Just another ordinary day in the workplace...

What's It Like?* (*the noncompetitive life, that is)

Yesterday I was e-mailing an associate when I came out with the thought: You know, I spend more than half my waking hours teetering on one edge of rejection or the other. What do people's lives look like who don't compete for anything? Would I even know how to live a life like that? And it started me thinking. Especially since I sang an audition last night and didn’t get the solo. Not that I haven’t been through this gut-wrenching experience before. Heck, if I’ve been through it once, I’ve been through it dozens of times. It’s part and parcel of a business like music…or writing. But at what point do you say enough is enough and stop trying so hard? Or is it ever a good idea to stop? And then what does your life look like when you do? I have to confess: I don’t know what that kind of life would look like anymore. I’m not even sure I can wrap my mind around it, because I have lived my whole life, in one sense, on the edge. No, I don’t do daredevil stunts (well, okay, I like rollercoasters)…I don’t spend 18 hours in an operating room fixing things that other people consider incurable…I didn’t embed myself in a war zone to be on the “front lines” of any particular battle. In short, in a way, I don’t “do” anything dangerous. But in a bigger sense, “dangerous” has many forms. Emotionally, I’ve been in a danger zone for most of my life. Some of that wasn’t of my own making…but in the realm of competitive professional “chances” I continue to take—it is. I put myself on the line on a regular basis, doing two things most people will never do: I sing in public, and I submit writing for publication. And the great majority of the time, those to whom I am submitting or auditioning for a “step up” say NO. There are gigs where you have an assured route to success in both of those endeavors, of course. If you go to journalism school, and you’re reasonably coherent, you will probably be able to latch onto some small newspaper, broadcast outlet, or (now) a web site, and work your way up the “ranks” in the field. Sometimes, with a few breaks, the jobs start coming looking for you; that’s the best place to be. Same goes for music…to a point. You go to a good school, you study with good teachers (this kind of element is much more important in music than in journalism, from what I’ve seen), you sing or perform with certain performing bodies…and you get a gig. Or two. Or a dozen. And then, once again, the gigs come looking for you. There’s also a difference between wanting to be a success at something and wanting to be the BEST. Wanting to stand out. To be a star. And, with the amount of talent I’ve been given, I feel I owe it to God, to myself, and to the world, to get to darn near that last level. Not worldwide fame, necessarily—but substantial achievement. From whom much is given, much will be required. But in both the fields of singing, which I am in, and novel writing, which I’m also in, the gigs that come looking for you are way fewer and farther between…and stardom is almost statistically impossible. Yet I feel I have to try to get there. And that’s what turns this into agony at times. That’s what makes one wake up, look in the mirror, and say, “What in the world am I doing to myself?” You see, sometimes, you do everything right, and the right things still don’t happen. Or they happen in small ways, but you never “get over the hump” and get the Big Success. You keep giving yourself pep talks, you keep trying, you keep chanting to yourself that it’s a “numbers game,” and the odds will eventually be in your favor… …but this goes on for years. Then decades. And the odds never change. You never quite get to that real success, as you’ve defined it. You never get to that point where you feel you “should” be, where you “ought to” be, where you’ll have given all you have and “the universe” will have rewarded it. Then what do you do? When is it time to step off the edge? To back away from it? To stop deliberately putting yourself through those highs and lows? Some people say if you’re in the highs and lows in the first place, you’re going at the thing wrong. That it truly is, simply, numbers. Or it’s “who you know” (or, in the case of music, more likely “who knows you”). Or it’s dependent on things you can’t possibly control (which it is), so just keep showing up. But when does “showing up” become an embarrassment to you and to others? What’s the point at which people stop admiring your persistence, and just wish you’d go away? When have you moved from “persistent” to pathetic? I, for one, am tired of moving through life with a figurative hat in my hand. “Please, sir, may I have some more?” I’m tired of trying to act “professional” and cool as my heart gets broken…again. I’m starting to wonder if I’m fooling myself about the level of talent I actually possess. But most of all, I’m scared. Scared on one hand that if I stop, I’ll have come up the proverbial “one step short” and “just miss it.” Most of us have had that drilled into our skulls so much that it’s part of our marrow now. We can’t quit, even if we’re tempted to, because we’re haunted by the image of stopping just short of the pot of gold. And I’m scared on the other hand that reality, and age, will finally catch up with me…and I’ll run out of “one more steps” to take. In the case of singing, your body’s ability to produce beautiful sound DOES eventually take a hit. If you have excellent training, which I did, that hit doesn’t have to happen too early. But it does happen. It will happen. Even I had excellent training a little late in life. So my breaking point may come that much earlier. On the writing front, obviously, the same physical limitations don’t apply. But once again, the rigors of repeated trying and failing take their toll on one’s creative spirit. Eventually, one starts to go from “wow, this is a great idea” to “well, maybe it’ll fly.” The passion leaves. The fire is gone, and you lack the flint to start it up again. I’m starting to wonder if my breaking point, in both areas, is coming already. Or has come, and no one’s had the heart to tell me. And if I’m moving into that “pathetic” realm, and just don’t know it. The feedback I’m getting on the quality of what I do—in both worlds—doesn’t say so. But the gigs I’m not getting are telling a different story. The question is…what do I do if I stop competing? What becomes of my talent? Have I let everyone in the world, including God, down? What’s next? Ideas? Janny

By their sounds, ye shall know them…

A hundred years from now, when the archaeologists are digging up our scraps and trying to put together what kinds of people we were, one of the things they’re no doubt going to find is a lot of little rectangular machines with headphones attached—the "primitive" musical machines we call iPods. They’ll have a chuckle over those, no doubt. But more to the point, if the things are still able to play in some way, they’ll have some direct access to the tastes of at least some of us. If you think about that long enough, that’ll either give you reason to hope, or make you cringe. :-) So what’s on your iPod? And what does that say about you? You may not think of your favorite songs that way, but I always have, I confess. Music has always been more than mere entertainment to me, even more than an occupation or something I got my degree in. Music affects our internal chemistries, if we let it; at the very least, the right song can snap you out of the blues, or let you have a good cry, or make you laugh so hard you forget any troubles you may have been worrying about…for a few moments at least. It can be way more than just being something pleasant to listen to, a diversion, or background noise you like to work to. Added to this element the fact that what you collect, what you download, what you keep, ends up being what people are left with when you’re gone. Someone’s going to know, someday, that a sixteen-inch piece of multicolored crocheted yarn meant something to me—but without an explanation, or a sound effect, or a note, they’re not going to know that I saved it because that was the first crochet my daughter ever did, which she made into a necklace and gave to Mom. (Although now they can know, if my blog survives me in the ether!) But without detailed explanations in your will (!), is anyone going to know why you kept the songs you did? What they meant? Maybe it’s worth writing a little journal and keeping it with your iPod…just for the sake of giving the archaeologists something interesting to put on the Discovery Channel. :-) Or, maybe not. Maybe it’s just fun. Which is, in itself, another way to define who we are. So what’s on your iPod? Not the complete list, but a highlight or two? What’s the most unusual piece of music or sound you’ve captured and kept? Probably mine would be the Suite: William Byrd, as recorded by Frederick Fennell and the Cleveland Wind Ensemble. Not necessarily because people wouldn’t download that…but how many people have it on their iPods because one of those pieces was part of their wedding music? What’s a song you figure very few other people have on theirs? Mine would have to be Leave That Baby Alone by Saturday’s Children. I’d be willing to bet that less than a fraction of a percent of the people who come across this even know who Saturday’s Children were, much less love that purely-fun song as much as I do. Ditto for Rainmaker by the Cryan’ Shames…and yes, there’s a story or two connected with that one as well. What’s the song that gets you going better than anything else? That will perk you up when you’re down? For me, there are so many of them on there it’s hard to pick. But I’d have to say one of my true treasures is Phoenix by Dan Fogelberg. Someday, when you’ve got a couple of hours, I’ll sit down with you all over coffee and tell you why. So…you get the idea. Share, share, share. Come on. And if you don’t have an iPod yet and want one—tell me what you’ll put on it when you do! Or what songs you have installed on Windows Media Player. Or Real Player. Or what you’ve burned to CD. If music be the food of love, what do you love…and why? Tell, tell! Singing and dancing her way into the hearts of…a few, Janny

Old Scammer, New Clothes...

