Jonathan Langford's Blog, page 6

Book Signings and Other Delights

I went to a book signing this past weekend. Sadly, I wasn't the one signing the books. Instead, it was Dan Wells, the LDS author of the John Wayne Cleaver books (I Am Not a Serial Killer, Mr. Monster, and the just-released I Don't Want to Kill You), a YA/adult horror/suspense/supernatural series that I ranted about (approvingly) here.

Wells is a former editor of The Leading Edge, BYU's science fiction and fantasy magazine, where I also got my start in editing back in the mid-1980s (about a decade before Wells, I think). He also tied for the Whitney Award for best first novel in 2009 for I Am Not a Serial Killer — an award for which No Going Back was also eligible, but did not win. I can't really resent him for it, since I Am Not a Serial Killer is really quite good — and the later books are better.

So I made my way to Uncle Hugo's, the Twin Cities' premier independent sf&f bookstore, where Wells was holding forth. I stood around for an hour or so, then went with him and several other fans (including William Morris, a compatriot in the field of Mormon letters and coeditor of the forthcoming Mormons and Monsters anthology), and we went to lunch, where I listened and tried not to talk too much and generally absorbed good writing vibes. And then I went home, while Wells and several of the others made their way to Minicon, an sf&f convention that was being held in Minneapolis Easter weekend and which I had briefly contemplated attending, before deciding otherwise.

It was a good experience. Well, maybe. As a fan, I was glad to go. As a writer, I felt (and feel) deeply ambivalent.

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Back when I was younger, I used to enjoy writing groups. I also used to like conventions, and hearing other writers talk about writing, and reading and doing my best to become informed about the writing world in general, both on the compositional side and from a business perspective. And then a few years ago, I started trying to write more seriously, and things changed for me.

Part of the problem is simple jealousy — or, to be more accurate, demoralization. It's depressing to see other people talk about writing who are succeeding in actually doing it, when so far I'm not. That's especially the case when they mention all the clever things they're writing about and their strategies for staying in print and promoting their work, and I think to myself that no way am I that smart or persistent or insightful or whatever. Hearing about other writers' troubles is even worse. If they're having a hard time getting contracts and such, how can I expect to have a chance?

I recognize the paradoxical, no-win nature of my feelings, in which every possible input seems depressing. Kind of like Monopoly, where I discovered years ago that I'm both a poor winner and a poor loser. And so the only winning move is — not to play? I can only hope that's not the case with writing.

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Back in the summer of 2008, I was in the early chapters of No Going Back. I'd shown what I had written to a friend, who gave me an honest and much-needed but not positive critique. And then things had stalled. I was having a hard time figuring out where to go from there, and indeed whether it was worth continuing at all.

And then I went to Worldcon, with a group of friends and acquaintances from the writing group I'd belonged to in college. And it made me feel even worse. On the way back, I remember feeling closer than ever before to deciding I was permanently done with trying to be a creative writer.

Obviously that isn't what happened. Even now, I can't be sure if going to Worldcon helped or hurt my writing process. Or maybe it was simply irrelevant, because when it came down to it, the things I needed to do in order to become a published novelist didn't have that much to do with Worldcon or my writing friends or anything else except simply persisting in putting words down on paper.

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There's a point at which you've learned enough, and then you have to try. Not that there isn't more to learn, but rather that until you've attempted to apply what you already know in theory, no new ideas are going to do you any good.

That's where I am in my writing. Out of those years of reading and listening to writers talk about the writing craft — as well as time spent in English departments, and working as a professional informational writer and editor — I've acquired a store of ideas and suggestions about how the writing process works. Quite likely too many ideas, if the truth be told. And now I have to try to actually make them happen, and see what works and what doesn't work for me.

That, I think, is the most important part of why showing up at other writers' book signings and going to conventions and reading what other writers have to say about writing don't do much for me these days. At this time in my writing life, they're all substitutes for the writing itself, which is where the rubber meets the road — or fails to do so, with the result that my nascent writing career flies off into nothingness.

