K.Z. Snow's Blog, page 15
July 11, 2012
Wherein I Don My Pimp Hat & Bling
In case you haven't realized it yet, I get pretty enthusiastic about books that blow me away.
So go to this author's site and click on the Novels tab and read about Snap. Wow, what a read! (And yes, it falls within the realm of the Gay.)
So go to this author's site and click on the Novels tab and read about Snap. Wow, what a read! (And yes, it falls within the realm of the Gay.)
July 5, 2012
Take solace in this fact:
If these songs don't fuck with your head, nothing will.
July 4, 2012
Celebrate Our 236th Birthday!
'Fraid JLA and I can't do much today. Far too hot, far too dry. But I hope the rest of you in the U.S. can have some Fourth of July fun!
July 2, 2012
Authors, Then and Now
A recent discussion thread got me thinking about the differences between writers' aspirations, and self-images, before and after the advent of e-books.
I started writing fiction in earnest in the late 1980s. Print still ruled, and that meant a formidable uphill battle for any unknown scribbler seeking to get her work in readers' hands. For starters, few houses accepted unagented submissions. Finding a place under an agent's wing was an epic hassle in and of itself -- one that could go on for months and yield nothing. Then, if a writer was lucky enough to secure representation, her manuscript was "shopped around" to different editors -- another process that took months and usually resulted in a string of rejections.
So, just trying to get a book published could be a years-long ordeal that taxed a writer's patience and battered his ego. And it only infrequently paid off. One of the most famous anecdotes in literary history has to do with John Kennedy Toole and his 1981 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, A Confederacy of Dunces. The book wasn't published until eleven years after the author's suicide. In fact, it wouldn't have been published at all if not for the stubborn persistence of Toole's mother, who submitted the manuscript relentlessly, weathered a number of rejections, and finally dogged author Walker Percy until he agreed to read it.
So what's the point of this ramble? Getting published was no cake-walk in the print era. It was a trial by fire. Mere desire wouldn't net a contract. Belief in oneself wouldn't do it either. (Toole certainly believed in himself; he thought his novel was a work of genius. But that didn't keep Simon and Schuster from tossing it back at him.) There were far more failed attempts than successful ones. FAR more. For most aspiring authors, the experience was profoundly humbling, even depressing. It was for me. I quit writing for a decade because of my inability to make any headway.
Now, with the growth of e-publishing and particularly self-publishing, anybody who pens a story simply takes it for granted that story will have an audience. And why not? It's easy-peasy to put one's work before the public. There are few remaining gatekeepers.
However, one of the unfortunate results of such ease is a bumper crop of immature writers with inflated egos and a belief their talent is unimpeachable. An almost childlike and certainly amateurish sense of entitlement seems to have taken hold of electronic-age scribes, many of whom equate publication with a confirmation of their brilliance. Any praise, no matter how unqualified the source (a doting partner, a few members of a fandom, a first-time, eager-to-please beta reader), only bolsters this delusion. I believe that's why there's so much flailing and teeth-gnashing over critical reviews and so much chest-pounding and trumpet-blowing over laudatory ones. Many current writers have precious little perspective. They aren't forced to take stock of their ability, continually reevaluate their output, and learn by trial and error. They haven't been humbled by multiple turn-downs and/or various professional critiques of their level of craft or their potential for popular appeal. Instead, they're used to instant gratification, which comes without any questioning of their readiness for publication.
I'm extremely grateful for the opportunities e-publishing has afforded me. But I'm equally grateful for earlier experiences that stripped away any delusions of grandeur. Were an unpublished writer to ask my advice, the last thing I'd say is "believe in yourself." Before you can even begin to believe in yourself -- and that belief, when it does come, must always be attended by reservations -- you must doubt yourself. It's the only way to clear your vision, the only way to learn and grow.
I started writing fiction in earnest in the late 1980s. Print still ruled, and that meant a formidable uphill battle for any unknown scribbler seeking to get her work in readers' hands. For starters, few houses accepted unagented submissions. Finding a place under an agent's wing was an epic hassle in and of itself -- one that could go on for months and yield nothing. Then, if a writer was lucky enough to secure representation, her manuscript was "shopped around" to different editors -- another process that took months and usually resulted in a string of rejections.
