To Critter or Not to Critter…Continued

First of all, my apologies for the long gap in postings! I was felled by the flu last week and could just about manage the short post I put up. Any more complex thinking was a lost cause, even when I was back at work on Thursday (!), and I spent this last weekend playing catchup from some other things and trying to get in some more vestiges of rest to send the last bits of this nagging virus packing. Right now, I’m still dealing with the remnants of a cough and a rough throat—which is no fun for a singer. So we’re (the royal we, don’t you know) about a week away or so from being back 100% in the saddle. However, we are also feeling substantially more awake enough to ponder the second part of our post on critting and how to get a good crit out of this literary life. Once again, with the caveat that YMMV, here are a few thoughts on what makes a good critique—and a good critiquer. First of all, we need to draw a couple of lines between what a critiquer does versus what an editor, or coach, or writing “guidance” guru does. Some places may overlap, but the differences are important enough that it pays to keep some key ones in mind: 1. If you find yourself doing a lot of line-editing in the work, try to back off a bit. It’s hard to do, especially for those of us who are compulsive editors anyway…but that (unfortunately) is just the point. Technically, critiquing is feedback, not hands-on editing. If you find yourself crossing out extensive chunks of text, for example, or wanting to cut whole pages, make a note of it for the author, but don’t feel you need or have a duty to go through and make a substantive edit out of your critiquing process. Same with marking punctuation, restructuring sentences, etc. Unless the writer has specifically requested this, don’t correct everything. Scribble the name of a good grammar book or two in the margin, and let her do her own mechanics. 2. That being said, there’s nothing wrong with pointing out several overarching tendencies, even marking several pages’ worth of instances if necessary, to get a writer’s attention on certain things. Case in point: I have an absolute infatuation with the words “just” and “even.” (The latter must from that old Christmas carol about King Wenceslas…but I digress.) Thanks to my crit partner (bless her heart :-)) marking every one of them early on, I’ve since learned to go through before I send stuff to her and do a massive search-and-destroy on most of those wonderful words. And I do still like them. Trust me on this. One or two, here and there, are okay. Using “just” three or more times in one paragraph (which I have), however, is—er—a bit of overkill. (I almost said “just a little overkill.” See, I told you I was hooked.) 3. If you don’t like a character, feel free to say so. Give the author specifics on why you don’t like or believe in a character, and you might get a surprise: maybe she’s trying to make that person a “bad guy,” and she’s just not made him “bad enough” so you recognize that fact! On the other hand, once again, it’s not part of your job as critiquer to “rewrite” or “recast” the character yourself. Give suggestions on motivation, on action/reaction, on emotional integrity or the lack of same…but if you want to keep on the side of critiquing rather than “redoing the book,” don’t go too much farther than that. Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for a writer is to let her know she needs to go deeper into characterization, and let her find out how. 4. The same thing goes for setting and other details; if you don’t like them, you’re free to say so, but also, do your best to divorce your dislike—or ignorance—of a certain locale, era, or such from the critiquing of the actual writing. If you truly feel you can’t give the work the fair reading it deserves, be it out of personal prejudice or plain ignorance, it’s okay to excuse yourself. The writer will thank you more for your frankness at that point than she would if you tried to soldier on and ended up having to have things “explained” or “clarified” to you later! But once again, there’s a fine line we walk: the difference between not liking a particular setting, era, occupation for hero/heroine, etc., and telling a writer she can’t use such-and-such a place, occupation, era, scenario, or the like. You may be sincerely trying to help by telling a writer she “can’t” write something and sell it in a given market—but you may, in fact, be wrong on that. We’re all given so many “can’ts,” especially about genre fiction, that sound like gospel…and then someone comes along who doesn’t know any better, writes a horking good book using two or three of those “can’ts,” and no one bats an eye. In this, as in so many other areas—particularly in mainstream fiction—story trumps pretty much everything else. Even in genre fiction, with its tighter formulas, authors are constantly looking for ways to kick the sides out of the box, and editors are constantly looking for a way to encourage them to do so while still selling to their target audience. So try not to dissuade someone from using some element in their story just because you don’t particularly like it. Someone else may love the thing to death and buy it for a million dollars—and then, your pontifications won’t be considered knowledgeable or even thoughtful editorial advice so much as a stunning example of yet another person who “didn’t get it.” You don’t want to be in that story…so try your best to stay out of the “prohibition” business. One prohibition, however, is a good one to remember…and that’s what we’ll close with today as a final thought on your role as critiquer: 5. Refuse to be drawn into a discussion of whether a writer “has talent” or not. Think you’re not going to be asked this? Think again. I don’t think I’ve gone through more than a handful of critiques in which that question isn’t put forth as part of what the writer wants as feedback…and you should never answer it. Period. Not because you can’t tell; you usually can. (!) Sometimes you can even make a reasonable guess that the asker does not have “what it takes” to make it as a writer. But, flattering as it may be to be consulted about this mythical thing called “talent,” don’t fall for the flattery. Neither answer is a good one. If you say yes, there are always a certain number of writers who will take that as carte blanche to do nothing to develop their work or clean up their basic mistakes: “My writing teacher says I have real talent, so I don’t want to stifle it with a bunch of stupid rules.” If you say no—even if you have really, really, really good reasons for saying no—some people say you risk crushing a writer’s hopes. I wouldn’t go that far. Writers themselves decide what feedback to take, they decide whether to go any farther than they already are, and they decide when to quit; anyone who tries to pin those decisions on the word of another person is fooling herself. But that won’t stop her from accusing you of destroying her ego, stopping her dead, trashing her dreams, etc.—and who needs that nonsense? Certainly not someone who’s only trying to help. So keep the help craft-centered, keep it as close as you can to giving the writer a few landmarks and a roadmap, keep it focused as much as possible on making the work salable, and you’ll be giving good critiquing…without being abused and/or put into the shoes of an editor, a confessor, or a mother. All of those people have their places; you as critiquer are none of them. Play the role correctly and not only will you have given out some solid help to your fellow writers, but you’ll have energy and time left over to spend on your own work! …which leads us to the other side of the coin: what you, as a writer, should be getting from a critique…what your role is in the creative exchange…and how to know if you’re getting good advice. We’ll tackle that one next time! Stay tuned, Janny

