting anyway. So if you get 1s, don't despair. Write.

Don't think I'm upset about the low number of comments. If I had a lot of comments, I wouldn't be able to keep up. I'd rather y'all (or yougize) kept a discreet silence until you have something to say. I'm just puzzled about the contradiction in stats.

Well, now that I have adjusted my social media strategy to take over the world, let's see what happens, shall we? Pip pip.

duhduhduhduhduh Wha? [snort] zzzzzzzz.....

2011-05-03T16:23:00.002-05:00

I'm writing this post mostly to prevent myself from giving in to the temptation to have a little nap on the dog sofa, so called because when our darling Vicky was alive it was the only sofa she was officially allowed to sleep on. Officially. What a dog does when you're out of the house is a) beyond your ken and b) probably way more devious than you can ever imagine.

Why am I in such a soporific state at five in the afternoon, you may be asking? Blame it on one and a half days of meetings, with copious amounts of food at regular intervals. I compounded the mistake by choosing to lunch on fried food with a side of beans. I didn't eat the beans. It did, however, include the best chile relleno I've ever eaten.

Right, I must really be sleepy, because did I just choose to share the contents of my stomach? I'm always telling people who want to enter the world of Twitter that they shouldn't tweet about what they just ate, unless it has some professional connection. Oh, never mind, I'm too tired to change that sentence. Onwards.

I'm also still suffering from a Royal Wedding hangover. An English friend slept over, and at 3 a.m. we were eating chocolates in front of Felsted's new telly with her dog between us. No, not on the dog sofa. I don't seem to have caught up with my sleep since. This is doing nothing for my brain's ability to wrap itself around some of the serious work-related thinking I'm supposed to be doing this week.

Oh dear, my mind just went on an excursion through Twitter, Tumblr and Facebook. Should I join Tumblr? Hmmm.... just checked blog reader. 287 posts to read. Maybe Tumblr would be a bad idea.

And now Orangina has walked in, all happy smiles, which is odd because five minutes ago she was fake-sobbing into the phone at me because her best friend told her that her boyfriend doesn't want to date her any more. Dealing with a special needs adult is about as surreal as trying to write a blog post while almost asleep.

And my screwed-up metabolism keeps telling me to eat more food because it'll wake me up. Fortunately, my brain is retaliating by telling my metabolism that all it needs is tea.

Tea...

I'll be right back.

Book Review: The Demise of the Soccer Moms by Cathryn Grant

2011-05-03T16:19:00.002-05:00

Where I got the book: won a free copy from the author's blog.

The Demise of the Soccer Moms is Cathryn Grant's debut novel. Amy, Jane, Kit and Rachel have been friends forever. Their kids have grown up together, and their lives revolve around soccer and suburbia. But the suburbs aren't as safe as they should be--there's a rapist and murderer on the loose. And then Charlotte shows up: spiky hair, no bra, Doc Martens and a very big camera.

This is a story that starts out feeling very mundane and then quickly turns dark. Amy's and Rachel's insecurities have formed a bond between them, but when Amy's fears of the twin threats of sex and violence begins to pervade their world, the reader is never allowed to recover a sense of normality. I felt as if the characters were all walking along the edge of an abyss, and yet all of them were instantly recognizable types of Suburban Woman, complete with their different insecurities and their ways of coping with the boredom of their lives. The neighborhood is in California, but it could easily have been my own; any affluent suburb in America, in fact.

I found it to be a compelling read, and stayed up late to finish it (always a good sign). Grant is an indie author, so there were some places where I detected technical weaknesses that the rigors of traditional publishing might have corrected (if she'd been lucky enough to get a good editor, which is not always the case). Still, they were comparatively minor and I have to give props to Grant for her professionalism and attention to detail. I have seen far worse products come out of traditional publishing houses.

Grant calls her style of writing Suburban Noir, and I would recommend it to all who enjoy a good psychological thriller made more menacing by its everyday setting. Grant avoids overblown descriptions of gore, leaving much to the reader's imagination, and the story's all the better for it. I look forward to Grant's next book.

Book Review: Shift by Takumi Yamazaki

2011-04-19T15:53:00.004-05:00

Where I got the book: won from LibraryThing as an Early Reviewers giveaway.

As I worked my way through Shift, I kept wondering if Takumi Yamazaki had read The Secret (which I did not like: see my review on The Book Book). There are some definite echoes of The Secret in this small tome, Yamazaki's debut in the Western self-help industry (he is, apparently, "a best selling author in Japan").

Or maybe he hasn't read The Secret. Maybe this style of self-help philosophy is just in the zeitgeist, a result of a generation that has been told, and told, and told that its wishes can come true.

The premise of Shift is that you can, by the power of thought, shift yourself up to where you want to be. Get that promotion, that house, that car (isn't it funny how these books are so often about getting money, as if money really solves problems?) You are impeded from reaching your potential by homeostasis (the idea that things find their own level, i.e. we are all much more comfortable in our comfort zone) and scotoma, which is a blind spot or mental block.

Shift is punctuated by little exercises, to be done alone or in groups, mostly in the form of writing down your goals and telling them to other people. It is a 200-page book, but contains an enormous amount of white space because it needs to pad out quite a small amount of writing into an acceptable format for publishing. To this end, it also contains a whole lot of little drawings featuring the guy usually seen symbolizing "Men" on a restroom door. Restroom Man gambols through the book supposedly illustrating the Deep Thoughts contained therein, but I frequently found it hard to make the text square up with the drawings.

All this could be a problem of translation; I get the impression that the text was translated fairly closely from the Japanese, instead of being rewritten with a Western audience in mind. In editing non-English speakers it's sometimes necessary to insert an extra sentence here and there to show thinking steps that are left out in the original language; I'm no linguist, but what little contact I've had with Chinese has taught me that a lot more meaning can be derived from context than is possible in English speech. Could be that the same is true for Japanese, and this makes Shift a very easy book to read if you don't pay much attention to logical sequence, but frustrating for those of us who like to dot our i's and cross our t's.

The fundamental message of Shift, as far as I could make it out, is similar to The Secret: Think positive and all things are possible. You can make things happen. I also spotted some of the same unfortunate advice: For example, if you want to be rich you should live as if you are rich (which is fine until you realize you just blew a month's salary in a day) and you should hang around with the kind of people you want to be (also an expensive proposition if your goal is to be a multi-millionaire).

