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?

Art as Judge

Every novel contains a central moral presumption. That's because every author comes to his or her work with a set of beliefs about how the world should work and what happens when it doesn't. So, even if the author doesn't make a note of the moral presumptions in his work and tape it to his monitor, he still writes a story infused with, even guided by, his take on the world machine. Things like...

Equal justice makes a society humane.

Regret prevents us from living meaningfully.

Beauty is on the inside or nowhere.

The bad guy should pay for his evil deeds.


Happiness at the expense of others is fragile and dangerous.

I've read several novels recently that have pointed a finger at me. You might think that I would find this a bit like wearing a wool sweater in July. Not at all. I enjoyed the experience immensely because the author didn't write about an issue but about characters, fully developed and real, living inside the issues, wrestling with complex moral questions within the context of enthralling stories.

I noticed that in each story the stakes--emotional, psychological, or physical--were high. Squirmy high. Nose-bleed high.

I just finished reading The Light Between Oceans by ML Stedman. A childless couple (2 miscarriages and one stillbirth) live on a rock of an island off the coast of southwestern Australia. The husband keeps the lighthouse. The wife considers a life without children as a great black void. But...a dinghy comes to shore with a wailing infant and a dead man. The dutiful husband is eager to make a report. The wife convinces him to wait, and then to take the child as their own. On their first trip to shore nearly two years later, they discover that the mother is alive. And so the working out of the moral premise begins.

Great story. It made me ask if I was living happily at the expense of others. Not comfortable to ask or answer.

Has art dared to judge you? What questions has art asked that made you squirm? Are you buying this moral presumption thing?

The Pain of Promotion

I recently read a novel by an author I’d not read before, first name Annette. I selected it late one night from the sale pages of Christianbook.com when I’d run out of things to read. The first thing that caught my attention was that it was published by NavPress, the house that published my first two novels, so I read the opening pages and was intrigued enough to order it. The novel was surprisingly good, a refreshing find, completely out of the box for CBA, which instantly made me turn back to see the publication date. Aha. It was published in 2006. In my opinion, CBA has tightened its net, so to speak, in the intervening years, and I’m not sure this book would find a home in CBA these days. For more on that, you should read Latayne's excellent post from Friday, regarding Christian Fiction.

Coincidentally, I had an interesting conversation with a longtime employee of the Christian bookstore in my little town (anyone hear Simon & Garfunkel singing?) when I took more of my books in, which they graciously sell. Lynda is very complimentary of my fiction, because she feels it is real, addresses real issues, isn't neatly tied up in the end, and shows the reader she isn't alone in her struggles. But I haven't been able to get a CBA contract since 2008, so there you are.

 Annette did a remarkable job of writing a male protagonist (we discussed writing opposite-sex characters on this blog in August). She wrote real-world characters you could truly identify with, who had goals beyond getting the girl/guy next door, and problems that look a lot like mine. Problems that don’t always have good solutions. I applauded her guts and her ability, and sent her an email saying how much I’d enjoyed the novel. Her response kind of blew me away. She gave me permission to share some of what was contained therein.

Annette is the author of 13 novels, the first published in 1997. It sold roughly 140,000 copies. The others, combined, sold about the same number. Combined or not, I was struck with Serious Envy when I read her sales numbers. I’ve never come close to that, nowhere near, though I never stop working at it.

But it was her next statement that blew me away. She wrote, “As for why I stopped writing …”

Excuse me?!?

Stopped writing?!?

With that kind of success?!?

Yes. Stopped. She had three main reasons:

First, I absolutely cannot bear promoting. I'm quite private, more so as I've gotten older. (I'm 54). I am the only person I know not on Facebook. When I began writing, promotion meant speaking a bit, doing book signings, giving out bookmarks. I did do a blog for a bit, and didn't mind that. But now...I just can't do all that is expected and needed of an author. When I weighed the pain of promoting vs the joy of writing for publication, writing did not come out on top.  I do not see how someone unwilling to promote can publish today.


Second, writing was never a calling for me. I loved it. It came easily and naturally for me, and I had a talent for it. I read a few how-to books and subscribed to Writer's Digest, but I never took a writing class. I attended my first conference after I'd had 7 books out. It wasn't something I longed for or dreamed about. I was a voracious reader, but really never thought being an author was in the realm of reality. It was an amazing surprise.