To Crit or Not To Crit…That Is the Question

It’s been suggested of late that I take some time to wax poetic (since it’s lousy weather for waxing a car) about how to find a good critique partner. (Like I know?) :-) But, since I can never resist a challenge—with the caveat that YMMV—let’s explore this question. First, it’s worth mulling for a moment over the value of critique sessions, by anyone, to anyone. I’ve been in multiple writers’ workshops on critiquing where, inevitably, a multi-pubbed (and practically canonized) author stands up and blows everyone out of the water by saying, “Nobody sees my work but my editor. I write it, and she looks at it, and that’s it.” To which the room oohs and aahs and thinks, “Well, when I get to be as good a writer as she is, that’ll be all I’ll need, too.” If you look at this through the jaded glasses of those of us who’ve been at this for awhile, you figure that that’s what the multi-pubbed author wants you to think—both about her and about yourself. It both keeps you down in those trenches with the unwashed multitude (thereby reinforcing her exalted status) and—sometimes with malice aforethought—practically guarantees that you’ll never move beyond said unwashed multitude. It paints a rosy picture of a future in which every word from your keyboard will be so anointed, so ding-dang perfect, that the most your breathless editor will want to change may be a comma placement or three before sending it right on to glory, fame, honor, and great reviews (not to mention vast riches). It’d be great if things actually worked that way. (!) Too bad they don’t. Unfortunately, to the extent that you believe in and act on—or maybe more accurately, fail to act on—that rosy picture the author paints, it can stall you out for years…which is good for aforementioned author (because it removes her competition), but not so good for you. On the other hand, most of us know of at least one instance when a critique did almost irreparable harm; it was malicious, or sarcastic, or “witty” at the expense of our stories or even ourselves, and it left us thinking that that author’s secretiveness was actually the beginning of wisdom. But even if our experiences have fallen on the middle of the continuum, the question can still touch a nerve. Maybe we haven’t been fatally wounded by a critique, but we’ve been bruised, frustrated, annoyed, or ignored—the classic example is an author asking for one or two specific things from a critique, and getting everything but what she asked for. These kinds of time-wasters aren’t fatal, but, like a million tiny mosquitoes, each takes a little writer’s blood out of us. At best, they make us wonder if anyone really knows how to help us, and at worst, they make us doubt our own talent. So what’s the answer? From my side of the fence, the first author’s lucky. If she truly has never had to subject her work to any critiquing other than an editor’s or maybe an agent’s, she’s hit a rare combination of elements that few of us achieve. Some of the authors who operated this way in the past were just horking good writers; most came into their editors’ offices when editors still edited work, were able and willing to develop authors, and therefore could take the time to file all the rough edges off work that “wasn’t quite there yet.” Now, with editors being stripped of most of that ability by the constraints of “lean” industry and marketing mania, most of us—even if we’re horking good writers—can and will benefit from a “third eye”(or lots of them!) before we send things to an editor’s desk. But what kind of eye, or collection of eyes, will do us the most good? Years ago, I treasured the input of my RWA chapter, which critiqued as a whole, and as part of every meeting—something that few RWA chapters, much less other writers’ groups, did. When I described our procedure, however, most people outside our group were horrified by it. The thought of reading your own stuff, out loud, on the spot, to live people—at least a dozen of them at a time, and sometimes as many as thirty—struck them as needless torture, not to mention opening an author up to potentially hopeless confusion. “How do you know who to believe?” they’d wail. “How do you know what suggestions to take? Doesn’t everyone have a different opinion? How do you know which is right?” Well, of course everyone has a different opinion…but that’s part of the value of it. You get a wide spectrum from lots of different perspectives. And that’s why you ask them to write on the manuscript, and that’s why you take all that feedback home and look it over when you’re calmed down and can weigh each comment for its value. Let me also add that this process wasn’t a free-for-all: we had rules of critiquing, which a good manuscript chairperson insisted on enforcing; we had time limits; and we always went in with the idea that a writer was free to take any feedback or leave it. So it was not nearly the bloodbath that these people apparently pictured when I said “group critique.” I found it especially ironic that some of the same people who were put off by the notion of what we did had their own (tiny) groups where things were much closer to a free-for-all or bloodbath than our structured system…and where they got personal to boot. I’ll never forget the way one person in a small group put it: “We can say to each other, ‘This stuff sucks,’ and it’s okay, because we all know each other.” To which I said, “Saying ‘This stuff sucks’ is never okay. I don’t care how well you know each other. And I wouldn’t be a part of any group that allowed that kind of thing.” The bottom line? For whatever reasons, our system worked extraordinarily well. Our RWA chapter had so many members sell their first books after running them through our process that we gained an excellent reputation in the business. At one point, mentioning that you were a member of RWA Chapter #14—and that parts of your book had been vetted by the group—in your query letter was almost as good as having an agent vouch for your work. Valuable? You bet. So, understandably, over the years, I’ve come down on the side of “Yes, be a member of a critiquing group if you can, and the larger, the better. It will make you a better writer faster than anything else you can imagine.” But then, a weird turn in the road happened—both philosophically and geographically—and I ended up leaving RWA entirely…which meant that for all practical purposes, I no longer had a steady critique group source. Now, I’ve shifted paradigms and gone to the other extreme: one crit partner who basically is the only person who sees my work. I’m uneasy about this on one level, since I have notoriously bad luck with writer friendships…but it seems to be working so far. Knock on any wood you have available. So what makes a good critiquing situation? Having run the gamut, I can think of a number of factors that contribute to a profitable endeavor—and some “red flags” to note, and deal with, lest they sabotage your work, your self-esteem, or your relationships with other writers. We’ll talk specifics in our next post… Stay tuned! Janny