Some of us just have to keep learning the hard way...but if I can keep you from having to do it with this guy, it's worth a link or two. As always, writer beware! More later, Janny

Make Money At Home! Easy New System! :-)

Now, why didn’t I think of this? 

Here I am, minding my own business in the heartland, doing the writer thing of getting ideas, thinking about those ideas, mulling those ideas, having a spark come to me that prompts those ideas onto the screen and onto paper…and working all this around the normalcy of having a day gig. Yeah, it’s a bit of a juggling act time-wise, and it’s even more of a juggling act money-wise.

And here, all I had to do to relieve the strain was figure out how to structure a raffle! 

Man, what a great idea to rake in some freelance income. Just wish I’d thought of it first… (sigh) Janny

Beware the Tyranny of the "Shoulds"!

Q. When does a blog cease to be "just" a blog? A. When it becomes a tool you’re using for some other purpose.

Q. Well, that's a great idea, right?

A. Not necessarily.

I found myself in bit of "blog" and "should" overwhelm this week. I was reading a blog from one of my compadres in which it was asserted, quite strongly, that author blogs should be aimed at marketing themselves, and nothing that doesn’t have to do with promotion and professional image/branding should be there. I.E., if your written body of work has to do with, say, nineteenth-century music, amateur sleuthing and metallurgy, nothing else should be on your blog but aforementioned music, sleuthing and -lurgy. That means should you have the urge to talk about your children, your pets, your religion, your football team, or your latest recipe for spinach dip…those things need to be on another blog (if they need to be anywhere at all). The rationale is that you want readers who come to your blog to learn about you as an author, not necessarily as a person. Therefore, if they come to your blog expecting to read about what you already write about and, instead, come upon a blog entry about your cats, they’re going to be upset at you for wasting their time, your blog will be a marketing failure, and they’ll go elsewhere, convinced you’re a hopeless amateur. Do we all really believe this? And if so, why? I don’t mean to poke holes in any particular point of view here. As far as marketing, branding, etc., go, the advice is probably good. It may even be the Gospel According to the Latest Marketing Gurus, and/or people who have sold a heck of a lot more books than I have. But I think it’s a serious mistake to look at this advice, swallow it hook, line, and sinker, and take it as the only way to go, with any other way marking you as unprofessional. The comments about this post were telling. Some agreed it was a great idea. But I also remember one particularly adept author saying something along the lines of, “I’m just starting to figure out how to have one blog working, and now you’re saying I need to have two? Forget it!” To which I said, “Amen, sister.” The internet has brought us an unprecedented opportunity to get information in what can be a very solitary and isolated occupation. This is a good thing. It’s wonderful that we can, with one click, avoid re-inventing the wheel in so many ways. Thanks to instantaneous communication, we can avoid a lot of mistakes and get some very useful instruction, sometimes instruction that we would have had to pay big bucks for in the “olden days” of only being able to get this stuff from a classroom. We can also, however, go into overwhelm very quickly if we try to take all the information available as the only way we “should” be running our writing careers. Because there’s no such thing as a single way a career “should” go, in any enterprise—and especially in a creative one. So consider today’s entry a voice for caution. For reading all the information out there, and still trusting your gut as to what’s going to work for you. And above all, for avoiding the notion that anything “should” be the way to go for you, the only way to go, so help you God. I for one couldn’t disagree more with the frantic branding and marketing blogs that I see from authors. Not that marketing isn’t important; of course it is. Not that setting up a good website isn’t a good idea; of course it is. And if you truly want to have one “marketing” blog and one “personal” blog, and you honestly have the time and inclination to keep up with both of them…more power to you. But for this blog reader? I go to agents’ blogs to hear about agenting, and I go to editors’ blogs to hear about editing, true. But I also enjoy hearing about them as people. And when it comes to fellow authors, this goes double. Yeah, sometimes we can go overboard—or have a series of blog entries that makes people wonder what we’re really about. I don’t enjoy author websites that have inferior writing samples posted…but superior quality photographs of their horses. (Someone might be in the wrong line of work!) If all your blog talks about is your kids’ achievements, or your farm in Connecticut, I may or may not visit it very often. If you’re purporting to be a writer, at least some of your blog probably needs to be about writing! :-) But overall? A blog with a personal touch means I’m more likely to stick around. Yes, information about book signings is pertinent…but so is your perception of the industry from a purely personal POV. Yes, information about your upcoming releases is valuable…but not if that’s all I read, and it sounds like a press release. I'd much rather see a whole person in your blog. Tell me some of your opinions. Be multi-dimensional. That, to me, is what blogging is for. The rest of it we can use news sites, publisher sites, our writing groups, and our publicists (especially the unpaid ones, otherwise known as family and friends!) for. In your blog, I want to get a glimpse of who you are. I can’t get that if you transform your blog from a glimpse into your thought processes, work style, and life to something that’s clearly structured to be a marketing machine. Those things turn me off, each and every time. This is only one author’s opinion, as a reader and as a writer. But I think it’s sad that in this brave new world of information we’re all experiencing, we’re in some senses being put into the same restrictive boxes we would have been without it. We can even more easily get awash in “shoulds,” get convinced we’re missing the boat, and get down about failing (yet again) to recognize the “secret handshake” that’s “going to make all the difference.” Let’s not go there, because in reality, there’s really no such thing as “the way your blog should be.” Your blog “should” be what you want to make of it. That’s only fair for creative people on a creative, worldwide bulletin board. Here’s to blogging for the sheer joy of it— Janny

Happy Ash Wednesday!