The potential value such events have for me lies in reminding me of this basic truth. If going makes me feel snappish and quasi-depressed — and drives me back to pencil and keyboad — then maybe that will be worth it. I suppose we'll have to see.

2 1/2 New Reviews

So. After more than a month with no particular news on the No Going Back front, this past Wednesday two new reviews were posted, both positive.

One review was from Suey at It's All About Books, a Utah blog with a couple hundred followers. She awarded it an A- (3 stars out of 5), writing in part:

The internal conflicts [Paul] goes through are heart wrenching. He loves his church and wants to still be part of it, but this is a problem since it feels being gay is wrong. But I loved how this issue was left in a hopeful way, where he didn't necessarily have to decide, at least at this young time in his life, to deny either part of himself…. Bottom line: In the end, I'm glad I read this one! I would like to think that this book would be a help for anyone, especially a Mormon teenager, going through this same situation.

The second review was from Alison at Alison Can Read, a blog with over 800 followers  that's not particularly directed to Mormon readers although Alison (a Minnesotan) is herself Mormon. My favorite part of her very thoughtful review was probably the following:

I loved the interaction between Paul and Chad. This story is told largely through dialogue. I'm obviously not a teenage boy, but I think Mr. Langford perfectly captured a 15-year-old boy's voice. Reading about Paul, Chad, and their other friends hanging out whether at home or school was truly enjoyable. I loved how Paul and Chad messed with each other, trading barbs back and forth. It added bits of humor to an otherwise serious book. It also allowed them to discuss difficult issues, albeit in the uncomfortable, halting way that boys and men often do.

Yes! My attempt to depict teenage-boy awkwardness and attempts at camouflage when dealing with serious matters really does work for some readers! Alison continues:

One of my favorite things about this book was that no viewpoint was glorified. We see various members of the LDS community exhibit homophobic behavior, but others who love and accept Paul unconditionally. Paul's friends in the Gay-Straight Alliance at school challenge him to accept being gay, yet have difficulty accepting Paul's beliefs as a Mormon. Neither group was immune from prejudice. I also didn't feel like I was being preached to. Considering that the characters' religious beliefs were frequently discussed, that's really saying something.

Alison also raises several concerns, most notably including the question of audience (adult versus teen and Mormon versus non-Mormon). While questioning whether non-Mormons might find the Mormon references puzzling, she also acknowledges the many reviews from non-Mormons who don't seem to have an issue with this — something I have also found a bit puzzling. She concludes:

I really enjoyed No Going Back. It deals with a very difficult issue that a lot of people have to face. It doesn't sugar-coat anything. There are no easy choices and no easy answers. There are no heroes and there are no villains. There are just a group of people trying to be good people, be true to themselves, and true to their beliefs and the aftermath when these things conflict.

Her review garnered 15 comments (not counting a rather silly one from me), including a couple from people who themselves might read the book. I'm quite tickled, to be honest.

And then there's the half-review I referred to in my title, a quick mention of No Going Back about a month ago as part of a by Darlene Young, a friend of mine from the Mormon literature community. Her thumbnail description: "I think this was an important story and told in an interesting and effective way. I'm glad it was published. The alternating viewpoint got a little monotonous at times and could be repetitive. I'm glad this book exists."

And so am I (glad this book exists). Otherwise, this blog might not even exist! And that would be truly tragic, for some rather dubious values of "tragic"…

Spring Break

This is another of those no-I'm-not-dead-yet posts, for those who might be wondering…

No news to speak of on the No Going Back front. Every now and then the ranking numbers bobble at Amazon.com, so I think the odd copy is still selling from time to time. I've got maybe 10 or so potential reviews out there that might be written sometime, from places I know about.

This past week was spring break in local schools, including the university where my wife teaches. I wound up with a set of telephone interviews to do, but was able to take part of Thursday and Friday off for shopping and lunch at a Persian restaurant in Minneapolis. It was quite good. I'm justifying it as research for my new novel (the protagonist's best friend is from an Iranian-American family), though I don't quite have the chutzpah to claim the meal as a writing expense. We also did taxes this past week (mostly my spouse again), and I did a little more work on a parent involvement workshop about online safety that has been dragging on far too long.

