Being Transported

There are always surprises when I least expect them and yesterday I needed a surprise. I've needed one for a long time.

A writer friend emailed that her husband died Monday evening. She was sad, but all right with his death. It's hard watching someone you love slide slowly into the abyss bit by bit. I sent her my condolences, not because I knew her husband Fred but because I know her and have watched his decline from the sidelines all these years.

Yesterday, she sent me a message thanking me. She thanked me for my kindness and for my book, Among Women, because it captured her and took her somewhere else when Fred was in such pain and she could do nothing to help him. That's a pretty big compliment. What else could I say but you're welcome? I am still sad for her loss, but also glad that Fred is no longer in pain and his family can now grieve, something they have been doing in fits and starts for years.

I remember what it was like to lose my great Aunt Ann when she had Alzheimer's, which is what Fred had. She stood six-foot-two in her stocking feet and was from solid peasant stock. She was creative and fashionable and had made a huge success in her life. She never had children, although her husband had a child by his previous wife; he was a widower when Ann married him.

When we found out about her, Aunt Ann had been living in her big brick house all alone and the neighbors were stealing her blind, which is probably why she kept so much of her cash in her vast book collection. Having Alzheimer's made it difficult for her to remember, except in brief and fleeting flashes, where it was, but it made her feel safer. She had lost so much weight she was a shadow of her former glorious peasant self. She smelled and was dirty and her beautiful home was a dump. That's what living alone for several years while she was ill did to her and her surroundings, as it eventually does to the people who love her.

My parents took her home and my father cared for her until she eventually died. They sold off her possessions, cleaned up and sold her house and took care of her during her few remaining years. My dad cared for her as if she were a child, and that is what she had regressed to in the end, a child with easy smiles and wide wondering eyes unfamiliar with the world around her or the people she once knew so well and had towered over.

I know how my friend felt because I've been there. There is relief followed quickly by regret when someone you love dies of Alzheimer's, and yet there is also peace; someone you have loved and who loved you is now resting in the arms of the universe, has moved past his body and away from his mortal coil to be a part of the universe once more, having been given a glimpse of the eternal while they were still alive, and silenced by the disease so they cannot tell those left behind the wonders they have glimpsed that brought them to their knees emotionally and spiritually. At least, that is how I see it.

The rest of the day was the usual battle with a pernicious computer program that had a stranglehold on my OS and I spent a good part of the morning trying to get rid of it. When I finally figured it out (turn off the antivirus program) it was late and I was hungry, so I ordered in. The delivery driver is one I have come to know well over the past three years and he had news for me. After a year, he has finally finished chapter ten of Past Imperfect (gotta change the name the next time around) and he was excited about the twist on the story the characters had engineered. I was just along for the ride, and to take notes. He has two more chapters to go and he's anxious to see which guy will get the girl, or which guy the girl will choose. Depends on your point of view. What he said next surprised me.

"I really should read more. If you only knew how big a deal it is that I am reading this book . . . ." He faltered there. "I'll get my mother to write you a note." I explained that wasn't necessary and showed him my latest book. "Are you giving this to me?"

Actually, no, but since your eyes lit up and you seem interested . . . . "I'll sign."

"Yeah, and I'll bring back the other one so you can sign it, too."

Surprise. He not only likes the book it has taken him a year to read, getting to it whenever he remembers there is a book to read, the only book he owns besides a telephone book (or so he told me), but he is anxious to read more and to read my latest book. Big surprise.

Two surprises in a row, each of a different origin, but both equally wonderful. People are reading.

If there is anything that would make me happier it would be that more people read, not just for work or because they must, but because they want to, because the story or the author engaged them and made them feel like reading, because they actually were transported and could forget the mundane details of every day life. What better purpose is there for authors and their books. Yes, it's for us, for the authors, but it's also to share a bit of how we see the universe and each other, and just because it's fun to pretend to be someone or somewhere else. Not every book has to have social significance, but it does help if the book -- no matter how badly it is written -- takes us away from what is to what could be or will be or just might be. That is the magic of books and the surprises found between its pages -- virtual or real. What better job could there be?

Yeah, I know. It doesn't always earn a lot of money, but whatever happens to my books, at least I know that at least two people who are not related to me enjoyed the books and were transported. That's enough for now.

A Bright New Day -- of Rambling

You know those days when you plan to write and everything gets in the way? I had one of those days yesterday. I started out sneezing (my usual morning ritual to open and drain my sinuses) and things went downhill from there. I usually sneeze in the morning and my eyes water, both of which are the effect of drying out during the night when I sleep; the sneezing and watering get things moving in the morning. I seldom itch, get nauseous or have a fever first thing in the morning. In a word: miserable. I hate Monday mornings that start out feeling miserable, even more miserable than the usual Monday morning. The sound of birds chattering before the sun comes up is perniciously vile after a start like that. I just wanted to pull the covers over my head and take another run at the morning, but that was not to be.

I did manage to write and finish a review I've been working on in my head, and was a bit trepidatious about how the author was going to feel. After all, he did ask if I'd be interested in reviewing his upcoming book, and I've mostly liked the previous books, so I shouldn't have worried, but there it is -- that feeling of impending inadequacy. I've always had it and it doesn't get less as time goes on.

At any rate, I wrote the review, posted it and checked it for errors and bad wording and sent it along. I refused to think about it once I hit send and I didn't until he response came last night. He loved it and said I was dead solid perfect in my estimation. He must be a golfer. I've not heard anyone but golfers use those words together: dead solid perfect. One job done, checked off and on to the next, working on the new novel.

Well, actually, it's a novel I've been writing on and off for a while, but lost the thread and put it aside to work on another book. That was two-and-a-half years ago. It's time to get this one off the hard drive and into print. I know how it's supposed to go. I know the characters inside and out. I know the historical setting and facts, but then the sneezing started again, and the watering eyes, and the nausea and all the rest of the misery that I thought had run its course. I was down for the count. Could it be an allergy to the novel?

I did have an allergy to my first husband. Every time he touched me I broke out in hives and furious itching that didn't go away until I took a hot bath. I got over it. I got a divorce. Haven't had a problem since, but it is a bit difficult for him to touch me when he lives on the other side of the country. I doubt it's an allergy to the book, probably just a passing bug that decided to stick around for a day or so. I hope it's only a day or so. I can't afford to take the time off right now. I have a plan and it doesn't include being ill.

Isn't that just the way? Just when I think I have everything under control, something happens and I end up having to scramble again. It's as if the universe like to see me scramble. It's the only exercise I get most days. Drama, drama, drama. And I hate drama.

Monday is past and it's now Tuesday. The birds are chattering in the trees and the sky is that bleak misty grey that means more rain today. If it's like yesterday, the afternoon will suddenly brighten after a long drizzle and the sun will shine in a clear blue Colorado sky until it sinks into the dark purple of evening. Every day is a surprise -- mostly -- and each day another chance to do what was left undone the day before. The trash is out. The boxes are broken down, the packing deflated and put out for recycling. I have a few pages left to read so I can review another book and then there's the usual work to do that comes with each Tuesday. The sneezing has run its course and my eyes are finished watering and I do not feel miserable this morning, a little drippy, but not miserable.

On top of all this, a gift for a friend is going to be ready a whole week ahead of time and the waiting is over. I can't wait for her to open the box and see what her friends bought her. It's not a birthday or any special day. It's an un-birthday present to brighten someone's day, and it looks like that day will be Friday. Something to look forward to, and something I no longer have to keep secret after Friday. I hate keeping secrets, even the good ones. I like to give the gift and get the smile. Today I will give myself a gift of writing and I already know the smile awaits me. The waiting is over. Time to move on.

Objects May be Closer Than They Appear

Game of Thrones: The King's Road was on last night and I was not disappointed at all; I was intrigued. Daenerys Targaryen turned out to be a bit of a surprise. From frightened almost rape victim to woman in charge was a quick turnover and I see echoes of dreams of dragons in her eyes. Bran who fell to his death last week is not dead and his mother, Catelyn, has lost her wits a bit. She feels betrayed and abandoned by her husband, Ned Stark, and hates her husband's bastard, Jon Snow. I think he's intense but definitely an interesting character. Sansa, their oldest daughter, is a preening brat who is destined to marry the king's son, the crown prince Joffrey, who is the nastiest piece of work next to his mother Censei and her twin brother Jaime. I rather like Lord Tyrion; he's interesting and a bit of an imp, but still much more likable that his siblings, both of whom remind me of something wicked and nasty slithering on the ground. I'd say snakes, but I wouldn't demean the species by comparing the two.

The show and the books are new to me, but I do frequent a few blogs that discussed the show and what they thought would happen, like Bran's third eye opening as a result of the fall. In fantasy, as in the common reality, the opening of the third eye means becoming psychic. Being able to see a three-eyed crow that presages the awakening instead of the death of Sansa's dire wolf Lady would have been more interesting, but where are you going to find a three-eyed crow?

