Peg Herring's Blog - Posts Tagged "recognition"
Recognition...or None
When my first book came out, some years ago, it was like someone dropped a pebble in Lake Michigan. My friends and acquaintances were thrilled, so locally, there were ripples. The larger world barely noticed.
My second book, the first Simon & Elizabeth mystery, got more attention: good reviews from PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, LIBRARY JOURNAL, BOOKLIST, etc.
The third book also got good reviews, and people (very few, but still) started saying, "I've heard of you" when I went to book events.
Now that the second Simon & Elizabeth mystery is set to appear, buzz is good, and reviewers write in terms of not just a good book, but a good series. And THE DEAD DETECTIVE AGENCY just made the top three finalists in EPIC's competition for best mystery of the year.
So what does that mean?
For one thing, it's scary. Other writers have told me that a successful book puts pressure on an author: the next one has to be just as good, maybe better, to satisfy fans. I feel that pressure too.
On the other hand, it's rewarding. Good writers work really hard to make their books as exciting, correct, engaging, and believable as they can, and it's great when someone recognizes that. It isn't the prizes, not really. We all know that no book is the BEST of any given year. There are a lot of good books released every year, every month. What's great is having someone acknowledge that I worked really hard and was successful in creating something readers enjoy. And it isn't really that one book; it's all the writing done up to that point. In a way, that first book is as responsible for my current success as any of those in between, because getting a publication contract was the first step, the one that let me think, "Maybe I really can do this." The next few books establish a person as more than a one-book wonder, and if that person is lucky, the day comes when someone says, "This book is pretty darned good. We might consider giving it an award."
So it's great to be recognized. But as any real writer will tell you, we'd be doing this anyway. For those who love writing, recognition is gravy on the meat of story-telling, a nice addition, but not the meal.
My second book, the first Simon & Elizabeth mystery, got more attention: good reviews from PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, LIBRARY JOURNAL, BOOKLIST, etc.
The third book also got good reviews, and people (very few, but still) started saying, "I've heard of you" when I went to book events.
Now that the second Simon & Elizabeth mystery is set to appear, buzz is good, and reviewers write in terms of not just a good book, but a good series. And THE DEAD DETECTIVE AGENCY just made the top three finalists in EPIC's competition for best mystery of the year.
So what does that mean?
For one thing, it's scary. Other writers have told me that a successful book puts pressure on an author: the next one has to be just as good, maybe better, to satisfy fans. I feel that pressure too.
On the other hand, it's rewarding. Good writers work really hard to make their books as exciting, correct, engaging, and believable as they can, and it's great when someone recognizes that. It isn't the prizes, not really. We all know that no book is the BEST of any given year. There are a lot of good books released every year, every month. What's great is having someone acknowledge that I worked really hard and was successful in creating something readers enjoy. And it isn't really that one book; it's all the writing done up to that point. In a way, that first book is as responsible for my current success as any of those in between, because getting a publication contract was the first step, the one that let me think, "Maybe I really can do this." The next few books establish a person as more than a one-book wonder, and if that person is lucky, the day comes when someone says, "This book is pretty darned good. We might consider giving it an award."
So it's great to be recognized. But as any real writer will tell you, we'd be doing this anyway. For those who love writing, recognition is gravy on the meat of story-telling, a nice addition, but not the meal.
Facial Recognition Software, Please
On TV, it works in about three seconds and it's right every time. I want it.
I know the face is familiar, but where have I seen it, what is my connection to it, and most importantly, what name is attached to it?
It happens often at book signings, but first, know this: I taught school for many years. Decades, even. Figure somewhere between a hundred fifty to two hundred students each year. Then add in all the people I worked with, especially those who moved on after only a year or two: teachers, administrators, even bus drivers. That’s a lot of people.
In addition to my old career, there's my new one. I have gone to a few author conferences every year for a decade or so. There I meet author after author, fan after fan. Now add in book signings, book groups, bookstore staff, and book producers: editors, agents and the like, not to mention writing groups that ask me to come and talk about how to get started in publishing.
There are even people I’ve “met” only online. I’ve seen their photos on their websites, in their books, and on Goodreads or Amazon.
So back to that book signing. A woman walks by and says, “Well, how are you? It’s been a while.”
“Um, hello…there.”
“I see you’re still writing. Are you enjoying it?”
“Um, yes. I love it.” (Of course I’m thinking, Who is she who is she whoisshe????)
Lots of times the name comes to me after the person has gone away, which is sad, but at least I can stop obsessing about it. This time, I thought I had it. On the way home, a name came to me, the name of an author I’d spent some time with more than a year ago. But when I got home and checked her website, I was wrong. The face in the picture didn't match the face I'd just seen.
So here's what I want: facial recognition software built into my phone. When someone approaches who obviously knows me from somewhere, I’ll pretend I’m reading my email, snap a picture, and run the software until the name comes up. Then I can say, “Yes, I still love writing, Angela Mansolopolis. And do you still have that collie you were so fond of?”
I know the face is familiar, but where have I seen it, what is my connection to it, and most importantly, what name is attached to it?
It happens often at book signings, but first, know this: I taught school for many years. Decades, even. Figure somewhere between a hundred fifty to two hundred students each year. Then add in all the people I worked with, especially those who moved on after only a year or two: teachers, administrators, even bus drivers. That’s a lot of people.
In addition to my old career, there's my new one. I have gone to a few author conferences every year for a decade or so. There I meet author after author, fan after fan. Now add in book signings, book groups, bookstore staff, and book producers: editors, agents and the like, not to mention writing groups that ask me to come and talk about how to get started in publishing.
There are even people I’ve “met” only online. I’ve seen their photos on their websites, in their books, and on Goodreads or Amazon.
So back to that book signing. A woman walks by and says, “Well, how are you? It’s been a while.”
“Um, hello…there.”
“I see you’re still writing. Are you enjoying it?”
“Um, yes. I love it.” (Of course I’m thinking, Who is she who is she whoisshe????)
Lots of times the name comes to me after the person has gone away, which is sad, but at least I can stop obsessing about it. This time, I thought I had it. On the way home, a name came to me, the name of an author I’d spent some time with more than a year ago. But when I got home and checked her website, I was wrong. The face in the picture didn't match the face I'd just seen.
So here's what I want: facial recognition software built into my phone. When someone approaches who obviously knows me from somewhere, I’ll pretend I’m reading my email, snap a picture, and run the software until the name comes up. Then I can say, “Yes, I still love writing, Angela Mansolopolis. And do you still have that collie you were so fond of?”