I felt very sad when I read that if a friend comes to you with a problem, the solution is to say "Oh hey, that should be no problem for you!" and then start chatting about something else. In
other words, you shouldn't really listen to problems, because you should be too busy chatting up successful rich people instead. I'll be sure to do that the next time I see a friend who has cancer or whose husband just dropped dead. Yeah.

I've said it before: I have nothing against positive thinking, and nothing against people who are willing to work on their attitude to achieve their goals. I think that having goals is a good thing. But becoming the person you were intended to be goes a whole lot deeper than reading books like Shift. I wouldn't recommend it, even for the sake of seeing the Restroom Man drawings.

I'd love to get some comments about self-help books. Have any of you ever found one that has truly helped you?

I'm still alive

2011-04-19T14:54:00.002-05:00

.... but I have spent the last two and a half months revising The House of Closed Doors, and between that and work, I have very little time for doing normal things such as blogging, sleep, eating nutritious food and going for nice walks.

Today, my MS has begun going out to its beta readers. Once I've caught up with a few things, normal brain activity may well resume. So don't delete me from your reader just yet, dear friends. I will soon be back with more nonsense.

Thanks for your patience.

GIVEAWAY RESULTS! It's not Wasabi!

2011-03-24T17:27:00.003-05:00

Wasabi: "Mom, stop trying to put me in your blog posts!"

Me: "Aw c'mon..."

But we are all in a very good mood today, because SOME of us are going abroad with the school choir, while the REST of us get to stay home because that was our spring break budget busted right there.

So, without further ado, and with Wasabi as my auditor but not winner because gee, Random.org didn't pick her number, here are the GIVEAWAY WINNERS!

First pick of the prizes goes to... EISLEY JACOBS of Eisley's Ellipses!

Second pick of the prizes goes to... JEANNETTE COOK of Ceci N'est Pas Une Cuisine!

Third pick of the prizes goes to... SIVJE of Goosegirl Sews!

Auditor-but-not-winner Wasabi could, if she wished, testify to the SQUEEEEs I was emitting as I counted out to the winning numbers. The fact that I know all three of my winners well as online or in-person friends makes the whole thing feel just a teensy bit nepotistic, but in fact I am as pleased as Punch as all three of them have been going through some challenges lately and need cheering up. It is, as Beth Moore would say, a God thang. At least, I think she'd say that. Because those numbers were as random as Random could make 'em.

There will be another Giveaway before too long, friends, because I really like giving gifts. So no worries if you didn't win this time. Stick around!

Procrastination: I Can't Spell It But I Can Do It

2011-03-23T14:31:00.003-05:00

Yeah, I had to go back and retype "procrastination" about five times because my fingers just wouldn't make it work. And while I'm on the subject, are you procrastinating adding your name to my public followers? Because TOMORROW, March 24, 2011, is when I choose the winner of my Giveaway from said public followers. And I want YOU to win.

I have said before on this blog that I'm a Project Squirrel. I just love starting projects. The thrill of buying the yarn or the paper or the BRAND NEW MACBOOK PRO (OK, that one was wishful thinking) and imagining all the lovely, lovely things I can do with it is what I live for. And I'm not the only one: I'm sure that craft shops only exist because most of us imagine that we're going to actually ACCOMPLISH something today, or this weekend, or perhaps I should leave it till July when I'll be free of the school routine and much more rested...

The materials for the projects generally languish somewhere in a corner, possibly until the end of time. If they're very, very lucky I may actually begin the project. In extreme cases, I FINISH something, and once in a purple moon with green spots I not only FINISH it, I USE OR DISPLAY it in the appropriate place. The photo above is of one of my rare instances of follow-through, a cross-stitch that is absolutely one of my favorite things to look at. It says to me, "Jane, you finished me. You loved me enough to put a date on me and frame me. Maybe one day, long after you're dead and gone, I will still be on somebody's wall because I look pretty good, huh?" (Do your projects talk back to you? Or am I as insane as I look?)

So right now, guess what my project is? To finish my projects. Devious, isn't it? I'm hoping I can trick my brain into doing the following:

turn the half-read books on my nightstand into books that are read, reviewed if necessary, and either given back to their rightful owners or tucked safely away on my bookshelves. To this end I am now almost at the end of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which has been sitting there looking reproachfully at me since, ooo, November-ish? I don't even remember when I borrowed it. (If you looked at the Amazon page, don't you think the girl in the painting on the front of the book looks reproachful? She sure does to me. Anyway, her owner wants her back.)
turn Wasabi's one-and-seven-eighths-pair of socks into a wearable pair of socks. Because a seven-eighths sock is a sock without a toe, and I'm told they don't keep your feet warm.
turn the almost-done Laminaria shawl into one I can wear.
turn the two unfinished cross-stitch projects into finished ones, and frame anything that has been lying in a drawer for more than two years. The thought of doing that blows my mind just a tiny bit.

AND... finish that novel. The thing is: the first one I wrote, the one that's now sulking in a corner, I began with the absolute certainty that I'd get it finished and off to agents in a trice (what IS a trice anyway?) and have that puppy published in no time. And then I began to revise it, and I just wasn't happy with it, and then I had a really big project all through summer, and then I began The House of Closed Doors and decided to call Novel #1 "Pouty" and stick it in a corner till I got round to it.

And then I procrastinated starting the revision of HCD, because I'm like that. And then I seriously began to worry that I'd be one of those writers who's forever writing first drafts but never getting round to finishing them off.

I needed a System, and, thank goodness, I found one. Here are the steps I took:

settle butt into chair
place manuscript in front of me on desk
open to page 1
start revising
repeat as necessary.

I've been doing that for about a month, and voilà! strangely enough, I am halfway through the revision. I apply the System BEFORE I turn on my computer - this is key, because the internet does this to me and then suddenly it was bedtime.

This was the genesis of the Project Finishing Project: the realization that progress, once in a while, is a happy happy thing.

Tell me, dear Reader, what would you like to get finished?

Book Review: Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua

2011-03-13T20:57:00.005-05:00

A quick reminder: my giveaway ends on March 24. All you have to do to be entered is to follow me publicly via the Followers app on the right of this post. Its sooooo easy... DO IT NOW!

Also, let me just say that I read a lot of books. Is this a big surprise? So I don't post every review here, especially at times like these when I catch up with five book reviews at once and bore even myself silly. My reviews get posted at The Book Book, which is a hugely fun multi-person blog.

