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A Chicago area girl born and bred, I've lived in Mississippi, Montana, Michigan, and...ten years in the wilds of northeastern Indiana, where I fought the noble fight as a book editor. Now, I'm back in Illinois once more...for good. (At least I intend to make it that way!)

Sunday, April 25, 2010

When It's Time to Say, "Enough."

...when you've been working your bloomin' tail off at the day job to get a book out that is your employer's idea, not necessarily your own...and you still take two projects home from work on Friday evening, something you never do...simply because everyone else is pitching as hard as they can and you don't want to make it look like you don't care about your colleagues' work getting out on time.
...when you, and your colleagues, are IN this position because your employer overcommits, rouses up the troops with rah-rah teamwork talk, and praises you all to the skies when you do well, so you naturally behave like children looking for another pat on the head. (Or, conversely, you can't ever shake the lurking fear that if you should ever refuse to do something like a good soldier, that they'll find some other good soldier who WILL do it with a smile, and they'll kick you to the curb.)
...and when you're a writer yourself. A writer, dammit. A novelist. A person who has her own work to do, her own stories to tell, and her own career to think about...but you're too exhausted working for everyone else to think straight, much less accomplish anything toward that end.

So today, I said, "Enough."
Those manuscripts I took home? They're sitting in the exact same place I put them on Friday afternoon. I haven't touched them. I feel guilty about that. I did, of course, check my day job e-mail and found an e-mail from the proofreader, as promised.
I did nothing with it.

That freelance client with whom I spent almost two hours online yesterday while he fed me all kinds of material he wanted me to go over--as soon as possible, preferably the day before yesterday--so he could get his project put together that he really, really wanted to get out...after I wrote and rewrote web copy for him in a lot of freelance hours this week already? When he saw me online and sent me an IM today...I didn't answer.
I said, "Enough."

I've been pushed to the limit these last two weeks, and tomorrow morning, the last minute crunch to get this rush book out for my employer will start anew. I actually heard one of the authors mentioning that they wanted this thing to production before noon. We'll make it, but I won't be able to do another stitch for anyone else to get it there.
So when it came to more demands from my other client...I said, "Enough."
I've done enough work for other people this weekend.

I was working on Chapter Two of a new story. I like this story. I could, eventually, LOVE this story...if I made it a priority and wrote more per day. But when I was working on Chapter Two, I still had my Yahoo Messenger open...and now I feel guilty that I didn't respond to the client.
I closed Yahoo Messenger regardless...and said, "Enough."

Tonight, I'll be speaking in a writers' workshop room, something I could cheerfully do five days a week if someone would invite me to do it.
I want to do this for MONEY, for a LIVING.
I think I CAN do it.
I think it's possible...through different channels.
But when I have a week or two, or a weekend, like this...I wonder if I'll ever get to it.
So it's time to do something radical.
It's time to ask for help.

If you are a person who runs a writing program...
If you know anybody who runs a writing program...
If you know people who have writing magazines, books, clinics, workshops, informal educational facilities, adult learning situations...
If you know of, or have connections to, ANYONE, anywhere, who's looking for a fabulous writer, editor, and teacher to come in and put the rookies through some basic training...
PASS MY NAME ALONG.
I give you permission. Carte blanche. With only one condition.

Do NOT pass me along to people who want me to do this for free. I can continue to do it for free online all I want to...all I've got to do is express the desire to do so at a few places, and I'll have all the free work (and all the overbooking that can happen with that!) that I can possibly want.
I'm not looking for MORE WORK.
I'm looking for someone who'll recognize that, over time, I have contributed an enormous amount to the writing trade, in quite a few people's lives, in various ways, and in various venues...

...and who'll be willing to give me some good old-fashioned honest Coin of the Realm for it.

But I'm sick of breaking my back accomplishing someone else's mission.
It's time to say, "Enough," and find the path that will once again put me in balance.


Any takers?
Janny

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Words to Live By?

From Publishers Lunch:

Portions of Scottish airspace continue to open, though even with the newly-established flying zones London's airports remain closed until at least 6 PM London time today. (Limited trans-Atlantic flights have resumed at other continental airports in such cities as Paris and Amsterdam.) The US Ambassador in London told the White House he estimates that approximately 40,000 Americans are stranded in Britain. When White House spokesman Robert Gibbs was asked if the US would follow the example of the UK's Royal Navy and try to bring citizens home by boat, he replied, "We've got some big ships, but that would be a pretty big ship."

You said it, Admiral. :-)

More later,
Janny

Sunday, April 11, 2010

"Be" Careful What You Ask For...

