Tag Archives: Books

I Have A Question!

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Someone on my Twitter feed started off the day with a message that said, “I’m having A MORNING. It’s like it was written by Lemony Snicket.” Of course, this got my brain juices gushing. What if our days WERE written by the madmen and women of publishing? What if we were the brain babies on someone else’s page?

QUESTIONS FOR YOU GUYS.

If you were a character in a book, who would you want to write your day? Why?

Conversely?

If you were a character in a book, who is the last person you would want to write your day? Why?

For me, if I had to pick someone to script my day, I’m going to go with Christopher Moore. Why? Well, I’d very likely meet a cast of incredibly funny people, one of which would be so tongue-in-cheek, sarcasm would ooze from their pores in drippy rivers. Said sarcastic individual would undoubtedly shred me awhile, maybe make me want to punch them in the face, but in the end they’d turn out to be the best, most reliable friend I could have when the going gets tough. There’d probably be a talking sidekick of some sorts, maybe a fruitbat or an entertaining demon, but after I got past the weirdness of it, I’d find that pretty cool. I’d be so down with a vampire cat.

The LAST person I’d want to script my day? Shit, this is a toss-up between GRRM and Abercrombie. Let’s go with GRRM. Not only would everyone I encounter in my day be out to fuck me over, half of them would be willing and able to kill me. They’d have some huge secret agenda to oust me from any power I could claim, and — when I wasn’t looking — there would probably be a better than fifty percent chance that they were humping their sister. All of my friends would probably hate each other, and every other hour someone would throw a dead wolf head at me because that’s just how GRRM rolls. Let’s not even talk about how crappy his parties are. You go in, expect to have a beer and a cocktail weenie, and the next thing you know, everyone dies. No, seriously, like everyone. OH, COME ON, SIR.

So! PLAY ALONG. Who would script YOUR day? Who wouldn’t? GO!

BRING IT!

Books. From Manuscript To Offer.

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Books. How do they work? They’re like magnets, y’all.

I get asked at least twice a week how books work – how they go from being in a notebook or on a computer to getting onto a shelf (speaking to traditional publishing, of course – the process for self-pub is still one of great mystery to me.) I know I’ve written about this in the past, in particular when I talk about writer crazy here, when I talk about what being a novelist means here, and right after I got agented here, but this post will hopefully break it down into one, easy-to-digest guide. I’ll add to it or edit it later if any information is incomplete or, you know, WRONG.

Right. Onward!

IMPORTANT TERMS:

Acquisitions Committee: These are “the money people” at a publishing house. Once your book has passed second reads, it is sent to a board who will yay or nay the project based on any number of factors (how other authors in your genre are doing, the strength of your work, the state of the current market, etc.) Acqs boards (sometimes called editorial boards) usually consist of editors and marketing people (and raptors – clearly there are raptors) who will braintrust over your book to decide if it’s profitable to take you on as a debut. As most debuts never earn out to their advances, they’re essentially deciding if they think they can launch your career based on the work in front of them. You might not be profitable right out of the gate, but in the FUTURE, well . . . anything can happen. It’s the future. And the future is awesome.

Advance – The amount of money offered by a publisher to acquire a book (though not all pub houses offer advances.) Even if your book sells poorly, you don’t pay this back. It’s simply the purchase price for the book. Advances are often paid not in bulk but in chunks, like one third at signing (when the author signs on the dotted line to accept an offer), one third at edit acceptance (when the author completes her editor’s editorial requests,) and one third upon publication (the book hitting shelves.)