The whole series is fascinating and there are hints of so much more that will likely not make it to the screen. I don't mind discovering books from movies or television -- I've discovered quite a bit of good literature and some favorite authors that way -- and I look forward to reading all the books in the series. I don't have the time now since I have a stack of books to review, but I may have to take a short leave of absence to catch up on my personal reading. After all, eight years without a break is a long time. The chance of becoming stale or burnt out is great and, since I've had no vacation in eight years of reviewing, I think I'm entitled to one now, especially when there are books like George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire awaiting my attention. The series is good, but I want to read the undercurrents and dangerous rip tides that Martin wove into the fabric of his tale.

Some books, and some authors, stay with me and I remember the details as if I had just read them long after the echoes have faded. One such was an anthology I was reviewing. The stories were a mix of good, mediocre and not baked long enough and through the stories was the continuing story of a baby whose eyes had been pecked out by crows. Snippets of the child's life as she grew and the appearance of crows, usually a few lines, were enough to raise the hairs and goose the flesh, and I still remember those interwoven bits of a dark tale even though the details of the main stories are forgotten. I only have so much memory space as it is. Even now I can easily conjure those blackened pits where eyes once were as I delve into the brain of an evil woman determined to bring her dead master's plans to life in my own book. It's not so much about possession or devil worship, although there are several darker elements in the Victorian gothic tale I am weaving, but a genetic gift met with the sharp scientific scalpel that ends with the creation of one of the most evil periods in Whitechapel history. The foundation is being laid and from that solid mass will come the nuances of a future battle for the soul of a man and hints of a terrifying future. That should be enough to whet the appetite -- at least for now. The rest remains for me to write and you eventually to read.

Discovering something new by whatever means is always fun. I finally managed to see The King's Speech and I disagree with those few critics who called the movie boring. It is painful, but only in watching the Duke of York struggle to be heard and understood. He had a horrid stammer and no wonder since he was abused as a child and forced into a mold not of his making, like being made to be right-handed when he was left-handed. Yelling at a child and demanding he conform is no way to inspire obedience or acquiescence. Lionel Logue, played by Geoffrey Rush, one of my favorite actors, was quite ingenious, despite the lack of formal education and titles, and he reminded me of Sister Kenny and her treatment for polio, a treatment that was effective in almost all cases she treated. Too bad the doctors didn't figure that out and follow her methods. The same was true of Logue's methods for helping Bertie overcome his stammer; they were unconventional and treated the problem with wonderful success, instead of filling poor Bertie's mouth with so many marbles he couldn't speak. It might have worked for Demosthenes, but I doubt he had so many marbles in his mouth or that they were so large. Nothing like indiscriminate treatment following an old method without any real understanding of how to apply it.

Colin Firth was brilliant and deserved the Oscar for his performance and I was quite surprised by Helena Bonham Carter's portrayal of the Duchess of York, Elizabeth. I remember reading that she seldom spoke in public even though she was a very intelligent woman. She said that it was best to remain silent and supportive than to be heard. Carter's performance was easily heard with quiet dignity and unflinching support. I thoroughly enjoyed the entire movie, even though I was surprised to discover that King Edward VIII was so feckless and irresponsible. Wallis must have been one heck of a woman or have been able to contort so effectively during sex that the king was utterly and irretrievably besotted; there is no other explanation for how he handled things. He was the wrong monarch at the wrong time, and I doubt there was a good time for a monarch such as he, although history is riddled with examples.

One thing I have learned is that I cannot rely on all critics to enjoy the same movies I do. I read reviews, and write quite a few of them, but I trust my own judgment, which is surprising considering my own vocation. Bad reviews intrigue me until I must see the movie and discover what all the fuss is about. I've been disappointed on a few occasions to find the critic was right, but I do sometimes agree with others. Reviews are guidelines, as I see them, and should not be the last word on anything, including mine. I have some experience and background in literature, but I am not the last word either. I am one person judging books and movies by my own taste and predilections, a sort of arbitrary rear view mirror: some objects may be closer than they appear.

Game of Thrones is my pick for fantasy of the year and The King's Speech is a quiet and marvelous character study I will eventually acquire for my own library, but I'm a critic, so judge for yourself. Use my views as a guideline not the last word.

No Rhyme or Reason

Everyone offers advice on how to get published and how to market and network and it's beginning to get a little confusing. Use Twitter and Facebook to talk about your book. Don't talk about your book so much on Twitter and Facebook. Be interesting, but not too interesting. Don't let everyone see how bad the days get sometimes. Sparkle, Neely, sparkle. It's just like the five rules for writing. According to Somerset Maugham, no one knows what they are, but they'll try to tell you the only way to do it is their way. More one size fits all and never fits anyone. The three bears all over without the baby bear. It's too big. It's too small. It's never just right. What works for one author may not work for another and seldom works for everyone even though they sell millions of books telling you just that: it works for everyone because it worked for me.

When I was studying art -- the painting and drawing kind and not the art history kind -- my teachers taught me to do it the way they had been taught. I followed their instructions and got good results, but I was never quite happy until I could do it my way. Instead of roughing out the face and placement of ears, eyes, nose and mouth and sketching in the hair, I began with the eyes and worked out from there. For me, everything started with the eyes. I guess that's why people always said the eyes seemed alive. In a way, and especially for me, they were.

I am more than willing to try it someone else's way, just like I've tried nearly every diet I've ever come across, but eventually I fall back into old habits and do it my way.

Write large and add all the details and then pare it down. Instead, I write tight and expand on that once I've finished the book.

Edit once or twice and leave it in a drawer for a week, then go back, read it, made small adjustments and send it out. How about I edit it as many times as I like, forget about it for a couple of years while I work on something else, and then come back, decide I did it right and then send it out, all the while tinkering away at it even up to publication? That works for me. Some stories are easy and come out fully formed and some take time to hone and for me to get into the right frame of mind to hear the voices and get them down. That's what's happening with Whitechapel. I couldn't hear the voices for a while, couldn't get the sound of their voices and their syntax, and so I put it away -- for years. I won't say how many years, but my mother keeps saying she wants to see it in print before she dies. She'll outlive me, but I doubted the book would be finished in my lifetime.

And then it happened. I opened up the file, took a look at the outline, put my fingers on the keyboard and suddenly I knew just where I was going. I heard Delilah's voice again, the way she speaks, the way she engages the world, that special sense of derring-do and vulnerability she keeps hidden from everyone, especially Henry. I have it now and I should be able to keep going. I know where I'm going at least.

In the meantime, I've written two other books, seen both published and am being buffeted by the networking and marketing gurus pulling me this way and that. I don't know if book trailers work, but there was a sale, so why not? I don't know if I should talk about my weird reading habits, like reading three or four books at a time and keeping them separate and distinct. I never mix one with the other. How could I? I'm reading a book about Van Gogh and his last doctor, who wasn't really his doctor because he couldn't practice medicine in his home town; he has an office in Paris and comes home to Auvers three days a week to be with his family and paint. I'm also reading a murder mystery set during the time of Henry II of England and it's really fascinating. I love historical novels that carry me away and put me in the time period without effort. I'm also re-reading Salem's Lot just because I had a hankering for Stephen King and that particular story. Maybe it's a way for my creative brain to tell my scientific brain that it soon will be time for me to get into post apocalyptic vampire fiction, which is what I planned anyway. I usually have to slide in sideways.

There is no rhyme or reason, at least not looking from the outside, to the way I work, but it works. I can juggle three or four (or in my case, twenty) stories at the same time and not lose touch with any of them -- if I hear the voices. No, I'm not schizophrenic; I'm a writer. It goes with the territories. If the characters aren't real to me, they certainly won't be real to the reader. I'm sure about that side of the business, just not the marketing and networking side. I'm more interesting -- and more exasperating -- in person (at times). Just ask my friends. And I leap from subject to subject without the least hesitation. It's my way.

I follow Scott Eagan, partly because I submitted Among Women to him, and this morning his advice was that he looks at the whole writer. He said he liked my story and the writing was good, but it wasn't right for him at this time. I wonder if he found my writings on dismembering corpses or the slashing prose I used when I was battling a cyberstalker? I didn't mention names -- or grave sites -- so it wasn't obvious, but maybe my bounding from subject to subject gave him the idea that I was quixotic or undependable. Could be.

My art teachers told me it was wrong to start with the eyes when painting or drawing a portrait, but I still did it. It worked for me. Don't try this at home. It might not work for you. No one wears my size any more.

Dueling Criticism

Ginia Bellafante talked back to fanboys and fangirls who sent her numerous emails and tweeted, blogged and in general caused a furor over her review of Game of Thrones, and she wasn't half rude.

Ms. Bellafante admits she doesn't know a single person who enjoys or writes fantasy and opines that there are few of those fantasy lovers "...who worship at the altar of quietly hewn domestic novels or celebrates the films of Nicole Holofcener or is engrossed by reruns of “House.”" Once again she is wrong. I write, review and enjoy "quietly hewn domestic novels" and I have seen Nicole Holofcener's films. As for House, I am a faithful watcher who enjoys the reruns and I understand House's axiom that everyone lies, including Ms. Bellafante.