But my true calling? Hospice nursing. I've been an RN since age 20. It is what I was born to do. It is where I have served, where I have done my best work. It was easy to let writing slip away when it wasn't my only thing, or even my main thing.

“My only thing, or even my main thing.” That line really struck me. Because aside from my relationship with family and God, writing IS my main thing and has been for 27 years. No, it doesn't begin to compare to hospice nursing or any number of other professions that truly help people, but it is my passion. Aside from unforeseen circumstances, I have no intention of stopping. But I completely get what Annette is saying. Debbie also wrote a great post last week on the truth about introverts. Many writers are introverts – and some are shy, to boot, as Lori Benton pointed out. That certainly describes me. So when Annette said she couldn’t bear self-promotion, I could relate so well. And yet, as she spelled out so clearly, someone unwilling to self-promote these days won’t get far as an author.

The environment we find ourselves in as writers today is somewhat of a dichotomy. On one hand, publishing opportunities are greater---and less costly---than ever before, if one is willing to go the independent route. Now that many authors are choosing to go independent, even those who have been multi-published traditionally, the stigma of self-publication has diminished.

On the other hand, going independent means the full weight of promotion falls to the author. And for those of us---which basically is all of us---who dislike self-promotion, it makes the writing life that much harder. Building a readership is like tossing a stone into water and watching the ripple spread out from the initial splash. Turning that ripple-effect into a tsunami is the goal, but how do you do that?

Bloggers and social media participants have formed an impromptu co-op, if you will, helping promote the work of other writers along with their own, but it still creates only a small ripple in a huge pond. And all that promotional work cuts deeply into the author’s writing time. One or the other is going to suffer.

Have you found a way to balance writing with promotion, and have you found a promotional tool that’s been successful for you? Is the fear of promotional responsibilities enough to give you pause as a writer, or perhaps deter you from going independent? What, if anything, would make you put down your pen for good?

Redeeming Lost Things with Voices

I am mourning today the loss of a great novelist, Tom Clancy, whose novels – and the movies derived from them – are among my favorites. In fact, he is in part responsible for my own novels, because my husband’s urging to “write what you know” included the examples of John Grisham and Tom Clancy. 

(And of course one thing I knew quite a bit about was Mormonism, and my husband’s encouragement and insight encouraged me to write my first novel, Latter-day Cipher, a murder mystery whose plot and clues were derived from little-known peculiarities of that culture.)

I began writing with a formula that works:  An author knows things that the audience doesn’t know, and writes about them.

However, the relative success of the formula depends just as heavily on another factor:  The author’s ability to keep the audience interested while he or she tells about those things.

Those two elements--transmitting new knowledge or insight, and doing it memorably—do not guarantee the effectiveness (however that might be defined) of a book.

I’ll get personal here. One of the most perennial criticisms of “Christian fiction” is that books in that genre often lack those two elements. One reason might be is that CF is considered “safe” for an audience that might want stimulation and/or insight, but they often don’t demand that it be done memorably.

It’s called preaching to the choir. Telling them things that won’t make a difference. And often in a way they’ll forget right away.

What we see as a safe place, as former lesbian atheist and now Christian Rosaria Butterfield, author of Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert observes, looks very scary to thinkers.

I miss being in the company of risky and complex thinkers, people who are invested in our culture and who challenge me to think to the edges of my comfort zones. I believed then and I believe now that where everybody thinks the same nobody thinks very much.

I wrote my friend Rosaria and told her I was quoting her in this blog. I explained NovelMatters to her this way:

I blog there with five other rather unconventional Christian novelists. In fact, we're so unconventional that most of us are about to write ourselves out of the "Christian fiction" genre.

And yet we are wondering – and we ask you, our readers-- if it is a lost genre that needs redemption like all other lost things with voices; and if so, what is our part in that?

Protecting the Quiet

Today I spent two hours teaching a class on health care. I had a great time. Slipped under the door when I came home, exhausted. Like Debbie, I am an introvert.

A week ago, my husband spent two hours teaching high school metal shop classes how to make sculptures in wire.  Floated home three feet off the ground. You're right: He's an extrovert.