Agent or Literary Agent: An agent acts as your gateway into the publishing world. They submit your book to editors at publishing houses in hopes of striking a deal. Once there is an offer on your book, they negotiate on your behalf to get you the best deal possible. Later, after your book has sold, agents review contracts and royalty statements to ensure that your finances (and by proxy theirs) are in order. They are a sounding board and “first editor” of any work that’s going on submission. Legit agents will never ask for money to represent you – they take you on “for free” because they believe that your work will one day sell for buckets of money and they’ll get their cut later (most agents take anywhere from ten to twenty percent commission on any sales – ask the agent for their terms before you accept an offer of representation.) As agents work gratis until your book is bought, they tend to be highly selective with who they represent. It is worth noting that — just like everyone else — agents have tastes and specializations to consider. Before you query an agent, make sure they enjoy and/or specialize in your type of fiction. Some agents only want adult literature, for example, so querying them with your YA mystery is a waste of your time and theirs. Others might love paranormal romance, but have so many authors in their stables that write paranormal romance, they aren’t accepting new authors at this time. Research agents, make sure your work is a good match for what they like to represent, and when you do get around to querying, READ THE SUBMISSION GUIDELINES AND FOLLOW THEM. Showing an agent that you have basic reading comprehension skills means your query won’t end up in the trash. If they only ask for a query letter, three pages, and a synopsis (and when they ask for three pages, they want your first three pages not some random snippet in the middle), send . . . a query letter, three pages, and a synopsis. Don’t send a full chapter thinking, “But you’ll really love the whole thing so just read it.” They have processes for a reason. As a novice writer, you’re probably not smarter than they are about the industry, so stop being a dink and do as you’re told. It’ll get you cool kid points in the long run.

Auction – If there are multiple houses interested in acquiring your work, it will likely go to auction. The auction is arranged and managed by your agent. Auctions do not necessarily mean a half a million dollars and a pony courtesy of your new editor, though. It might mean a moderate advance but a house ups your marketing budget. It might mean allowing your agent to sell international rights or tweaking the terms of audio book rights. The rules of the auction change from agent to agent (and greatly depend on how many people are involved in the bidding.) Rachelle Gardner does a great job explaining the whole crazy process on her blog. Check it out.

Debut – An author with no previous publishing credentials. Your first book.

Editor – Celestial beings who work their bums off to acquire your work. Once it is acquired, celestial beings who turn your ugly little baby into a bookshelf prom queen.

Exclusive – When an agent or editor is asking to be the ONLY person you consider for your book (whether that’s representation or doing rewrites and pre-offer edits). Agents do this less and less it seems, but some might still ask you for it. Think long and hard about any exclusive before you consent. The moment you agree, you are saying no one else can look at your work or touch it for X number of time. If an editor is offering to do a rewrite with you (essentially pro bono editing work) it might behoove you, but it depends on your circumstances. There are many fish in the publishing sea.

International Rights – The short explanation: international rights dictate how your book gets in the hands of the rest of the world after it’s been purchased in the American market. Whether your publisher controls that or you and your agent control that depends on your deal. For example, if your publishing house only asked for North American rights, that means your agent can offer the book for distribution to European and Asian markets. These rights are purchased and mean more money in an author’s pocket.

Manuscript – Your draft of your book. A book in larvae form.

Offer – When a publishing house has decided to acquire your book, this is the “package” they offer you to get you to sign on the line. Initial offers are where you start. Counteroffers are offers given to try and beat out another house’s offer, etc.

Partial – When an agent likes your query letter enough to want to see a portion of your book. Sometimes it’s three chapters. Sometimes it’s more. They will tell you what they want. FOLLOW THEIR INSTRUCTIONS.

Royalties – The amount of money/percentages you make once you’ve earned out to your advance. An author gets a percentage of a book’s sales once the book’s advance has been met. This means if a book got a $20,000 advance, the book has to “earn out” that $20,000 before you see any royalty money.

Second Reads – An agent sends your book to an editor. Said editor loves the book and would like to purchase it one day. To get support for this, they go to what is called Second Reads. Second Reads is a group of people at the publishing house who will read your manuscript and weigh in on it. They essentially tell the editor what they see as the strengths and weaknesses of the work. If the strengths outweigh the weaknesses and the Second Reads panel gives it a resounding thumbs up, it will go to the raptors (aka Acquistions.)

Slushpile: The slushpile means you submitted a book or query letter as a general submission, as in the editor or agent didn’t specifically ask you for it and you’re throwing your hat in the ring along with the rest of the unknown scrubs (please note: I, too, was a slushpile scrub. I say this fondly because BEEN THERE, DONE THAT, HAVE THE TEE SHIRT.)

Submission or On Sub: When your book has been sent to editors and you are waiting to hear back from them. Also known as the fourth level of Hell.

Synopsis: Your book’s story compacted into two or three pages. It explains what happens over the course of the book and reveals all major characters and plot points.