I agree that Ms. Bellafante was the wrong audience since she obviously had her mind set before she watched HBO's Game of Thrones. She openly admitted in her review that she does not like the current trend in HBO programming since it has moved away from socially relevant themes and toward what she considers common fare in the mold of The Sopranos. "Like “The Tudors” and “The Borgias” on Showtime and the “Spartacus” series on Starz, “Game of Thrones,” is a costume-drama sexual hopscotch, even if it is more sophisticated than its predecessors. It says something about current American attitudes toward sex that with the exception of the lurid and awful “Californication,” nearly all eroticism on television is past tense." With that kind of attitude, how could she write anything but a pan of the series and the whole genre, relegating women who watch such shows as "fanboys?"

Since Ms. Bellafante seems to invite commentary on her preferences in literature and entertainment, I would like to offer mine on Nicole Holofcener's Just Give.

There was sufficient "sexual hopscotch" in Holofcener's quiet domestic drama, Just Give to render it in the same vein as The Tudors and The Borgias. Since most of the sexual hopscotch was portrayed by Oliver Platt casting his considerable "talent" on Amanda Peet's obviously uninterested and petite body, it was painful to watch and somewhat boring, and so was Ms. Peet since she leafed through a magazine while Platt was plowing her furrow, and this from a man who was supposedly committed to his family and family values. Catherine Keener's misplaced and often rude attempts at charity were even more painful that Platt's plowing. She even breaks down while checking out a local center for mentally and physically challenged young people, crying in the bathroom while one young woman with Down syndrome stands outside and asks if she is all right.

Keener and Platt are owners of a high end antique store and they supply their stock by checking out the obituaries and offering to buy whatever antiques they find worthy from grieving family members. They have bought the apartment next door to theirs in a co-op building but have generously allowed the tenant, an elderly woman about to die at any moment, to live there until she finally does die and they can scoop up her antiques and break through the wall between apartments to enlarge their own space. Peet is one of the old lady's granddaughters and she's in it for the money, having already established herself and self-involved and downright mean where her grandmother is concerned. Peet is stalking the woman who replaced her in her previous relationship and talks incessantly about her fake boobs while she wonders just exactly what she has that Peet lacks. How about compassion and a likable personality for starters?

Keener feels guilty about her wealth and privilege and tries to give it away to people on the street. In one instance, she offers money to a black man waiting outside a fashionable restaurant who turns out to be a patron waiting for a table just like she and her family. Constantly apologizing for her wealth while she scopes out the obituaries and whining about giving something back while she refuses to buy her daughter an expensive pair of jeans is disingenuous at best and patently absurd. Is Holofcener pointing up the hypocrisy of the nouveau riche or is she celebrating the sangfroid of the rich and privileged? All I do know is that the movie did nothing to improve my opinion of such poseurs or their false charity and guilt while scooping up some unfortunate family's treasures at a bargain, nor did Platt endear himself by pretending to be the misunderstood husband while sneaking out to cheat on his wife. All in all, if this is the kind of entertainment that Bellafante finds socially relevant, I feel better about disagreeing with her assessment of Game of Thrones.

I would also mention that I had seen Just Give a few months ago and was unimpressed, hence my assessment of it here.

Criticism is an art form and should have some substance. I find Ms. Bellafante's review and her subsequent defense of that review to be rude. As for what I think of the first episode of the series after having seen it twice, I'd have to say my views are somewhat changed. I enjoyed it thoroughly and have watched it twice now. I've also bought the whole series of books and plan to enjoy those even more. Seeing Game of Thrones a second time gave me a chance to pick up nuances I had missed the first time around and I will likely watching it again.

It's Easy Being Green

After spending the morning reading articles on digital piracy and showing that you can drive sales to your book, it seems more and more that that publishing is doing less and less and expecting more of authors. In the case of digital piracy, publishers expect authors to give up royalties, and in the case of marketing, it's about what the author can and should do to get noticed by the big publishers.

While the article on piracy mentioned Barry Eisler getting hit harder than a publisher (WHAT?) because he doesn't have the big publisher to do battle for him, it just does not wash. Either way, self-published or traditionally published, the author takes the hit, so what's the difference? The difference is the same as it always was; publishers are pushing more and more off onto author's shoulders (and royalties) and taking fewer risks. Oh, that's right, there is no difference and no change in the way publishers are doing business.

In the article on the Selling Books blog, the premise is that writing a good book is nothing in the end; anyone can write a good book. The trick is to get noticed by marketing and promoting your own work through sales, speaking engagements, promotions, etc. so publishers know you can drive sales up. My question is this: If I can drive sales to my books, then what do I need a publisher for?

Absolutely nothing.

With sites like M. J. Rose's Buzz, Balls & Hype blog about promoting your book, for a fee you can promote your book through their services, even getting the notice of thousands of libraries and book clubs, to drive sales. I would be willing to bet no publisher is going to pay the fees; that's up to the author, like paying for the cost of the publisher fighting digital piracy and getting a publisher's notice. Why? It's the same old song and dance with not a new tune in sight. It's School Days dressed up as Music of the Night without Andrew Lloyd Webber's talent for re-invention.

If I'm going to deal with piracy, the best way to do that is by not worrying about it. At 0.05% of digital sales, that's not a lot of money. That's less than one-half of one percent in total sales, and that's not even a solid number; it's a guesstimation. No one really knows what the cost of digital piracy is or is going to be. In a way, it's about the same as second hand book sales where one person buys the book and resells it so someone else can sell it again. It's money for those down the line, but the author gets paid once, and I don't see too many authors worried about that, especially with paperback books. After all, paper disintegrates and new books are needed to replace old ones, and with digital books, there is no need for replacement. Ebooks, as Joe Konrath is so fond of saying, are forever.

In the end, it's a better use of time and money to invest in yourself and self-publish than it is to let a big publisher take your money and give you back a pittance. I'm not saying that traditional publishing is dead -- it's not. Just as folk songs and nursery rhymes were used as seed for greater works (Andrew Lloyd Webber again, and Bach, and Beethoven, and Mozart, and any number of classical composers, like Liszt), there is a place for traditional publishers. As long as you can do enough work and promotion to get noticed by publishers and broker a six- or seven-figure deal and a healthy (better than the current 12%) royalty, go for it. Having one the traditional publishing route (no, I didn't get the star treatment) and doing it myself (ebook and now print), I'd rather get more of the money so I can choose and buy my own promotions and drive sales that I can benefit from. That way I can pay for future covers for new books, and my editor to keep her in Kindle books, including mine, and maybe be freed from wage slavery and build my own little cottage industry writing good books. I don't need to be halfway to getting notice by a publisher when I can be all the way toward getting notice for my writing and my books from the people who actually buy them. Fewer copies will end up in landfills that way and I prefer the green approach.

It's easier being green.

Fantasy: It is for Intelligent Women, Too.

Thousands of fans, male and female, have been bombarding, tweeting, and blogging about how wrong Ginia Bellafante is when she characterizes “Game of Thrones” [a]s boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half," obviously meaning that women would not watch the epic fantasy unless there was sex involved. Not only does Bellafante throw a slap in the face of intelligent women everywhere who actually read and enjoy fantasy, but also hits back at HBO for "... ventur[ing away from its instincts for real-world sociology, as it has with the vampire saga “True Blood..." for pandering to such a low common denominator and forgetting that HBO, like all television, is also about entertainment and not just social commentary.

Viewing from her lofty perch, it seems Ms. Bellafante was the wrong person to review and comment on George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones since she has no understanding of or love for anything that veers away from the real world, a world she must inhabit alone without the touch of women who actually get fantasy and enjoy it, with or without the sex. What a bleak and colorless world she must live in.

What amazes me is how Ms. Bellafante could have missed the women who also write fantasy fiction, intelligent women who have put their mark on fantasy and on the science fiction genre for many decades, women like Anne McCaffrey, C. J. Cherryh, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Julian May, Andre Norton, and more contemporary authors like Elizabeth Hand, Elizabeth Moon and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. I guess they don't count either, and I could go on naming names and pointing out the rich and fertile female minds that create believable fantasy worlds and situations and even forgo hot sex and bed hopping. Ms. Bellafante needs to go back to the books and take a good hard look at what is and is not fantasy instead of pointing at the current trends in adding lots of sex and naked bodies in order to lure people into a world that has already been well received and championed by women. She mistakes the idea that sex makes everything better, including fantasy, when fantasy has done very well without such devices. The Borgias, The Tudors, Rome and other cable network fare would have been just as compelling and interesting without the sex as with it. Don't mistake a corporate decision to sex things up for the well written and complex fantasy of Georrge R. R. Martin or any other fantasy author.

While George R. R. Martin is wise enough not to respond to reviewers, at least his female fans, and they are legion, are willing to take up the banner and speak out for intelligent women everywhere that they are readers and writers of fantasy and they're not ashamed to say so.