This weekend's manic catch-up session also covered Seasons in the Mist by Deborah Kinnard (inspirational), A Royal Pain by Rhys Bowen (mystery), The Great Silence by Juliet Nicholson (popular history), And Only To Deceive by Tasha Alexander (mystery), and A Northern Light by Jennifer Donnelly (YA). On my Kindle I am reading the whole of Sherlock Holmes, which is amazing, and I'm currently reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë. I don't review classics, but let me just say: the Brontës, Dickens, Hardy et al knock all modern writers out of the ballpark. For crying out loud, if you're not reading classics it's like thinking you're getting a musical education because you listen to rap. Get thee to a library.

Anyway, to the review. Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is Amy Chua's much touted (I could say notorious) memoir of how she raised her two daughters to become academic high achievers and musical prodigies using Chinese methods. Chua states up front that her sweeping assessments of the relative virtues of "Chinese parents" and "Western parents" are just that, very broad opinions, and that Chinese-style parenting can be found in many non-Asian homes, typically where the parents are first-generation immigrants.

Having a kid who spent much of middle school in gifted classes where the Chinese kids outnumbered the rest, I can confirm anecdotally that much of what Chua covers in her book conforms to the normal practices of Chinese parents. An extremely limited social life, "always programs" as one mother proudly told me, Chinese school at the weekend, hours of homework and extra drills were the norm; a grade below an A was unacceptable. Wasabi hid her very first D from me because in her Chinese friends' world, a D meant a total parental meltdown and probably solitary confinement till the age of 25. When she grew away from her friends in high school Wasabi plunged joyfully into the Western model of underperformance, only to rediscover achievement all by herself in her senior year. She now tells me that I should have been more of a Tiger Mother and that she's going to raise her kids the Chinese way.

But enough about me! I really enjoyed Chua's book. I agreed with quite a few of her criticisms of Western parenting as selfish (she is particularly critical of mothers who neglect their children's education so that they can pursue interests of their own) and lazy (Chinese mothers are willing to invest every spare minute in their children's development, etc.) And she attacks the scary spectacle of self-esteem, which is producing impossible children unable to deal with authority. Believe me, I know. Sorry, me again.

I was interested in Chua's own overachiever, type A+++++ personality; she cheerfully admits to her tendency to spread tension over every family gathering and her inability to enjoy herself. Toward the end of the memoir she does come over as a bit more human, and begins to concede that Chinese parenting does not always work (it was not successful for her father, and only partially worked with her youngest daughter) and that some Western ideas, such as pursuing your own passions rather than your parents', have some sense in them.

Still, when you consider how limited our Western aspirations are for our children (most of us just want them to be happy and to have monstrous self-esteem like my kids SORRY) compared to those of Chinese parents, who see Yale, Harvard, Nobel prizes and Olympic medals in their children's future, you may pause for a moment. The Chinese parents I've met began saving for college when their children were foetuses, and investigating Ivy League institutions when their kids were in 7th grade. So now I don't feel so horrible after all for insisting that we start homework straight after school AND WE SIT AT THE TABLE TILL IT'S DONE (that lasted until high school, when I lost control).

I'm struck by how much this book made me reflect on my own parenting successes and failures, as illustrated by the way I keep interrupting this review with news about me. (Readers of this blog will already have given up on my ever being able to keep away from Subject #1.) Battle Hymn was very nicely written, lively, and easy to read. I rather hope that some of Chua's ideas catch on.

POST 100! Poetry and Pfree Pstuff!

2011-02-16T16:32:00.008-06:00

I couldn't think of anything to alliterate with "poetry." Proving that I will never be a poet. But I have, as of today, posted 100 posts! Woohoo!

TO WIN THE PFREE PSTUFF all you have to do is publicly "follow" this blog and become one of the friendly faces (or avatars) that have encouraged me to keep writing. That's it. If you are already in the follower mosaic on the right of this page, you need do nothing more. On March 24, 2011 I will pick three names using a random number generator, and the first name gets to choose their prize first, the second name gets second choice, and the third name gets third choice. Yes. You did the math. There may be leftovers, which revert to yours truly. Them's the breaks. Also, if I can't contact you within two weeks, I will pick again.

Prizes are:

For lovers of glitz and glitter, ONE necklace of your choice from the three above.* They are inspired by The Tudors (too much sex, but I love history and OH, THE COSTUMES) and are called Catherine of Aragon (top left), Anne Boleyn (middle, bottom) and Jane Seymour (top right). I love all three and don't really want to give them away, but.

For the reader, this pile o' books,** which came to me courtesy of the really cool writer/publicist Dana Kaye who blogs at Hey There's a Dead Guy, and whom I met at the Chicago Literati event. What we have here is some brand new crime fiction, about which I know little since I'm a fan of mystery not crime, although I'll read the odd procedural now and then.

For those who have more than enough stuff, a $50 donation to either Heifer or World Vision to buy some animals of your choice to help end poverty and hunger.

Now for the poetry. This is not written by me (I never could get the hang of verse) but by my niece Emily, who lives in England and won the Betjeman Young People's Poetry Competition in 2010. This is a new original work of hers, which is shown here FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER OUTSIDE FACEBOOK YOU ARE SO PRIVILEGED:

You seem to always be there

lapping at the edges of my mind

like cautious waves, licking the pebbles

from the shore of a desolate beach

in the bleakness of autumn's first fall

i always have my eye on you

the way u coax me internally

as if you're wanting me

maybe testing to see

how long i can last you out.

you always win me over

no trouble on your behalf

just sat there in the corner

watching from your

designated space

i cant turn my back for long

in case i find u gone

whilst ironing my favourite top

i attempt to smooth the creases

as i try to throw out your image

but after my internal battle

i find myself wrapped in your clutches

held tight, but caressingly

in your addictive love

tingling my taste buds

oh chocolate, i couldnt live without you

See how the writing talent just runs in the family? Unfortunately Auntie Jane (i.e. yours truly) is yet to win a national prize, or even get published anywhere, but hey. Even Wasabi, so she tells me, has published poetry in the school fine arts magazine, but since a) she submits anonymously and b) she never shows me the magazine, I have no way of proving this claim. But Wasabi is a good writer and I'm hoping she'll follow in the muddy footprints.

That was it! 100 posts are now behind me, and thank you so much for following my little blog and leaving comments. I heart you guys.