Wouldn’t you love to have a dollar for every time you mentioned you were a writer and someone said, “Oh, that’s so cool. I’d love to be a writer, too!”?
It’s usually only because of our
Christian charity (or patience, or naïveté—take your pick) that most of us actually play the game that follows. Smiling sweetly, we ask the question to which we probably already know the answer.
“And what are you writing?”
You know what comes next. A stammer, a blush, and a shuffling of feet (figuratively, if not literally). Then, the shy admission, “Well, I haven’t actually written anything yet. But I’ve got this great idea, and someday—!”
Reflexively, you’re probably nodding, because we all know this wannabe is making two key mistakes. First is, of course, relegating anything in your life to “someday.” We all know that day never comes. Second, also obvious, is that to be a writer, you need to write something.
I know, I know. Crazy, but there it is. Go figure.
However, just as the wannabe fools herself into thinking that just having a great idea makes her somehow “creative,” some of us fall into a similar trap in the writing life. Many of us, myself included, have encountered openings for paying gigs (!) in the writing biz and thought, “Wow, it would be so cool to be that."
Only when we start actually doing the job…we don’t like it at all.
How does this happen?
I call it the Bright Shiny Object syndrome. Bright Shiny Objects are everywhere; they’re gigs with great-sounding titles or trappings—but the actual essence of them isn’t bright or shiny. It’s just plain work, sometimes work that—at its heart—is something we actively dislike...or aren’t very good at. In other words, we run smack into the difference between having a title, imagining ourselves as something...and actually doing it. Sometimes, those two things aren’t anywhere near the same.
So, just as the newbie gets snookered into thinking that “being a writer” would be “cool,” we get snookered into some Bright Shiny Object gig that we may regret saying “yes” to but then find it very difficult to get out of.
And it can happen to any of us. Some of us, more than once.
Being a columnist is “cool”—struggling with relentless deadlines, not so much.
Being an editor is “cool”—having really awful writing to fix, when you didn’t buy it in the first place, not so much.
Being a consultant or freelancer is “cool”—having a client stiff you for payment, not so much.
A friend of mine is fond of saying, “Anything you think you want, remember—if you get it, you also get What Comes With It.” Many of us have discovered this to our chagrin; that while we like certain parts of the writing life, certain elements make us cringe.
But it’s doing those things—the stuff that Comes With It—that separates the wannabes from the real deal. A success guru once said, “The only difference between those who succeed and those who fail is that successful people do what unsuccessful people aren’t willing to do.”
In other words, successful people do What Comes With It. They take the grunt work with the glory...the Brussels sprouts as well as the chocolate pie.
So if this writing life isn’t sometimes all it was cracked up to “be” in your mind—if you’re dealing with nagging irritations, blocks, or other obstacles that get in the way of your bliss—you might need to do some honest assessment of what you thought you were getting into. Were there things involved in this career that you didn’t know about before you started writing? Or did you know about them but thought you could get away without doing them—or that someone else could be persuaded to do them for you?
(Bet you’ve found out the hard way about that one.*)
The bottom line is, no matter which step is your next one in this writing life—be careful what you ask for, or what you think you want. Try to learn all that Comes With It before you leap into any opportunity, no matter how much you think you already “know” about it. You may still end up with some egg on your face and need to bow out of the omelet business...but it’s easier to stay out of uncomfortable or ill-fitting situations than to try to get out once you're in them.
And very few things are worse than grabbing for a Bright Shiny Object, only to discover too late that it’s actually a ball and chain in disguise.

Thoughts?
Janny
*Except for the Brussels sprouts. I actually love them, so you can pass them on.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Credibility: Shot.

I started to read a book today…put it down immediately…and I’m not sure I’ll pick it up again.
I was barely two pages into the thing, and it’s a book that, by many accounts, is terrific.

The book is James Scott Bell’s DEADLOCK*. It opens with a compelling scene, involving a 16-year-old who is obviously contemplating suicide. Yep. Strong stuff. And pretty well told from a 16-year-old’s mindset, too, all things considered.

Until I hit the line, “…that song her mama used to sing to her, about that girl named Billie Joe who jumped off a bridge.”

And I said, “Oh, for crying out loud!” and set it aside.
Why?

 
This is clearly a reference to a song that a person of my generation (and hence, this girl’s mama’s generation) would know: Ode to Billie Joe. Bobbie Gentry. 1967. I remember it well. I turned 15 that summer, and the disk jockeys went nuts over that song the first time they played it. It zoomed to the #1 most requested song that night and stayed there for an impressive amount of time. It was a huge national hit. It spawned not only a novelization, but a movie…because it was a song that posed a lot of questions and didn’t answer all of them—thus allowing for all kinds of creative license.

But the one question it did answer, and the one this author got wrong, was who Billie Joe was. Billie Joe McAllister was a boy. The girl,who told the tale of his suicide, was the one narrating the ode. But she didn’t jump off any bridges. Not even once.

And anyone who had more than a nodding acquaintance with this song would have known that.

So if you’re going to use a cultural reference like this, the very least you can do is get it right.

I can hear the protests now. “But, Janny, this book was published in 2002! That’s a long time from when this song was popular! Maybe the character just got it wrong!"

Uhh…no. Her mama used to sing it to her all the time, remember? If your mama sings you a song that often, the very least you know is if the main character is a boy or a girl. And if it’s something you’re remembering at a desperate point in your life, it’s already part of your DNA. You know the thing inside and out.

Unfortunately, the author didn’t. And his editor didn’t. And the moment that became obvious, he shattered his credibility with me.

Harsh? Too picky? I don’t think so. Not within the first few pages of a book. The place where you’re trying to reel in a reader. To get her so involved in the scene and in your story that she can’t put the book down.

In other words, this is a lethal place to make a mistake.

Readers can be very forgiving people. Readers who are also writers can be even more forgiving. We know how hard it can be to construct worlds, to spin spells, to craft a compelling read, and little things here and there don’t bother us. Even I’ll forgive an author a minor gaffe if I’m well into the book, buying the premise, and involved with the characters’ lives.

But I’m not there within the first few pages.

I’m not involved with anyone yet at that point. I don’t know this author, I don’t know his people, and I don’t know—because he hasn’t yet convinced me—that I should believe him. Hence, when he makes a mistake that is easily corrected right at the beginning of his story, he's got me wondering already—not about his characters, but about him. About whether he was misinformed, or just lazy. And mostly, about whether I can trust anything else he says.

There are a couple of lessons here.

One, of course, is to avoid any obvious cultural references. Often, this is the advice that’s safest to follow—because it avoids the problem of “dating” the work, and/or rendering lots of what might be really good lines ineffective because another audience, in another time and place, won’t “get” them.

The second one is, if you’re going to use a cultural reference—and by that, I mean a song, a movie, a TV show, a character in a book or play, or even a brand name product or a real street in a real town—you need to be absolutely fanatical about getting it right.

This means you don’t trust the first source you go to, either. You back up the source with three or four others, if you’re smart. If you really want to get the lay of the land, you go there yourself, you walk the street, and you talk to the natives. You watch that play or that TV show or that movie and make sure the line you quote is actually in it. You listen to the song—or at least read the lyrics.

Above all, you never assume you “know” it.

And never assume your editor “knows” it, either. Because more than one author has had something right in a manuscript and had a well-meaning editor change it so it’s actually wrong.

Have your ducks in a row. Period.
And if you can’t be sure of a cultural reference—maybe think about changing it to something you make up. No one faults writers who make up fake towns, fake streets, and fake TV shows. If anything, that shows you’ve got the extra little bit of creativity to truly build an entire world. And even if most people who know you also know what real town you’re talking about…that part doesn’t matter. Because in the end, it’s all fiction, you can’t make a mistake unless you forget your own details…but that’s a whole ‘nuther problem, one that’s solved with a tad more organization. :-)

Unfortunately, screwing up a cultural reference as popular as this one isn’t so easily fixed.