Happy beginning of Lent! I haven’t even thought of “giving up” much of anything for this Lent, to be perfectly honest about this (and we should be perfectly honest, even though we’re imperfect, capisce?). But I am seriously considering actually trying to observe the old-fashioned 40-day fast that my mother’s generation got used to. That'll be sacrifice enough, even if I only manage it part of the time! We’re pretty soft nowadays—we only need to observe a “real” fast on two days out of Lent, and abstain from meat on a few more. But when I was growing up, my parents were obligated to fast all weekdays of Lent…and I think I remember a lot more meatless days in there, too. My only problem is that I do verge on low blood sugar problems, so I can’t get too enthused about this fasting thing or I start to get this other, lightheaded thing. But today’s going well so far, I’m not obsessing on food (although I can’t promise that I won’t be reallyreallyreally looking forward to a fairly decent sized dinner this evening!)… ...and I’ve already been warned not to give up both chocolate and wine, as I did during one noble year. Apparently, I got a bit more feisty that season than anyone has a right to be. (!) Anyhow, be sure to pay attention to those ashes. And I love the fact that our priest says the old-fashioned admonition,”Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” After years of the more “modern” version (something along the lines of “turn from sin and embrace the Gospel”)—which sounded for all the world like it was written by someone more concerned about our self-esteem than self-sacrifice—it’s nice to have the “old rugged” version in mind during this special season. So for Day #1, think dust…ashes…and “Long Live God!” What’s your favorite part of Lent? Janny

Annoying Day Jobs, part 2

A friend and I have coined the acronym "ADJ" to refer to our day gigs...as in Annoying Day Job. The theory, of course, is that if we didn't have to do these annoying day jobs to make a living, we'd be home all day, drinking endless pots of coffee, holed up writing thousands of words a day on our Great American Novels. That, of course, would be the Good Life. We wouldn't have to put up with regimentation of our days, we wouldn't have to get out of our jammies if we didn't want to, yatta, yatta. It's a shame, really. We artistic types shouldn't be bound to having to slave away with irritating supervisors or coworkers that drive us nuts... Yeah. Okay. Right. You know that's a fantasy, don't you? Not the part where you sometimes have irritating supervisors or coworkers who drive you nuts. But the part where, left to our own devices, we'd be holed up with that large pot of coffee and writing endlessly, to the point where our production would skyrocket, we would be blissfully happy, and we'd at last be living True Artistic Lives. Fantasy, all the way. How dare I say that? Better still, why am I so sure? Well, I could name a couple of reasons, and they're titles of computer games (!)...but that's not the whole reason. It's just that I'm beginning to come to an "ugly" realization about myself, and I suspect many of us realize the same thing deep down...only we dare not speak its name out loud, under penalty of being considered somewhat less than a "real" artist. The ugly truth? On some level...we LIKE having day jobs. It's hard to shoot holes in the folklore and admit that because, somehow, it just seems to make us...less legitimate as artistic people. REAL writers, after all, despise routine. REAL writers, real creative people, loathe the ball and chain of going to a salaried job every day. REAL writers want that unfettered freedom of writing, submitting, being paid, lather, rinse, repeat. REAL creative people consider cubicle life as death, office worlds as stiflingly boring, and are only truly happy when they've busted out of those chains and are following their muses, come hell or high water. Hogwash. Yeah, there are days when we don't want to go into the office...but that's not because we don't want to work so much as it's because the weather is just plain too nice to stay indoors, period. Which means that, barring a convenient place to put a laptop, we won't be writing, either. Or even if we have a convenient place to put a laptop, we ain't gonna be in the mood to write...because we're too busy soaking up sun, enjoying the breeze, thinking about making iced tea or having a picnic. I know. I've worked from a home office, and I've worked "legitimate" day gigs. And there is a difference. Day gigs are easier. We as creative people have been sold a bill of goods for a long, long time. We've willingly bought it, too, especially those of us who are children of the Sixties, when the rallying cry was "Down with the Establishment!" and we were "flower children" who thought we could live on love. Hey, the idea of dumping a day job, or never getting one in the first place? COOL, man. HEAVY, dude. Or, as kids said a generation later...awesome! Too bad the bill of goods isn't real. When you don't have a steady day gig, how do you pay for your car to be fixed? What do you do when you need to go the dentist? When do you take the cat to the vet? When all you have is your own self, freelancing or selling novels, you have a LOT to pay for. You have a lot of responsibility, and no group insurance advantages to make it cheaper. And this frees up your creativity and inspires your muse...HOW? So as we look forward to another work week, I would submit it will go much less painfully for many of us if we stop lying to ourselves. If we stop beating up on our jobs, our employers, or ourselves for--on some level--feeling good about having the job in the first place. If we just admit that, for a lot of reasons, maybe we don't really want to be on our own. Left on our own, many of us would drift. Or waste time. Or wonder if what we're doing really matters.

Irritating coworkers or not...some of us would panic, or at least be at a loss, without them.

There's no shame in any of that.

There's no diminishment of "artistry" in saying, "Hey, I like feeling productive. I like feeling like I go to a place where my work is needed, where I perform a service that, were I not here, wouldn't get done."

Of course, if I won the lottery tomorrow, I'd rethink lots of my life decisions and situations. I might even quit my day job. But then again............. Thinking about Monday through Friday, Janny

"Reading" People

This started out to be a ramble about my latest reads, but as I thought about it...well, you'll see. This rumination began when I started (and really tried to read) an old Grisham book, The Broker. I’ve never read Grisham, and he’s one of the authors I keep telling myself I ought to read, so when I saw this title in our work library, I thought I’d give it a try. The premise sounded intriguing enough; however, I just couldn’t get into it. I gave it several chapters (probably 40 pages or so—I gave it a good sampling) before I gave up. I just couldn’t care about anybody in the book…and unfortunately, for me, that usually means it hits the wall. It did get me thinking, however, about reader expectations. Those of us who call or have called ourselves “romance” authors over the years are fairly steeped in this notion of characters the readers can care about. Whether or not you buy into the notion that these are just elaborate and printed fantasies in which women place themselves really doesn’t matter: bottom line is, readers of genre fiction and romance in particular expect to make the acquaintance of a character for whom they can “root” early on. This doesn’t mean that the character is necessarily all that sweet to begin with…although it usually does. What is necessary, however, is to build a character about whom we care. For whom something is at stake, something we can identify with, something we also care about. The problem is, what I care about may not be what you care about. This explains the phenomenal success of someone like Nora Roberts/J.D. Robb…who I just cannot get into, no matter how I try. I’ve tried to read her stuff three times, and lost interest before I got through the first twenty pages. I just didn’t care about her people. I don’t know why that is; I know people who gobble up everything this woman writes, and there are a LOT of people who do the same thing. Me? No, thanks. Can’t do it. Don’t have the slightest interest in her characters. They leave me cold, and once they do, I leave the premises. The flip side of that is Jan Karon, whose books I devour, but whom I found out (to my surprise) not everybody “gets,” either. When the Mitford books were still pretty much the hot new thing on the block, I actually heard a multipublished author giving a talk in which she said, “Lots of people love these books, and I suppose they’re okay…but you go through At Home In Mitford and nothing happens. I mean, the whole story is nothing more than this preacher’s trying to decide whether he’s going to keep this stray dog or not. That’s the whole book!” Dumbfounded, I waited for her to elaborate further along the lines of “Well, okay, so that’s not ALL there is to the book,” but she didn’t. And she wasn’t kidding. Which left me wondering how she’d managed to read that whole book and completely miss the story question—a story question which had been spelled out, in quite poignant terms, in one sentence in the very first chapter. One you couldn’t miss…or so I thought. And, no, it wasn’t about whether Father Tim was going to keep the dog. :-) Why did this happen? Who knows? This was a bright woman speaking. Normally, she was pretty quick on the uptake. So I had to wonder if it wasn't a case of there being such a subtlety to that early Mitford book that people who are used to slam-bang in-your-face characters just couldn't take the time, or didn't know how, to walk at a more leisurely pace and get to know the people in this particular book a little better. I bonded with Father Tim from that first story question/issue, and I’ve reread those Mitford books probably each at least four times. This despite the fact that I have no particular love for “southern fiction” (and these are set in North Carolina)…that the books are overtly preachy at times…and that my ex-husband’s name is Tim (so I have a hurdle to get over automatically!). All of these things could have put me off the books; none of them did. Why? Because the first story was much bigger than a man and his dog—and mostly, because the people moved gently into my world and became so real that I couldn’t wait to find out what they were going to do next. Lawrence Block has been quoted as saying “Fiction is folks.” For this plot-driven writer, sometimes that’s hard to wrap her fingers around when she’s trying to write it—but I certainly know it when I see it, and have an inevitable sense of letdown when I don’t. So…read any good characters lately? Janny

Quit Messing With My Magic!