The Story So Far

When we last left off our idea-generating exercise (see November 29), it’d been remarkably fruitful. Frankly, after having completely run out of ideas, feeling like the well was dry, etc., for a long time, the euphoria of kicking out the sides of the box went straight to my head. Which was a good place for it to go, me being the cerebral-type (as opposed to SOTP) writer that I am! That’s the good news; the not so good news is…the execution of said ideas is harder than “getting” them ever is, and especially in this case. So it’s only right that at this point in time, a couple of months later, I take some stock and assess the status of this idea blast. I have, in fact, completely revamped an old book and turned it on its head—at least in my head. I’ve written the new synopsis and have done some bursts of writing of actual text…but it’s coming in bursts, not in organized, methodical fashion. It’s written in a voice I hardly recognize as my own, one way different from even the language and treatment I give aforementioned Book of My Heart. This is mind-boggling on many level—and scary to boot. More on that in a bit. I am in the process of coming up with three delightfully ditzy possibilities for heroines for future books, each with a special “gift” of her own that I can put into a “woo woo” story. So far I’m to the “name” stage with them, and mulling in my mind what can be each heroine’s particular gift and raison d’être. That is going way slower than I anticipated. I have begun to mull a synopsis for “completing” a story that will spring from a short-short I’ve already written, but thought would be a great “root” in itself for another book…but only begun it, as this item is connected with the three ditzy possibilities listed above. I have hatched a totally different character idea from the first book, which will take a spinoff book that was going nowhere and set it on its head, as least as far as remaking a character into something he wasn’t before. He’ll have infinitely more possibilities and need of “redemption” in his own story later, but that’s on a far back burner at the moment. I did come up with a crazy fantasy/parallel universe idea that I won’t be using myself, unless the author I suggested it to declines to do so—which’ll mean I could then morph it into something “woo woo” but not fantasy, but still have a horking good story beginning. The author I proposed it to said it sounded like something I could write better than he could—which I don’t believe! But, at any rate, this idea is on hold for the moment. It’s only the vaguest scenario, and it’s an idea whose time has not yet come. I did just about bounce off the walls writing a new synop and 12 pages of the first story listed above, “wrote” the next two to three chapters verbally (i.e., worked them out in the car while driving to and from choir), and thought I had the fourth one ready to start, and just merely had to transfer them to the keyboard. That’s when things got interesting. Because, you see, what I “wrote” in the car, I did transcribe to a point. But only to a point. Suddenly, the characters began bantering, and the careful direction I was going to take the dialogue flew out the window. In its place were sparks of a different kind, material that came out of my fingers so fast I was typing like the wind. (And I normally type obscenely fast to begin with, so you can imagine how fast this was.) In word count terms, I wrote 2000 words in one day without feeling it—something that would have normally taken me 10-12 hours before, but took me less than half that time this go ‘round. Then, I ran the stuff by my crit partner…and stopped cold. For two weeks. Then three. And I felt an awful insecurity start to creep over me, a pernicious fear that the “same old thing was going to happen again”—I’d have a great start, then run dry. And, in fact, for days and days in there, I was dry. I had no idea what to write next; I knew where I wanted my characters to be, but I had no faith that they were even my characters anymore, much less how to get them there. I was at least partly convinced that what I had written was dreck, that it was going to all have to be redone so I was “telling the story right.” I didn’t know how to get these people to rein in and behave, how to get the book back into my “real voice” again…and so I didn’t write for awhile. I wasn’t even in the mood to do it. And then, just as I was beginning to go into a major funk and think about quitting entirely… The muse came back. As capriciously as she left, she returned, cup of tea in hand, and said, “Let’s get back to this.” That’s the only way I can explain it—because for no other reason I could ascertain, and with nothing else having changed, I suddenly got in the mood to do some more on the book. I even housecleaned in two evenings, rather than three, because I knew I was going to be writing at the end of the week and I wanted to leave lots of time “free” to do that in. And that’s how I sat down on Saturday afternoon and literally, in the space of less than three hours, wrote nine pages. Or…about 2000 words. In three hours. Now, I’m still not sure if this is any good. I’m still not sure this book is written in “my voice.” But it might be written in something else even better…in that the characters are literally taking over this thing, in a way characters haven’t taken over anything I’ve written in years. I still feel like what I’m doing is nothing more than having fun, not writing a book. I still feel that it’s self-indulgent, that it’s just “playing.” Or at least I did, until I went back and reread what I did…and discovered that through this magical banter the characters are doing, the story is getting told a whole ‘nuther way. A way I hadn’t imagined it was going to be told. And that is scary to the max. Because I truly don’t know if it’s going to work. I’m going to run this new material past my crit partner sooner rather than later, and let her tell me what she thinks. I know what I think already. I’m not even sure it’s me writing this anymore. And I don’t know when the next “burst” will happen…but somehow, now, I’m beginning to think I don’t need to worry about it. Somehow, as frightening as this is, I’m beginning to think that this book will write itself, in its own time, at its own pace, and in creative bursts that get done precisely what needs to be done at the stage it’s ready to be written. Just looking at what I’ve written trying to explain this creative process looks completely off the wall to me. Maybe flying off the walls is exactly what I need to do. Maybe this is truly breaking me out of the box…and teaching me to write in a whole new way. And the only way I’m going to know if that’s true is by sitting by and watching it happen. But you talk about frightening? So that’s part II of the idea-generation experiment…so far. Not what I expected in the least. Not at all like anything I’ve done in recent years. But it may turn out to be the best I’ve ever done. Thoughts? Janny

Wanted: A Few Good Secular Saints

There’s a rather frequent occurrence in the born-again crowd that, frankly, makes me nuts. It’s the tendency—heck, the seemingly implied obligation—by Christians to take whatever artistic work they did before they got saved, turn it 180 degrees, and transform their output to “all Jesus, all the time.” Why? For those of you wondering what bugs me so much about this, let me illustrate. I’m one of the world’s great Randy Travis fans. I have loved him since I started seriously listening to country music again—something I tend to do in fits and starts—and discovered that a lot of the songs that I heard and liked “happened” to be by this guy. I like his deep baritone voice, I like his general style, and I love watching him in concert, which I’ve had the privilege of doing not once, but twice, for free. (The graciousness of US99 in Chicago cannot be overstated in his particular case.) The man simply comes onstage with his band, stands in the center with a guitar, and sings. No frills, no light show, no dancing or prancing around, no flash—in fact, as stage performers go, he is Mr. Laid Back—and yet, for an hour and a half or two hours, or however long the concert is, he has the room in the palm of his hand. You find yourself sitting back in your seat, breathing easier, and just relaxing as that sweet voice—singing those familiar, hokey, wonderful old-fashioned country love songs—washes over you. Or at least you used to be able to. Until the guy got saved. Now, one of the things I’ve always loved about Randy Travis is that, even as a secular country artist, he’s never to my knowledge performed a deliberately “dirty” song. I wish that could be said for country artists as a group; it can’t. Sure, one of his big hits (On the Other Hand) is about adultery—but the lyric line is concerned with the narrator reminding himself not to do it. Another song (The Hole) has these words to live by: “There’s no healthy way to mess with the line between wrong and right.” Not only is this sound morality, but this progression, and Randy’s whole life, illustrates a remarkable transformation and maturation of a former hell-raiser. So even in a strictly secular sense, this man was obviously moving closer to the light for a long time. God spoke to him gently and persistently until he came the rest of the way, opened his Bible, and finally confessed to a saving faith. This is a wonderful thing personally, and apparently it’s been a wonderful thing professionally; now, instead of just winning Grammys for country songs, Randy can win Doves and Grammys for two kinds of music. That is, he could…if he recorded country anymore. But when was the last time you heard any new country by Randy Travis—or maybe I should say any new country music from him that isn’t, at its core, about Jesus? Yes, I understand that sometimes in the heat and light of a new conversion, the only thing you want to think about is Jesus, and the only thing you want everyone to hear about is Him. So maybe that’s what these last several albums have been on Randy’s part—the overwhelming, bubbling joy coming out and expressing itself. And from what I hear and read, Randy’s finally going back into the studio and recording a straight-country album soon. I fervently hope so. But in the meantime—from the perspective of the folks on the straight-country end of things—what he’s done, and what so many artists do, feels a little like an abandonment. And I wonder if that’s really the message that a Christian artist ought to be sending to a fan base, much less to the world at large: “Oh, I was doing the devil’s work before. But now that I’m doing Jesus’ work, everything I sing has to be about Him, and only Him, and if you don’t like that, it just proves you need to be saved, Amen, Hallelujah.” Does it? Really? The world’s dark depravities do need a Christian witness, but that doesn’t mean that everything we put out there has to have the word “Jesus” or even “God” mentioned on every other page to qualify as “Christian witness.” If anything, exactly the opposite is true—that’s yet another example of preaching to the choir, and folks who used to like us before we “got religion” and “got weird” then leave us behind. Naturally, if your entire former oeuvre was based on immorality, blasphemy, or promoting lifestyles that are against God’s laws, of course you make a change (!). But if you were doing family entertainment—albeit secular—with nothing morally objectionable as its foundation or in its execution, is it really always God’s will that you leave all that behind for a more in-your-face declaration of Whom you belong to? In some cases, maybe. I’d say in most cases, probably not. In most cases, you’ll do more good just staying where you are and continuing to do what you do. And I wish there were more Christian artists who would catch on to that. People are remarkably intelligent when it comes to entertainment. Despite the array that’s on much of TV and the Internet, the fact remains that generally, if you give people a horking good product—a good story, a great evening of music, an uplifting theatrical experience, a beautiful painting or photograph—they’ll reward you by telling their friends, and they’ll hang around waiting for more. If we truly believe in the power of the Holy Spirit, we’ll know that He works in all our best efforts…and God is glorified by them. He can’t help but be, simply by the approaches we’ll take and the quality we’ll produce as people who do all things “to the glory of God.” Even “secular” work. Maybe especially “secular” work. Thoughts?