I don’t know if I’m going back to that book, or that author.
So don’t let this happen to you.
I’d hate to leave a horking good story on the shelf simply because you lost me at “hello."

*And yes, I could have omitted the real author’s name and the real book name…but there’s no point to anonymity, is there? It doesn't help a reader. So don’t give me grief about it.

Thoughts?
Janny

Sunday, March 07, 2010

What Am I DOING?

Let’s face it. Some questions, you never stop asking. And some you should never stop asking. How am I with God? is one of those questions.

But another one of those questions is also the title of this post. It’s something I think we, as writers, especially need to ask ourselves. And sometimes ask, and ask, and ask again.

Because if we stop asking it, we can get way off track.

Case in point: my recent posts about being sidetracked into writing things that I didn’t necessarily start out to write, didn’t necessarily believe in, and didn’t find I could carry off for any sustained amount of time. The “inspiration” for such projects tends to flare, get fed by others’ enthusiasm, and then fade when one is by oneself with one’s Muse wondering How I Got Into This Predicament, Anyway.

And today, I caught myself on the edge of doing it again. But I think I’ve pulled myself back in time. :-)

I have a story I’ve just begun. I have 15 pages or so, not counting a couple of pages of scrap and/or material that may go in another spot. (When I write, I always, always, always have a “scrap” folder. ‘nuff said.) These 15 pages started out very businesslike. Very clear. Very cogent. Very competently written.

But they weren’t “story.” At least not of the kind I was trying to tell.

My crit partner got a hold of them, suggested things to make them muchmuch better. After I stopped banging my head on the desk, I rewrote them muchmuch better as a result.

But this story’s still a baby story. I don’t know all of it yet. I do have a “climax” scene in mind for it, what the whole thing’s going to “point” to. But what I don’t have…yet…is a middle. Or a firm idea of word length. Or even, heaven help me, any kind of idea how to “categorize” it.

And that’s what almost got me into big, Muse-bruising trouble.

Because, you see, there’s this wonderful contest I was thinking of entering with this story. I could do it, if I wanted to. I’ve got the contest-length entry of 15 pages, and given a few more hours of work, I could come up with the optional one-page synop that an entrant can include to give the judges a little idea of where the story goes.

The only problem is, this idea originally came to me as a short story. This may be God’s way of keeping me creative on the smaller bursts of energy I have of late; the jury’s still out on that matter. But that aside, this particular story, as I know it right now, isn’t broad enough in scope or complexity to be the basis for a long book. Maybe it’s a novella. That’s certainly possible.

Only this contest I was thinking about doesn’t have a novella category. It’s longer books, or it’s nothin’.

So what did the Wise Catholic Writer Chick do when she realized that dilemma?
Did she smile, shrug, and tell herself that when the time was right, she’d look for a short story contest or a novella contest at which to aim this work eventually?
Uhhh...not exactly.

What I did—which I still don’t understand!—was start thinking of ways I could “expand the word length.” And find a category for it. And find the best judging team for it. And...

I started thinking of deeper places the story could go, places that were deeper than anything I’d ever had in mind for it in the first place.

Not more emotional, mind you—the story as I’ve conceptualized it so far is gonna have plenty of emo for the taking. But just places that were more complicated. More detailed.

I started thinking in terms of adding characters, putting in a “way the story can come full circle.” A way extra people could get involved way beyond the scope of what I originally dreamed the story could be. (I literally did get the concept of this story from a dream…just so we’re clear.) Before long, I was mulling over a connection from the heroine’s past, and then a hunky guy who could challenge her...

...and my little short story started turning into a romance novel.
And I started thinking in terms of “how many plot elements” I’d need to make it 50K words.

Then, suddenly, I hit a wall.
Because in my heart of hearts, I realized...
I’m not writing a 50K word romance novel.”

Or, as my crit partner’s fond of saying, “That’s not what happened!"

I realized this sometime this afternoon. When I was in the 3-p.m. doldrums of a Sunday on which I felt tired and not at all willing to sit down and “try to come up with more” for this story, to “try to polish” an entry for the end of March, to “try to figure out how to make this” into...whatever kind of box I thought it might be fun to fit into.

Something in me finally rebelled, and said no.
And I heard a little voice whisper, Writing isn’t supposed to be “trying to come up with more.”
Writing’s supposed to be...creating. It’s supposed to be...telling what’s written on one’s heart.

And I very nearly lost sight of that again for the sake of a blasted contest.

If I hadn’t been suffering from fatigue...I would have surrendered yet another story idea to a grinder from which it might never have recovered.

I would have sat down and “tried to make” this story something that it might not be, instead of just writing from the crazy, wonderful warm feeling I took away from the dream and wanted to put down in words.

That, ladies and gentlemen, would have been wrong.
And it would have broken my spirit and my heart…yet again.
And I would have wondered why I couldn’t bring myself to finish yet another story.
And I would have doubted my ability...yet again...when ability isn’t the issue at all.

But thank heaven, I was tired enough, over-“thought" enough, and daunted enough by the prospect of trying to do all those “usual things” that, instead of sucking it up and being a good solider, I just looked in the mirror and said, “You idiot. What are you doing? Why pressure yourself to do something like this for a deadline again, something that’s not even what you started out to do in the first place? Why don’t you just write what you want to write…and then see what happens?”
There are times it’s good to be an idiot...if you catch yourself before you go too far with the idiocy in question. This is one of those times.

So I ain’t gonna stop asking that question—every time I catch myself stepping onto the idiot course—until the answer makes me smile again.
And I’m gonna let the enchantment come first...before I polish it, box it up, and get it ready to be shown off.
It has to come in that order, or it ain’t gonna work for me.

And in the long run, that’s how it’s supposed to be, anyway.

Thoughts?
Janny

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

10,000 Words to Say "Hello"

The best answer I ever heard to the question “Why don’t you write short stories instead of novels?” was, “I can’t write short. It takes me 10,000 words to say hello.”