So, just trying to get a book published could be a years-long ordeal that taxed a writer's patience and battered his ego. And it only infrequently paid off. One of the most famous anecdotes in literary history has to do with John Kennedy Toole and his 1981 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, A Confederacy of Dunces. The book wasn't published until eleven years after the author's suicide. In fact, it wouldn't have been published at all if not for the stubborn persistence of Toole's mother, who submitted the manuscript relentlessly, weathered a number of rejections, and finally dogged author Walker Percy until he agreed to read it.So what's the point of this ramble? Getting published was no cake-walk in the print era. It was a trial by fire. Mere desire wouldn't net a contract. Belief in oneself wouldn't do it either. (Toole certainly believed in himself; he thought his novel was a work of genius. But that didn't keep Simon and Schuster from tossing it back at him.) There were far more failed attempts than successful ones. FAR more. For most aspiring authors, the experience was profoundly humbling, even depressing. It was for me. I quit writing for a decade because of my inability to make any headway.
Now, with the growth of e-publishing and particularly self-publishing, anybody who pens a story simply takes it for granted that story will have an audience. And why not? It's easy-peasy to put one's work before the public. There are few remaining gatekeepers.
However, one of the unfortunate results of such ease is a bumper crop of immature writers with inflated egos and a belief their talent is unimpeachable. An almost childlike and certainly amateurish sense of entitlement seems to have taken hold of electronic-age scribes, many of whom equate publication with a confirmation of their brilliance. Any praise, no matter how unqualified the source (a doting partner, a few members of a fandom, a first-time, eager-to-please beta reader), only bolsters this delusion. I believe that's why there's so much flailing and teeth-gnashing over critical reviews and so much chest-pounding and trumpet-blowing over laudatory ones. Many current writers have precious little perspective. They aren't forced to take stock of their ability, continually reevaluate their output, and learn by trial and error. They haven't been humbled by multiple turn-downs and/or various professional critiques of their level of craft or their potential for popular appeal. Instead, they're used to instant gratification, which comes without any questioning of their readiness for publication.
I'm extremely grateful for the opportunities e-publishing has afforded me. But I'm equally grateful for earlier experiences that stripped away any delusions of grandeur. Were an unpublished writer to ask my advice, the last thing I'd say is "believe in yourself." Before you can even begin to believe in yourself -- and that belief, when it does come, must always be attended by reservations -- you must doubt yourself. It's the only way to clear your vision, the only way to learn and grow.
June 27, 2012
Wank Sniffing
A short post to ask a largely rhetorical question.
Why is it that some people have an uncanny ability to sniff out controversy on the Internet? Why are they often people who'll lay low for weeks or months on end, then -- voila! -- pop up as soon as they see an opportunity to add fuel to a flame? Why do they seem to thrive on, even live for craziness, for any chance to contribute to a pile-on, or voice their self-righteous indignation, or don a mantle of superiority?
I've seen a lot of this. Am I the only one who has?
June 23, 2012
Do you recognize me?
Here's my other claim to fame. *COUGH* (Clearly, I'm tired of pimping books and, right now, would rather focus on writing them.)
June 17, 2012
Win a book TODAY!
I'm at Jessica Freely's blog, Friskbiskit, today (June 19)!
Comment for a chance to win a download of ANY book featuring Jackson Spey and Adin Swift -- Carny's Magic included. (If you'd like to see which titles you'd be able to choose from, go to my WEBSITE. There's a separate page that lists those books.)
Comment for a chance to win a download of ANY book featuring Jackson Spey and Adin Swift -- Carny's Magic included. (If you'd like to see which titles you'd be able to choose from, go to my WEBSITE. There's a separate page that lists those books.)
Win a book today, June 19!
I'm at Jessica Freely's blog Friskbiskit, today, talking about . . . MAGIC.
It's all about believing. ;-)
It's all about believing. ;-)
June 16, 2012
To all the wonderful gay dads out there . . .
KZ 
(Don't believe those rumors about me.The haters are everywhere.)
June 15, 2012
When is charity justified?
When I nose around the Internet, I occasionally come upon pleas for donations. (To individuals, I mean, not organizations.) These don't crop up very often, and when they do, they're almost always for good causes. Sometimes heart-wrenching causes.
The request I saw today was for someone with a recently deceased adult son. His funeral expenses apparently "turned out to be" more than the parent(s) could afford. Since one of these parents is a publishing industry professional, and nothing was said about her being poverty-stricken, I was left a bit mystified. But it was the implication of an unexpected financial burden that really had me scratching my head -- hence, the scare quotes.
At any meeting with a funeral director -- and I'm speaking from experience -- the costs of mortuary products and services are laid out (no pun) up front. The final tally isn't simply sprung on unsuspecting loved ones following the proceedings. Even more to the point, choices for a funeral are wide and varied enough to fit within almost any budget. Cremation followed by a no-frills memorial service or modest wake is probably the most affordable. A number of my friends have been sent off this way, and there was nothing in the least bit disrespectful about it.