Conversational Chicken

It begins in childhood, the need to be noticed, to prove we are worthy of notice. With the first words, a child defines himself by his parents. My dad can lick your dad, little boys say, hands curled into fists and chin thrust forward. Little girls go to their fathers, too, but not for a fight. A little girl's dad is defined by his job. My dad's an aerospace engineer, one little girl says to another whose father works in a warehouse or is just a cop, never really understanding what an aerospace engineer is or what he does. It sounds impressive and that's enough.

As children grow into adults, they learn the meaning of aerospace engineer and leave it behind to count their possessions: a color tv in a neighborhood where most tvs are black and white, a sporty car for teenagers, a great vacation to somewhere exotic or at least trendy, and the one upmanship continues as children grow into their own identities and rely more on their own accomplishments: graduated in the top ten percent of their class, or the top one percent, accepted to the Air Force Academy or submarine training in the navy, and the accomplishments pile up. Job, college, career, and so on add to the list until the day when children become adults and are measured by their bank accounts -- or by their fame, or infamy.

I remember the first time I was able to say, "I'm a writer," which was followed by, "Anything I'd recognize." A blush and a lopsided smile and, "Probably not unless you read -- magazines." I squelched the urge to stop at 'read'. Everyone reads. The disappointed "Oh," was all it took to deflate my pride and here comes the fall.

I've learned to point to my published accomplishments, but not all of them. No one would stick around for a list that long, and nothing was really all that noteworthy, unless you count the Chicken Soup for the Soul books or the Cup of Comfort anthologies. Everyone likes a feel-good story and I've contributed my share. I'm a little less willing to come out with "I'm a writer these days" because it is followed quickly by, "I always wanted to be a writer." I manhandle my inner smart aleck into a dark closet because she wants to say, "Since about five seconds ago," and sneer. This is quickly followed by a disclaimer. "But I just don't have the time."

The ability to commiserate with someone who doesn't have the time to be a writer has long since eroded and been placed by, "Do you watch TV?" The person nods and I add, "Give up 30 minutes a day of TV and you will have the time to write." I can see the wheels turning. They've been caught dissembling, but these hive minded people adapt. "But you could write it for me. I have a great idea for a story." I cringe inwardly while I am regaled with what is at best a derivative combination of whatever is the flavor of the month and the heart rending story of abuse or addiction, neither of which I want to touch with a ten meter cattle prod. I have stories of my own to tell and I do not have the time or inclination to pursue someone else's disjointed confession or hodgepodge of vampires, werewolves and space ships.

This is what I call a conversational game of chicken. I offer solid advice and they counter with excuses and story ideas that are horrendous at worse and boring at best. Been there done that. Once again I counter with, "That's the kind of story you'd have to write yourself," all the while looking for the nearest exit or trot out a convenient, and true excuse: "I have to get going. I have to finish working on my book." I am after all a busy writer and my stomach isn't as strong as it once was. There is also the added complication that my inner smart aleck has just broken free and is struggling for control of my voice.

Everyone thinks it's glamorous to be a writer, which is true if you're Jackie Collins or Scott Turow, but here in the trenches it's not so glamorous. Most of us in the trenches still have day jobs. We are wage slaves carving out a few hours, or minutes, to write. We sacrifice.

Four years ago, I gave up watching TV and had the cable cut off. It was sucking up too much time. I haven't even turned on the TV in months, about six months to be exact. It sits gathering dust in the living room where books are piled on every available surface, books I've read and reviewed and really need to get boxed up and carted off to Goodwill or Volunteer of America, those that aren't proofs or ARCs, which cannot be sold. I almost look forward to ebooks since they don't take up much space and the big publishers who end them take them back after 55 days. No stacks and piles of books to box or worry about. I might even be able to reclaim my living room one day.

My day is segmented into wage slavery, reading books for review and writing. I manage to sandwich in eating (when I remember), the occasional shower and even brushing my teeth. There's not much I can do about the going to the bathroom; that controls me, I don't control it, at least not any more.

Yes, it's a glamorous life I lead, most often wearing the same clothes for days because I don't get them sweaty or dirty sitting at the computer. And there are more times than I can count when I'm busy marketing, promoting and finally able to get into the writing zone where time has no meaning. That's the best, when I'm in the Zone. Nothing else matters until I realize that it's nearly 4 a.m. and I still have to get up for my daily stint of wage slavery -- but only for two more years.

More has been piled on the sacrificial altar of writing: vacations and buying books. I have decided that the more money I save, the sooner I can quit my day job and have the time to write full time and maybe breathe the occasional dose of outdoor air without having an errand to do or a schedule to keep. I look forward to those times. I don't mind the sacrifice because the end result is me being able to write full time and that's worth giving up anything. There will be time for buying books to read for pleasure and vacations to warm and sunny places (or cold and snowy terrains in secluded cabins with a big fireplace blazing away), and there will be time for leisure and unbroken sleep and the occasional restaurant dinner with linen napkins and waiters and sommeliers, just not right now.

There is no way to get all that into a short game of conversational chicken, although it would work admirably to run off any would-be writers who have always wanted to write. Instead, I smile and nod as I back away and head for the nearest exit because I have work to do. After all, if they're not willing to sacrifice a few minutes of television every night, it's not likely the will ever be anything more than someone who has always wanted to write. No sense letting my inner smart aleck out of the closet for that.

The Final Push

Well, it's done. The proof arrived and was perfect this time, thanks to help from CreateSpace and the program I bought to embed italics in the text. Another small purchase for me and a big step toward publication. For whatever it is worth, Among Women is now a live book and ready for sale. I bought the first twenty copies for myself and for reviewers.

There is no doubt when I began this journal six weeks ago that I had no idea what I was doing. All I had to rely on was the knowledge gained from more than twenty years of experience in writing, research and publishing from a completely different angle. I had more than enough experience in putting together newsletters, magazines and articles, but this was a big undertaking, and one that I am glad I decided to pursue. All that experience and knowledge went toward my own publishing freedom and I feel a bit heady from the experience.

There are lots of self-publishing companies out there willing to take the money of the inexperience, naive and gullible and I avoided those traps. I could have spent a lot more money than I did. Most of the money I spent was on marketing, which is always the biggest part of the budget, especially when self-publishing, but it has been worth it. I learned a lot of new things, figured out how to work the system to my benefit and produced, with the help of some really good people, a quality book. I didn't do it alone. From the editing to the cover art and to the knowledge I borrowed from others more experienced than I am, this project that has meant so much to me for over thirty years and now flying free. That feels like a big success, and it is. Whether or not reviewers and critics and, most of all, readers, think of the book at least I know it's the best I can do. I may change my mind in a few years, but as it stands, I'm satisfied.

Going it alone has been a scary but exhilarating experience and one I will pursue again, next time with fewer errors and slow downs because I know how to do this. No wonder so many traditionally published authors with much more experience than I have are deciding to go this route. What took my last publisher nearly a year and what would have taken a much bigger publisher two years to accomplish, I did in six weeks, notwithstanding the writing, editing, rewriting and polishing of my book. The next book will be better for having done the journey once.

One thing I know is that without the technology available and the help of my friends, I would not have made it this far. I also would not have ventured so far into unknown territory had I now read Joe Konrath's blog and followed his example. He was the first of my contacts, but not the last, and I am grateful to all those who have gone before. After all, someone has to blaze the trail and I hope my trials and tribulations will serve to provide a clearly marked trail for the others who will eventually follow.

From concept to manuscript to ebook and now into print, Among Women has made it. Now all I have to do is provide siblings to share the space and the wealth. This is one dog that certainly hunts.

Book Review: A Special Relationship by Douglas Kennedy

When Sally Goodchild talks herself onto a Red Cross helicopter, she is in for a while ride, but it doesn't end while being shot at in Somali air space or after she is turned back in a Red Cross van going the other way, nor does it end when she meets Tom Hughes; that is just the beginning of a very wild ride.

A Special Relationship is a wild ride on the order of Toad's Wild Ride, the book and the amusement park versions, but what really struck me is how sketchy the men in the novel appear. It took me a while to figure out that Sally doesn't see men very clearly and this seems to be how Kennedy wrote Tom Hughes and the rest of the men she encounters. Sally is more comfortable and sees women more clearly, although through a muddy glass at times, which may be indicative of the way she sees the world -- at a distance. She is insulated from the world in many ways, with her pregnancy, with the illness that keeps her bed bound in hospital during the final three months of her pregnancy, from her child when he is born due to trauma and depression and from the rest of the world.

Then it struck me that A Special Relationship is a novelization of a newspaper report and Sally is a newspaper reporter after all. Newspapers don't get into the deep emotional issues and seldom get too personal with anyone, even in profiles, preferring to see things from a distance with what is intended to be a neutral eye. There is a very newspaper reporter feel to Kennedy's novel that is at once comforting and a little disconcerting, especially when there is plenty of emotional earth to mine, and yet the earth remains undisturbed, a reporter's eye view of a very emotional and difficult story that still, for all its distance, engaged and surprised me.