Some of you out there are laughing—and clicking on another screen to open a blank document and start another short, snappy piece that you’ll complete in a few days, if that long, and prepare to pitch somewhere. The longest time periods you spend in writing are those spent waiting for editors or publishers to say yea or nay.
However, I suspect more of you are laughing…and nodding.

 You’re not alone. You know it. I know it.

Now, to a person, professional freelancers will tell you “short” is key. That people lack time to read long pieces, for one reason…and for another reason, the more “short” pieces you have out at any given time, the more possibilities you have for someone to buy one of those pieces, or several of them, and give you more work…doing more short pieces. Hence, you fatten your bank account in a shorter period of time, you become self-supporting, and all those other wonderful things.

While those of us who write lushly detailed, lovingly crafted novel-length stories…well, we work a lot of other day jobs. Most of us would love to be able to support ourselves with our writing, but without learning how to change hats and write lots of short stuff, we don’t reasonably expect to do so. It’s a shame, but it’s a reality.

Some of us do both kinds of writing and succeed. I think most of us can have modest success with a foot in both camps. But there are also those of us who, when left to our own natural devices, just…write long. As in, write everything long. And I, I have to admit, am a repeat offender in this category…because even my blog posts are longer than the “experts” tell me they’re “supposed” to be.

Did you know an “ideal” blog post is under 600 words?

600 WORDS? How do they expect me to say ANYTHING in 600 FREAKING WORDS???

(Sorry. Got a little bit…er…emotional there for a minute.)

So the question remains: why do some of us naturally “write long”?

In my case, I think that natural tendency has a couple of origins.

First, I love words. I love working with them, tossing them in the air and catching them, finding new ones, learning the meanings of words I’ve seen but never really caught onto, figuring out words form contexts…and word origins? Don’t get me started. There’s a reason dictionaries have the etymology listed next to each word, sometimes in agonizing detail for those of you who only want the definition, thanks, or the correct way to spell or use the thing; the reason for all the Middle English derivations of the Old French adaptation of the original Latin? People like me. :-)

The second reason is connected to my personality, which by nature is both observant and creative, both down-to-earth and contrarian. Meaning?

Someone tells me something they claim is a “fact”—and I say, “How do you know this? Where did you get this information? What do you have to back it up?”

Someone presents a character acting a certain way—and I say, “Why? Why this action, and not another one? What’s brought this on? What motivates this?”

...and so on, and so forth.

Without a doubt, I believe in simple, clear communication. But “simple” and “clear,” by my way of thinking, are not synonyms for “brief.” True communication gives the reader everything he or she needs to know—without skimping, without making unfounded assertions, and without leaving the reader thinking, “But wait. What about—?”

Hence, when I write…I write not only through a subject, but I touch on the fringes of it and the peripherals as well. Because I hate loose ends.

You can see, then, how this style of wanting to cover all bases is, on its face, in conflict with “brief.” For me, the shorter I have to make something, the more convinced I am that Something Important To The Story, Dammit, will be sacrificed…and I’ll have some reader scratching her head saying, “Well, it wasn’t a bad story, but I wish she’d have explained_________ better. I didn’t get that."

Me? I don’t ever want a reader not to “get” my story because I didn’t tell her enough about the details of it.

Just like I don’t want my blog readers not to “get” my point because I don’t explain it completely enough.

Painfully obvious is this, I should think, by now. :-)

So can I write short? Yehhhhs...I can. When I have to.
Is it harder to write short? Yehhhhs…without a doubt. Not so much because when I write short, I have to distill, condense, and narrow my subject matter ‘til it (and I) want to scream...

But because no matter the length of the blog post, the short story, the e-mail, or the novel I write…I will inevitably think of more detail I could have said to make it even better. To make it sing. To make it clear as ice crystals on a pristine lake.
To get it right.

And getting it right is, in the end, what all those words are about. For me, anyway.

Thoughts?

Janny

Monday, March 01, 2010

Quote For the Day

To be let down by the Church is not a reason to leave her, anymore than to be let down by your family is a reason to give up family life and move to a desert island.

--Fr. Benedict Groeschel, in Arise from Darkness: What to Do When Life Doesn't Make Sense

More to come!
Janny

Saturday, February 27, 2010

A moment's comfort on a snowy morning

Just listening to various tunes on the iPod this morning and thinking about the fact that at least one of these artists I listen to, Isaac Guillory, is no longer with us. On this, his birthday, I said a prayer for the repose of his soul...and hoped that, as he made his musical way through life, he found peace with God as well.

(Ditto for Dan Fogelberg, whose birthday it is not...but whom I'm thinking about in the same vein.)

Many of us who trust Christ as our salvation live, to one degree or another, in a shadow of sadness for loved ones--and let's face it, these guys are "loved ones" to fans, even if we never met--whose salvation we're not sure of. Especially in the case of famous people, if we're not in their inner circle, we really have no way of knowing what the states of their souls are. And for those of us who want every decent musician in heaven that we can get :-), this can cause us a small pang of wishing, hoping...yet fearing the worst.

But if it's any comfort, maybe we don't have to fear that worst quite as much as we think. Because one of the things that Our Lord said to St. Faustina during His many talks with her was that, at the moment of each of our deaths, He reaches out His mercy to us. Not once. Not twice. But three separate times. He gives souls three separate appeals, three offerings, three chances, to take His mercy onto themselves and be covered in His glorious grace.

So if that is, in fact, true...and some of these souls desired that approach...we can rest assured, Jesus made it. He said so, and He cannot lie.

If this isn't reason for hope and rejoicing, maybe nothing else will ever be. But it's a heck of a good thing to think about, whenever we're saying prayers for those loved ones about whom we won't be sure until eternity.

We have every reason to hope that these beloved musicians--and many more of our loved ones with them--recognized that wonderful face of Jesus, that smiling mercy, and appropriated it all the way to glory. And that He welcomed them with open arms.

How merciful is our God!

Hope always,
Janny

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Enough spamming, already!

To all the "Anonymouses" out there who want to sell me something, advise me that they have a great offshore pharmacy that can get "drugs I need" at cost, tell me about the Next Big Home Business, or pitch any other product, service, or obscene suggestion...