Query or Query Letter: This is a one page letter you write to agents (usually – editors will sometimes be open to queries but most prefer you filter through a literary agent first) that tells the agent/editor what your book is about. It’s the first thing any agent sees of your work, so make sure it’s really, really shiny. Don’t use superfluous words. Watch spelling and punctuation. Clearly outline the plot and MAIN characters so they can really grasp what you’re peddling. The key here is surgical precision. As the ultimate goal of the query is to entice an agent to want to see your full manuscript, do not tell them you’re the next Stephen King because that’s a waste of words (and they’ve heard it a zillion times before.) Streamline the meat and potatoes of your story. You can include a brief “about you” paragraph at the end of the letter if you’re so inclined, but keep it pertinent to your potential writing career. They don’t care that you have a bachelor’s degree in Creative Writing from Innsmouth University. They WILL care if you have something that will help get the work bought, though, like previous publishing credits or a blog that gets 50,000 hits a day. Note: a great resource for query writing is Janet Reid’s Query Shark. You can learn a ton from this lady. Read the archives. It’s worth it.

THE PROCESS.

STEP ONE: Victory Through Prose. Write AND FINISH A Book.

I know, I know. You have six chapters that you’re sure are THE BEST six chapters in the history of history and everyone in the world should see them. You’ll send them to agents and editors and all of them will be so impressed with your writing that they’ll faint, puke on themselves, and give you buckets of money. They’ll beg to name their first child after you.

Only not.

If you’re an unknown (like me and most of my writer friends were) you’re going to be a slushpile kid. That means to be considered for publication, you need to complete the WHOLE BOOK first. Edit that WHOLE BOOK until it gleams. Give it to people who won’t tell you it’s awesome because they love you, but will tell you where it sucks, how it sucks, and what they think you can do to desuckify it. Then, after you drink a twelve pack of beer and avoid drowning in your I’M A TALENTLESS HACK tears, you put your nose to the grindstone, check your ego, and edit that sumbitch until it’s faaaaantastic.

STEP TWO: Grow A Thick Skin. Rejection Round One Cometh.

The book is written and polished and you’re shaking dat ass because you’ve accomplished something marvelous. It is now time to get yourself an agent. Research agents, research their guidelines. Write a KICK ASS query letter and email away. Don’t be a tool and send one email to six hundred agents. No one likes spam emails and this makes you look like a spammer. Mind you, it’s okay to query six hundred agents if you want (most agents don’t expect exclusives most of the time) but make sure you take the time to send individual emails to everyone. Oh, and make sure you address it to the right person? Sending a query over to Tom FatBottom that’s attentioned to Missy LovesPizza doesn’t look very good.

Now wait. And wait. Stare at your inbox forever. Refresh inbox a trillion times an hour.

Some agents get back fast. Others take two to three months. Some agents will flat out tell you if you’ve heard nothing from them in two months it’s a no so move on. There will likely be LOTS AND LOTS of rejections on the horizon – the trick is to not take them personally (and never, ever answer one with attitude – that’s career suicide.) This is a business, after all, and yeah, you took a year to write this book they should AT LEAST read it, but so did everyone else. I don’t remember where or when I read this, but for a point of reference? Irene Goodman (my agency) gets something like 40,000 query letters a year. My agent accepts one or two clients a year. Do that math.

STEP THREE: Rejoice! And Edit.

After partial manuscript requests and full manuscript requests and however long it took you to score your agent, you’ve got one, and the agent is as excited to represent you as you are to be represented. They have wonderful ideas for your career, you’re a special snowflake, blah-blah-blah, and OH, YEAH, CAN YOU DO THESE SMALLLLLL CHANGES. Said changes could potentially take you a while to complete. An agent will often times have tweaks and edits they want you to make before taking your work out on submission. Don’t argue. Unless it’s going to totally alter the work and make you hate it beyond belief, suck it up and do as you’re told. Your agent’s livelihood is selling books. If he or she doesn’t sell them, he or she might not have nice things like food and electricity so they probably know a thing or two about the industry. For the most part? Listen to the experts.

STEP FOUR: It’s Out of Your Hands.