Janny

What Do Leonardo Di Caprio and Polar Bears Have in Common?

A: Pretty much nothing, actually. (Except possibly one of them wears real fur, and the other fake?) 

But that doesn’t stop him from sending me a mailing demanding that I DO SOMETHING about the fact that THE POLAR BEARS ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!! (Note: the something involves money.) 

You know what the reason is for this imminent demise, don’t you? It’s that pesky Global Warming thing—of which he is no doubt a devout believer. 

Yanno . . . the same bunch of pseudo-science that thousands of intelligent researchers (and several thousand of us reactionary denial-based stubborn cusses) have managed to avoid buying into for lo! these many years, despite hysterical—er, vigorous—proselytizing—er, education—being done by celebrities (who certainly are MY trusted sources for scientific information!), Nobel Prizes nonsensically awarded, and the continuing looming presence of the Great White Whale (and certifiable nutjob) who is Al Gore?

 

Yeah. That Global Warming thing. 

But…there’s good news this morning. (For all of us, except maybe Leonardo and GW priests everywhere.) There may, indeed, be a temporary melting of ice caps going on…just as there has been, on and off, for millennia. 

But what you will never hear about from DiCaprio and his ilk is that the Antarctic ice cap is actually increasing in size (good news for all dem dancing penguins)…or that the commonsense notion that the SUN has the strongest influence on the temperature of our planet might just be (gasp!) true, after all. 

This guy won’t be heard from in our national media, of course. And this guy probably won’t be up for any prizes in the near future. But in the ways that matter...this is good news all around.

So brace yourself, Leo. There may well be another iceberg in your future (!). But no money from here. And with any luck at all, no money from anyone else with half a brain and basic literacy at their disposal. 

Thoughts? 

Janny

No Surprises Here...

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd   Imagine sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours . . . even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance . . . but you don't care. You fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and its eloquence; you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however, you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Musician
Social Nerd
Drama Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Have some fun with this while I compose the next post! Janny

Congratulations, LSU!!!!

Today it's a great day to be a Michigan Wolverine...

...if for no other reason than that we no longer have to listen to annoying Ohio State fans yammering about (their overrated team) being #1 in the nation anymore. Because they're NOT.

(heh heh heh)

GO BLUE!

Janny

You Are Getting Very Sleeeeeepy.....

Call it the perspective of age, if you like. Or maybe the aftereffects of being so totally burned out for so many years that “overtired” becomes a masterpiece of understatement. But on the heels of complete Christmas exhaustion (a good kind, but still…) and in the flurry of temptation to make lots of New Year’s resolutions about self-improvement, setting new writing goals, finishing more manuscripts, et al, one clear thought broke through over all the clamor and chaos: Sleep. Many sages have talked about how most of us (especially Americans) tend to be “human doings” rather than “human beings.” On one level, we know we don’t really need to fill up Day Planners with “tasks” and track them with a variety of codes that John Nash would have been proud of—but on another level, we are afraid not to. Many of us have a hard time going on vacation because we literally can’t stop working. Worse, we’re “encouraged” (sometimes not too subtly!) to cultivate the ability to be constantly in touch with work even from remote locations, through things like gotomypc.com and Blackberries…to the point where if we’re incommunicado for any length of time—even during “time off”—the underlying message is that We Will Fall Behind, and/or We Are Not Performing To Expectations. Well, maybe those expectations need a swift kick. And I’m ready to give ‘em one. Even as we’re communicating more things faster, taking in and putting out more information than air and carbon dioxide, and supposedly getting work done in a “leaner, cleaner” way, health authorities tell us that we do this at a tremendous cost in terms of sleep and rest. It’s an established fact that most of us are chronically sleep-deprived, diminishing our ability to function on so many levels that at times it’s a miracle we get through our day unscathed. Obviously, our energy levels suffer; more pernicious, however, are the other effects lack of sleep has on us all—everything from temper tantrums to an inability to properly digest and metabolize food. We spend a large portion of our days on a thin edge of caffeine and adrenaline—and then we wonder why our families seem unhappy, our emotions and judgments are out of whack, and our bodies refuse to do what they seemed able to do mere weeks ago. Most of us read these things and say, “Yeah, I know, I should get more sleep…I’ll catch up on my days off,” or, “I can sleep in on the weekend,” or, “Isn’t that what vacations are for?” (Maybe so, maybe not. See earlier comment about vacation!) Setting aside for the moment the fact that we cannot ever really catch up on sleep—once it’s gone, it’s gone—I think it’s about time to reassess what we’re really demanding of ourselves, and why…and at what cost. Some of our reasons for shortchanging ourselves in this important area seem to come from good hearts and good reasons. Some of them have to do with taking care of other people, dealing with real crises, or “running Spain” (one of my favorite oblique references from You’ve Got Mail). But our bodies don’t care about running Spain; they need rest, refreshment, and respite. And if they don’t get it, eventually, we get sick. That’s no way to live. And so my resolution for this year, once and for all, is to start giving my body as much rest as it craves. In extreme and wonderful ways, if necessary. The good question is how to do this in the very real world of evening commitments, meetings, or just wanting to watch Monday Night Football. (!) The answer for me will be to go for a really, really early bedtime as often as I can, the moment I need it, whenever possible. To do that, I need to stick to redefining what “possible” is. “Possible” means doing less. One fewer thing after work. One fewer thing before bedtime. “Possible” may entail washing the kitchen floor another night, if I’m pooped tonight. “Possible” means that I can release myself from a lot of “gottas”—not that I allow things to get slovenly, but just that maybe I delegate more. Allow other people to help. Find some ways to work smarter instead of just longer. Bottom line? Six days out of the week, most weeks, it’s “possible” for me to go to bed at 8 PM if I want. 7:30, if I need to. So that’s what I’ve done several times already in the last couple of weeks. And it’s been wonderful. Maybe it’s obvious to many of you out there, but it’s a revelation to me to be reminded that “sleeping in” can happen just as effectively from the front end of a night’s sleep as it can from the back end. For my particular internal chemistry, that’s actually a better way to go: I’d rather get up earlier than sleep in later, even when given a choice. Sure, there are times when I’ll need to be out later. But if the majority of the time, I’m giving myself a full 9 hours or more in bed, those intermittent times won’t wear me down nearly as much. And if I want to watch Monday Night Football? (Or see the Bulls or Cubs when they happen to be on TV, which if they’re home doesn’t happen until 8-8:30 PM here?) That’s what DVRs are for. I’ve already discovered the fun of replaying an internet radio broadcast of a game on my computer at a time when I’m actually home to hear it—and I already record The Closer, which comes on too late for me to watch it and go to bed at a prudent hour here. It won’t be a large step to remember to do likewise for more frequent sporting events; it’ll just take a little discipline now and then. (That, and clearing out old recordings from the DVR if I need to. But I can do that. I’m the Tossing Queen.) That small discipline will make me feel better in the long run than trying to maintain the forced march that comes out of consistently cramming more and more into my day and disdaining sleep as being for little kids or people with “nothing better to do.” Are you as tired as I have been? Maybe this is a good idea to think about for you, too. Because there are times when we all actually have “nothing better”—and nothing more important—to do than stop the world, climb into our pajamas, and give our bodies the rest they need for a change. All we really need to do is be willing to stop the excess, cut back on the “gotta” element, and see if that then doesn’t free us up for a great “sleeping in” experience. Looking forward to clear eyes, a clear mind, and a much clearer year… Janny

The “Specialness” of the First Novel …and How To Keep It Going

This post has come about because of a surprise I got in my reading life—one of the few times that a book/author who didn’t impress me at all before has drawn me in, at least somewhat, on the second try. Specifically, I’m talking about Katherine Valentine and the Dorsetville books.