BUG OFF!

I don't know WHY, precisely, I'm getting these spam comments in the box. I've had blogs for something like four years now, and until a few months ago, I NEVER got Spam in my combox.
Now, the only comments I GET anymore are Spam.
I could, of course, turn commenting OFF for awhile. That might deter 'em. But who wants to do that?
Who wants to be held hostage at the point of malicious e-mail pens?


Just remember this, all you abovementioned pests:
You're being reported, every single last one of you, to your ISPs.
Yeah, I know, that doesn't scare anyone anymore. But it might keep you busy finding new URLs to spam from, and in that case, at least it'll keep you off MY blog for the time it takes you to find more aliases. Hey, anything that works...right?
The rest of you? Yanno, those five people who actually read this?
Start commenting, already. If we fill up the box, those pests can't get in. :-)


Janny

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Rejection Sucks.

There. You have it in a nutshell!
The book of my heart has been turned down by yet another agent. Dare I say this guy was a dream agent? Yup. I dare say that. And I will. I will not mention him by name--those of you who know me, know who it was. And I will continue to read his blog and think highly of him. I honestly, truly thought this'd be his kind of book. Apparently, I was wrong.
So rejection still sucks.
HOWEVER...

This is my first foray back into the marketplace in a long, loooooong time.
And while it's not the first foray for this book, in all its forms, in a long time...still, it's maybe the fifteenth rejection I've had on it. Maybe the 20th. Something along those lines. If I really, really push it and include all the versions that have been written between 1990 and now...maybe it's 35 or so rejections it's gotten.
Some of those have been on previous plots that bore no resemblance to this version, even though it's the same characters and the same basic relationship.
Some of those have been on stuff I thought--and, apparently, some editors also thought--was VERY CLOSE. This is, after all, the book for which I have received by far the most detailed and thoughtful rejections.
And then there was the one today. Three lines by e-mail.

And it sucks.
But it's not nearly scratching the surface of how many more times I can try to get this into just the right person's hands. And I believe that right person is out there.
What does that right person look like?

The right person for this book is, ideally, an agent who can get me a good deal with a brick-and-mortar, real-old-fashioned-book publisher. One whose books you can take in the bathtub without worrying about shorting the book out. :-)
Ideally, that agent will love my particular style enough that s/he will ask me, "How much more of this you got?" Or, at least, "Is all your stuff like this?"
(Now, I'm aware that that question can be equally bad and good...and this could be either. I wouldn't care. Because if the agent's interested in how I write, even if s/he doesn't like THAT BOOK...or wants something else of a slightly different character...that could still very well be the agent for me.)

The right person for this book is, then, an editor who will champion it.
And who will work with my agent to give me a respectable advance and respectable contract.
And by "respectable," I'm talking market average. There is such a thing, and I haven't gotten it yet. But a good agent, and an editor on fire for my material, will be able to arrive at that for me.

The right person, next in line, is the marketing person who gets a hold of the blurb, maybe even a synop or a capsule of it, and says, "Whoa. I know just the stores where this'll sell like hotcakes."
Then the next right person is a distributor who's been sold on the book from someone--either me, or my publisher, or my agent, or someone--whom they trust.
The next right person is the reader who'll pick it up and not be able to stop turning the pages.

And then...we'll see who all the rest of the right people will be.

But to get to those other right people, I've got to find the right agent or editor FIRST.
And that is a process that's going to take a LOT more submissions than I've already done.
Even though the submission process is grueling.
Even though the rejections suck.
Even though sometimes, one wonders if you're the only person in the world who loves your story.

Recently, I read a candid Q&A on an agent blog between a discouraged writer who had a book, much like this one...that had, shall we say, been through the mill a time or two.
They'd picked up something like 35-40 rejections, and they'd started to wonder if maybe they should just put this one in a drawer and forget about the whole exercise.
Now, while there's nothing to prevent this writer from writing other things, that's not exactly what they were talking about, or coming from. They were wondering if they'd reached the point yet where it was clear that they just "didn't have it." That their writing wasn't up to snuff, whatever that was, for whatever reason.
And were they just fooling themselves about whether they could actually do this writing thing.

The agent's response absolutely knocked me out of my chair.
She said something along the lines of, "35 to 40 rejections is NOTHING. You haven't even begun to pitch this work yet. If you haven't gotten 200 rejections, there's no sense giving up yet, and you're nowhere near that stage. Get back on the horse, polish, revise if you need to, but get it out there again. You're on the tip of the iceberg. It's way too soon to pull in anchor now."

I sat there at my computer and mouthed, "200 REJECTIONS?"
And then I grinned.
Because, you see, all editors and agents always tell you, "Keep trying, keep submitting, what doesn't work for one might work for another of us..."
But I've never before heard one put a number on it.
And even if that number was a little exaggerated...I have a feeling it wasn't by much.
Nor was the agent being sarcastic. She was being perfectly, bluntly honest.
As she put it, in so many words, this is a numbers game. You have to keep at those numbers. You have to keep trying, and trying, and trying. Because 35-40, even out of the small world of publishing, is still only barely scratching the surface of the possible people who could take your work on, love it, and pay you for it...or make sure you get paid very well for it, and several more to follow.

So it's one thing to say, "Persistence is the key." It's another thing entirely to look at a number like that and say, "Damn, I ain't even begun yet. I'm getting back out there." And when you really think about it, what's an agent do every day but write submission letters for stuff that she hopes someone will like as much as she does?
And she has to read a lot of those "sucky" notes, too. Multiplied by however many authors she's chosen to take on.

I do admit, this isn't a new concept to me, although the number in black and white was. Anytime you ever try to sell ANYTHING, you invariably are trained by one of those chirpy types who says, "You gotta love the 'no's, because with every 'no,' you're getting that much closer to 'yes.'"
Most of us know that's not REALLY true. You can have 10,000 noes and not get a yes.