Post your editing frenzy, the agent will take your book out when he or she deems it strategically smart. It’s sort of an industry “DUH” that August is when a lot of agents and editors step back from the biz to either vacation or catch-up on their backlog. Deals still happen, but not as frequently, so not a lot of things go out on submission in August. November and December can get a bit hazy, too, as holiday rushes and end of year budgets are a concern, so your book might sit for a couple months before it’s sent out to editors. Be cool. It’ll get there.

Now, depending on your agent, the book gets in the hands of the publishing houses one of two ways. Some agents have to essentially query editors like you queried your agent. They put together a mini-proposal so the editor will consider the work. Other agents basically say HEY I HAVE THIS and everyone green lights them to send it over without that proposal. At this point in the publishing process? The writer is uninvolved. That book is your agent’s problem, not yours. You’re officially on submission.

STEP FIVE: Wait. Waiting. Still Waiting.

Being on submission is a weird, weird thing, dudes. Sometimes, you’ll wait for six months to hear anything. Sometimes, it can take even longer for editors to send it to seconds or pass on it. Sometimes, you’ll hear in two or three weeks. The waiting can be agonizing AND unpredictable. Some people will wait forever for a deal, some will wait twelve minutes. There’s no way to know where you’re gonna fall. Whatever the case, wait as gracefully as you can (while losing your hair and clawing the walls and becoming a total freakazoid.)

A couple tips that got me through the horrendous wait (and I’ve been on both sides of the fence — waiting forever AND the whirlwind — so I know a thing or two about this): one, a “no” is a fast, easy way to clear an editor’s desk. They might not like writing rejection letters, but if a project’s not for them, passing on it frees them up to get to something else in their mammoth workload. If they’re NOT saying no and just staying quiet, it might mean they’re sitting on your manuscript and thinking about it or maybe waiting for the right time to bring it to second reads or acquisitions. Silence is not always a bad thing. The no is easy to do, guys. If they’ve read it and were going to reject it, they’d just reject it. Remember that.

Second tip? Write something else while you’re waiting. Stalking editors on social media programs or biting your fingernails to the quick in the interim does nothing for you. Concentrate on another project to keep yourself afloat. Writing is a great way to channel your angst about the wordless abyss that is being on submission. Also, writing’s what you supposedly want to do so, like, do it.

(Also, this should be something I shouldn’t have to say, but having had a ringside seat for this – don’t poke editors or agents on Twitter just to see if they’ve read your stuff. Don’t try to woo them or romance them by sucking up. And by all that is holy, if you have even a moment’s hesitation as to whether or not something is appropriate to say to an industry professional, DON’T SAY IT. ABORT MISSION. It’s okay to interact with publishing folks if they have a public profile, but be careful with it. Don’t cram yourself down their throats or they’ll remember you for THAT instead of the quality of your work. Chill, Honey Bunny. Just chill.)

STEP SIX: Survive Second Reads, Acquistions. MORE REJECTION? WTF?

An editor decides they simply MUST have your work for themselves. They want to sweep it away to Vegas and make an honest book out of it. COOL! Your book will go from being on submission with that house to second reads wherein other editors (most of the time) also read your book and give their two cents on the project. Generally speaking, second reads must be in favor of the book for it to progress from here out. It’s great if the editor loves your book, but if other editors think it’s too flawed or simply don’t like it, it won’t go anywhere and the author and the editor must resign themselves to this not being an ideal match. HOWEVER. If the second reads consensus is WOO HA, MARRY THIS SUCKA! The book goes to acquisitions. Acquisitions will then do whatever it is raptors do and determine if the house is going to make an offer.

MEANWHILE! While all this craziness is going down on the publishing house side of things, your agent will take the news of a book going to second reads to other houses to try to stir up interest. They’ll tell the other editors with the project that they have strong interest. If an editor hasn’t read the book, they’ll likely prioritize it so they don’t miss out on something potentially awesome. If they’ve been sitting or waffling on it, they’ll make up their minds right around now. Going to second reads or acquisitions is a great way to launch a book from “quietly on submission” to FEEDING FRENZY. SHAAAARK. Lots of long-awaited answers come in at once. More rejection is likely, but so, too, are other editors falling in love with your book. Brace yourself. Shit just got REAL.

STEP SEVEN: Rejoice. Victory Is At Hand.