I've expressed this sentiment elsewhere, but I think it bears repeating.

 And yes, I know I'm bucking a trend. So be it. 

 But I HATE having a novel in my hand that has, as one of its selling points, a note on the cover that indicates there is a "Reading Group Guide" included. 

Puh-LEEZE, people. Can we please stop this runaway train before it drives the few of us who DO read over the edge into the land of "No, thanks"? 

We bemoan the lack of reading in our culture as a whole. We worry about the generation coming up who may not be able to sit still long enough to read graphic novels in the future, much less books with no pictures in 'em. (!) 

We wring our hands over the fact that, in some senses, we're writing for a dwindling audience. 

Now why would any of these be true, if it weren't for the unfortunate phenomenon all of us experienced in school--the Required Reading Lists? 

Let's face it. Some of those books were just plain AWFUL. 

I'm thinking of things like Catcher in the Rye. Is there any good reason anyone would read CITR if they weren't forced to do it? 

Or The Great Gatsby? (Don't hit me, all you Fitzgerald lovers, but I'm sorry;I've read that book twice--the first time because I had to, the second because I was really trying to see why anyone would have to read it. Failed on both counts.) 

Some of the books actually were good, but those were few and far between. And, it seems, the moment an English teacher saw something kids might actually enjoy reading on there...off that list it went onto the "optional" list, of which you were only allowed to read a few to "count" toward a grade. 

The rest seemed to have as a requirement that they be either a) depressing, b) full of foul language, depravity, or perversion, or c) both. If they had all the previous, they were considered great, meaningful, and enlightening to the students. (The singular exception being that if they were about the Holocaust--outside of the obvious "depressing" points, which no doubt would carry them anyway--they didn't have to have too much of the rest of the above, because they automatically were Important.) 

The end result of all this force-fed "literature" is twofold: 1) Cliff's Notes, which aren't bad in themselves as a supplement...but we all know that's not how most people apparently use them. 2) The end of reading, as we know it, once we are out of school and don't "have to" do it anymore. 

It's not just TV, the Internet, or other influences that have prompted people not to read. It's the stuff they're forced to read, and analyze, for grades. It's books with agendas, books with "themes" and "universal" messages, books full of allegory and satire and symbolism and metaphor and parallel universes and metaphysics and the Real Meaning Of Life, Which Is, Of Course, That Life's A Bitch And Then You Die. 

I don't BLAME people for never wanting to read after a steady diet of that stuff. Who would? 

Well, a few of us would. And did. We're the ones who came into school loving to read already, and we were too stubborn to let "education" take that fun away. 

Some of us get out of school still loving to read for pleasure. Still understanding what that's about. And still seeing the value in it. 

So what happens to us? 

We go to our bookstores and we stock up on some horking good reads... ...only to find them suddenly bearing a striking resemblance to textbooks, when we actually get to the end. 

Study guides. 

Study questions. 

"Suggestions for group discussion." 

WHY??????? 

 Yes, I know there are book groups out there by the hundreds now. Many people I know have belonged to book clubs for years. They read Important Stuff, the best-sellers, Literature, the Oprah lists, whatever. And they talk about them. And there's some good conversation and sharing that goes on there. And no doubt they're enlightened by some of it...although truth be told, most of the people I know who go to book groups go there as much to gossip and eat chocolate as they do for intellectual/literary enlightenment. Or they go to compare the book to the movie, which is about the same as gossip. :-) 

But they also have a remarkable ability to come up with their OWN questions. 

Sometimes they have one or the other of the team take charge of leading the discussion; this is great. Sometimes people are encouraged to write their own discussion questions to share, which is also fine. Because that's what these people are doing with these books, because they WANT to. 

But how did we go from that spontaneous, creative exercise to publishers thinking that groups wanted PREMADE lists for them? And most of all, why do publishers assume that any reader buying this book will consider this list at the back an asset? 

Note to publishers: I READ FOR PLEASURE. 

Translate: if I'm going to get a deeper meaning out of a book, I'LL FIND IT MYSELF. YOU DON'T NEED TO LEAD ME TO IT. And I especially resent the subtext of these sections at the back of novels, as if to say, "Just in case you didn't get the point of what we're trying to teach you in this book, here's some help." 

I DON'T WANT TO "GET THE POINT." I WANT TO READ A GOOD STORY. PERIOD. 

I hate this trend for more reasons than one, too. Not only does it come across as arrogant, overbearing, and "instructional..." but it can absolutely ruin the end-of-book experience. I can't tell you how many times I've finished a book, gotten to what feels like the end, and then looked on the next page and seen SUGGESTED QUESTIONS FOR STUDY right after that beautiful, sigh-producing, satisfying ending.

Do you know what that does to your story, people? IT REDUCES IT BACK TO PRINT AGAIN.

It takes the magic and dumps cold water on it. 

Do you really want to have your reader yanked back to reality that fast? 

WHY? 

 

I hate the rumblings I've heard throughout the industry that, more and more often, authors are expected to supply these questions now. To me, this is missing the point of why most of us read fiction in the first place--and it steals the magic from the ending of the book. And that's just plain wrong. 

When I want a textbook, I'll BUY a textbook. When a novel is a keeper, I know why. But I also know what I get out of a book often isn't what anyone else is going to get out of it. I know, because nine times out of ten, I'll hear people talking about a book I've read and say, "It's a story about ______."...and I'll hear that and think, "No, it's not. It's not about _______ at all." 

So anything you put into a list of questions for me is only meant to do what? 

Steer me toward a conclusion you want me to draw? 

Again, WHY???? 

Note to my future publishers: if you require a list of questions, I'll give you one--and one ONLY-- for the end. It'll consist of this: "In 50 words or less, if you like, write down what the best part of this book was for you. The part that made you laugh, made you cry, or touched you in any way. Then sign it, put it in an envelope and address it to the author. She'll love hearing from you." 

And it'll be on a page SEPARATE from the end. With at least one blank page in between. 

 If you insist on more, you'll write them yourself. And put them on a website, separate from the book. A place people can go to when they're ready. When they've already closed the book and eased back into reality, and if and when they want to think about it further.

But you put those things on page 601 after I've spun a beautiful tale for 600 pages... and you've just robbed both me and my reader of magic I sweated blood to create.

If you feel the need to do that...how much do you really LOVE fiction? 

Or do you get it at all? 