And most of us know you don't REALLY "love" the "noes." You hate them. After awhile, you just want someone, somewhere, to extend a "maybe."
Most of us won't have either the intestinal fortitude or the patience for 10,000 noes. Which means that only the true hardheaded masochists will keep at it, will keep learning, will keep refining themselves...until the yeses come a tad more often. In the meantime, sometimes that can extort a terrific cost.
So this isn't that kind of thinking, either.
Clearly, you don't want to keep doing the same thing and hoping for a different result.

But submitting ISN'T doing the same thing over and over.
With every new pitch, you're talking to a new person.
You're selling the book a little differently.
You're trying to get a handle on how they tick, what about your work is gonna turn them on, and how you can persuade them that you're their dream author, just waiting to be plucked from the tangled vines of wannabes.
And that, my dears, is what pitching is about.
Not about tossing a few names in the air out of a few hats and saying, "Well, my market is ____ number of potential publishers. So once they all turn it down, I'm toast."
That's not true. It's never been true. It never will be true.
Not before you hit that 200 mark or so.
Then you can think about finding some other venue by which to get it out in the marketplace.
Then you can think about giving it away for free.
Then you can think about self-publishing or the like.

But until then? Heck, it might suck...but it's a game you can play to win, if you set your mind to it.
And yeah, you probably need a little touch of hardheaded masochist to keep at it.
And you need a boatload of patience.
And a truckload of belief in your own ability to DO this thing.
And that's not easy to maintain.

But before I will send this book to an e-publisher, to a small press, to anyone who doesn't pay an advance, or to a self-pub venture, I'm gonna give this baby WAY more chances.
It's just started to walk. I ain't putting it in a motorized wheelchair yet.
Nor is my career there.

But rejection still sucks. So let's see if I can find a way to END it...soon.

Thoughts?
Janny

Thursday, January 21, 2010

In the Throes....

...of finally getting back "in the saddle" of writing again.  Yes, I'm working to polish a submission for an agent, and yes, technically it's old work.

Only not really.

Recently, I read a tale of persistence about a writer who worked on a book for years. Apparently MANY years. She wrote, and submitted, and got rejected, and revised, and sent to contests, and had critques, and submitted, and got more rejections...and so on and so forth. During this time period, many, many people told her to give up the dream entirely. She clearly wasn't making it, so why keep banging her head against the wall? Others told her she didn't have to give up on the dream of writing, just try on a more "realistic" one; she needed to put away the book with so many miles on it, and write something else entirely.

But this advice, she ignored.

She kept working on this book of her heart. The story she needed to tell. The book only she could write.

And eventually, it did sell. I wish I could remember if it sold for some fabulous sum of money, or got her fame and fortune, or put her on Oprah, or any of the rest. But it doesn't matter that I didn't remember that, because the kind, or degree, of success truly wasn't the point of this particular story. This particular story was about whom you listen to in your creative ventures. What advice you take, which you ignore. What you keep on with, despite all the rejections and the "realistic" suggestions that could make you successful...but not bring the fullness of your heart to the printed page. And deep inside, you realize that the fullness of your heart on the printed page is the only thing that makes it worth being a writer at all.

This story is that book for me. Unlike this woman in the account I've read, I've wavered from my story's path. I've taken some of that well-meaning advice. I've tried writing other things. I've written whole books' worth of other things. I've even had some success with those other things...to a point.

But this is the book that's written from my blood on the page.
This is the book that only I can write.
This is the story that only I can tell in this particular way.
This is the story I HAVE to write. And write. And keep writing...until it's out there.
It is the book that has reignited the Muse.
And I'm not letting go of it until it blesses me.

God help me, I can do no other.
And I am having more fun than anyone has a right to. :-)

Thoughts?
Janny

Monday, January 18, 2010

Fake Holidays

Yanno, if they're gonna make up fake holidays, the least they can do is decide to give us ALL the day off.
As it stands now, I just want the holidays that my bank, school system, and post office have. That means I ought to be working, oh, say, about three out of every four weeks, right?

Don't get me started on whether it's important to observe this particular fake holiday, either.  Suffice to say that better we should celebrate Jackie Robinson's birthday, or Rosa Parks', than this one.

'nuff said. On to real work which is, of course...the writing.

Thoughts?
Janny

Tuesday, January 05, 2010

Where I Dream of Going This Spring...

Here.
Once I sell a book or two, maybe?

But it is the stuff of dreams, IMHO...

Janny

Sunday, January 03, 2010

The New Start

Anyone who loves college football as much as I do loves January 1...as she loves many of the games leading up to January 1, and occasionally, even some of the ones after it. (Don't get me started on the BCS-let's-extend-the-Bowl-season-from October-to-March stuff they have going now. Just don't. :-)) Even though the BCS's way to pick who goes to the National Championship game is mystical, mythical, and largely stupid, the fact remains that those of us who love to spend our Christmas aftermath watching a bunch of young, strapping men beat up on each other on a football field have more than ample opportunities to do so, especially on New Year's Day. So there's one reason to love January 1.

But there are others. They're called resolutions.

Yeah, I know. It's become quite out of style to make New Year's resolutions anymore...because "we all just break them anyway." And I freely admit that in years past, once New Year's and Epiphany were behind us, I generally considered the rest of the month a colossal wasteland. I've even nicknamed the way I feel in January the "Janny-weary doldrums," because I generally fall into a funk in which I don't wanna do nothin', I don't wanna talk to nobody, and I would just prefer to curl up on my bed with a pile of novels and ignore all those dutiful things like going to school/work or other responsible stuff. (Yes, this has been going on for a long time. Trust me.) There's baggage that goes with January, mostly relationship stuff...and then, too, there's always the cold, cold weather. And I'm even a person who likes winter, so that should tell you how far down into the well I truly fall come the aftermath of the festivities that precede it.

But this year is different.

There's a certain fatalistic sensation to pulling out that final stop and realizing that the thing you feared so terribly will probably not kill you after all; you start feeling suddenly relieved. Like you have nothing to lose. And, in a way, a little giddy.

And this is a good thing. Because this will nudge you to do other good things.
Like starting to truly weed out the paper monster in the basement.
Like starting to frame the way you communicate with others in a totally different way.
Like blogging more often. :-)
And, in my case, like seriously looking at the last five years of my life, knowing that on some deep, fundamental levels, they didn't work like they were supposed to, and deciding to do things differently.