*I made them today when I should have been working.

**Serendipitously, this photo is the best ever of Goldie and Freckles, who are glaring at me from their tank because I hadn't fed them in, oh, at least 45 minutes. Goldfish are just stomachs with fins.

Book Covers: An Inexpert Writes

2011-02-12T10:09:00.008-06:00

One of life's little pleasures is to go on LibraryThing and Goodreads and enter for the free review copies. The great thing about this is that I'll pick a few books that are a bit outside my usual reading patterns, but that still attract me in some way - and thus extend my knowledge of genres and trends. I was doing this on LibraryThing a few days ago - I prefer their early reviewer program to Goodreads' because they give you more information about the book right there on the page.

As I was scrolling down the page, clicking a "Request it!" link here and there, the marketing half of my brain was watching how I chose the books. And it occurred to me just how much of my decision was based on the book cover. Like most readers, I look for triggers: a historical costume of reasonable accuracy with the head not shown indicates a somewhat literary historical, for example, while a Fabio-style guy with a bare chest says "sizzling romance--AVOID! AVOID!" because, as I've said before, I'm not overly fond of graphic sex scenes.

And then yesterday I had coffee with a friend from church, Jill Battaglia, who did the photography for the book cover you see at the top of this post, among many others. This is one of my personal favorites, but there are many others. Of course it's a matter of taste and you may like book covers that feature a square-jawed guy with a gun, with a scantily dressed woman hanging off his shoulder and some neon signs in the background, but personally Jill's style of cover would make me pick up a book and look at the blurb. And the blurb then has three seconds to make me want to buy the book. Publishing is a tough world.

I've hung around enough writers and publishing blogs to know that in the traditional US publishing industry, writers have very little say about their book cover. Decisions are made by a marketing department on exactly the same sort of basis as my own thinking process. Inspirational romance? Stick a bonnet on the cover. Political pundit? White background, photo of pundit looking as square-jawed as possible, big bold title. Literary? Oh now here you can be as symbolic and mysterious as you like. Literary publishers are the cool kids.

I have spoken to published author-friends who have told of the tears they shed on seeing their cover. Sometimes you can get it changed, sometimes not. The blogs are full of stories of covers that are just plain wrong for many reasons. If a book remains in print for a few years, it will go through many different covers as fashions change. If it's printed in other countries the cover will be changed to suit local tastes.

And then there's indie publishing, the cool new name for self-publishing. Here the author can pick and choose, which is one reason that, in my opinion, talented people like Jill should be getting their work out there in front of the writers. I've advised her to start up a Facebook page, and will link to it when it happens.

I'm certainly no expert but I've read that even e-books sell better with a good cover. And when the color Kindle arrives, oh the possibilities! So if you're thinking of going THAT route (quite a profitable one by all accounts), do your research. And look, if you know anything about anything you'll think I'm preaching to the converted, but for heaven's sake make sure you purchase both the photo and the proper rights to use it for the specific purpose you intend. Don't steal the work of another creative person. I'm careful about the images I use even on this blog, and although I do right-click on photo sites (yes, *smack hand smack hand*) it's only to store the photos in my clippings file for future consideration.

If you know other good sources for book covers, please leave a comment. The image at the top was published with Jill's permission, and you know what? I went to Amazon to grab a link so that people who wanted to could take a look at the book, read the blurb and... it's going on my TBR list. So I went to add it to my lists and... on LibraryThing there is no cover image provided, and on Goodreads there's a different cover for the paperback edition (not as good as Jill's.) And that says volumes about the traditional publishing industry. The temptation to just go indie with The House of Closed Doors is very strong.

Post 98! And The Mystery Is...

2011-02-04T19:06:00.006-06:00

If you don't "follow" me publicly on Blogger, now's the time to start. In two posts' time I am committed to a Giveaway for my 100th blog post (yes, only 100. I'm not as prolific as I'd like to be) and it will be going to one of those faces (or strange avatar photos) on the right of my blog.

This means that if you're on a blog reader you have to click through. Go ahead. Done? Now follow me. Foooooooolloooooow meeeeeee....

SOOOO I have to come up with a giveaway prize, hence the reference to mystery. Because I have no idea what it should be. Something crafty plus a book, I'm thinking. It may have to be a necklace + earrings and a book, because I don't have time to knit something by the time I post my 100th. Perhaps it could be a promise to knit something?

Anyway (watch in awe as I do a brilliant segue) I met some MYSTERY writers last night, at an event arranged by my wonderful local library to chime in with the Love is Murder conference.

Which I should have been spending me $$$ on instead of these.

I haven't actually bought them yet but Oh my. And it's all Texas Shelley's fault for talking about Western boots on Facebook.

Oh yeah, sorry, I was talking about writers. These were three I've never read: Rhys Bowen (whom I really warmed to because she's also a Brit ~~stuck~~ resident in the US), Tasha Alexander, and F. Paul Wilson. They were all charming and entertaining, and worked their way very graciously through the INEVITABLE questions about where they get their ideas from and so on.

I don't go to a ton of writer talks because of those inevitable questions. Seriously, if you're already a writer you know that ideas just sort of happen. And when people start asking things like do you need an agent, I start murmuring internally about doing some research, I mean come on, there are a BAZILLION blogs and websites that tell you about this stuff.

Anyway, like I said they were nice, and I bought one of their books each to get me started. Conveniently provided by a local indie bookstore, Lake Forest Books, and I really ought to go there more often. Like many ~~hypocrites~~ people, I'm always complaining about the lack of small bookstores in our area, but I'd rather hop on you-know-where and get my books in five minutes than actually, y'know, go anywhere.

So, I bought A Royal Pain, And Only To Deceive, and The Tomb. The last one is more Felsted's kind of book than mine, but I'll read it anyway.

And talking of Felsted, I think I just committed a Matrimonial Faux Pas. Felsted has gone forth to buy bread for dinner, and I got this phone call five minutes ago:

Felsted: "Just calling to give you an ETA."

Me: "K. Not really necessary."

Felsted: "I'm nearly at the top of the hill."

Me: "Oh, just turn around and come home. You don't have to wait ages in traffic just to get bread. You just called to make me feel bad about wanting bread. You're in Martyr Mode."

Felsted: "No I'm not. I just didn't want you to be worried."

Me: "I wasn't worried. I'm blogging."