Cantankerously yours, 

Janny

"Being Jessica Fletcher"

Some time ago, there was a rather successful movie called Being John Malkovich. Several people I knew saw the movie; I didn’t. But the concept, as I understand it, was that the cast of the movie spent time literally “being” actor John Malkovich, being in his skin, being in his life, for a limited period of time. They experienced life as someone else, another actor, within the same movie. Yeah, the concept is pretty surreal, and so was the movie—again, from what I understand. Whether it “worked” or not, cinematically, seems to be a matter of some debate. A more interesting question is, does it ever work in real life? Now, your first knee-jerk reaction to this might be, “Oh, for pete’s sake, of course not. You can’t be somebody else. Besides, it’s not good to even try to be somebody else. You need to be yourself. You need to be true to your own muse, your own drummer…” etc. Yatta yatta. You know the drill. And partially, that’s right. Hey, that’s what we teach our kids, mostly so that they get the message that we really don’t want them to become the kid down the street with the spiky orange hair and multiple body piercings…er, I mean, so that they’ll be happy being themselves. And it’s generally good advice, unless you really don’t know who you are, in which it’s kind of like a chicken-and-egg thing. You need to try on different personas until you find the one that fits your skin. But one day I found myself, literally, having grown remarkably close to someone else’s persona—and it wasn’t a bad thing. A surprise, yes. But a good one. And something I definitely have decided I want to pursue much further. Let me explain. I am a great Murder, She Wrote fan. I wasn’t a fan of it at the very beginning of the show—I listened to too many people saying, “That’s not real. She’s supposed to be a writer, and they never show her actually writing anything!” So for awhile, I didn’t watch it. But my inlaws were fans of it, and I saw it at their house a couple of times, and …well, long story short, I soon became hooked. Yeah, the scriptwriters caught on that they needed to show J.B. Fletcher actually producing work and/or at least appearing to go through the motions of some of the actual writing life, and they did show her hammering away on her old typewriter, then a computer, eventually. But their attempt at a semblance of a wave at realism wasn’t what connected me to the show, in the end. Other things did. I love a good whodunit; I love the “cozy” sort of mystery that they took and made uniquely American (a nifty trick, with a British actress in the title role :-) ). I enjoyed the small-town feel for the show, the continual development of characters (in all senses of the word), and pretty much the whole world that these writers created... …to the point that one day, I said out loud, “When I grow up, I want to be J.B. Fletcher.” Think about it. She was a retired English teacher, which meant she probably had a pension. She might have even had her deceased husband’s pension as well, considering he was a war hero and all, so she had no money worries. She lived in a gorgeous house with small-town roots, where she was a local celebrity. She supported herself by being a best-selling author; she had more “nieces” and “nephews” (who can forget Grady Fletcher?) than any woman should have, everywhere in the world. She made friends like breathing, she always knew the right thing to wear, the right thing to say, and the right way to stand her ground without becoming either a shrew or a doormat. She traveled, she enjoyed life, she kept up with technology and the latest things in the world without letting the pace control her, and she had people all over the country who loved her. So it's no wonder I would latch onto someone like that as a role model...fictional or not. I was struggling to be published in the first place as a novelist, never mind being a bestseller. I was far from self-supporting; I had been raised in a family that was almost pathologically antisocial. I hated my real cousins, and I certainly didn’t have many “adopted” ones I could claim. In short, there wasn’t much I had in common with J.B. Fletcher. At least not at first… But then, things began to happen. I got a job doing corporate newsletters in which I was forced to exit my "comfort zone" and learn how to "schmooze" (something I actually enjoyed, but was afraid of). I took my own stab at technology: I tackled a computer for that job, for the first time, with fear and trembling—then dove in and began to enjoy it. I joined AOL, became a Community Leader and began hanging out in the Writers area, then began mentoring people (not quite an English teacher, but close!). After receiving dozens of mentoring e-mails asking the same questions, I started an online workshop, ASK THE MENTOR, which fast became one of the most popular places to hang out online. In the process of workshopping, I made friends of other hosts and chatters alike; I coached people, critiqued work, and found myself on the receiving end of quite a few nice compliments for my efforts. And then…I had a friend visit from Texas, a friend who co-hosted with me on AOL…and took a vacation later that same year in which my husband and I stayed with another workshop hostess, this time in Louisville, KY. It didn’t dawn on me until much later(when I was busy pitching my newly sold novel to my online friends) that delcaring wishes out loud can be a powerful thing. :-) I had a community of people across the nation with whom I was close enough to stop in and visit, should I be in their neighborhood. (In fact, I was told point blank that if I didn't stop and visit, I'd be in big trouble!) I had an extended family both from school and from various work connections; people whom, literally, my daughter didn't know we weren't related to until I told her. I was a successful writer—not financially independent, but successful in various corners—who had won a national writing award, had published a book and several magazine articles, had written a newspaper column, was a regular online teacher and was actually presenting at writers’ conferences… When I realized this, I sat down and grinned a lot. I still have a bit to go to “grow into” that persona. I do live in a great house in a small town now; I need a better figure (J.B. Fletcher is tall, something I will never be...sigh) and a better wardrobe; I need more tact and composure; I need a tougher skin at times. On the other hand, I have handled myself pretty well in a controversy in which I was, however briefly, a "lightning rod" both online and in my professional organization. I’ve performed so well as a book editor that I’ve netted kudos and tangible rewards alike; and I still mentor and encourage writers all over the country…several of whom I plan to get to know a lot better. So I’m getting there. I’m, slowly but surely, moving toward “Being Jessica Fletcher.” And the best part is, I don’t have to step over dead bodies to do it. So who would YOU like to grow up to be???? Worth a little daydreaming, Janny

A Fool and His Money...

...or her money, as the case may be, often part company in the name of "publishing." And yes, ladies and gentlemen, we will soon get another chance to part with our money if we so desire, just for the privilege of calling ourselves "published" authors.

Cheryl Dickow, a Catholic nonfiction author, has just started a new venture called Bezalel Books, offering the opportunity for Catholic fiction writers to have another place and outlet for their manuscripts. She (rightfully) bemoans the lack of a Catholic presence in inspirational fiction, which is presently pretty much dominated by the Prod end of things...something many of us Catholic girls have been complaining about for awhile. :-) However, what she proposes to do about it is...shall we say...less than enthralling.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, for the small price of $775, give or take a few other charges that will no doubt creep into the mix, you can sidestep all the "traditional" publishing headaches, avoid paying an agent a commission to get you into the Big Bad World of Real Books...and publish your book through this new press.

Self-publish, that is. As in, pay her to do the publication for you.

If I've never said it before on this blog, it bears saying here: the fundamental principle of publishing is MONEY GOES TO THE AUTHOR. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.

Please understand, self-publishing is not inherently evil. Some books start out self-published and then are picked up by regular publishers after they've proven to sell. (Self-publishers are quick to trot out those titles, so with a little research, you'll find them.) And many books are self-published for good reasons. A very happy self-published author I know said, "Hey, I've got the money, I just want the thrill of having real books in my hands, my friends and neighbors all buy these, we have a good time. I'm happy."

For him, self-publishing works. He spends an average of $1500 per book to get the things out there--ridiculously steep in terms of anyone thinking of actually supporting themselves by writing, in any degree--but he's retired, he has the cash and nothing else he'd rather spend it on, so God bless him.

Another book I'm familiar with is a good example of another great use of self-publishing. The author probably had a good idea his target audience--primarily college baseball players!-- wouldn't necessarily be a large enough market segment for a major publisher to want to take on his book. I've read parts of the book. It's well written, it's an accurate portrayal of what college baseball is about, and I get a kick out of it because it's focused on the University of Michigan Baseball team as it was composed when my son was a member of said team. (My son even is a character in the book, albeit fictionalized and disguised, as are the other teammates of this particular author. Gotta love it.)

For that type of use, for that focus, self-publishing is a perfect solution. But for the rest of us? Not so much. At least not if we have a dream of being paid for our work, even if that payment is small.
Or if we have a dream of establishing a readership in any meaningful channels.
Or if we have a hope of being considered worth investing in for a major (or even minor) publisher someday.