Despite the postpartum depression, which seems to be a subject Kennedy has returned to, the real horror of the story is how distant Sally feels and how she chooses to suffer in silence when her husband is being a jerk, about the deaths of her parents, about so many things. That silent suffering seems to be more a woman thing than a man thing, at least in Kennedy's view since he writes mostly about women and from the female perspective, something he does very well.

I look forward to reading more of Kennedy's work and to finding out how he manages the male perspective in other books and from the other females' points of view.

Balancing the Elements

This morning I read an article on editing and it suggested that Show Don't Tell is not the only rule in the book. It isn't, but that has been the rule for a very long time. I didn't know that Sol Stein and Donald Maass popularized the technique to "modernize storytelling." As the author suggested, we need to be more catholic in our tastes and styles of writing and embrace more than one style.

The short story I spent the weekend critiquing is predominantly dialogue with no sense of place or time or much in the way or characterization. All the characters nod, grin, shrug and sigh with nearly every confrontation, which is pretty much all interactions. Only a couple of characters had any real quirks or speech patterns that set them apart from the rest and that's because their dialogue was written in colloquial style. There are a few descriptions of the ship, as would be expected in a space opera, but very few of those. The main character checks his appearance in a mirror at the beginning of a story and describes what he sees, but other than a few brief remarks about a couple of characters, there is no real sense of how the characters move, talk, react or are and even less to set the scene or give a sense of place and space to the environs.

The other big problem is that the dialogue is used as an information dump for the background of the story and there is very little action except in one short sequence. It reads more like a script than a short story and I found myself writing "show don't tell" or "show me how he moves and acts" more than once, outside of adding comments about "grinning again, nodding again, sighing again" in almost every line on every page. There is no emotional range and I do not feel connected to these characters. Now I wonder if telling the writer to show me what's happening and how the characters inhabit the space of the story is wrong.

Uh, no.

While there is room still for Show Don't Tell, there is also room for exposition, something that particular piece lacks. Don't tell me the character grinned when you just told me the other character grinned and the character in the next second grinned and sighed without telling me how they looked and how their grins are different. Give me something to work with. Is that wrong? Do we expect too much of our characters? Wasn't Shakespeare able to convey in dialogue alone what Tybalt and Puck and Henry V were like? Yes, but he was Shakespeare and he knew how to write.

What I strive for in my own writing is balance between dialogue, description, inner monologue, and exposition. It's not easy and I do struggle with it some times, but I do have more of a grip on facial expressions and emotions than grinning, nodding, sighing and shrugging. I expect more from my reading that such generic and unimaginative terms and reactions. It is as if the writer took no effort with building characters and used stock phrases and words to convey his meaning. I doubt he really has a handle on the characters except as pawns in his own science fiction chess game, and very little imagination except for technical details.

While I don't dislike the story of a 100-year-old battle cruiser running a plague beacon and waiting to be found and returned to its planet before the surrounding systems can glom onto it and use it against the rest of the universe, I want more than dialogue and vague facts. I want to be engaged. I want to be able to lose myself in the story and not run headlong into a brick wall of typos, information dumps and bland characters. I want action. I want life. I want a good story that isn't ruined by its lack of attention to detail. I want him to show me something or at least tell me something good.

Do we ask too much of writers so that we end up with a generic soup of writing that is formulaic and unimaginative? I wonder.

I have two novels currently jostling for position inside my mind (more, if the truth be told). One is a post apocalyptic vampire story that is anything but run-of-the-mill vampires. Imagine an earth where here has been eternal winter for 200 years and humans living underground and guided by vampires, while on the surface of the planet in domed cities vampires rule humanity, cloning and raising them to do the menial tasks and provide a steady supply of food. As the earth begins to warm and come out of nuclear winter and the underground humans return to the surface to begin life anew, they need one thing, DNA to re-establish plant, animal and human life, information contained in DNA banks beneath the domed cities. The vampires in the domed cities need fresh DNA because they have cloned the clones until there are too many replication errors and the blood is thin. They need food.

The other novel is a Victorian gothic where morals and science and superstition collide until a man is split and a serial killer spawned.

Each novel requires different styles and techniques, but the one thing that remains the same is the need to put the reader in the scene and let him feel and sense everything that is happening. The reader needs to be invested in the story. Can the reader lose himself if the book is all dialogue or if he is bogged down in exposition and description? I doubt it. The real techniques lie somewhere in between, a balance of style and Show Don't Tell and pacing that is matched to the story and the time period. Therein lies the hard part, finding that balance.

In the end, it's all about what the reader needs and how the writer can provide that. The writer must craft his tale so that it's something he would enjoy reading as much as he enjoyed writing it. Editing, that's never fun and is something else again.

I can write a whole book in two weeks and get the structure laid out, but it takes a bit more time to find the balance and add muscle, sinews, nerve and flesh to the bones. It takes even more to add style and flair and clothe the characters; that's where polish comes in, and where I balance all the elements as best I can.

I doubt I'll give up the tenets of Show Don't Tell, but I'm also not averse to using whatever techniques and style will create a book that I want to read when I'm finished, balancing all the elements until the book is worth reading.

More Bread and Circuses

An agent asked a question on her blog about why authors really wanted to go with traditional publishing in this day and age of easy access to self-publishing. Almost all of the answers were the same. Many writers wanted the resources (copy editing, marketing, promotion, covers, etc.) of traditional publishers, but most repeated reason was validation.

Self-publishing and traditional publishing have co-existed since the beginning. In the early days, an author went to a printer and paid him to typeset his work and many authors, or their spouses, as in the case of Virginia Woolf's husband, set up their own printing pressed and called themselves publishers. It was the only way to see their work in print.

As Barry Eisler said, getting an advance from a publisher is a short term, or long term, depending on the deal, loan against future advances and self-publishing, or indie publishing, means putting your own money up front. It's not for the faint-hearted. Then along comes Mark Coker with Smashwords and changes everything, offering a free publishing model, complete with do-it-yourself instructions, to publish your own work for free. Coker does offer some other services and allows cover artists, editors and proofreaders to advertise on the site (without recommendations)available for variable fees. This is far different from the vanity publishing model where ancillary services cost more, often a lot more. As I've said before, publishing in the 21st century is rapidly changing, and it's a change that agents and big publishers really don't want to see. Why? Perceived value.

If agents and publishers can continue to convince authors that their best and most accepted route to publication is through them, and that validation comes only with a big publisher and agent behind you, then indie publishing will always be marginalized and the authors diminished in the eyes they see in the mirror each morning.

On that same thread, I mentioned that Mark Twain was a self-published author and the agent responded that Twain's books were classics and had sold thousands, even millions, of books. She missed the point I was making to someone else on the thread that validation can come from indie publishing. Even her response to me that because Twain sold millions of books that made him valid and his work worth noticing. She has it backward.

When The Celestine Prophecy became a wildfire best seller, it wasn't due to a big publisher or an agents because several of both had rejected the book. It wasn't until the author James Redfield put his own money into the venture and sold thousands of copies before publishers and agents flocked to his door to offer their services. The same is true of Amanda Hocking and several other authors too numerous to mention. Redfield, Twain, Hocking and others validated their belief in themselves when they put their time and efforts, and even money, into getting their work before the public. The traditional publishing world just grabbed onto their coattails and came along for the ride.

The publishing world is full of such tales and I seriously doubt that scenario will ever change as long as publishers and agents hold the keys to what they keep touting as the kingdom of validation. It is in their interests to criticize indie publishing and the few who have made it and keep everyone's eyes focused on validation -- on being a real writer. They have no jobs and no product to sell if authors catch on that they can do the same thing themselves and do a better job, as is the case with some of the error-ridden books that have come out of publishing in the past few years, often with terrible covers and no marketing or promotion to speak of.

I am reminded of an old movie about a young man who took New York by storm with his debut novel. The movie was Youngblood Hawke, played by James Franciscus, who was a truck driver and took NYC by storm with his first novel. His book is optioned for a play by a has-been actress and Hawke becomes the toast of the town. His second book is an even bigger success but his third book bombs. What I remember about the movie is the part where the third book was published with bigger type and with generous margins to make the book seem bigger than it is; it's called cheating, and the critics caught on and mentioned it. Hawke eventually goes back to Kentucky to write another book and there the story ends.

In order to capitalize on sales of Hawke's previous books, the third book, which the publishers knew was not a winner, was given the treatment to make it look better than it was, but content always tells. A flashy cover, great end papers and gilding on the edges make a nice looking book, but it all comes down to the words. That is what publishers and agents don't really get. They give million-dollar deals to celebrities that are ghostwritten and hype the dickens out of them, riding the fickle tide of public interest that soon wanes, but they give the public nothing tangible. What they give the public is a modern version of bread and circuses. Is that validation? Is Snookie, the girl from The Jersey Shores who got punched in the face, really worth reading about? Does she have anything to say beyond what she's already said? Then why is she getting a million-dollar book deal when good writers are politely and thoroughly rejected? Because publishing is gambling that Snooki's book will earn back their advance.