I’ve mentioned Ms. Valentine in this blog before, in reference to The Haunted Rectory, which I thought was a horking good story—something that surprised me after I’d tried to read her Dorsetville books and been left utterly cold by them.

But then the day came at work when I needed a book that wouldn’t depress me, irritate me, or otherwise set my teeth on edge while I was reading at lunch, and I decided to give Dorsetville a try again.

And I was, if not entranced, at least pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed the trip.

 I can’t say this for all of the books in the series, but after reading the first one, A Miracle for St. Cecilia’s, it’s clear to me—when it wasn’t before—why a publisher would have bought this first novel from this woman. It’s a whale of a good tale just to sit back and relax with, without too much angst, grit, or darkness to it (unlike The Haunted Rectory, which has all that and more). It’s strong Catholic fiction, for another, and that’s an area obviously close to my heart.

But what really impressed me as I thought about the book was realizing that it had an indefinable essence to it, an essence that for lack of a better term I’ll call the “First Novel Specialness.”

For some reason, a “first novel” has a unique feeling to it…which this book has. I’ve seen it in the Mitford books (which this book unabashedly pays tribute to); I’ve seen it now that I’ve finally read MHC’s first book (Where Are The Children?); and I can see it in the “first books” of lots of authors I read and love, whether I actually know the authors personally or not.

I can’t identify precisely what it is, any more than an editor knows how to label when something “works” for her, but I know it when I see it. I’m sure you do, too.

The question is, why and how that happens, and how we can make it happen for ourselves—whether we’re on our first book or seventh.

Because the next one, in essence, is always a “first book” all over again, especially if we’re trying to plan a career and advance to the next step up the publishing “ladder.” So why are first novels so good—sometimes better than anything else the author does afterward?

Maybe it’s because we generally spend more time on our first books than we do on subsequent ones; maybe it’s because we’re “learning” on those novels, and thus they get a lot of attention and thought that maybe subsequent ones don’t get. There’s always the very valid excuse that before you’re published, you don’t have an externally imposed deadline, so you can take your time and really “get it right.”

But for whatever reason, odds are if you have favorite authors and you go back to their first novels, you can see a) why they got bought and b) the potential they show in that early work for blossoming into what they eventually become.

So what is it in your work that would make someone say, “She’s got it”?
Or what is it in older works of yours that you go back to, read again, and think, “Yup, I nailed that there”?
Can you see growth from your first book to what you’re writing now?
Or if you’re on your first book, are you “hitting on all cylinders” yet, or are you still working on getting to that point?

Here’s to some successful First Novel Specialness, no matter what number you’re on!

Thoughts?
Janny

Try This Only At Home, Because Otherwise It’ll Get You In Trouble At Work (!)

Okay, it’s Progress Report Time. 

First, I probably ought to apologize for leaving you all hanging here. I shot out this great proposal for jump-starting our creativity, and then I didn’t post as I went to let you know if it was working. Then again, I’ve come to think…if it’s working, and that’s why I don’t post—that’s good, right? (LOL!) 

Short answer? OMW, is it working. 

Now, don’t get too excited and run for those paper sacks to breathe in yet, because I have a mixed bag of goodies here. No, I don’t have ten completely fleshed-out ideas for new books (yet); I don’t have ten new synopses. But that being said, what I have right now at my fingertips is so crazy and fun and non-stop that I don’t care: I’m going to get ten synopses out of all of this. And then some. So far, I’ve— 

—completely revamped an old book and turned it on its head; 

—come up with three delightfully ditzy possibilities for heroines for future books, each with a special “gift” of her own that I can put into a “woo woo” story 

—begun to mull a synopsis for “completing” a story that will spring from a short-short I’ve already written, but thought would be a great “root” in itself for another book 

—hatched a totally different character idea from the first book, which will take a spinoff book that was going nowhere and set it on its head 

—come up with a crazy fantasy/parallel universe idea that I won’t be using myself, unless the author I suggested it to declines to do so—which’ll mean I could then morph it into something “woo woo” but not fantasy, but still have a horking good story beginning 

—just about bounced off the walls writing a new synop and 12 pages of the first story listed above, have “written” the next two to three chapters verbally (i.e., worked them out in the car while driving to and from choir), have the fourth one ready to start, and just merely have to transfer them to the keyboard 

—and been totally wowed at what’s happened over the last couple of weeks. 

 Now, I can thank a number of sources for this revitalization. 

One is all the prayers I’ve had people saying for me (and you know who you are).

 One is definitely the prayers I’ve spent time mulling in myself, in front of the Blessed Sacrament. 

And one may have been that my own creativity was just sitting there, waiting for me to trust it again. 

Maybe. Maybe not. 

Personally, I’m inclined to believe this is supernatural in origin. 

Why? 

Because this wild sparking happened when I decided to let go of the reins on my writing and allow myself to set it free from the earth, so to speak. 

When I started thinking back to the kind of writing I did when writing was still fun. 

Which it had pretty much ceased to be lately. 

So, as I searched for answers, one of the thoughts that came to me was, “Well, what would _____ story look like if you’d written it when you were, say, seventeen?” That, combined with a little creative brainstorming with the Lord, turned a key. And things haven’t stopped bouncing around my head since. 

 So the moral of the story is: you put a challenge before the Lord, like I did, to help me out…you spend time in Eucharistic Adoration laying your creativity on the altar…and you become willing to abandon everything but what feels warm and fuzzy and happy and fun again…and you just might get ten stories out of the deal. 

Or twenty. 

Or… 

And then, the only trick is containing yourself long enough at work to have energy to type like a demon when you get home. 

So try this in your “thinking spot.” 

Try this in church. 

Try this in meditation. 

Try it while you’re driving, if you can drive and mull at the same time (i.e., if you don’t have to close your eyes to be creative!). 

But don’t do it at work. Or you’ll suddenly be looking for ways to ditch the day gig and Get On With It—and that path, I can honestly say, I’m not financially ready for! 

 Thoughts? 

Janny 

A Jump-Start to Creativity for the Weekend!

Over the past several months (years?), I have felt my share of Writer Envy. 

We all suffer it to one degree or another. And you know it when you feel it. It’s that familiar, stomach-sinking sensation that hits you when you hear of another author’s success…again. 

Even if you like the author. 

Even if you’re a fan of the author…sometimes you feel it anyway. 

The old why her and not me? question. 

Or, as I encountered last week, hearing about an author who’s already a bestseller being courted by publishers to write yet more books, when she’s already got several due to another publisher and is stressing out because she “doesn’t know how she’s going to get it all done.” (Hint: she could always have refused the assignment and let the rest of us have a chance…but funny how that option never seems to occur to any of these lucky people.) 