Because if we have dreams and hopes of being published by a major house, paid anything at all, or having our books actually available for our friends and neighbors to buy--without having to sell them literally out of our garages--we definitely should not go the self-publishing route.Because, contrary to the claims on most of these sites, it's not easier to do the self-pub route; it's harder.

Most self-publishers will charge you more for actually editing the book.
Many of them have steep art charges if you don't have a cover designed yourself.
Many of them have small staffs with very limited resources, so if you need something done or redone quickly, it just isn't going to happen.
But the biggest drawback to self-publishing, by far, is the lack of distribution channels.

You see, it's not getting the book published that gets your name out into the marketplace. It's getting the book read. And bought.

Which means, your success as a published author isn't contingent on what it costs to print the book, or even what it costs you to get a cover made, to correct errors, and to get it bound attractively and legibly. Your success as a published author strictly depends on whether you can get your books into bookstores. Or whether people can order copies of your book through online or other channels. Or both. And that's where the self-publishing promises break down.

Self-published authors too often learn after the fact, and to their pain, that a promise that their book will be "available" for sale through Barnes &Noble, or Borders, or Books A Million...doesn't mean the book will actually be on the shelves. Most of the time, the book will not be there. The great majority of the time, the book will not even be listed in the computer systems of these bookstores. And if it ain't in the computer, boys and girls, you average bookstore clerk isn't going to be able to order it for you.

So in reality, while your book may be "available" to these places, it's not going to be ordered by them. If it's not ordered, in reality, it's not there. And won't be, because the great majority of self-publishing outlets have no network of distributors. They have no distribution channels in place. Most of them don't even have contacts in the industry that they can then tap and say, "Hey, I've got 20 great novels for you to take into the marketplace."

Which means you have no means of getting the book into the hands of readers.
Which means you will, in essence, have no readers...unless you do all the distribution yourself.

Some authors have tried a variation on this, by the way. There are "drive by" authors out there who'll do things like place their book on bookstore shelves. Just put it there. Some of them have even told tales of getting their books "put into" the computer systems at major bookstores that way, because the clerks don't know any better, just assume the book wasn't listed in error, and put all the ISBN information, etc., into their databases.

On the surface, this sounds pretty clever. A little guerilla marketing, as it were. Forcing them to acknowledge the book exists, and then giving them the means to reorder it.
The only problem is, that doesn't work.
Oh, a few authors may have had this actually turn in their favor. But then they went online and spread the word that "all you have to do is..." and a lot more people started trying to do this. Bookstores got wise to it. Clerks got wise to it. And those books got, respectfully, tossed.

They didn't get bought. They didn't get inventoried. They most certainly didn't get put into the databases. What's worse, the authors and their publishers were flagged for later reference...and not in a nice way, either.

So where's the win here? Answer? There isn't one. Your literal only alternative as a self-published author is to sell the books yourself.
If you have a speaking platform, this is a little easier. If you're affiliated with a university, this sometimes is easier (although don't try it without asking, because if anything, universities are even pricklier than major bookstores when it comes to "contraband"--i.e., something published other than via a university press!-- coming from one of their own). If you are like that guy in the video with the FREE HUGS sign, and you have no problem approaching complete strangers by the hundreds with books in your hand and a pitch on your lips, then maybe self-publishing, and its associated self-distribution, is for you.

But for most of us? Again, not so much.
Not even because most writers tend to be introverts, which is reason enough for most of us to crawl under our desks in the fetal position at the very thought of "marketing" and "distribution" like that....but also because, let's face it. Traveling the world to distribute a self-published book can get...shall we say...a little pricey. As in expensive. As in, expenses you may or may not ever recover from book sales, and probably won't.

So the moral of the story? If you have cash to spend, don't mind how you spend it, and don't care if you ever sell beyond 40 copies to your sisters and your cousins and your aunts...and you're fed up with the cycle of writing, revising, submitting, getting rejected, resubmitting, revising and re-revising, tinkering, pitching, etc., etc., etc...self-publishing may be the way you want to go with a novel. Otherwise, you'll want to refer back to the basic principle of the publishing industry--money goes to the author--and play the game in such a way that someone's willing to take your work and pay you for it.

Because that same someone will also make sure the book comes out with no misspellings in it (up to and including your name), has a cover that doesn't repel a reader, and has all the pages included, right-side up and in the proper order.
Because that same someone will have an editor who will (if you're fortunate) improve the book for you and make it sing, someone who knows what you're trying to say and helps you say it better.
And most of all, because that someone actually knows how to get those books into the marketplace so readers can read them, and love them, and recommend them to all their sisters and their cousins and their aunts.

Why? Because that someone will have already invested money in the operation, and they want to at least recoup some of that money. So they'll make it their business to at least do a minimum amount of publicity, and pitching their distributors, so they can make that happen...or they won't stay in business long.

Take the high road, folks. It's better for all of us in the long run.

My take,
Janny

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodnight...

For right now at least, after long consideration and an even longer time in the organization, I'm cancelling my membership in Romance Writers of America.

 For them, this won’t be a biggie. I’m one of 9,500, and they barely know I’m here. But for me, this is a big deal. And it’s not coming without a lot of soul-searching. But I got my renewal notice in the mail a few weeks ago, and I’ve pitched it. 

 Now some people, in light of fairly recent events, will probably figure it’s because I can’t “take the heat” anymore (in more ways than one). They saw me get bitch-slapped over my letter in the RWR, they cheered and ridiculed and threw the mud, and they’ve probably been hoping for just such an action from the likes of me. Heck, if any of them knows how to pray (ain’t gonna go there), they may have even been praying to the god of their choice for just such an outcome. 

 But this isn’t an answer to anyone’s prayers. At least not in that sense. And the reasons for this decision, while undeniably connected to some very ugly stuff in the recent past, go back way farther than the summer of 2006. 

 I used to joke about being in RWA longer than dirt, citing as evidence the fact that I have a 4-digit membership number...when most of the people I know have six or seven digits in theirs. Part of that, of course, is a renumbering system; but part of it, it cannot be escaped, has to do with simply being a member of something for a long, long time.

Since 1988, to be exact. 

 So if there’s more to this than the fabled summer and fall of 2006, what else is there to it? Why would I jump from an organization I've been in for so long? Have I stopped writing romances? 

"Probably not" is the best answer I can give to this one! Whether or not I wrote *romances,* as in the generic form of the word and strict sense of the genre, is still up for debate. I never published a romance with a major romance publisher; my book is considered inspirational romance in most circles, but it wasn't taken up by the Harlequin/Silhouette end of the world when it was pitched to them. So the jury's still out on whether I even wrote romance in the first place. 

Do I need to cut back on the number of groups and commitments I have? Not a relevant question to this case.

My commitment to RWA takes a lot less time lately than it did years ago, when I was a board member of Chicago-North, Manuscript chairperson, helped to redefine some guidelines and rules of procedure, worked in various volunteer capacities, and ran the Fire and Ice Contest. (Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that I actually did that, for reasons we may get into later...another story, for another blog.) I did tally up at one time that out of the first seven years I belonged to my local chapter, five and a half of them were as a Board member.

So I did a lot of service, both on the local and national level (working the AGM at the National Conference several years running, to the point where I could almost supervise other people). But since I moved out of my home state, and even before that, I had scaled down my participation in RWA events considerably, due once again to several extra-writing reasons.

So, while cutting back on extracurriculars is never a bad idea if it enables one to put more time into writing, that's not exactly the reason, either. 

So what reason can I have for making this move? 