Outside of the freak factor and celebrity mania, there is nothing of value to offer the public, except more of the same dreck. There are no interesting stories, no good writing and no validation for writers unless they prove themselves first. Snooki has proven that she can get people to look at her, but that's about all. An MTV teen mom is coming out with two books about herself, but from the ads, I doubt the book will be worth buying or reading. More bread and circuses.

Meanwhile, on the indie front, there are terrible writers who are slapping up any old thing on Smashwords and Amazon and Barnes & Noble, but that is nothing new. Garages, attics and dumps are full of boxes of vanity published books that never sold and were not worth publishing, but there are always vultures. With the new technology available and the bad taste left in the mouth of traditionally published midlist and best selling authors, they are flocking to do it themselves and reap the benefits, only one of which is money. They are seeking to be validated in their belief that good books written well and with professional covers and editing (yes, some of them actually do pay editors and artists) will sell -- and they do -- by the thousands. Indie publishing will find its level and there will be midlist writers and best sellers who emerge from the press and whose work will endure as long as Mark Twain's, or even beyond. They have the reins and they're not going to take their obligatory lap around the colisseum before fading into the sand.

Agents and publishers fear the technology and they fear the authors who are flocking to indie publishing to get a bigger share of the pie, but most of all to be validated. Agents and publishers will never go away, and maybe agents will turn their businesses into e-distributors, as Joe Konrath speculates, while publishers keep doing the same old things the same old way and expecting different results. I believe that is the definition of insanity.

Instead of taking a hint from the exodus of solid midlist writers who have earned millions of dollars over the course of their caareers, publishers will keep the focus on validation and the services they offer. It's true, they have hundreds of years of experience, nearly half a millennium, in knowing how to manipulate the public and authors to stay on top, and that may be changing. Publishing is sliding down the chute, but it isn't out. They have too much to lose and too much money invested in their monolithic businesses to quit. Whether they reinvent themselves or continue with business as usual is anybody's guess, but from what I read on the agent's blog, the belief that only traditional publishing can offer what an author values most, validation that what they have produced is worth publishing, will not change until more authors like Barry Eisler, Joe Konrath, Amanda Hocking and even Mark Twain show them the way.

There is room for traditional and indie publishing without slinging mud and denigrating what the opponent has to offer. It's a matter of the bottom line, not the immediate value, but the long term bottom line, which is something traditional publishers never think about. Publishers and agents focus on the immediate bottom line, on immediate perceived value, but that will change.

If Mark Twain can do it, so can other authors, and I hope I'm one of them. It's not about how you got your book to the market and onto the shelves, but that you did and people picked them up, bought them and took them hold to read and then told their friends who told their friends who told their friends until people began to speak their name in whispers and then in shouts.

Publishing shouldn't be about bread and circuses, keeping the masses fed and entertained for the moment so they forget when they get home there is no bread and no more circuses. Publishing should be about bringing good books to the masses and feeding their souls and their minds, not just their bellies. Only time will tell which way the wind blows, but I'd say the wind from indie publishing that whispers validation is growing in strength and offers, as it has always offered, a different path to acceptance and success. Publishers seems to be more interested in EX-clusion than IN-clusion and that may be their downfall, or maybe it's just their dogma. The long term bet is on a mutually effective and useful co-existence with bread at the circus and at home. Keep your fingers crossed.

First Book Charity Drive

Like most authors, we love it when people read -- especially when they read our books. This time, it's about kids and a project called First Book and Joe Konrath started the ball rolling with his pledge to donate $500 to the charity if his book reached the top 100 on Amazon. His book, Origin, has since reached his goal and $500 has been donated to First Book. That is just the tip of the iceberg.

Other authors have joined the cause and are offering their books for 99 cents with a pledge of either $500 or $250 to First Book if their books reach the top 100 on Amazon. Check out the listing and support these writers. Most of all, do it for the kids.

When a child learns to read and has his own books to read, his life changes in unimaginable ways. I gave -- and still give -- books to my children and to my nieces and nephews, books they still cherish. One of my nephews, Anthony, is writing his own trilogy and has been working hard at it for a couple of years. When he was little he told me he wanted to be a paleontologist (he loves dinosaurs) and a writer just like me. He doesn't study dinosaurs, but he does write and continues to dream of having his books published and read. It's the same dream I had when I was a child and books took me to exotic places and opened my imagination.

To that end, I have decided to join the drive to help out First Book and bring books to children. Among Women will remain for sale at 99 cents on Amazon and, if it reaches the top 100 in April or May, I'll send First Book $250. If Among Women reaches the top spot in April or May, I'll add another $500 for First Book. It's all in a good cause -- reading and books. This is one bandwagon I hope a lot of authors jump onto. I'm jumping on now. In addition to helping children, you'll get a chance to enter a different world in Among Women, a New Orleans you don't see when you're a tourist.

When you give a book to a child, it is a gift that never gets old or tarnishes or is forgotten. The gift of reading and books is the gift that keeps on giving. Books need authors, but most of all they need readers. Plant the seeds early. Donate to First Books and spread the word.

Edit 04/09/11: The more I think about First Books and what they do, the more it makes me see that I could do more. So, once this current charity drive is over, I'll pledge 10% of all royalties on sale of all books to First Book paid quarterly. In this tough economy, someone has to stand up for the children and books, and I'd like to be the first.

Elbow Room

On Castle this week, the murder centered around a body shoved into a pizza oven and nearly burned beyond recognition. The owner, Authentic Nick, whose real name was Ralph, was certain the culprit was one of his three competitors, each with their own Nick's Pizza store and a different version of Authentic on one of the four corners on Mott Street. Each of his competitors had once worked for Ralph and had stolen his recipe to create their own empire, and thus the pizza wars. Their tactics were strictly sophomoric: soap in the pizza sauce, flaming bags of poo, etc. No one admitted to having put the body in Ralph's oven, which was admittedly the best and served as a way to ruin sales. After all, who wants a pizza cooked in an oven that also cooked a human being?

As I watched the show, I was reminded of the tricks that writers will pull on each other to thin the field of competition, like bad mouthing someone's hard work when there is no reason to do so or spreading untruths about their competition's personal life. As hard as I try to understand, I just don't get it. I thought we had matured past the need to ruin the competition. There is room for us all and I've found the best revenge is not living well but writing well.

As in the case of one upset writer who carried on a virtual shouting match with a reviewer, it seems there really is no such thing as bad publicity -- at least for the reviewer. Everyone wants to read the exchange and find out what there was about that particular writer that was so nuts. First of all, she should never have taken on the reviewer. That was bad form and highly unprofessional. The only other worse thing the author could have done was lampoon the reviewer in series after series of articles in order to shore up her self esteem. Honey, it was just one review. Fix the problems and move on.

As a reviewer, I have had to consider first whether or not I should review someone who has hurt me personally and tried to hurt me professionally. If I cannot be completely objective, then I don't do the review. Fortunately for me, I have had to deal with this situation very few times. Since that reviewer didn't know that particular author personally or professionally, and since she had approached him for a review, the point of whether he could be completely objective is moot. However, I doubt he will consider reviewing any more of her work and there is little doubt that she will approach him again, even though the review was on the whole a good one.

What we need is more professionalism and less of the schoolyard rivalries in writing. Authors and reviewers have enough problems finding room for their work; they do not need to squabble with their colleagues. There is plenty of room for all writers, even the bad ones, who make the good ones look that much better. All we need to do is keep a few rules in mind.

1. Don't engage the reviewer except to thank him for the review and move on. You'll gain notoriety, but it won't be the good kind. Instead, thank the reviewer for his time and take a good hard look at the comments to see if you could improve the work.

2. Make your work error-free. You've written complex and interesting characters, plotted flawlessly and written sparkling dialogue, but don't forget the basics: grammar, punctuation and spelling, and get rid of all the typos whenever you find them. This is easier with self-publishing. And make sure you use the correct words. For instance: You sight a gun, but you work at a building site. I recently found that mistake in a work I'm currently reviewing from a respected and award-winning author. We all make mistakes.

3. Be professional. It doesn't hurt to mind your manners and keep professionalism uppermost in mind. It's like wearing a suit to a first interview instead of your favorite jeans and a T-shirt or simply treating everyone around you, especially those that can help or hurt your career, with respect and honor. An interviewer asked the Queen Mother of England why she never spoke in public. She told him it was because she didn't want to give a bad impression or give anyone the chance to misquote her. It's like the old saying about appearing stupid and then opening your mouth to remove all doubt. The Queen Mother was reportedly one of the most intelligent and politically astute women of her time.

It's simple when you get right down to it and it boils down to the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. It is also true for writing. Do your job. Do it flawlessly and treat everyone with respect and professionalism. How hard is that? With a good attitude and professional matters, there is elbow room for us all.

The Eyes on Amanda Hocking

Everyone is talking about Amanda Hocking and her $2 million deal with St. Martin's Press. The news has even reached Europe and the United Kingdom, and everyone has advice for her.