So, an offer comes in. Your book survived the editor, second reads, and acquisitions with its dignity intact. An initial offer is presented to your agent which means you will one day be on shelves. After your agent does his or her Victory Butt Wiggle and you hyperventilate into a bag and weep openly at your success, your agent will take the offer to the other houses still in play to shake out last minute answers. If the initial offer is the Last Man Standing, the agent will negotiate to tweak the deal, considering not only your advance but also royalties and some of those aforementioned marketing strategies and international/audio right things.

If, however, multiple houses want to offer, you’ll likely go to auction and that changes the dynamic. The offers will get better, though as I said before, not necessarily all on advance money. There might be other perks included and perks can make or break a debut. More advertising or marketing backing is never a bad thing as it could guarantee a more prominent position in a bookstore or on a website. Visibility is key! Your agent will consider the whole package each house offers before advising you where they think you should go.

—–

Hopefully this answers some questions and/or debunks some mystery about the publishing industry. There’s more to the process (like editorial notes and galleys and ARCs and what’s an ISBN and such) but I can tackle those at another time. If there are questions, drop them in comments. If I don’t have immediate answers, I’ll get them for you. I KNOW PEOPLE WHO KNOW PEOPLE, YO. I’m connected.)

Writing To Completion

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“Hey Hillary, how do I write a book?”

“You make words in a notebook or on a computer. This is not a hard question.”

Technically speaking, that answer is correct. Unfortunately, it’s not sufficient. Not by a long shot. Writing a book (or short story/script/epic rp post/blog post etc) is a lot more than Person With Creative Idea Sits Down, Writes, Stuff Happens. What do I mean? Well, did you know that the idea, the characters, the plot, and all of the things that the words create aren’t the killer? In fact, those are the -easy- parts. So you may think you’re King Shit of Turd Mountain because you have a storyline and a cool cast that includes a talking cactus. Great, congratulations, that’s the germ.

But it ain’t writin’ a book.

You may even make notes about the story, outline it, start the first couple chapters and get into a groove. You may – gasp – NANO and get 50k words into the project.

But it ain’t writin’ a book.

Because writing a book means you start and finish. It means not getting bogged down by things like plot holes you can drive a Honda through, or lack of drive to finish. It means looking away from shiny distractions. It means having a beginning, a middle, and an end. It means telling your inner critic to go take a flying fuck and make words anyway – worry about the quality later on. It means knowing you’re too close to this idea, that you can’t be objective about it, and the only way you’ll ever know if it’s really good is handing it off to people who’ll tell you the truth. It’s setting realistic expectations about the publishing industry, your place in it, and understanding that weighing success or failure against other people is a huge waste of time because everyone’s book journey is different. It’s rarely “HUGE SUCCESS” or “HUGE FAILURE”. It fits somewhere in the spectrum. Aim too high you’ll shoot yourself in the dick. Aim too low and you’ll probably write a crappy book.

Newsflash that’s not really a newsflash: writing a book is fucking hard, folks. And there’s a lot of things to it you need to understand before you set out on your epic word adventure.

Part One: Discipline

Bar none, this is the most difficult thing to master. Discipline. The discipline to stop looking at pterodactyl porn and to make a thousand words. You may say to me “Yeah, I can do that, I really want to write the book.” It’s amazing how quickly you will abandon your discipline when the story’s not going as smoothly as you want it to, or a Jersey Shore marathon is on. It’s amazing the excuses you will make to yourself to justify NOT writing. I know no less than a half dozen spectacular writers who probably won’t finish something within the next five years because they’ve given me (and by default, themselves) a laundry list of reasons for “why it’s not happening”. The worst part is, they buy into those excuses and then lament the fact that their productivity is shit. If you want it that bad, cram the excuses where the sun don’t shine, sit your ass down in a chair, and write. The bar’s open another night. Write. The television can be shut off. Write. The internet will still be there later, so unplug the modem and write.

Falconesse calls this “butt in chair” time. It’s absolutely the hardest part. How you get into that chair and make words happen is unimportant. What’s important is that you do it, period, and continue to do it without fail. A lot of writer moms I know wait ’til the kiddies are asleep and sneak in five hundred words before bed. I personally tell myself “a chapter a week, no less” and kick myself if that’s all I manage to produce. Some people set a couple days aside and block off hours within those days. They treat it like a second job in that they show up, do their word count, and clock out. Find what works for you, and stick to it.