The reason is, quite frankly, I don’t trust RWA anymore. Haven’t trusted them for some time, in fact. Haven’t respected them for some time. And it's come to the point now where I realize I can no longer sign my name to an organization that is hell-bent on going ways and directions I don’t want to go. 

Is this because of “defining romance,” then? Well, again, not exactly.

It must be said, as it has been before, that I didn’t start the famous RWR/defining romance fight. RWA did, itself, by sending out the survey to the membership. That action drew howls of protest from many “big names” in the business—and now, some people in RWA claim that it withdrew the survey because of that protest. Discontinued it. Told us not to bother. 

Only problem was…it didn’t tell us. Not one word. Anywhere. Not even when asked, point-blank, directly, about said survey. 

Instead, RWA allowed some of us to stick our necks out, to cause a ruckus, and to incur some really abusive treatment. They could have prevented all this from happening, but they didn’t. Which means they were either really, really stupid; really, really bad communicators; or they played some of their membership for the sake of getting a “good fight” going in the pages of RWR…and thereby making sure more people read the magazine.

No matter which of these motives you want to attribute to them, it’s not good. 

While this situation is unfortunate, what’s worse is that it is part of a consistent pattern RWA has had over more than a decade in which they have neglected to tell many of us many things. Or have told us things which have then been proven embarrassingly wrong in the light of reality.

So what have they done when this happens? 

Ordinary honest people, if caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar, are mature enough to say so. They right the wrong, and they apologize. Has RWA ever done this? 

Nope. 

RWA chooses to “spin” the results instead, until by the time you get done reading their version of what happened, you wonder what alternate reality you’ve just stepped into.

I have to give them points on this aspect of their conduct; some of those spins were downright creative. But given the choice between that kind of creativity and integrity in my professional organization, I know what I need to choose. 

I will miss the chapter meetings; when I could get to them, I enjoyed the fellowship and the craft involved. I will miss a lot of the people who I’ve met through RWA. I regret leaving an organization that enabled me to make many dreams come true—but I have better things to do with my money than pay dues to an organization I basically don’t trust anymore. 

 If things change, I’ll be happy to come back. 

But I ain’t holding my breath.

Janny

Back to the Drawing Board...er, Writing Desk

Well, I'm at the end of the submissions rope with the last agent. Shortly before Christmas, I got a rejection from the #1 agent choice I had out of New York...or at least an agent I thought would be #1 for me. So it's back to square one with that submission. After something like twelve queries, 4 quick rejects, three or four requests for partials, three requests for full manuscripts...I'm batting .000 again. Time to start the process all over again. And in this same time frame I also received a couple of rejections on the Golden Heart book. This, too, discouraged me, until I realized that I was sending out basically eight-year-old writing for these agents to take a gander at. Eight-year-old writing! Suppose it's probably likely that my craft has improved in eight years? I suspect if I took and rewrote the Golden Heart book the way I write NOW... But of course conventional wisdom says, "Start something new." Only trouble with that advice? I don't have any new ideas. Haven't had any for years. A couple of flickers here and there, but no complete books that really at least worked in draft form have come to me in probably three years or more. Almost leads one to wonder just how long a writer's block can last...if one believes in writer's block. Which I don't. I do, however, believe in burnout. Which is probably what I've been through. Considering that over the past three years I've had enough stresses, changes, and general tumult in *real life* to send me off the Richter scale on those Stress Charts they all have. You know, the ones where they give a numerical value to the stresses in your life, and you're not supposed to go over 100 in a 12-month period or you're severely stressed and will probably need help? I saw those and, when I realized that three months into some very recent years I was pushing 400 points... There have truly been times when I could relate to the old joke: Patient: Well, Doc, how do I stand? Doctor: I've been wondering the same thing. So I suppose I should be gentle with myself for the next few days, weeks, months, or years, at least. Maybe confine my writing to this blog. (hah!) But I'd be blissfully happy, truth be told, if I woke up one of these mornings with six great ideas bouncing around in my head, and the only problem was staying awake long enough to write them all down. Heck, I'd settle for ONE great idea bouncing around in my head. Or half a one. So that's the status at this point. I'm not a "half empty" type of person...but I think there are times when our writing is running at "half empty," and unfortunately, this is one of them for me. How are y'all doing? Janny

The Twelve Days of Christmas...

...have just begun, so you may appreciate these holiday pointers on how to enjoy them to the fullest! 

If you receive any partridges or pear trees, be sure to feed and/or cultivate.  

If you receive two turtle doves, you'll probably need to pick up birdseed. 

If you receive three French hens, teach 'em English, for Pete's sake...then fricassee 'em. 

If you receive four calling birds, make sure they have good cell phone plans. (And that the French hens don't get a chance to bribe them to call home.)  

If you receive five golden rings, spread them out over fingers...or toes. 

If you receive six laying geese, collect eggs and make quiche. (French hen goes well with this.)  

If you receive seven swimming swans, make sure you stock adequate towels.  

If you receive eight milking maids, watch out for cow pies.  

If you receive nine dancing ladies, roll back the carpets.  

If you receive ten leaping lords, have yourself a basketball tournament. 

If you receive eleven piping pipers, put them to work decorating cakes. (What do you mean, that's not what they're piping?) 

If you receive twelve drumming drummers, you are very fortunate indeed. Bring out the scented candles, have a drum circle, and feast on aforementioned fricassee and quiche. (And the frosted/piped cakes.) 

Whatever gifts you receive, in other words, make the most of them. Soon, we'll be talking about resolutions for the New Year, some things we've learned in this old one, and what to do about both of these things. But for now, it's time to pack up the tents and get ready to go back to work in the morning. So light up the pear tree (white lights are quite the thing), enjoy the company, the food, and the new jewelry! 

Janny

Hot diggity! Someone's reading this!

Don't laugh. :-) My son made the comment about the commercial where two guys are talking about blogs and the one guy says, "your blog readers...meaning your mother?" And this was after I'd read and commented on his blog! Didn't even think of it. But I was seriously considering taking this blog down entirely. CWC has been sitting up here for awhile without a great deal of attention being paid to it...until recently. Recently, the site visits have crept up, the comments are starting to show up here and there, and in short, there's actual communication going on. And that's the idea of a blog in the first place! Of course, I did read yesterday about commercial bloggers who are making advertising money in the tens of thousands of dollars per year by posting about various business "inside information" and selling advertising from the people and businesses who post...but quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to work that hard in that direction. Not that I'd mind making money off a blog! (Yes, and how soon do I want to leave the day gig?) But I think I can find better ways to make money off the internet than selling advertising for a writing blog. Maybe this will become the Next Hot Thing on the block, and people will want to line up to be seen on Catholic Writer Chick. It is to be fervently hoped that that happens! And if it starts to, I WILL advertise for help in selling advertising--so any of you who have that kind of bent and background, don't hesitate to comment here. In the meantime, I'm going to begin posting more frequently about writing in particular and the Catholic world view (at least the world view of this Catholic chick) in general. Happy reading and writing! What are we reading lately? FIRST LADY by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. Enjoying it, wouldn't necessarily run out and buy every other of her work, but at least I'm not pitching it across the room like the last SEP I tried to read. Jury's still out on whether it ends up being "satisfying," but it did bring to mind an unfortunate (and rather silly) mindset that propels a lot of women's fiction, especially romance, and which I first noticed on soap operas years ago. I'll post about THAT curiosity shortly. In the meantime, have to get back to at least pretending to look like I'm working... More later, Janny

One of the best blogs for Thanksgiving you'll ever read...