In a recent post by Alan Rinzler in his blog The Book Deal authors and agents offer their advice and opinions on what Amanda Hocking can expect and whether or not she's right. My grandmother always used to say that advice is free and you get nothing for free. It all comes down to second guessing Ms. Hocking's choice.

As I've said in previous posts, Ms. Hocking has done what's best for her. Whether or not that turns out to be right will be determined over the next five years while she tries to earn out her advance. Either way, win or lose, she will gain what most writers only dream of -- entry to the publishing world at the top of the heap instead of having to work her way up from the bottom through the midlist and eventually, if ever, to the star ranks where marketing and publicity roll out the red carpet. With two million dollars at stake, there is no way St. Martin's Press will drop the ball on this one. They have too much invested.

Some of the most interesting comments came from an author who got the star treatment and an agent.

Garth Stein, author of The Art of Racing in the Rain, from Harper Collins, cites being on the road nearly nonstop to publicize and market his book, much of the money coming from his own pocket. It resulted in 1.5 million book sales, but it was undoubtedly a hard slog, but he warns, "But don’t think it gets easier because you have a big publishing house behind you now! I’m constantly struggling with the balance between marketing, family, and writing my next book." If Ms. Hocking wants more time to write, with $2 million on the line, she may find it in short supply. It may be a good thing she isn't married and has no children. That will lessen the choices a bit.

Sandy Raihofer of the David Black Literary Agency weighs in from the agent's, or at least her, perspective. "Hocking says she welcomes the editorial process a traditional house can offer. YES! That’s validation of the process that’s been in place for decades — if not generations — for honing a manuscript. Not to mention the amount of editorial work we agents do in order to sell a work, and sometimes on the back end as well." I wonder if Ms. Raihofer is cheerleading for agents because she believes they do a lot of the work in packaging and "honing a manuscript" or because she wants to believe it. Most of the authors jumping ship for self-publishing are doing so because they are dissatisfied with the "services" rendered by publishing and agents, and not just because of the money, although that is definitely a factor.

I've worked with several agents over the years on previous projects and I can say I got very little input or honing from only one agent.

Ms. Hocking is today's news and she is a hot topic for several blogs and tweet-fests. I'm sure she is a little tired of the limelight and just wants to get back to writing. While her meteoric rise to fame and fortune has fueled considerable debate, her success has also inspired writers in both camps to jump into publishing -- indie and traditional -- secure in the knowledge that if Amanda Hocking can do it, so can they.

When the furor dies down, I wonder whether or not Ms. Hocking will end up in obscurity or if she will find herself in calmer waters writing and touring and making the most of everything she has earned and been offered. No doubt there another rising star is about to crest the horizon and Ms. Hocking will be last month's flavor. Whatever happens, Ms. Hocking seems like an intelligent and savvy young lady with a glowing future ahead of her and I wish her well.

As for me, I have covers to choose and a proof to check and another critique to work on. It's Monday and just another day in the week for me. I'm still slogging my way up the publishing hill.

Be a Real Writer

I am beginning to wonder why more authors don't self-publish. Oh, that's right. It's because of the onus of vanity publishing. That is changing.

There are lots of writers who still believe that legitimacy only comes with being published by a real publisher, real meaning established publishing house. They also believe that the only way to go is with an agent to look after your interests because writers just don't know about contracts and rights and all that legal mumbo-jumo.

There are even writers who insist that a writer isn't a real writer unless and until the name appears on the spine of the book as the only author, ignoring the publication of articles, co-authoring books and articles, anthologies and anything that isn't a fiction or nonfiction book authored by the writer and only by the writer. Too many qualifiers.

The real reason for placing all those hurdles is to differentiate oneself from what the competition. It's the same old schoolyard game of one-upmanship. If I have numerous articles and have co-authored a couple of books AND have published a novel then I'm a writer and you're not because you've only written articles and contributed to twenty anthologies. It's silly and petty and only silly and petty people still believe that way. A writer is one who writes. It's that simple. The dictionary says nothing about publication, just writing.

The Belle of Amherst, Emily Dickinson, is undoubtedly a poet even though she never published a book of poetry in her lifetime. Only a handful of poetry was ever published. In death, as in life, Dickinson remains a poet.

One thing writers need to do is stop fighting with each other. Our differences are our strength and shouldn't be used as a reason for exclusion, but people tend to be more exclusionist than inclusionist. Too bad, since it makes a sometimes lonely life that much lonelier, and more competitive.

During this time of changes and birth pains throughout the publishing world, we need to celebrate our differences and find ways to support each other. I was impressed with Barry Eisler and Amanda Hocking congratulating each other in a recent tandem interview. They each recognized in the other intelligence and business savvy, despite choosing different paths. They were polite and professional. We need more of that especially now that the face of publishing is changing so quickly.

I have found myself at odds with other writers over these issues and I usually end up shaking my head and walking away. I cannot abide jealousy in any form.

When I was just getting into the whole Internet thing and finding my cyberlegs, I visited many writing forums and offered advice to newbies coming in asking questions. I did have a limit, but when someone was interested in learning, I thought it only fair to spare them some of the anguish and offer tips and point out a few signs along the way. If I didn't know an answer, I knew where to find it and I sent them to the source. I caught a lot of flack from more seasoned writers and professionals because I was wasting my time and making it too easy for them. I was surprised, and I shouldn't have been. People can be mean, no more so than when they feel threatened. I never feel threatened. There are an infinite way of telling stories and an infinite number of combinations on the so-called 12 plots available. Of course, I hadn't heard about Mary Sues then either. I don't write fan fiction.

I have heard of mimics and I think most writers go through a mimicry stage when they try to write like their favorite authors. Some writers have made a very good living mimicking certain writing styles and authors. Mimickry (imitation) is said to be the sincerest form of flattery.

We all have to start somewhere and writing is the very first step. Get the words out of your head and onto the page. Once you do that and do it consistently -- every day is best -- you are a writer. The rest is business. That is what publishing is, a business, a means to earn money as a writer. Real writing is really writing day after day, week after week, weekends and holidays, and every spare moment -- even if it's just for your own amusement or to share with family, or as a legacy to future generations.

Emily Dickinson is not here to appreciate the impact her poetry had on subsequent generations of admirers and readers, but somehow, somewhere inside her, she felt the need to put her feelings and thoughts and ideas down on paper so we could share that corner of her life and abilities . . . because she wrote.

That's how to be a real writer. Sit down and write.

The Age of Service

Once upon a time, long, long ago -- and it was a very long time ago -- you would drive up to a gas station and a man in a starched and ironed uniform would hurry to your car, greet you and ask if you wanted a fill-up. Whether for two dollars or a full tank, he would then proceed to pump the gas, wash the windows, check the oil and air in the tires (replacing where necessary) and take your money with a smile, offering green stamps in return that could be exchanged for lovely gifts.

All of that is gone now with do-it-yourself and self-serve where gas station attendants stand or sit in booths behind glass and stainless steel walls and shove metal drawers at you with a nifty and handy little weighted cup to send back money, credit cards and receipts. The age of the polite and tidy service attendant is gone. Service has been glassed in or sent offshore.

This morning I was strongly reminded of the age of service with Dean Wesley Smith's blog post about what Joe Konrath calls estributors, which are distributors of electronic books and content. In other words, e-book packagers. This is what Konrath believes agents and agencies will morph into, a one stop service for proofing, formatting, book covers and uploading e-books. What it comes down to is cost. Should we continue to pay the estributors 15%, as in the old agency days, or should they be paid a flat rate that isn't tied into a book's earnings. There were compelling arguments on both sides, but I think we know on which side of this argument I weigh in. Like Dean, I don't what to pay what he calls "day labor" rates for someone who does so little. Barry and Joe were willing to give up 15% of all their future earnings to be able to write and produce more work for agents to take 15% of.

If the future looks anything at all like the present, it won't be long before agents will have authors doing more of the work for their 15%. Remember? The age of service is long gone. If the services remain, authors will have to pay an extra annual fee for the cost of doing business: long distance phone calls, copying, overnight mail, postage and paperclips. Not for me.

It all comes down to value and perception. We have been taught that an agent is key -- and in some cases necessary according to some big publisher's rules -- to get through the gate to be published. Authors have been taught that it is the way things are done to hire an agent and pay them 15% (what happened to the days of 10%) of earnings for their services. After all, the agent introduced you to the publisher and got you a deal. The publisher reciprocates by paying the agent, who then takes his percentage (the cream) off the top of your check and sends you the rest (you hope). You get to send in a 1099 at the end of the year to the agent, who has been keeping the books, so the government knows how much you paid the agent. Not all agents are honorable or even honest, but that's a tale for another time. One hopes the agent hired is of the honest and forthright type, and there is a clause in every publishing contract where the author gets the check first and then deducts the percentage and sends it to the agent. I wonder how many authors know about that little detail.

As for me, I figure if they're going to charge me for postage anyway, I should get to send them a check; it's my postage after all.