Felsted [after a two-second silence, in a deadpan voice] "Oh. All right. Bye."

So I suppose I'd better go get the table ready and prepare to eat the Bread of Contrition.

I think I started this post meaning to talk about books. Well, I'll review all three in due course. Perhaps I'm scatterbrained because I'm hungry.

Why I'm Not Quitting My Day Job... Yet

2011-02-01T10:07:00.004-06:00

So I wasn't going to post today, but this post by a writer who was told that she was too old (and in the wrong location) to have any hope of being published really stopped me in my tracks. I found it via this response by a very good writer blogger (incidentally, her checklist for getting published is epic. Absorb it.)

I have often wondered about how much my chances of landing a book contract are reduced by these factors:

I am 51. I am not going to hide this.
I am not photogenic, and the photographer will have to work hard to get a good author photo.
I am just not going to come across all that well on a TV/radio interview. Quite apart from the aforementioned unphotogenicness, American audiences will be completely thrown by the British accent. All the more because my current trilogy is set in the American Midwest. And I'm way funnier and more intelligent on the page than when I speak.
I am not a relentless self-marketer. (How come I can hear a chorus of "Oh yes you are!", British-pantomime style, somewhere in the background? How can a blog post have a background?)

So I'm not exactly rushing to quit my day job, despite my daydreams of just being able to write fiction all day. I like what I do. And I work for churches and nonprofits, so my work is doing some good in the world. I hope.

I get a bit worried when I see all the writing that goes around the interwebz about how publication is the be-all and end-all of a writer's life. All those writers who have "publish or die" tattooed on their hearts. I know that this is partly due to the collective American psyche: this is a country where success (reckoned in dollars and name recognition) is drummed into its people from infancy as their Primary Goal, because it's motivating and makes you try harder and therefore you make more money for your company and you have more money to spend on consumer goods.... eeep! forgetting to breathe there.

What about ART? Writers should be writing because they want to be part of the great literary conversation that has been going on since Beowulf, because they want to test their limits and grow their skills... to think otherwise is to make books a commodity, which of course, they are these days. And that's why we have so many books that stink and yet are still bestsellers. (I'm not saying that to denigrate the Dan Browns and Stephanie Meyers of this world: from a business standpoint they have a good model. It's just not art.)

I am perfectly serious about wanting to submit my writing to agents, and ready to be as professional in my fiction writing as I am in my paid writing. Writing comes alive only when it's read, and I want to be read, and criticized, and reacted to. Sure, it would also be nice to earn the occasional advance that would make it possible to decline paid work that I'm not keen on. But my overriding motivation is to write a good book. And the way I figure it is, if God wants me to earn money that way, it'll happen and I'll find I have the time and energy to do all the marketing and, oh help, even put on makeup for the adjectival photographer. (My take on makeup, btw, is that I'll wear it if Felsted does.)

In the meanwhile, I have work to do.

The picture is from The Pink Tentacle. I don't know why it speaks to me in connection with this post. It just does.

Book review: Far North by Marcel Theroux

2011-01-29T11:25:00.001-06:00

Where I got the book: my own selection, from the library.

Makepeace is a survivor in an age where drought and famine have wiped out most of the population. A remnant of a religious community that settled the farthest northern reaches of Asia, Makepeace struggles with the choice between isolated self-sufficiency and reaching out to other humans in an age where brutality is the norm.

Far North is a compelling book. I've always loved end-of-days novels, and if you've ever read John Wyndham's 1950s classic The Chrysalids (and if you haven't, you're missing out on a great book) you would probably, as I did, place Makepeace's society a couple of hundred years before the farming communities of that story, and find an echo of the older book in Theroux's novel.

What kept me turning the pages of Far North was the writing. Theroux's descriptions are wonderfully evocative, his writing crisp and unadorned. This keeps the story moving along at a fast pace, and I stayed up late because I just had to finish the last hundred pages.

Far North is a little short on plot, in my opinion, and the narrative takes sudden, unexpected turns that are both frustrating and intriguing. So if you're the sort of reader that likes all loose ends woven in and tied with a neat bow, you won't find that here. If you're of the camp that believes a novel should reflect life's untidiness, you'll love the meandering action. I hope that, like me, you'll grow fond of the unlovely Makepeace and find yourself projecting the character into the future.

I rate Far North "excellent" for the writing and the author's imagination. It stopped short of rocking my world, but I'll be looking out for more books by this author.

Bringing Home Baby: Or, Why My Other Novel is Sulking in the Corner

2011-01-27T17:16:00.003-06:00

I am the oldest of three children, and only sixteen months older than my next sister. Apparently I was quite jealous of her and used to try to shove her off my mother's lap when I got the chance.

Now I suspect you won't be surprised to hear that I was a contrary child right from the beginning. Yes, that's where Wasabi gets it from. So it seems that I was told not to pick the baby up, and naturally I would have heard "Do everything in your power to get that thing in your tiny, sticky hands." (Have you ever read Hyperbole And a Half? This story really needs illustrating with stick people with goggle eyes.)

Well, the story is that Mum was in the dining room and in I staggered, my little sister clutched precariously in my arms, proclaiming "me do cawwy baby. Me DO cawwy baby." Oh yeah, and I was very precocious with words. Wasabi was also speaking in sentences by 18 months.

Wait, why am I telling you this story? Oh, right, to illustrate the title of this post and its photo. See that pile of paper there? That, Dear Reader, is the first draft of The House of Closed Doors. It. Is. Real. I have given my creature LIFE BWAHAHAHAHAHA....

But it's not my first novel. Oh no. There was Another, which is now sulking in a corner wearing a dunce's hat because it just didn't gel when I started trying to revise it. The first chapter got quite good reactions from other writers who heard it; but somehow, it's not growing. I have come to the conclusion that it needs a rewrite, involving the surgical removal of at least one of the main characters and possibly a change of POV.

It's like there were two little princesses, an older and a younger. The older one is going to be beautiful one day, but right now she's all bones and elbows and cheekbones and messy hair. She also has a kind of squinty look (that one day will become a smoldering pout) and tends to distrust people. Now the younger princess is all blonde curls and dimples, and likes everyone and climbs into their lap and smiles at them and says cute things. SHE might, in fact, grow up to be coarse-looking and dumpy and never wax her little mustache. But right now, she's the Beloved Object of the household.

