Lessons From the Cheap Seats Part II

I'm a slow learner.

When it comes to being a writer I'm the slowest.

If this were a road race, you'd be tempted to run back to where I was and poke me with something sharp.

S.L.O.W.

As in it takes me years to do what other writers manage in a matter of months.

Like writing a novel.

I've been working on this one novel for about 3 1/2 years now. Awhile ago, I thought it was finished.

I was wrong.

I gathered it back to myself, edited, reworked much of it, then thought it was done.

Wrong again.

I repeated this tedious process several times.

I was certain the novel was finished. Complete.

New York has proven I was, once again, wrong.

Rejection bites.

And returning to the novel I was so sure I had already finished felt a great deal like humble pie. Which is fine, I eat that stuff regularly. After so many years as a writer, I have no ego anymore.

So, this is where things were for me when I was invited to have dinner with a group of highly successful and very well published authors. (This was the weekend I spent riding on Lesley Livingston's coattails.)

Mostly we didn't talk about books, writing, or the publishing industry. If someone mentioned what they were working on, or asked someone about their new book, it was titularly--an aside--and the conversation moved swiftly past and onto more exciting topics like hockey, living in France, embarrassing relationship faux pas, and the time I punched out a mime in New York City.

They didn't treat me like a failing wannabe author (which is very much how I felt about myself).

So, when Guy Gavriel Kay turned to me and said, "Tell me what's going on with this book you've written." I pretty much barfed out the whole ugly truth. Years of writing and getting it wrong. Years of NY agents saying things such as, "You're a fantastic writer, but pass."

He nodded several times and said simply, "That's not at all unusual. It sounds like you're going to do very well someday."

That was it. That was all he said.

And it was enough. Because he was Guy Gavriel Kay. I read his stuff in when I was in high school. He has eleventy-hundred novels published. And he basically said, "You're normal. Keep going."

I'm a mess. My work is a mess. I continue to rework the same novel I've been working on since the dawn of humanity (it feels like),  I've been rejected and/or ignored by some of the best in the business.

Normal.

I keep going.

What keeps you going as a writer?

Lessons from the Cheap Seats

Last weekend my hometown hosted a Word on the Street event downtown. I’ve never attended, being the shy, socially reserved type that I am. Then, my long-time friend, Lesley Livingston called and said, “I’m coming to town for Word on the Street!” Thus, I attended her reading/signing event. (FYI: Lesley will be interviewed on our blog October 28. She’s brilliant, funny, and short.)

Truth.

Much shenanigans occurred during her all to brief sojourn, but I’ll restrict myself to the relevant bits. Okay, just this one irrelevant bit: writers, dinner, a near sword fight over mimes—had we but possessed swords, and I used the Force to cause Arthur Slade to change his dinner order. (Art will also be on Novel Matters later in October. Just know he’s sensitive about mimes.) Oh, oh, just one more: I’m still geeking out because Guy Gavriel Kay and I split dessert (he paid)! Oh, and Lesley is hysterical and short. And we used to call her Fluffy in high school.

Back to the relevant bits.

Lesley writes YA novels. (She has a MG book coming out soon, but that will not preoccupy us at this juncture. But it’s called How to Curse in Hieroglyphics and it’s smart and funny and smart and funny.) For her reading, she chose to read from the opening of the second book of her Starling trilogy, Descendant.

My family and I sat near the front. In front of us were two girls I’d peg at around sixteen years old. They clutched a stack of Lesley’s books, whispered fervently to each other, and had—very much—the look of two girls about ready to burst from excitement. Like Rock Star excited.

Lesley took the microphone, cracked wise and funny, then read from Descendant. She’s also an actress, so her reading was stellar. (Word to writers who do readings or hope to do readings—study acting.) I was fascinated to watch the two girls in front of me. Every time Lesley mentioned a character’s name the girls would—and this is the only way I can describe it—squeeze together in a fit of restrained hysteria. Put their heads together and mime a frantic concert scream. (One character in particular had this effect: handsome half-dead fellow named Fennrys.)

What happened next is the bit that matters.

Finished with the reading, Lesley took questions. There were several, and the two girls had their hands up immediately. They couldn’t have cared less about Lesley’s writing process, how she came up with ideas, or what inspired her. All the cared about were the characters in her books.

They loved Lesley inasmuch as she was the only conduit to which they could gain additional access to the characters they loved.

I talked to Lesley about this at dinner that evening and she agreed, the people who love her books couldn’t care less about her—the author—they care only about the books. (Except, of course, they care about her. Because she writes the books.)

It’s all about the book.

In redesigning my website recently, I put this knowledge to good use. The home page features my novel—not me. Sure, you can read my bio by clicking on a link, but the part that matters, the novel, is front and center. I chopped out all the extra stuff. When a new book hits shelves (are you listening, God?) that cover will be on the home page.

Because when someone has heard great things about you, they go to your website and look for the book they heard about. When they see the book on the front page, they know they are in the right place.

This feels particularly freeing to me after years and years of believing I had to market myself as a sort of uber-product. It’s not about me. It’s about my books. Put them front and center.

Do I still have to be fabulous?

Yes. I have to be online. I have to give stellar book readings, and be nice at book signings. But I also have to remember: it’s not about me. It’s about the book.

Whew.

I learned a great deal more from my weekend with these gobsmacking writers. I'll share more in future posts.