The best solution is for the agent to submit a bill each month, or quarterly, detailing charges and pay the bill. No more 15% with me doing most of the work. They get paid, I get to keep more of my money, and I stay in control.

In this increasingly serviceless age where the emphasis is on doing it yourself (gas stations, grocery stores, Home Depot, etc.) I keep wondering how much of that mentality will leach back into the system. Publishers and agents expect authors to do most of the marketing and publicity for their work, a task that once upon a time was handled by agents and publishers and the author just had to show up. (Check out Return to Peyton Place for a look at the good old days when publishers edited and publicized authors.) What's to say that the future agencies won't end up requiring authors to do more of the proofing, formatting, and uploading once they have their 15% locked in?

As Dean says, that is doing business the old way, the way we've been taught -- and have come to expect -- to do it. Times change.

Although it's more work, I'm used to doing things for myself and having control over the end result. I don't mind doing all the hard work, especially since the work gets easier with practice. It's not that much different than working a full time job in order to continue writing. I hope for a time when I can just write, but I doubt that will ever happen.

I've tried to come up with a better corollary for an agent's percentage than Dean's. He uses a gardener who, for keeping the outside of a house looking nice, gets 15% of the worth of the house. That doesn't really work. A gardener is day labor, but we need a stronger example.

I thought of pirates. On a pirate ship, the captain gets the biggest share of the booty and the rest of the crew, right down to the cabin boy, get smaller shares. The booty is a finite amount. Whatever is captured is divided up according to shares, sort of like a doubloon and gold ingot pie. While I like the pirate motif, and it does feel right, there really is nothing that compares outside of owning shares in a company. Those go on hopefully forever -- if the corporation continues.

For doing little more than loaning the company capital by buying shares, the shareholder gets a return on the investment.The problem with that example is that the shareholder puts up something of value -- his hard earned cash -- and gets a return based on how the company profits by using the shareholder's money. An agent puts up his connections and contacts and expertise to promote a book, so that is sort of like capital, and earns a return on the proceeds of said work in the form of a percentage of royalties, except that many agents don't put up enough capital. It's like expecting a shareholder who bought five shares to have more control than someone who bought 40,000 shares, which is the split between what agents and authors contribute. I still like the pirate motif.

At any rate, in this do-it-yourself world, it's best to be the head of the corporation delegating tasks that are compensated with flat rates. I do the writing and work, choose cover art and send out the marketing team to do their jobs, and I pay them and keep the rest for myself. I earned it and the others are just day laborers. I would feel different if agents and publishers did more of the work and offered more for their share. Since they have gone the way of the service station attendant and stand in a glass and steel booth shoving a metal drawer at me, I'm going to pay the amount on the pump and go my merry way with the rest of my money intact.

Now, if they start offering green stamps, I might reconsider.

Another Step on the Self-Publishing Road

A lot goes into publishing a book, and self-publishing, if it's going to be done right, and that means knowing the extent of strengths and weaknesses. My strengths include a good sense of artistic design and writing books. My weaknesses are more on the publicity, marketing and writing synopses side. I'm also good at pitches and queries, having won more than my fair share of book contracts for myself and others.

I have another strength, and that's knowing when to do it myself and when to delegate. That is why I hired a couple of top notch artists to do the cover art for my books. I also took the advice of a good friend and let her do the synopsis that will appear on the back cover of Among Women when it comes out in print. I also took another good friend's advice and let her take a crack at the synopsis; I'm using hers as the description on Amazon.

Self-publishing has a bad reputation, mostly gained from people who are rejected by publishing houses and decided they know best and publish their books anyway. In a way, I fit that category because I couldn't interest an agent or a publisher in my book. They were enthusiastic about the project, but not enthusiastic enough. They also couldn't get a handle on how to market the book, which is something I will have to deal with. Among Women is not easily shelved or pigeonholed. I'm looking to word of mouth to get the ball rolling and I'll take it from there. Advertising will help, and that's something else I'm not good at, but I am good at talking about my projects, so I'll work the publicity from that angle. Unfortunately, marketing is all about starting a buzz and, as long as I stay away from bees, wasps and hornets (I'm allergic), I should be all right. I'll wear veils and masks and gloves to protect the more sensitive parts of my skin -- and hide my identity. So to speak.

I'm also good at controlling things. My sister Tracy calls me a control freak, "In a good way," she says. Self-publishing gives writers a lot of control. I'm good with control, and I know how to decide what to delegate and what to do myself, like editing.

A good book needs a really good editor, and I have one with a taste for blood -- the red pencil kind. She doesn't spare my feelings or sugar coat anything; she just tells it like it is and we compromise, as long as it has nothing to do with grammar. Spelling, I've got that cold, and I have a few medals to prove it.

Self-publishing has a bad name because of all the bad books published that shouldn't be published, but that is changing almost as fast as the publishing business. Computers have made self-publishing so much easier and very user friendly. There are still glitches, but it's a learning process and we're all learning. We learn from our mistakes and from what has gone before. And we learn from big publishing, which seems to have lost its way.

Traditional publishing had one big advantage over self-publishing, or vanity publishing, as it used to be called. Vanity publishers are still out there, but that's a different topic for another day. Traditional publishing offered savvy editors, proofreaders, copy editors, line editors, marketing, distribution and a sales force. A lot of that has been marginalized for the sake of the bottom line. The first cuts seem to have been in editing: copy and line editing, proofing and concept editors. A writer, no matter how much of a genius s/he is, can only get better with a great editor. Most of the books I see from big publishing houses these days are full of wrong words, grammar mistakes, typo, writer's tics, and all kinds of continuity and concept errors. I cringe whenever I hit one of those brick walls. I wanted better for my book, so I hired an editor.

I learned a long time ago that I cannot do it all. I have limitations (we're back to strengths and weaknesses) and a second, or even third, pair of eyes will only make my book better. I have the best. I'm willing to share her, but not give her up. Mary Ann is the best editor I've worked with in a long time, and if it ain't broke, you don't fix it. I don't even mind (too much) her slash and burn technique where it's warranted. I need that sometimes. Keeps me on track.

In order to get my book into e-book and print, I used my brains and got help. I got two young and talented artists for the cover art and a great editor. I'm the general (control freak) and I marshalled my troops where they would do the most good. The book that came from all our efforts -- I could not have done it without them -- is a better book and good enough to publish. How do I know? Because a publisher told me he would've published the book if I'd sent it to him. I'm considering talking to him since he might be willing to help me get wider distribution for my book in Europe. Every little bit helps, and I'm not afraid to color outside the lines.

Sometimes it isn't what you know, but who you know, and that is very true of self-publishing. I chose my self-publishing company because I had the option to do most of the work myself (control freak) and yet could employ the talents and strengths of others to balance my weaknesses. I'm very happy giving up some control as long as I have the final say. One of my artists keeps telling me that I don't have to settle for less than what I want, for less than perfect. I don't -- at least as far as I know.

One good thing about self-publishing and the user friendly systems available is that I can make changes (when I find mistakes) and not have to wait for another print run of 50,000 books to do it. I can make the changes and see them within a day or two. Now that is power.

I also gave up some power where synopses are concerned. I do not do them well. It is one of my big weaknesses. When a good friend suggested mine was crap (she said it needed work), I asked her to write it. What she sent me is what I used on the back cover. I know good when I see it. Another good friend suggested my synopsis was missing something, so I asked her to write something for me, and that one is the description on Amazon. A good control freak knows when to step out of the way and let the professionals handle things. I would rather eat worms than write synopses, but that's just because I'm awful at it. For me, it's like calling someone and getting the answering machine or voice mail. I never know what to say and whatever I do say, unless it's business and I have a specific reason for calling, makes me sound like a dithering idiot. I usually just hang up or say as little as possible. It's the old saying about people thinking you're an idiot until you open your mouth and remove all doubt. That's me. The idiot on the recording.

As long as writers are willing to give up some power, or at least find people with strengths to match their weaknesses, self-publishing will become less about vanity and more about quality books, and that is what's important. Being a control freak helps, as long as no micromanaging is involved. The proof is in the pudding -- or, in this case, in the book. The proof, I mean. It's in the mail now and I'll be able to look it over on Friday. In the meantime, I'll try to focus on work. It should be easier since my book was reviewed in record time, in about 12 hours, as opposed to the 48 hours I was expecting, but then I made sure my book was as good as it could be before I hit the publish button.

Cherri Galbiati, Coloring Outside The Lines: Changes for the Better

Cherri Galbiati, Coloring Outside The Lines: Changes for the Better

It isn't a perfect world, being an Indie author, but it is a satisfying world, as Cherri Galbiati writes.

A Newbie's Guide to Publishing: Guest Post by Mark Coker, Creator of Smashwords

A Newbie's Guide to Publishing: Guest Post by Mark Coker, Creator of Smashwords

Where Mark Coker of Smashwords thinks big publishing is going. I'm not certain at all that big publishing is finished or on the ropes, but I do agree that the business must change and the first step is by getting rid of their overhead. Of course, that means firing people, but maybe they can find jobs with Smashwords and other independent publishing companies.