So it is with The House of Closed Doors. It's still far from perfect. My lovely critique partner 10 Minute Writer has given me all sorts of things to think about, involving the rejigging of plotlines and improvements to some of the characters. But none of this has given me the kind of AAAGH EWWW OH NO feeling I got when I tried to start serious revision of the Older Princess. In fact, it has sparked off new ideas and a new character or two, and has given me direction for the rest of the trilogy. Plus 10 Minute Writer found Sparky (as she has named The House of Closed Doors) to be a page-turner, which is what I wanted.

So Sparky is the new favored child of the household, and the other one (let's call it Pouty) can't get onto my lap. In fact I love them both equally, because Pouty was the novel of my heart, that had to be written before anything else was. It's just that Sparky needs my attention right now. Sparky may climb into agents' laps and smile at them, and they may smile back, who knows? So she is safe in a binder, and I will spend the next few months making her more beautiful. (When I can. Because I am also starring in a Website Soap Opera that will be playing for quite some time, and I do have to put the paid work somewhat first.)

And in the meanwhile I am far, far behind on my book reviews, so expect some book talk over the next few posts. Which should soon bring me to my 100th post, and a Celebration which will involve a giveaway. I did say, some time back, that I would knit something for that giveaway. Since I most knit in the evenings and have been out every evening lately, I am beginning to wonder if that will happen. But I can definitely promise a necklace and earrings, so start steering your friends in this direction. This is going to be a giveaway for someone who officially follows this blog and thus appears in the little boxes on the right. Oh, how I love your smiling faces, and how they encourage me when I write!

All right, all right, I know not all my followers are ladies. So I'll have to think of a non-gender-specific prize as well. Any suggestions?

I'm Not Branding Myself Just Yet

2011-01-15T14:05:00.005-06:00

Yesterday I went to an ACFW chapter meeting where the speaker was Nicole O'Dell, a YA author and radio personality who talked about building a brand as a writer. Now it takes me a FULL HOUR to drive to Barrington, where the meeting took place, so by the time I got there (late as usual) I was feeling just a little grumpy and wondering why I do these things to myself. AND the moment I entered the room they said, "oh hey we're just updating each other on our news and it's your turn" and my voice sort of went into a mouse-like squeak of fear, but fortunately someone had a question or something and I got to go get myself a coffee and food first (we were in a Panera).

Anyway, once I had some salad inside me I really started enjoying the talk, because Nicole's a good speaker and had some interesting things to say. But I'm not about to start trying to build my own brand just yet. Except that I consistently use my real name in 98% of all online interactions with the World Out There, in the hope that occasionally someone might think "Hmmm, I think I know that woman, doesn't she have a rather silly blog?" and the fact of my existence would begin to dawn upon them.

Oh yeah, and in other news I bought THIS:

which has absolutely nothing to do with branding but I think it's really cute.

And this is why branding is hard for me: my brain is always trying to pull me awaaay from the point of the story.

Now corporate branding, I get. "Consistent messaging" is something I love to nag clients about--this, for me, is the essence of branding and not really the logo. Logos are great and nice and all that, but proper branding is knowing who you are and getting that across to other people.

Ooo yes and talking of logos, Starbucks is changing theirs so I will no longer be able to identify Starbuckses from a distance by the combination of the green and the circle of black letters. So I had definitely better get a move on with ordering those new glasses, because, y'know, not being able to identify a coffee oasis from a distance is a real disaster, a postmodern term which means "extremely minor inconvenience I'm exaggerating for effect."

OK, where was I? I've only written two novels, one of which (Title Unknown) is in limbo till I rewrite it, and the other (The House of Closed Doors) that's close to the end of its first quick revision so I can send it to 10 Minute Writer for her august opinion. The first one is contemporary with a touch of the ghostly or otherworldly, and is sort of literary; the second is set in the 19th century and has some murders and is quite fast-paced and a bit melodramatic. It's the first in a trilogy, and when I've finished writing that, I have no idea what I'd like to do next. Which is a good thing, because having a really good idea popping up when I've mentally committed to writing a trilogy would just be a nuisance. The germ of The House of Closed Doors jumped into my head while I was still writing Title Unknown and it was very distracting, as I felt like switching tracks straight away instead of finishing what I was doing.

So in my head, my brand has not yet emerged from within. So just as I can't nag a client about brand messages until they have identified their inner truths, I can't really nag myself about branding myself, can I? Like the art of writing, a brand, in my opinion, is something that has to be worked out and then worked at. And I'm not even sure about the audience I'm writing for yet - am I a fiction writer who happens to be a Christian, or a Christian fiction writer? (Um, the ACFW thing would be temporary if it's the former. And that would be a pity, because they're kind of fun and they don't describe sex in their novels which is really great, because I still can't bring myself to listen to the next Diana Gabaldon audiobook for fear that my ears may catch fire.)

And I end this post by wondering whether I will ever arrive in Barrington in time to visit the L.L.Bean store before the meeting. This glittering palace of glass is right next to the Panera, and entices me with its kayaks and snowshoes and brightly-colored fleece thingummies. It's a good thing I'm always late for meetings, as I could spend some serious money in that place.

Fighting the Writing

2011-01-01T12:13:00.008-06:00

appy New Year's Day, Dear Reader!

I warmed up to this post by looking at my other New Year's posts, of which there are just two: the one that began this blog on January 1, 2009, and the one from January 2, 2010, which is full of goals I did not hit. Because two things happened: I started writing novels, thus sending my writing life off on a completely new tangent, and I entered into a big contract with my own church.

Out of my pathological need to tie things together and analyze them, let me say that we are still doing the bowling-on-New-Year's-Eve thing, although this may have been the last time. Back in the far-off days before the kids became impossible, I used to hold a New Year's open house, and now that impending adulthood and getting Orangina's meds right have returned our household to Defcon 4, I am sorta kinda starting to think that entertaining may be a possible life choice again.

And my office is still a mess.

Anyway, to the point of this post. The best thing on my blog reader this morning was this post from Editorial Anonymous, which explains why copyediting, painful as it is to experience, is necessary and good. It's a nice short post, and worth reading.

Read it? Good. One of the things I like about blogs is that, for the most part, they are raw, unedited writing. This is one of the things that many writers hate about blogs. "Oh, these bloggers, they just spew out any old thing and call themselves writers..." is a lament I've seen all too often. But the fact remains that this blog is fun for me because it's the one space in which I can just go ahead and write to you without worrying about perfection.