I don't know exactly how I'm going to change things, yet. But there's even a nice sort of anticipation to that not knowing--because whatever I do, I'm not hidebound or forced to do things the same way I did them before. Yes, I am terribly virtuous to get up at 5:45 to walk--but I'm also exhausted by it. Yes, I'm terribly organized to have a housekeeping routine--but it has to change, or all I'll get done are the very basics, and the creeping disorder of bigger tasks that need to be tackled among the routine things will cripple and depress me. Yes, I'm receiving kudos and praise for how I do the day job--but I know in my heart of hearts that that's not all there is for me. I'll need more--or, maybe, less.

Because, quite frankly, trying to do ever and ever more is just plain impossible. I'm at a time and point in my life where things are supposed to have been getting easier. The fact that I've never spent a harder time in my life than these past couple of years...says to me that somewhere, I got off track.

But the good news is, there's no time like the present to change tracks. Change trains. Or even hop on a boat and leave the old track behind entirely.

I don't know exactly where to start yet, which bugs me. I like synopses. I like outlines. I like plans. I like to know what's happening next. And I don't. I just know that I can't keep doing what has been happening for the past few years. That way lies madness, illness, or at least heartbreak.

And I don't want to be responsible for that kind of damage anymore. After all, it's January...and we all know how I feel about responsibility in "Janny-weary."

Stay tuned. I have no idea what's coming next.

Janny

Friday, January 01, 2010

After Seeing JULIE AND JULIA...

...a movie I really did want to see, I have two lingering impressions:

1) Okay, Hollywood. I get it. You thought Senator McCarthy was the Antichrist (or you would think so, if you believed in Christ in the first place), and you think much the same of conservatives, especially Republicans. I GET IT. You can stop slapping me across the face and telling me what a godless, unenlightened pig I am for being one.

Oh, wait a minute. That's right. You're the godless ones. Never mind.

On second thought...I've got an even better idea. In the true spirit of making amends to victims of arrogance and thoughtless discrimination, just give me a rebate of a dollar or two on my ticket price or movie rental fee for every line you insist on shoehorning into an otherwise delightful story in order to perpetuate your own little agenda. Imagine...making reparations to real victims (people who think they're getting entertainment and instead get insults and propaganda), and putting your actual cash money where your (smart aleck) mouths are, for a change. 

Yeah, I ain't holding my breath on that one.

2) I'm going to blog way more often, way more regularly. :-)

Bottom line: great movie, despite the needless politicizing. So see the movie--but see it for as close to free as you can.  :-) Mustn't dirty the hands of these ideological purists with any more filthy American dollars than we have to. I know they just hate when that happens.

Janny

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

What Is It About Groups of Three?

...Just an observation.

I've been editing a lot of work recently in which authors have an absolute obsession with series of three. Case in point: ". . . family structure, societal factors, and economic circumstances made us gravitate toward the positive side of an arduous situation."


This is just one of many, many, MANY (now they've got me doing it) lists like this. What I don't understand is WHY? Do authors not realize that endless series of threes like this produce their own rhythm when read? Do they not realize that, after endless paragraphs with endless series, the rhythm they've produced is soporific? Do they not realize that this will, in fact, induce their readers to read and forget the text almost immediately--if they don't fall asleep first?


I suppose I should count my blessings. I just finished editing one book where the author not only indulged in endless lists of three, but also branched out into other varieties of lists with many MORE parts to them, lists that were in themselves repetitive. (Think, "apples, oranges, pineapples, peaches, grapes, figs, and various fruit salad components of other kinds..." etc., itemized EVERY TIME one needs to mention fruit.) After awhile, I started looking around for someone swinging a watch and murmuring, "Look deep into my eyes...you are getting very, very sleepy...."


So what is it with groups and series? Are authors so afraid of Not Including Everyone and Everything that the alternative is writing prose that sounds like a book of grocery lists? Anyone have a thought on this? (or three? or a series?)


(heh heh)
Janny

Monday, December 07, 2009

Temporarily Out of Order

For those of you wondering where I've been lately, blame my Dell Latitude 620...the second Dell machine in the past six months that I've had a keyboard go out on. Is there a problem with Dell laptop keyboards?????

So until that thing is fixed, my blogging activities will be severely curtailed, even more than they have been already. Of course, with Christmas baking to attend to, this may be a blessing in disguise...depending on how much you like cookies. :-)

Anyway...in the meantime...GO BEARCATS! (heh heh)

Janny

Friday, November 20, 2009

Can YOU Spot the Counterfeit Christian?

Ladies and gentlemen: a moment, please, while we interrupt this normally perky, upbeat blog for some rabble-rousing. (Yeah. Okay. Point taken. :-)

This last weekend, I attended my local ACFW chapter meeting. Lots of great Italian food, lots of good information, but most markedly—lots of love. Hugs, genuine concern—like I’ve seldom felt from “smiley Christians” in other circumstances—and lots of genuine celebration for each other. I will freely say that, out of all the writers’ groups I’ve been affiliated with, this is one of the most loving I’ve ever experienced.

Yet when it was over, in the clear light of day, a little naggy voice returned to the back of my head. A voice that’s been clutching at my proverbial sleeve for a long, long time. A voice that says, “Technically, my dear, you don’t belong in this group…and you’re really in there under false pretenses.”

Let me explain.

Years ago, RWA had a bit of a kerfuffle when they began recognizing “inspirational” fiction as a category for the Golden Hearts and RITAs. A Jewish author, no doubt speaking for a great many people, objected strongly to calling the category “inspirational”—because in essence, the word had been pre-defined to mean “evangelical Protestant Christian religious fiction.” She maintained that a true “inspirational” category would have room for Jewish fiction, Muslim fiction, Wiccan fiction, New Age believers…and the whole spectrum; that by accepting the delineation that “inspirational” would only mean “evangelical Christian faith as an element of the story,” RWA was in effect lying to its membership.

Subsequently, the guidelines for the category were written in such a way that “religious faith” was the wording involved; I don’t know if they’re still that way, as I’m out of RWA loops nowadays. But the reality of the situation was—and maybe still is—that if you sent a Wiccan romance to the inspirational category of the Golden Heart, you might have a hard time getting a judging panel to evaluate it fairly; you might even get some nasty feedback from the contest coordinator herself.