Or the same ol’ same ol’ people in the industry seemingly reaping all the rewards—teaching the plum workshops, speaking at the great venues—while a larger majority of us here in the trenches slog away, growing increasingly disillusioned and/or desperate about anyone ever noticing us in the shadows while the spotlight is so firmly fixed on those fortunate few. 

 So what’s to be done about that? 

Well, it seems to me we have a couple of choices. 

The familiar choice is, first, to get peeved. (Admit it. It’s okay.) To sit there and smile on the outside while on the inside thinking about ways to provoke spontaneous human combustion.

Close on the heels of the urge to see that other author’s head explode, at least on my part, comes a second set of emotions and self-talk. 

This usually starts out with “What’s wrong with my stuff?” and ends with, “Well, if I had_____ like she does, I’d be where she is, too.” 

My favorite use of the “If I had ______” phrase is, of course, “Well, if I had the luxury of being able to stay home and write full-time, I’d have all this success, too.” 

Sounds good on the surface, doesn’t it? 

And it does have more than a grain of truth to it. 

Having more time to write is always a good thing. 

There’s only one problem with this assumption: it’s only half true.

Because having all the time in the world to write, and no financial worries, and nothing else standing in the way, only truly works if you have some idea of what you’re going to write.

In other words, without some ideas that have you jumping in your shoes, without some sparks that have you unable to stay away from the keyboard, you’ll be just as frustrated as you were when you thought the only obstacle between you and the Great American Novel was the financial ability to spend unlimited time pursuing your muse. 

You’ll stare at the screen, you’ll noodle around with some sentences, maybe, but mostly you’ll just avoid writing…and then you’ll beat yourself up for it. 

That way, ladies and gentlemen, does not lie success.

It’s a path that leads nowhere, and I’ve come up with an idea to jar us off that path and onto a better one.

 I have to admit, this idea is stolen, and not new. It comes from the history of a particular author I know who, when she was working on a couple of ideas at a time and still hadn’t sold her first book, had an agent challenge her to do something that changed her writing life. The agent looked at her stuff and said, “This is promising. But I want to see more. Way more. So I have an assignment for you: go home and write six new synopses for six new books. When you have them, send them to me, and we’ll talk.” 

The author nearly fainted at the sheer idea of just going home and writing six brand-new synopses—for the simple reason that she writes much like I do, in a very methodical and logical, linear, plot-driven manner, so that having those synopses done would basically mean she knew exactly what each book was going to be about and would just have to write from an outline. She couldn’t send the agent one page and a wing and a prayer; when she was done with those synopses, all that would remain was to pick which book she wanted to write first, and go for it. 

Yeah, it was hard. Yeah, it took some work. But after she did it, she had even more ideas popping out of the woodwork—and what was more to the point, she had books an agent could nudge her on and say, “This one. This is the one I want to see more on.” 

A couple of years after she did this, she signed a two-book deal with a major publisher, sold her first book with virtually no revisions, and was on her way to building a career. 

She’s since become a college writing teacher, sold at least two more books, and has started to snag some of those speaking venues and some “street cred” that just might turn into the kind of career we all dream about. 

And she started this while working full-time outside the home and raising several sons.

The difference between being a very good, unsold writer and a good, sold one?

Lots and lots and lots of options. 

Productivity. And more productivity. 

That came from…you guessed it. Ideas. 

 

So I’m going to take on a challenge, and I hope you’ll join me in it. 

 I may or may not write six synopses—that remains to be seen. But what I am going to do, since I’m sorely in need of more book options than I have now, is to make an effort to concentrate on becoming an idea-generating machine. 

Specifically, I’m setting a public goal: to have ten new story ideas by the end of the month.

 Ten new ideas that are at least to the scene-and-chapter stage, which is the preliminary stage I always go through before I write a synopsis. 

 Think that sounds insurmountable? Maybe it is. But I’ll never know that until I try. So I’m going to try. 

And, I suspect, once I put these wheels in motion, there’ll be a lot of others that start turning as well. Because God does want us to demonstrate that we can be trusted with “small things” before He gives us the “big ones.” 

Maybe the only thing that’s standing between me and that success I crave so much isn’t that the universe hasn’t provided me with the perfect situation in which to wallow and create at leisure. Maybe, in the end, the only thing that’s standing between me and success is not having enough trust in my own creativity. But no muscle gets stronger until you exercise it. So starting now, I’m going into full-blown aerobic idea-sparking mode. 

Wanna join me? If you do, just register in the combox! And then let’s keep track of what we come up with as the next couple of weeks unfold… 

 Thoughts? 

Janny

The Good, the Bad, the Ugly...

Yes, it has been awhile since I’ve hung out here. But I was gainfully employed—painting my home office. It is now a lovely lilac color on the walls and a lovely white on the trim. Or at least as lovely as I can make it, fighting through all those little nooks and crannies of woodwork around windows and such. I swear I found yet another spot that had gotten “missed” in the painting the first couple times around, and it’s on my list for touching up AFTER I clean the 4,568 paint spots off the floor. (Yes, I have heard of drop cloths, but this is literally just the perimeter of the room, where I didn’t have as much covering due to having to work around the drop cloth-covered furniture in the middle....) :-) Anyhow, that’s almost done—taking the major part of the last three weekends. This weekend, hub and I are supposed to be at a Marriage Encounter, so I may not be “encountering” the rest of the office redo for awhile unless I can s-q-e-e-z-e it in on a weeknight this week. Sheesh! Anyway, some interesting publishing stories have come by, courtesy of Publisher’s Lunch. The first one, I found heartening: Brunonia Barry’s originally self-published debut supernatural thriller THE LACE READER, about a woman who can see the future by reading patterns in lace who returns home to Salem, Massachusetts after her great-aunt goes missing, to Laurie Chittenden at William Morrow, in a major deal, reportedly for $2 million (NY Mag), at auction, by Rebecca Oliver at Endeavor (world English). I think it’s just the “bee’s knees” that someone who’s been able to self-publish then goes on and gets a $2 million deal. Just proves the rule that not EVERY self-published novel dies an undignified death and/or earns disrespect for its author. This also sounds like a horking good story—so ya gotta wonder why it had to go the self-pub route in the first place! I personally wonder what it was that would prompt an editor not to want to read that story. But then again, what do I know? I edit nonfiction. :-) The second bit of news I found was both “bad” and “ugly”—also from PL: JK Rowling and Warner Bros. filed suit in Manhattan yesterday against Michigan's RDR Books over their planned publication in November of a Harry Potter Lexicon, adapted from a web site of the same name. In a release from the studio, Rowling says she may write her own Potter-pedia, saying "I cannot, therefore, approve of 'companion books' or 'encyclopedias' that seek to preempt my definitive Potter reference book for their authors' own personal gain." BBC Yanno, the woman’s already richer than God, as the old saying goes. She hasn’t written this book yet. She may not even ever write this book. But she somehow got her publisher to go in with her on a lawsuit to prevent anyone else from publishing any “companion” books that “seek to preempt” a book that she hasn’t even written yet…just so those authors can’t make any “personal gain” off of something she’s already made so much money on that her grandchildren’s children won’t be able to spend it all. The first smart-aleck gut reaction to this, of course, is for us to ask, “How can I get a deal like that?”:-) But in the final analysis, truth be told, I don’t want my publisher to treat me this way. I would hope they’d have more spine than to allow me to get away with such spoiled-brat selfishness on an off-the-chart-scale. I would hope someone within that company would have the guts to say, “This book is done. It’s blog material. It can’t possibly hurt you. It can only help you overall. And it’s additional work you don’t have to do. Let’s set up a licensing agreement of some kind, sit down, shut up, and count the money.” But they chose not to do that. Why? Legally and technically, of course, they’re well within their rights. But if anything proves the point that what’s “legal” isn’t necessarily what’s “right,” this does. In spades. It’s just a shame that so few people in the publishing business seem to have either common sense or a conscience anymore. Thoughts?