In the business world, of course, I am frequently edited and I frequently edit others. I have been in slanging matches over a parenthesis or the placement of a comma. I once, in my pompous twenties, wrote a three-page memo about why "Mr" is correct and "Mr." is not. I still go hot with shame over that--not over the assertion itself ("Mr" is a contraction of "Mister," not an abbreviation, and strictly speaking should not be followed by a period, but "Mr." is a time-sanctioned American usage, end of story COMMENTS NOT NECESSARY ON THIS POINT) but over my pomposity and sheer nerve in lecturing a large firm of successful lawyers, who all ignored me.

I have had my copy edited almost out of recognition by other departments who did not have the same priorities as my department, and learned to fight my battles as tactfully as I could. Not always tactfully enough: even subtle criticism can get you stomped on like an ant if you stay out of the shelter of your own little power structure long enough in the corporate world, and this is why I prefer freelancing. Academic tenure evolved because professors are frequently called upon to say that another academic is just plain WRONG on some point or the other, and should not lose their job for doing their job. Freelancing is the only way a writer can have this freedom. Think about it.

Now that I am writing fiction, I am blessed with writing partners and groups, and am learning to be less defensive and to know when I need to change. Reading an excerpt to the members of a crit group and watching their pens travel down their copies as I read, marking the bits they don't like, is a wonderful cold-shower experience: a little painful, but you feel good afterwards.

The thing is, when you expose your writing to the world in any format, it becomes at some point a corporate exercise. If my work ever gets accepted by an agent and then, oh frabjous day! by a publisher, it will have become a business project, and the perceptions of the future reader--and the requirements of the market--will have to be pandered to.

I think that a lot of writers are still stuck in the 19th/first half of the 20th century on that point. There was a time when writers had far greater responsibility for their own editing, and way, way more scope for innovation and its evil twin, self-indulgence. Many of the older books I've read have glaring structural flaws as a result (although it kills me to think of them being edited out, as time has a way of hallowing even the wilder offshoots of prose).

One of the ways in which older books are usually not lacking, of course, is in their word usage, grammar, punctuation, and all those things that make for a smooth reading experience. This, I suppose, is because of all the attention that our education systems used to pay to form; back in the days when the classics were studied as a matter of course, and poetry had strict forms and rules, writers were trained to do it right from the cradle (I'm not talking about spelling, which never really settles down into anything rigid, no matter how hard we try).

These days, we definitely make more mistakes. We don't have the kind of education that zaps them out of us while we're too young to resist. I am old enough to have been right on the cusp of the change in education from formalism (I have noticed that older writers can go ballistic about things that just don't matter anymore) to today's notions about freedom of expression and not stifling the creative impulse, so I understand both attitudes (and contain both of them within my brain, which makes it hurt).

But here's what strikes me as strange: while we're culturally conditioned to show groveling respect to the creative impulse, we are also conditioned--by a consumer-oriented world--to pay attention to what sells and what is acceptable. Hence all the writing about writing that goes on, all those webinars and classes and books that we consume to help us conform to standards that are set by the market. Some of these are attempts by old-school writers to rebuild a lost world, while some are helpful. Learn to spot the difference.

I'm not sure how to end this post, which is becoming too long. I may have to come back to some of these ideas. But I want to leave you with a suggestion for 2011: read five books written before 1950 this year, and let their technical excellence sink into your brain. To do this, you must give up one hour of TV a day. Because TV makes ya dumber. It really does. And these books will make you smarter, and a better writer if you aspire to that.

If you want, you can post your list of five books in the comments and I will try to find some way to hold us all accountable. From my Kindle, here are five books I want to read:

Shirley by Charlotte Brontë (1849)

Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens (1839)

New Grub Street by George Gissing (1891)

Selected Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1887 to 1927)

The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie (1916, her first published novel)

Your turn. And again, happy 2011. I love your comments and your support. I can't believe this blog is two years old today. Thank you for helping it (and me) grow!

The MOST Wonderful Time of the Year

2010-12-26T11:36:00.003-06:00

Happy Boxing Day, friends.

Not that I know what Boxing Day is about. Nobody does, really, although theories abound. When I was a kid, Boxing Day mean ~~getting dragged~~ going to the horse races because Dad came from a family of hippophiles. I expect I did my fair share of whining about this particular tradition, but now, looking back some 35 years, I have fond memories of the frosty air, the smell of horses and the noise and bustle of the punters around the bookies, who operated in the open air and communicated by tic-tac, a sign language that Dad actually understands but which is now dying out due to radio communication.

For me, Boxing Day marks the start of the Most Wonderful Week of the Year. The frantic days before Christmas are over, but the excitement of Christmas Day itself, with its presents and family get-together, still lingers. Gifts that have not yet been assigned their proper place in the scheme of things sit in the glory of their newness on my desk, and are not yet starting to look reproachful over my tardiness in using them.

The longest night of the year is past, and the days are eeeeever so slowly inching their way toward spring. I can rest in the knowledge that this is happening even though we are only at the start of the endless Illinois winter.

The house slumbers; the calendar is blissfully empty (there is nothing like a week without meetings to reconcile me to the human race). A faint sound of football drifts into my office from the family room, and the sound of Orangina doing her chores under Felsted's prompting. (One of her traits is an inability to accept a change of routine, even at Christmas.) Wasabi, on the other hand, has yet to make an appearance, even if it IS 3 pm. Teenage hibernation: annoying on some levels, but strangely peaceful on others, especially when I recollect that college is now a lock and these are her last few months as a child of this house.

For me, this week is a week of combined rest and preparation. The new year looms, with its challenges. Will I ever get my books to beta reader stage? Can I uphold my resolution to embrace the season and move my butt around more? Will I ever realize my dream of a colorful, decorated office? Will I earn enough this year? Who the heck knows?

Whatever happens, 2010 should go down as the year I learned that I could indeed write fiction. That I had the mental stamina to come up with a story and put it on paper. That I had the toughness to ignore everything else while I wrote.

And 2011, I suspect, will be another pivotal year. When I end it, I will no longer have any schoolchildren, and Felsted will be very, very close to the fateful big 6-0. Retirement, where and how we plan to live in the post-college years, and the care and keeping of Orangina "just in case" need to be addressed. Maybe I should find these intimations of mortality depressing, but to me they're just exhilarating. I did it! I managed to bring up, however haphazardly, the two sweet little scraps of life who grew into two impossible kids and then, somehow, miraculously, into two young women with the future in front of them. Wow.