So, in effect, RWA may still be lying to its constituency...in much the same way that “Christian” publishing lies about who it represents. And it’s really starting to bother me that by belonging to ACFW, I’m in effect saying that that’s all right.

It’s a cruel irony that ACFW is such a loving place; that they’re one of the few writers' groups I can belong to where the name of Jesus will not be mocked. That’s a good thing. But what’s not so good is that sometimes, ACFW seems to stand for “Anything-But-Catholic Fiction Writers”...and that’s something that’s started to convict me on a personal level. Because, frankly, what am I doing in an organization that has that attitude?

I can get a lot of “information” from ACFW meetings—but in many cases, it’s information that does me as a writer no good. I can hear about publishers’ guidelines—but I can’t meet those guidelines without writing something I don’t believe in. I can pitch work to “Christian” agents and editors at ACFW conferences—but, with very few exceptions, most of those “Christian” editors and agents won’t want to see my work, or will demand that I change it so their “audience won’t be offended.”

Yet I’m a Christian…and so is their audience. So HOW CAN I OFFEND THEM?

Simple. I may offend their perceived audience by BEING, AND WRITING, A DIFFERENT TYPE OF CHRISTIAN THAN THE NARROW BAND THEY HAVE PRE-DEFINED AND DECLARED TO BE “RIGHT.”

Yes, it’s wrong. But it's more than that: it's a lie. The “Christian Booksellers Association” moniker that is the actual meaning of what we refer to as the “Christian market,” in effect, doesn’t represent many Christians AT ALL. It represents only one PORTION of Christianity: the conservative, evangelical, Protestant side of Christianity. Which means it can hardly, by ANY stretch of the imagination, call itself representative of the "Christian market." As for writing Catholic characters in these "Christian" books—even in historical situations where Catholic would be all the Christianity there IS? Good luck trying that one. It’s liable to hit you in the back of the head on the walk home from the post office.

For an illustration of how ridiculous this attitude is, let’s consider a secular hypothesis.

Imagine, if you will, a newspaper publisher marketing its paper as “the definitive American newspaper” when its entire market and contributor base is limited to the population of Naperville, Illinois. Naperville residents are Americans—but are they the DEFINITION of Americans? I think common sense would tell us, “Well, no, not hardly.”

So, considering that as a reasonable assumption, suppose that someone born and raised in the city of Chicago decides they’d like to write for “the definitive American newspaper.” They certainly qualify as an American. They probably qualify as an American with a much broader range of experience than a person who only knew, lived in, ate, slept, drank, and was educated solely in his hometown of Naperville. Since the city of Chicago’s settlement predates most of Naperville, you might even say they could consider themselves to be “more authentic” Americans than even the Napervillians were. But when this writer submits his story (which by the way, is not insulting in any way to Naperville!), it’s not only summarily rejected, but the “definitive American newspaper” tells this author in no uncertain terms that “you don’t represent Americans with this. Naperville is America, and if you don’t write about it, you’re not writing about Americans at all.”

How would we feel about this? What would we say? Would we take it lying down? Would we give that “definitive American newspaper” a moment’s credibility?

So then why, in heaven’s name, do we continue to allow CBA (and “Christian” arms of secular) publishers to get away with calling their products CHRISTIAN fiction, when they have editorial guidelines that force at least part of us to compromise, to water down OUR faith, in order to fit in? And why does ACFW, in its close relationships with said publishers, allow this exclusion of so much of Christianity to go unchallenged?

It’s time more of us step up to the plate and call on CBA (or any other alleged "Christian") publishers to quit the absolute hypocrisy of not allowing Catholic characters and plots and writers to be portrayed positively, or even accurately, in their lines of allegedly "Christian" fiction. Either that, or we need to respectfully insist that they change their name to Evangelical Conservative Protestant Booksellers of America, and demand equally that “Christian” publishers do likewise with their “Christian” lines. Choosing to ignore—and to refuse to publish characters who belong to—the only Christian Church in town for 1,500 years of recorded history, yet still defining themselves as representative of quality “Christian”writing, is almost as laughable as RWA’s claim to be "author advocates." Neither is true, and it's time to stop pretending and lying about it.

We’ve talked about this before, as individuals. We’ve lamented it. We’ve complained about it. We’ve tried to change it. And we’re getting NOWHERE by doing so. It’s clear, therefore, that individual authors railing against the pubs or bewailing the plight will do nothing. But maybe, there could be strength in numbers. If ACFW accepts Catholic members, and it does, could it not object to their faith not being a legitimate part of the Christian fiction printed page?

It’s not just Catholics who suffer in this climate, of course. As the "Christian" publishing world stands now, it doesn’t even represent Protestant Christian belief in all its varieties and possibilities. (There's a reason that Jan Karon didn't pitch her Episcopal rector to a Christian fiction house first. ) But Catholicism is certainly the largest and most objectionable trigger for most of these houses—for no discernible reason except fear. Yes, some people may have issues with the Catholic Church; but so what? The Amish have a largely works-based religion—surely something abhorrent to most evangelicals. Yet Amish fiction has been embraced as “Christian,” when many aspects and behaviors of that faith are more “off the wall” than Catholicism has ever been or will ever be. So who, or what, has decided that seemingly anything ELSE goes BUT Catholicism in “Christian” fiction?

I, as a Catholic, am increasingly being nagged by that still, small voice inside. The one that says I’m not being true to my faith by pretending it’s OK that so much of my professional life is tied to an organization that at times, in effect dismisses me as not being Christian at all. I’m sailing under false colors, pretending it doesn’t matter. It DOES matter. It DOES hurt.

The question is, what do I do about it.


Janny

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Why I Love College Basketball...

...because things like this can happen.

As someone put it this morning, "It's a shame that the story will be 'What's wrong with Syracuse basketball?'" Because, in the end, THAT's not the story at all. There's just something tremendously right about those Cinderella times when a Division II school wins hearts and headlines.

Congratulations, Dolphins!

Janny