...and it's not just because my son wrote it.
Check this out.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

Rejoicing in the flak...volume 2

Just got an e-mail last night from a fellow Christian writer who congratulated me on riling up the likes of Nora Roberts, Jennifer Cruisie and Pat Gaffney...saying getting reaction from the likes of these names is probably a feather in my cap. 

I don't doubt it--after all, Queen Nora spends precious little time penning letters to the editor of RWR, and ditto for the other two. They would no doubt plead more pressing engagements, like deadlines for their latest million-selling books. If I were in their shoes, I probably wouldn't write letters to editors much either. But they made an exception in this case, and it's all about what I had to say. Or, maybe I should clarify--what I believe a great many people in RWA want to say, but are afraid to.
Which brings up a whole 'nuther idea, a nagging thought that I've had over and over and have no answers to. Posting about it here will verge on preaching to the choir, but I'm tempted to do it anyway, because even Steve, my buddy, brought up the curious fact that there were no letters printed in the RWR this month agreeing with my position. 
And this is something I've been wrestling with for awhile. 

One woman did put up a letter several months back, asking RWA not to mess with the idea of one-man, one-woman romance stories as their foundation. She basically warned of much the same things I did, only perhaps without so strong a connection to pedophilia as I made.
(There's a whole 'nuther subtopic we could go into about the recent Church scandals, pedophilia, and homosexuality, and their interconnectedness...but that's another topic for another day. It's just a real curious, and real obvious, connection, one that you're not hearing about in the same liberal media attacking our Church. But, I digress.) 

But other than that one letter, and one refuting it, which basically I ended up turning around and refuting back... :-) There's been precious little evidence in RWA of not only any Christian presence but even of a more traditional presence and mindset that would have said, "Well, DUH, of course," to the notion of one-man, one-woman being the foundation of modern romantic fiction, and something we might want to stick with, even to the point of defining it if we felt that necessary. 
Which makes me wonder a couple of things. 
1) Is the moral, upright point of view really that rare nowadays? or, 
2) If it isn't, where are the other letters? 

I can tell you a short answer: people aren't writing them because they know what kind of abuse they'll be subject to for doing so. Heck, I had to completely delete one blog of mine from the system, there was so much of this abuse coming in. I despaired of leaving the blog up for Round Two, so I didn't. People don't want to stick out their necks only to see the blade coming down, and I don't blame them. 

On the other hand, however, isn't right worth standing up for? In public? And damn the consequences? 

I still think so...and I used to think lots of people would agree with that. But it's a little troubling not to see more evidence of it at the moment. It makes you think, and it makes you wonder. 

I'm hoping it's not an accurate barometer of where we are as a group of Christian people--that we're only willing to take moral stands where it's "safe" to do so. We wouldn't be here if that was the background of our faith and of our predecessors. 
So we do have to be very careful, and concerned, if we're passing on the wrong message to those who could most benefit from our being brave. Standing up for right only when we're sure nothing will "happen to us" as a result certainly isn't the legacy we inherited from the Church thus far. In some circles, it's become the legacy of the Church today, but we have to fight against that, too. 

To my mind, it's a fight worth waging. But I sometimes wonder how many of us really feel that way anymore. And what will become of us, and our faith, if we stop fighting the good fight the minute things get nasty. 

Pondering, 

Janny

Thoughts on becoming a "public person"

I had one of those epiphanies this morning; they come every once in awhile, things that take you aback and make you consider something you hadn't before. It happened when one of my friends said to me, "Well, you seem to have become a public person in doing what you did." And I thought, Wow. It's that easy to become a "public person"?

And then I thought, Wouldn't it be wonderful if, indeed, that was true? Well, wonderful in a way. But I won't find that out this time around...because, despite appearances, it hasn't happened yet.

On one level, yeah, my name's out there, all right. My name's on a lot of blogs, a lot of boards, a lot of e-mails, and apparently, a lot of people's minds. So I've gotten a slice of being a "public" personality, for what that's worth.

But am I, really, any more a public person than I was before I wrote to the RWR? I would maintain no. Not at all.

I didn't become a "public person" simply because something I wrote got a lot of knickers in a twist. That didn't do it, for the simple reason that the hundreds of lines of text that are being written about me, invoking my name, or cussing me out now...don't have anything to do with me as a PERSON. They have to do with an image. A straw woman, if you will.

Someone people seized on and are hanging in effigy. But not, really, anyone who resembles who I AM.

They have nothing to do, for example, with this blog.
Or, for that matter, my other one.
Or with the years of experience in the trade that have contributed to my publishing credits, my teaching credits, and the people who can point to guidance I gave them that helped them along the path.

They have nothing to do with the fact that I love to sing, and can die happy because I've seen Sam Ramey sing Figaro. (yes!)
They have nothing to do with the long succession of cats I've owned over the years, who in themselves would probably provide blog material for years to come.
They have nothing to do with my beautiful, brilliant children, and how proud I am of them.
They have nothing to do with the fact that my husband has survived a very early heart attack, has had other complications over the past week, and has still managed to get himself back home for some good old fashioned home cooking and recovery time.
They have nothing to do with my faith...which I prove not only by staying Catholic, but by being a Cubs fan. (Hey, faith manifests itself in all kinds of ways.)

In short, you'll see thousands of words online about "me" right now. But in reality, those words aren't about ME at all. They're about strangers' IDEAs of one aspect of who I am.

And in most cases, who these strangers seem to think I am is a very judgmental, nasty, and biased person, a right-wing nutjob who'd throw them all into a baptismal font against their wills and force them to convert to some form of Christian/fascism that even scares ME to think about.

Of course, that's usually what happens when people don't bother to find out who a person really is. It happens when they prejudge, based on bits and pieces of information. In other words, it's based on bigotry

Interesting, considering that's the most popular term for ME nowadays.
But that is, after all, what happens when people don't want to risk being corrupted by the facts.

Because of this, I have a renewed empathy for other public figures and household names. The amount and kind of press a man or woman receives now has little to do with his or her character, beliefs, actual thought processes, ethics, or soul--and everything to do with what certain media types DECIDE that person is, slanting their comments and coverage accordingly...having the nerve to call what they do "journalism"...and hoodwinking vast numbers of people into believing they're getting "the real truth" about someone.

Balderdash. Of course, it's not the truth. Any more than what you'll see on most sites slamming ME is. How can it be, when it's written by strangers?

Oh, people went to my blogs and looked at my profiles...but just long enough to find something they could pick on. Oh, people took personal preferences, politics, and religious ideas from my sites, things I had deliberately steered AWAY from mentioning in my letter--not because I'm ashamed of them, but because they were irrelevant--and extrapolated them into personal insults in order to discredit what I said. But nothing they said truly discredits me...because it's on the level of playground taunting.

It doesn't take much thinking to call someone names. Nor any courage. So while Janet W. Butler, in some ways, has become a "public person"...Janet W. Butler, the real person--who would have been willing to exchange e-mails with many of these people, if they'd had the guts to do so--is still hiding behind the curtain. Not by choice, but by design: the design of people who don't choose to know a whole, real person with multiple facets, but who instead choose the low road of insults, slams, and name-calling.

This might make for some interesting conversation, some lively blogs, and a lot of mutual patting each other on the back. But has it made for any real public dialogue, communication, or exchange of idea or opinion based on actual ideas and opinions?

Read the blogs yourself, and unfortunately, you'll get the answer.

Paddling away in the water over the bridge,
Janny