So this is going to be a very nice week, the pause at the top of one really big hill before I jog down the next one to see what's on the other side: what will be there, of course, will be another big hill to climb. The photo at the top of this post was taken from the top of Bindon Hill following an absolute killer of a climb: little did I know that I had two more such climbs, and the corresponding downhill scrambles, before I came to a place where I could turn landwards and enjoy a little walking on the flat. At that point, I was simply celebrating having made it to the top! So that, metaphorically speaking, is where I feel myself to be now.

What is your metaphorical landscape?

Book Review: Nemesis by Philip Roth

2010-12-23T14:14:00.003-06:00

Where I got the book: my own choice from the library.

I've only read one other book by Philip Roth, The Human Stain. And I wasn't crazy about it, although I thought the writing was superior. (And I guess a few other people thought so too, since it won a PEN/Faulkner Award.)

I liked Nemesis a whole lot more, even though I thought the novel was structurally flawed. Or is that genius, to build flaws deliberately into a novel and then get away with it? It's a fine line.

[SPOILER ALERT] Nemesis is set in Newark in the hot summer of 1944, specifically in the Jewish community in Weequahic. It begins in an expository style, explaining the origins of the polio epidemic of that year, before introducing the main character, Bucky Cantor. This young man, a superb athlete but barred from war service by poor eyesight, works as a playground supervisor and has a passion for helping children grow as athletes. He is a model citizen: brought up by his grandparents, he grew up working in their business and did well at school. He is small, tough, and respected, and his relationship with a doctor's daughter promises a rise in society.

But the polio epidemic hits Weequahic hard, and the playground is particularly badly affected. Children sicken and even die, and Bucky Cantor's faith in God is shaken as he tries to comfort the families and puzzle out why "his" children should be the victims of such a virulent strain. When he finally gives in to the temptation to leave it all behind and join his girlfriend at a camp in the mountains, Bucky's nemesis follows him and destroys his life.

This is a great story told mostly in a tight narrative style interspersed with dialogue. I loved the affectionate descriptions of the community and its people, and really got a sense of the suffering of the families. The writing is excellent: tight and compelling, it sketches scenes with great economy of detail but considerable power, and the dialogues and action are completely convincing.

Where the book fell down, for me, was the odd shock of discovering, about halfway into the book, that the narrator is not the anonymous "omniscient" so useful to novelists, but one of the polio victims; he tells Bucky's story (so that we see Bucky mostly as "Mr. Cantor") but really tells us almost nothing about his own part in it. The idea that he would have become friends with Bucky later in life and is now narrating what he has learned from him just doesn't strike true. I would have been OK with an omniscient narrator, but I find a second-hand narrative through a very minor character rather jarring.

The second thing I did not like was precisely the account of Bucky later in life, when he has turned his back on his former love and all that connected him with the playground. The embittered invalid is a familiar enough trope, but the way this section of the novel is sandwiched between the actual story and a final description of Bucky in his glory days (which strikes me as an attempt to balance out the present-day section) doesn't work for me. Bucky's anger against God is explored in this section, but I think it could have been worked more satisfactorily into the main narrative given Roth's great ability with the pen.

But I could be wrong. Maybe the flaws are deliberate attempts to break the rhythm of the narrative and shock the reader out of complacency. If they are, then I respect them. My overall impression is still of a powerful piece of writing that is well worth reading, and for that reason I'm giving Nemesis an "excellent" rating.

Making What?

2010-12-22T21:27:00.006-06:00

I should be making goals right now. Don't you think? I've read quite a few writer blogs today that talk about goals for next year. INSTEAD:

I am dreaming about going to live in France. In a house that looks incredibly old, with vines all over it, but that miraculously has absolutely none of the problems of an old house BECAUSE it has been renovated to very high standards with extreme good taste AND it's on the market for something like $50,000 so that I can spend the rest of our money on, you know, whatever. Oh yeah oh yeah and in my dream I'm earning SO MUCH as a novelist that the money bit is all irrelevant anyway and I give tons of dosh away to charity and can afford an assistant to do all the writer stuff I don't like.

I am struggling to do lots of bitty bits of work. Having made a big push to catch up with my to-do list last week, I am now letting it go to rack and ruin. Again.

I am being a tad touchy with the fam. For good reason on many sides, as it has been quite a trying month, family-wise. From two out of three of 'em, anyway.

I am tired, headachy and the food I bought in desperation at 10 pm from a certain fast food establishment after the Christmas rehearsal has been getting its revenge ALL DAY.

I am completely failing to get my Christmas cards done. Yes. And it is December 22. I did manage to write a letter today, bragging on a few things we have all achieved this year as one does (one day I will write a Christmas letter that's actually interesting to OTHER people), but no joy on actually slapping a few cards into envelopes.

I have been culling my blog reader. I've deleted the feeds for quite a few blogs, some of which I used to follow avidly but they are now just failing to inspire me. Some are quite big names, blogwise. The ones that I am still enjoying, oddly enough, are often the least polished and are extremely obscure. Quite a few of the bloggers I've followed for the last couple years have given up lately: no more to say, no more desire to say it. The obscure bloggers, funnily enough, often still have fresh things to say precisely because they could care less that they only have five readers. They're not worrying about their stats. They're saying what's on their mind.

I have subscribed to my own blog just so I can compare its obscureness with that of others. Dang.

I have realized that I only really tweet when I'm actively writing. Right now, I'm barely on Twitter. Right now, my two novels are lying oh, so quietly in my computer (with clones in the cloud and on an external hard drive, oh yes I have learned THAT lesson the hard way). Come the New Year, I will revise one and rewrite the other. Those are my 2011 writing projects.

Wait. Those are GOALS! I have GOALS! GOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAL (OK here you have to imagine a latino TV announcer doing the GOOOALAGOOALAGOOLA thing because I can't reproduce it accurately in words.)

I feel better now.

Merry Christmas, and to those who don't celebrate it, Merry Christmas. Because personally I always feel warmed and included when people wish me a happy [insert name of holiday I don't celebrate] and I want to include YOU in MY happy holiday. I may throw out another post or two in the glorious post-Christmas lull, but if not I'll see you in 2011. And soon I will reach my 100th post and there will be a GIVEAWAY. Another goal! YESSS.