The Ugly Truth: You Will Never Write A Book If You Have No Self-Discipline. You Will Start Many, And Finish None.

The Good News: Once You Master It, It Gets A Lot Easier.

Part Two: Don’t Edit As You Go

So I won’t pretty this up. STOP EDITING EARLY. JUST DON’T DO IT. After awhile, toying with the words to make them “perfect” means you’re not writing NEW words. It becomes a roadblock to productivity, and before you know it you’re right back at that Discipline thing because you can’t/won’t let yourself get past Chapter Eight. The rule of thumb for me is “tinkering with already produced shit before you finish your MS is a BAD idea”. Minor edits here and there – a word misspelled, a dangling participle correction, maybe fleshing out a sentence or two – okay, but rereading the same six paragraphs for a day and a half is a “get nude, paint yourself with tapioca, and run up and down the street screaming a guacamole recipe” level of time waste. What good is having eight chapters of GREAT STUFF if you won’t ever let yourself write chapter nine? Understand that authors edit their work after the fact for a reason.

The Ugly Truth: There Are Very Few Edits You Make Now That Can’t Be Made Later.

The Good News: The More You Write, The Better Your Work Gets, The Less Editing It Will Need Overall.

Part Three: Managing Expectations

“Author L got a $500,000 dollar advance, was bought on auction after a week on submission, and went on to win a Nebula. I want that, and if I can’t produce something like that, I won’t write.”

1) Hey look! It’s an excuse. See Part One! You are quite literally talking yourself out of writing, and failing on the discipline front.

2) Get real. Let me rephrase. Get real and get over yourself. Every author wants to be good. Every author wants Rowling-level fame and success. Every author wants a Hugo award, and to be on the NY Times Bestseller list. I’m pretty sure if you polled a bunch of published folks, they’d all say they’d be pretty keen with any or all of that good shit happening. Fact: shitty writers sometimes get published, but not as often as you might believe. It’s hard to convince an editor that you’re good enough to be bought. I’m STILL trying to do it. Does fear of rejection and not being the next Stephen King stop me from writing? No. Why? Because . . . well mostly because of that little number one thing right above. I get that there might be better books than mine out there, but I also know nothing ventured nothing gained. I’m not going to use the excuse of I MIGHT NOT BE AS SUCCESSFUL AS I’D LIKE TO BE as a reason to not -try-.

Look, it’s one thing to want to produce the best quality material you can. I am all for that, actually. It’s another thing to essentially give up because you won’t achieve what the VAST minority of writers achieve. If you seriously look at award-winning books and tell yourself “I can’t write until I get that” you should probably ask yourself why you’re writing at all.

Are you writing for the money? If so, reality slap – most writers have a day job. Most writers make a couple thousand dollar advance on a book. Most writers won’t ever see a royalty statement on their first book because it won’t earn out its advance. This is not the industry for would-be millionaires. Do James Pattersons happen? Yes, but again, miniscule segment of the writing population. Have realistic expectations, all the while hoping for more.

Are you writing for awards? Umm. Why? Do you think a prestigious award will make you like yourself more? It won’t. It’s just a shiny trophy, and after awhile it too will lose its shine. Besides, the way to get awards is to write a good book. I’ve never heard of them giving someone who theory crafts a book a pat on the head. Again, realistic expectations, hope for more. Write the book and write it to the best of your ability and THEN some. What’s there to lose? At the very least you have the satisfaction of saying “I produced a book. I sat down and wrote a story. It is mine and no one else’s, and I saw it through from start to finish.” It’s hard to explain the euphoria you get saying THE END after that last page. It’s a little high, like you climbed Mount Everest. The awards should be the frosting on the cake, not the cake itself. The book is your cake, and it’s mighty delicious.

Are you writing because you have to write? Because not writing makes you feel soulless and empty? If the answer to this is yes, you’re writing for the right reasons. Discipline yourself to channel that passion onto the page, to give birth to a complete idea, not just a portion of it.