Janny

It's Post #100!

I suppose I've held off posting for a long time simply because this is Post #100 and therefore should be memorable, thought-provoking, stimulating, challenging... Wait a minute. Weren't those the words we were all told were going to apply to our careers? (This space for laughing.) Anyway, I DID have a "Break Time" interlude myself, here. Lots of chocolate, a glass or two of red wine, a walk on the beach, a few Starbucks, some baseball, some football...oh, and yeah, I wrote a paragraph or two of junk that I figure now I'm not going to use anyway. But if nothing else, this getaway convinced me of a few things. Those, I'll elaborate on further in another post. In the meantime, what would you like to see yakked about here in the near future? This blog, ideally, should be a conversation, and ideally, most of the time, about writing...although in October, at least part of the conversation has to be about this as well. :-) But add your thoughts to the mix. What do we need to talk about, during this fall season? I've often thought September should be the beginning of the new year rather than January, for many reasons...we'll talk about those, too, as we go. But for some of this, I'd like to hear your questions, thoughts, concerns, dilemmas. So call your friends over and fill up the combox! We'll chat about what you ask, what I need to vent, and what strikes your fancy... More later, because some of us do, in fact, have to work sometimes. (sigh) Thoughts? Janny P.S. I have actually played with my new basketball, too. And it's awesome!

Break Time!

Maybe your life is going swimmingly right now, and you can’t imagine wanting, much less needing, to take a break of any kind from it all. Maybe you’re at the keyboard even as you read this (which isn’t all that impossible!), and before you read this, your fingers were flying over the keys with ideas popping forth so fast you couldn’t keep track of all of them…and you’re only pausing for a few minutes to read your favorite blog (hint, hint) before you go right back to that wonderful white-hot creative fire, at the end of which time you’ll have written deathless prose of a quality that will amaze even you. OR…maybe not! :-) This brief sojourn, however, isn’t so much about taking a break from work it is about breaking free in a bigger sense. Breaking out. Breaking away from old habits, if you need to and if you feel strong enough to. Breaking out of your shell around other people. Breaking out of the mold your job has put you in or out of the clique that’s getting old and timeworn. Breaking out… …of your own box. Doesn’t that thought just give you tingles? So what have you done in the past, or can you do now, to break yourself free? To take a slightly different path? What could be the first domino in a chain of change that might send you on a whole new journey or—even better—bring you back onto a path you’ve been on before, but got off, and have missed (without even knowing you missed it)? Some things that have broken people free: 1) buying that top-of-the-line bathing suit, even though you don’t have a “bathing suit” figure—and enjoying how great it makes you feel in the pool or the lake 2) jogging outdoors instead of indoors on a treadmill, sniffing the last heady scents of summer on the air—or the first crisp air of autumn 3) swallowing your self-consciousness, marching up to the counter at that exotic coffee or tea place, and ordering something outrageously wonderful without worrying about looking like a schmuck who’s never done it before 4) picking up a sketch pad and a package of crayons or water paints, sitting on the floor, and playing with color 5) walking to church, to a corner store, to the library, to the post office, to a park, even to work—anywhere you can get to without risking major life and limb damage—and talking with all the cats and dogs you see on the way 6) taking a drive in the country, or even just the suburbs, moving fast, with your favorite music cranked up to the point of pain…and singing along 7) trying your hand at something physically challenging and/or new: dancing (ballroom, line, or belly!), handball, kayaking, rock wall climbing, mini-golf, rollerblading, water ballet… …or many, many more. I started thinking about these things, and more, because today I engaged in just such a breaking-free exercise. I used a sporting-goods gift card I earned through a work-fitness program not to get something for one of my kids—which I was tempted to do—and not to plan ahead on a Christmas present buy for someone else, but instead, I used it on myself. For my very own, official NBA, indoor-outdoor basketball. With which I am going to dribble, shoot, and otherwise make a glorious fool of myself in my very short driveway. But because my falling-down garage came with a dilapidated basketball hoop on it…and because for years I’ve promised myself that when I had a basket, I would do this very thing…I decided the time, and the opportunity, had come. Basketballs are pretty reasonably priced, and they’ll even ship them to you, which means I don’t have to shell out gas money and try to finagle car time to go buy the thing…I can have someone else do that rushing around for me. Feels good? You bet it does. I’ll bet you’ve got something like that you’ve promised yourself you’re going to do. And I’ll bet you’ve promised yourself that for a long, long time. And I’ll also bet that, if you look hard at the circumstances of your life, you already have the ways and means of keeping that promise…and doing the thing you’ve been keeping in a “SOMEDAY” file cabinet. Well, today, I encourage you to take out one of those things—and check it off the list. Do it. Make it happen. And when you do, see what else it invites you to do. See how else you can break free.And then see how well you sleep tonight! Thoughts? Janny

Wanted, a little unreality...part 2. Or, Are You a Minister?

At the risk of irritating and/or offending several people who read this blog, I have a point I need to make. My writing is not a ministry. Repeat. Not. A. Ministry. My writing is a business, and a craft, and primarily, a gift and a talent, and I'm grateful for it. But a ministry? Nope. Sorry, Charlie. Not this girl. I've encountered more than one aspiring writer of faith who, when they hear other people bubbling about God “calling” them to do this, or that, or the other kind of writing, actually get a little panicky. Or even a lot panicky. Why? Because they didn't hear any calling. Because their writing isn’t “anointed.” It’s a profession, a craft, a talent, a gift…but it’s not a “ministry.” Which somehow, in a sense, makes it seem to be…not so good. Gertie Goodscribe takes up writing because it’s something she’s always loved to do, she’s good at it, and she wants to keep at it. She’s willing to work hard for the dream of seeing her own books on the shelves of the local bookstore. She’s getting closer to that reality by the day. Then she joins a group of Christian writers, and all of a sudden, the rules change. There, enjoying the writing, even being good at it, even being gifted enough to sell it, isn't what it’s all about. In fact, when the group finds out Gertie’s writing something she’s enjoying immensely, they very tenderly tell her that it’d be a good idea to look that stuff over closer, even with a jaundiced eye if need be, “just in case.” Just in case what? Apparently, to ensure she's not having fun instead of serving God. (The fact that these two things somehow don't seem to go together is, clearly, another story for another day But, I digress.) To Gertie’s dismay, she soon learns within this group that it doesn't seem to be quite Godly to just write what she loves, without thinking about all the readers who may be “looking for salvation” in her stuff. It’s not even quite okay to dream about publishing and selling…because that’s not what’s important. (Never mind that professional acknowledgment is what separates the women from the girls, so to speak; to this group, that doesn’t seem to be the case.) On the contrary: if she’s a real Christian, by golly, she will shun goals of earthly success. What matters is spreading the Gospel, which of course is why God gave her that writing skill to begin with. So her writing had, first of all, better let the world know she’s a Christian. It had better be edifying to somebody, and offending to nobody. And if it happens to sell, she’d better not make too big a deal out of it, because that might also be a worldly desire she will need to confess and surrender… Hearing all these strings attached to both her salvation and her gift, Gertie finds herself tearing up. Which is a not a good thing. Things like this are happening all around us. Things that discourage our sister writers. Things that make them feel “less” when they should be feeling blessed. Which is why my writing is not a “ministry.” And why I truly believe that calling fiction writing a “ministry,” no matter how well-intentioned, is a minefield-strewn trap that can backfire in ways that not only don’t make gains for the Kingdom…but can lose us ground. I’m anointed to tell stories. Many of us are. And there’s nothing wrong with that.Whether or not a clear Gospel message comes out of them will end up being between us, our readers, and the Holy Spirit. Which is, I believe, where it should lie. No, my writing’s not a “ministry.” And, in the context of “ministry” as I’ve seen it presented too often, I hope it never becomes one. Thoughts? Janny