So why (I was wondering as I read this item on Twitter) didn't the parent(s) fashion a funeral that was within their means? Why must they now rely on the kindness of strangers? I don't quite get it.
I think we've all seen online calls for help -- usually, for people who are battling catastrophic illnesses or whose lives have been thrown into disarray by natural disasters. These situations tear at me. I know what a disgusting excuse for a health-care system this country has. I know fires and floods, tornadoes and hurricanes can be devastating. Or losing a job. Or being the victim of a crime or a serious accident. We have no control over such events, and the resulting expenses can quickly spiral out of control. Nobody needs to explain to me why help is necessary.
But help in paying for a funeral whose cost could have been controlled? This I do need explained to me.
Another round of pleas I've seen (yes, a round; they're ongoing) has come from a talented writer who simply decided to stop writing. He was very popular and successful in the not-so-distant past and undoubtedly earned a damned good living. Not only is he no longer writing, he's not doing much of anything. Neither age nor health is a factor. No mental impairment or physical disability is/was involved in the sacrifice of his career or his current lack of employment. He could easily, easily approach most any print or electronic publisher and immediately have a contract, even on spec. Guaranteed. I haven't been able to determine exactly what this person's problem is.
Yet, he has no qualms about asking for/accepting donations from friends and fans -- to pay the mortgage, buy food, you name it. Again, this is incomprehensible to me. I think I'd rather cut off my head than take money for nothing, especially if I was still able, somehow, to generate income on my own.
So where do you draw the line? Are hardship and need mostly subjective? Do they exist primarily in the mind of the person who claims to be experiencing them? Or are there universal, objective standards? Do you ever feel guilty for turning your back on calls for help? Should they be taken at face value? What makes you find some of them specious? (And I'm not talking about the kind of begging that turns up in your spam folder. ;))
I've been wrestling with this issue. I don't like adopting a hard line on anything, except when it comes to hateful fuckwits, but I'm too poor myself to compensate strangers for their questionable decisions.
The request I saw today was for someone with a recently deceased adult son. His funeral expenses apparently "turned out to be" more than the parent(s) could afford. Since one of these parents is a publishing industry professional, and nothing was said about her being poverty-stricken, I was left a bit mystified. But it was the implication of an unexpected financial burden that really had me scratching my head -- hence, the scare quotes.
At any meeting with a funeral director -- and I'm speaking from experience -- the costs of mortuary products and services are laid out (no pun) up front. The final tally isn't simply sprung on unsuspecting loved ones following the proceedings. Even more to the point, choices for a funeral are wide and varied enough to fit within almost any budget. Cremation followed by a no-frills memorial service or modest wake is probably the most affordable. A number of my friends have been sent off this way, and there was nothing in the least bit disrespectful about it.
So why (I was wondering as I read this item on Twitter) didn't the parent(s) fashion a funeral that was within their means? Why must they now rely on the kindness of strangers? I don't quite get it.
I think we've all seen online calls for help -- usually, for people who are battling catastrophic illnesses or whose lives have been thrown into disarray by natural disasters. These situations tear at me. I know what a disgusting excuse for a health-care system this country has. I know fires and floods, tornadoes and hurricanes can be devastating. Or losing a job. Or being the victim of a crime or a serious accident. We have no control over such events, and the resulting expenses can quickly spiral out of control. Nobody needs to explain to me why help is necessary.
But help in paying for a funeral whose cost could have been controlled? This I do need explained to me.
Another round of pleas I've seen (yes, a round; they're ongoing) has come from a talented writer who simply decided to stop writing. He was very popular and successful in the not-so-distant past and undoubtedly earned a damned good living. Not only is he no longer writing, he's not doing much of anything. Neither age nor health is a factor. No mental impairment or physical disability is/was involved in the sacrifice of his career or his current lack of employment. He could easily, easily approach most any print or electronic publisher and immediately have a contract, even on spec. Guaranteed. I haven't been able to determine exactly what this person's problem is.
Yet, he has no qualms about asking for/accepting donations from friends and fans -- to pay the mortgage, buy food, you name it. Again, this is incomprehensible to me. I think I'd rather cut off my head than take money for nothing, especially if I was still able, somehow, to generate income on my own.
So where do you draw the line? Are hardship and need mostly subjective? Do they exist primarily in the mind of the person who claims to be experiencing them? Or are there universal, objective standards? Do you ever feel guilty for turning your back on calls for help? Should they be taken at face value? What makes you find some of them specious? (And I'm not talking about the kind of begging that turns up in your spam folder. ;))
I've been wrestling with this issue. I don't like adopting a hard line on anything, except when it comes to hateful fuckwits, but I'm too poor myself to compensate strangers for their questionable decisions.