((Also if you’re unsure if the above is true, check out Chuck Wendig’s article about “When It’s Time To Toss In The Writing Towel”. Good stuff, as always))

The Ugly Truth: Most Books Don’t Win Major Awards Or Get Trillion Dollar Advances. That Does Not Mean A Book Is Bad.

The Good News: Writing A Good Book Gets You A Lot Closer To Both Things.

If you asked me how to write a book to completion, there’s a couple tips I can give but only because they’ve worked for me. Other people might tell you different, but here’s Hillary’s take on it: I’d tell you to set small goals within your overall goal. “This sucks and I hate it, but if I can just get to the scene where Joey molests a petunia plant, I can take a break.” I’d tell you expect to get stalled out, and to find friends and other writers to cram a taser up your ass to spark you back into motion. I’d tell you that you’re going to worry a billion times whether or not this is worth it, that you’re going to question if it’s any good, but that you have to have faith that things work themselves out. I’d tell you that understanding these things, and combining them with the discipline to just sit the hell down and write is a skill set that’s developed over time, but once it’s there, it never goes away. I’d tell you it’s hard, but it’ll be okay because other writers understand how hard it is, and are very good resources when you’re feeling down.

Having ideas, starting ideas, formulating and theorizing is great. It’s how the book process starts, but it’s not how it ends. And believe me, ending it is the doozy, guys. You start off with unbridled enthusiasm, and then four or five chapters aren’t as tight as you want, and a plot hole manifests, and you’re less excited because the idea isn’t as shiny anymore. Next thing you know you have forty thousand words of good intentions and that’s it. That’s sad. That’s abandoning hours of work. A book’s journey is an arduous one. It’s not always going to be as exciting as you hope. The trick is to tell yourself FUCKIT (say it loud) and to keep trudging along. Build momentum. Get a couple more chapters under your belt, even if you have to grit your teeth and tie yourself to a chair to do it. Even if you hate every last stinking word you write, keep GOING and worry about editing it later. Getting past a hurdle is a small victory. Embrace it and use the pride of completion to propel you into another chapter, and then another. There will be dips and valleys, there will be self-doubt and fear and exhaustion. It’s expected, it’s part of the process. Stop looking at the negative in front of you and look past it, to another goal. Tell yourself that just getting past this scene will make everything better. Nine times out of ten it will. No really, it will.

My Taste Is Better Than Yours!

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So Anna told me a story that made me do this:

THE WTF MONKEY!

Anna works in a bookstore. The other day, she waited on a customer who was haunting the Paranormal Romance section. She approached, asked the lady if she could help her, and the woman insisted “she’d read all of them”. Before I go any further, I want you to ponder how much vampire pron that must be – all of the paranormal romance. That’s a lot of deep-dickin’! Anyway, so Anna (being a friendly Anna) strikes up a conversation. The end result was something like this:

My son is lazy and doesn’t work and blah blah blah, and he needs to grow up. I mean, he reads SCIENCE FICTION for crying out loud.

BRAKES. RIGHT NOW. VAMPIRE FUCKER LADY IS PULLING TASTE SUPERIORITY OVER A SCI-FI FAN.

VAMPIRE FUCKER LADY IS PULLING TASTE SUPERIORITY OVER A SCI-FI FAN.

W. T. F.

First things first, I used to read a lot of romance. I adored bodice rippers, and holy shit did I eat up Teresa Medeiros, Julie Garwood, Johanna Lindsey, and Jude Deveraux. As I consider myself a pretty smart bitch, I’d like to think I’d fit in well with these gals over here. I am not turning my nose up at Paranormal Romance Woman or Sci Fi Fan. What I’m wondering, though, is how the /fuck/ did Sci Fi dude end up – in Paranormal Lady’s humble estimation – ranking any lower on the ridiculous scale than she does?

She reads ABOUT VAMPIRE FUCKERS.

(Okay, done with the vampire fucking thing now. I swear.)

This whole debacle comes hot on the heels of the Game of Thrones controversy from last week, wherein two generally well respected reviewers (Gina Bellafante from the NY Times and Troy Patterson from Slate) took huge swipes at not only the fantasy genre, but its fan base too, essentially being condescending douchebags in tone and delivery. Bellafante decided she’d speak for all women – always a mistake – about how HBO was cow-towing to them with that whole romantic QUASI-RAPE THING, and Patterson decided to let us know that he canceled a date in college with a girl who went to Ren Faires (fuck you, dude, I look pretty smokin’ hot in a bodice) because Ren Faire people are odd and strange and . . . whatever.