Picks and Pans off the Summer Bookshelf

So what are we reading besides the blog? :-) No, I’m not going to go into the anniversary of 9-11—there’ll be more than enough of that on other channels to keep you busy, if that’s the way you want to spend some time. But for our purposes this morning, it’s time to catch up on the reading we’ve been doing, or trying to do, of late. Tried to read: The Thirteenth Tale, Diane Setterfield. This story starts out promisingly enough, even charmingly, in that quirky sort of way that ‘literary fiction’ likes to call its own. (Whether or not this is considered ‘literary’ is immaterial. If it quacks like a duck…) But then, the endless story of the wild twins and their nonsense goes on, and on, and on, and…I finally said, “Enough, already” to these amoral, maladjusted people and their exploits. Frankly, the 157 or so repetitions of how “special” and “unique” and “remarkable” they were for simply being born unconscious of anyone else’s importance or value in the world (which means—hello?—they were mentally ill!) had exactly the opposite effect: it didn’t make me sympathetic or even fascinated by them as much as it merely made me irritated with everyone around them who enabled them. At that point I knew it was time to climb out of the byzantine, self-indulgent litany and put the book back on the shelf. I understand this is presented as a long, complex, layered story, and I only went halfway through it. However, at the halfway point, I was increasingly getting that sinking feeling one gets when a “highly touted” book is 105 pages’ worth of story told in 400. (“Boys and girls, can you spell ‘overwritten’?”) Those of you who have finished this thing may have a totally different picture of it, but I’ve learned over and over again that when I ignore that sinking feeling, the book ends up hitting the wall anyway. So I saved my arm, the book, and the wall the trouble and put it back into the library. (I was just glad I hadn’t bought it.) Tried to read: Widows and Orphans, Susan Meissner. This really sounded promising, to the point where I did buy it through the book club. I love mysteries, I love suspense, and this was presented as having both…so I dove right in, despite seeing pictures of Asian characters on the cover and thinking, “Oh, no, not something about Chinese adoption…!” Please understand, I have nothing inherently against that kind of story (or the character types involved). But had it been hinted in the book’s presentation that there was a foreign element involved, or that someone had to go halfway across the world to start the plot, I may have passed—only because that’s not first on my list of the kind of story I like to read. And had it been hinted that the heroine, whom one meets first, is less concerned about other people than she is about her own inconvenience…well, suffice to say I felt nothing after the first chapter. I wanted to feel something positive for these characters. I didn’t. In fact, in short order, I got fed up with the heroine, who wavered so close to whining in Chapter One that I didn’t want to spend any more time with her and wait for her to go into full-blown self-indulgence. (Notice a pattern here?) If the reader grits her teeth during the first chapter, for that reader, the writer has failed. ‘Nuff said. Tried to read: Can’t Wait to Get to Heaven, Fannie Flagg. This, once again, sounded charming. I’d never read Fannie Flagg, who sells and sells and sells, so I thought I’d give this one a try. And for a good ways into the book, it’s a cute piece. Lots of humor, lots of down-to-earth characters, absorbing and pretty true to life. And then, the character gets to “heaven”—where she’s only stopping temporarily, mind you—and the thing goes into utter touchy-feely counter-religious “unitarian” nonsense. I won’t spoil the “surprise” for those of you who may want to wade through this—but just be forewarned, the “people you meet in heaven” in this book are liable to make your blood boil. Think George Burns in Oh, God!, only taken to a sacrilegious extreme for the sake of “humor,” and you’ll get the idea. That blatant disrespect for faith, in a book that could have taken a lighter hand, made it impossible for me to read on. I wanted to, but I’ve gotten to the point in my life where when or if an author insults my faith, however innocently it’s “intended,” I get too irritated to want to finish the story. In that respect, yanno, the author has failed…in that, unfortunately, she’s reminded me it’s only a book, and a book in which she’s taking a perverse and screwed-up doctrinal stand. (Call it preaching in reverse, I guess.) Once again, I was glad it was a library book! Lest you completely despair that I liked anything over the past few weeks, however, here are a couple of picks: THE ELEVATOR, Angela Hunt. Three women trapped in an elevator, in the path of an approaching hurricane, soon learn they’re bonded in ways none of them expects. Gritty and compelling, so much so I read it in 24 hours. (Ah, the joy of a weekend with a new book!) The few details about setting that I found confusing and/or unresolved don’t hurt the story overall; it’s a keeper. THE HAUNTED RECTORY, Katherine Valentine. Katherine Valentine is a successful author of the Dorsetville books, which seem to be an attempt at being the Catholic answer to Jan Karon’s Mitford series; I say “seem to be” because I never got into Dorsetville. I tried. I read a few pages into one of the books, stifled a yawn, and put it back. People think “nothing happens” in the Mitford books, that all they are is a presentation of small-town life, so if you just start turning the lens around the street of a small town, it’s automatically fascinating…but suffice to say they’ve got it wrong, and IMHO Valentine’s got it wrong with Dorsetville. But this one? A whole ‘nuther story, literally. Pick this one up for more than the cute play on words involved in the “St. Francis Xavier Hookers” (a group of women who hook rugs, of course!). Pick this one up for a chilling, realistic, and yet hopeful portrayal of Satanic power, of possession, and of all-too-realistic people struggling against the depths of darkness. You may not want to read this one more than once—it’s that kind of book, if you know what I mean—but you’ll probably want to pass it on to others. If I’m advising Katherine, I’m telling her to stick with the St. Francis Xavier hookers for a few more books. They’re great ladies, and Fr. Rich Melo is one of those wonderful things—a true Catholic priest, a man who struggles to believe but who nevertheless, when the chips are down, acts faithfully and consistently as the kind of priest we’d all like to know. The author’s hit a stride here that she’d be well advised to keep on with! More to come—I read way more than I seem to be able to write about, unless I put my mind to mini-reviews as part of this blog. But since I don’t really want to become a book reviewer by trade, I’d love to see you all chime in as well. What are you trying to read? What did you set aside? What’s the latest wall-banger, or what’s got you staying up past your bedtime? Inquiring minds want to know, and fall is prime getting-back-into-the-TBR pile for many of us. Share your finds with the world! Thoughts? Janny