And no, I doubt my own experience would have been much different if, like him, I'd been teaching about my art. I still would have had to talk to many, not to one or two, and I still would have had to keep it up for a very long time.

In your comments to Debbie's post on Monday, several of you admitted to a lifelong struggle to change your nature. I have struggled like you, and like you, I have learned over the years to put on a decent show - for a time.

 And as it has for some of you, Susan Cain's book, Quiet, came to me as a gift and a blessed relief. Someone understood, at last, in black and white, and at long last, gave me permission to stop trying to fix myself.

I read Quiet exactly six months from the day I began an experience that would prompt me to re-frame many things that had caused pain in my life. Among those things was an inward orientation that I now realize was the very thing that allowed me to write my characters from the inside out, and that also allows me to learn well a line of work that demands empathy.

Writers who happen to be introverts (and that may be all writers) find themselves in awkward positions once they are published. Debbie mentioned the hoped for/dreaded book signings and media interviews: even relatively unknown authors are suddenly expected to behave like extroverts.

I suspect when you are a writer within the Christian publishing world, it's a bit worse. The market is smaller, and authors are left more in charge of their own publicity. Not only that, but these authors go to church. Perhaps some of you thoughtful, observant quiet types have noticed how many of the world's cultural expectations slip un-noticed under the church doors - and in-between the pages of our books.

Susan Cain brings up one of the most insidious:

"Contemporary evangelicalism says that every person you fail to meet and proselytize is another soul you might have saved." 

No wonder our stories have to have such purpose. What literary value can stand up to the imperative salvation of our readers' souls?

And while we're on the subject, what is it we do, locked alone with our thoughts, that's more important than all of the programs that require our participation? Cain quotes an introverted pastor's lament:

"There (is) no emphasis on quiet, liturgy, ritual, things that give you space for contemplation.”

And yet, if we are to write stories worth reading...

If we are to live lives worth living, we need these things.

I am lucky enough to have a room of my own, a private office where I can come and close the door when I have to. It is here that I curl up with my prayer app (Common Prayer for the geeky introverts among us), with my books, with my thoughts and supplications.

What about you? Have you managed to protect the quiet in your lives?

Do tell us how. We need to know.

And we love to read what you have to say.

The Truth About Introverts

 I recently read an article titled Ten Myths About Introverts by Carl King. You can read it here. If you're an introvert, it might explain a few things, like why you may sound eloquent on the written page but babble like an idiot in a radio interview, or send awkward (even standoffish) body language at a book signing. A lot of unfortunate, misunderstood signals going on here.

 I’m an introvert and a writer, and I’m in good company.

Carl’s list had several points that resonated with me, like providing insight as to why I squirm at the phrase ‘self-promotion.’  Social media tools like Twitter or Facebook are pretty non-threatening in their brevity. Blog interviews let you blaze past all the chit-chat and small talk, and send the answers in an email. Words like ‘media interview’ and ‘book signing,’ on the other hand, can both excite and strike fear in your little introverted heart, or at least drain your energy and leave you craving solitude before it’s over.

 Don't misunderstand - we enjoy signing books and meeting readers, no matter what our body language may say.  We're just experiencing a big learning curve.

Writer-introverts greatly value privacy, even if it’s on the edge of the social universe. While we don’t mind the distant drone of the coffee shop crowd, we prefer to stake out our own little orbits.   It’s not that we don’t like people - we just like them one at a time and not when we’re on the verge of solving a plot point.  Making chit chat is trying for some of us, but get us started about something we love (our books!) and we’ll give you TMI about our characters.

So, what’s the problem? This is what we wanted when we became writers, isn't it? We have a work of art that we’ve labored over for years and we’re excited to spread the word.  I’m not saying we aren’t willing and able to follow through on what’s necessary to promote our work and build a career.  We just have to work harder at it than extroverts.  It doesn’t come naturally.   We really have to want it.

Extroverts just don’t get us. Some may not even like us.  Some think we could change if we really want to. But being introverts tempers us into the kinds of writers we are, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to give that up.

I’m an introvert and a writer, and I’m in good company. 

What about you?  Do you suffer the challenges of the introvert writer or are you an extrovert who believes we should just hitch up our pants and get over it?

 

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.