Okay, getting it over with now: it’s okay to not like something. It’s not okay to pull intellectual and . . . I dunno, nerd superiority? Over HOW PEOPLE SPEND TIME IN MAKE BELIEVE LAND. That’s what we’re all doing when we pick up a book, ain’t it? Strapping on a hat and prancing off to Make Believe Land with Mr. Rogers. My Make Believe Land has a lot of vampires – even vampire fuckers – and a few gods, someone else’s has an ex-CIA agent with a lot of guns. Someone else’s has a triceratops, and someone else’s has tentacle aliens from the unknown. And don’t think for one second Make Believe Land relates just to fiction: historical re-enactments from the civil war send people back a hundred and fifty years. Titanic books put people under the sea, and books about planes? Send ‘em up in the air, piloting like a son of a bitch. Sure, that stuff’s real and Swamp Beast From Hell is not, but until we have:

- time machines
- the ability to go below the sea with Greg Ballard
- the funding to purchase our own private jets

Guess what? WELCOME TO MAKE BELIEVE LAND. Your imagination is taking you somewhere you can’t be, regardless of whether said brain fodder left a carbon imprint on our world. (A side note, sometimes your non-fiction ends up being more fabricated than your fiction anyway. Thanks Greg Mortenson! You ruined everything! But that’s a post for another day. /grumble)

Books exist to entertain. Books exist to feed our brains. Take us away, Calgon: fiction, non-fiction, if a book is purchased for the purpose of entertainment, its primary function is to shepherd us Elsewhere. So why do people feel the need to point at another person’s Elsewhere and go “Nah, that’s silly, but this book here about the history of golf is A-OKAY”! Fuck you, that’s why. No, not you Reader With A Clue, but everyone who takes a stab at a genre and dismisses it as ridiculous. If you don’t like something because it’s not compelling to you, fine, but shitting all over an entire section of your local bookstore or library is self-inflated and stupid. It’s also taking slaps at the fans of those genres. From my own experience? Fantasy and sci-fi people are polite, nice folks. They’re well read, they’re smart, and if something’s good they recommend the hell out of it to their friends. That bolsters sales and keeps publishing going. I don’t see why that’s a crime. As an aspiring author? I won’t see why that’s a crime. Oh, and just so we’re clear? I don’t read a lot of fantasy, and I don’t think I’ve ever read a sci-fi book, but I respect their fans because they’re a gem of a community. Other fan bases could learn a lot from ‘em.

I’m probably preaching to the choir on a lot of this stuff, and that’s okay. Most people with a clue don’t actually sneer at others based upon their romance/sci fi/horror tastes (unless you’re Nicholas Sparks, who apparently got his panties in a twist because someone dared categorize his books as romance. HOLY SHIT, YOU WRITE LOVE STORIES AND PEOPLE CALLED IT ROMANCE? NO WAY.). However, if you do find yourself about to turn on the “OH MY GOD WHAT A LOSER (S)HE IS FOR LIKING _________” . . . please. Please, please, please stop. Don’t try and pretend your shitty taste and opinion is somehow better than anyone else’s, or that a genre leaning makes you cool. Liking intellectual literary fiction doesn’t mean you’re Aristotle. It means you read literary fiction. That’s it. I’d say the same thing for Sci-Fi fans who cop attitude: reading fiction about space doesn’t make you Mr. Hawking. It means you like spaceship books. No one is more or less because of their tastes.

As for those professional reviewers, well, if you have a bias towards a genre going into it? DON’T REVIEW IT. If a reviewer can’t fairly compare and contrast a book/show/movie to similar offerings without sounding like a twat waffle, passing on the review and reviewing something more in their wheelhouse is likely the smart thing to do. You know, instead of making yourself sound like a Hatorade drinking douchebag. And for the Paranormal Romance lady who thinks her son’s a weirdo for reading sci fi? Well, babe, I dunno what to tell you other than I hope you feel all self-assured and superior when you get down with that questionable werewolf beastiality stuff. Uhh. Sing it, Sister. Or something.

I Still Think Patterson's Dumb