I'm also plugging away on my new story. Partway through chapter 3 (the first 2 chapters are pretty short), and I'm now at the point where I need to figure out more clearly just which plot threads I'll be following in this story and where they might be going.

And I've dived into the political arena again, in connection with the radical new legislation to strip away collective bargaining rights from Wisconsin public workers on what seem to me like pretty spurious grounds. I won't get into the details here, but hope at some point to do some reading and writing connected to this. (Today I spent a couple of hours pounding the pavement to collect signature on a recall petition for a local legislator who voted for the bill. The claim from legislators and the governor: "This is what we were elected to do." My response: "I don't remember anything about taking away worker's rights. Besides, if this really is what the majority of Wisconsin voters want, then why should you be afraid of a recall election? Let's go ahead and turn it into a real referendum on this legislation." But I'm going down that nasty political road again…)

The Writing Rookie Season 2, #2: Choose to Write! (When a Choice Is Placed Before You…)

This post is cross-posted at A Motley Vision: Mormon Arts and Culture blog.

Every minute of every day, each of us has to choose what he or she will do next.

Okay, maybe not every minute of every day. Practically speaking, most of the time we're in the middle of tasks we've already started, and so not really actively thinking about our options. I suppose that technically, even at those times we're choosing to continue what we're doing by not choosing to do something else, but that's not what I'm talking about. What I'm talking about is the times when we pause at least briefly between two or more options. So maybe every 15 minutes, or every half-hour if we're particularly focused or stuck in a meeting or something. Then again, who knows what we're actually doing mentally while we're in those meetings? (For the purposes of this paragraph, I'm choosing to ignore all those hours we spend sleeping, in comas, being experimented upon by aliens, etc., on the grounds that they're not relevant to my point. Not relevant, I tell you! Bad reader! No milk bones for you.)

Ahem.

Anyway, it occurs to me that one very simple definition of a writer is someone who — among all the myriads of other things he or she could be doing — chooses to write often enough to actually produce something. The rest, as Einstein might say, is details. (And don't you just want to whap Einstein upside the head when he says that? And people like me when they quote him?)

I like this way of thinking, because it puts the emphasis at a level where I find it manageable. I'm not the sort of person who can decide to sit down and write something for four or six or eight or twelve hours, five or six days a week, until I get it done. What I can do is choose to write in this particular moment — sometimes — and see what follows from there.

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Science fiction author Robert Silverberg (so I've heard) can produce 25 pages of text a day when he's in writing mode. (Pause for all the writers and would-be writers to contemplate the pleasant thought of taking out a contract on Robert Silverberg.)

I can't do that. Okay, maybe I could do that, if I was high on the Mormon equivalent of speed (and when you find out what that is, could you tell me?), but anything I produced would be garbage. And after two days of that, I'd be useless for the next month.

Much of the process of being a writer consists of strategies to increase the likelihood of choosing to write at any particular point in time. The process is illustrated admirably (both literally and figuratively) in Edward Gorey's very brief story, The Unstrung Harp; or, Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel, which by the way I highly recommend for all the writers on your gift list, assuming that they have the right kind of offbeat sense of humor to appreciate Gorey. (But then, they're writers, which ups the chances significantly.) I quote: "For writing Mr Earbrass affects an athletic sweater of forgotten origin and unknown significance; it is always worn hind-side-to… Mr Earbrass belongs to the straying, rather than to the sedentary, type of author. He is never to be found at his desk unless actually writing down a sentence. Before this happens he broods over it indefinitely while picking up and putting down again small, loose objects; walking diagonally across rooms; staring out windows; and so forth. He frequently hums, more in his mind than anywhere else, themes from the Poddington Te Deum."

Some writers have routines. I highly recommend that, if you can pull it off. I have bad habits, which I'm constantly trying to evade for long enough to be at least a marginally useful human being. In the case of writing, rather than trying to write at a set time, what I'm learning to do is try to recognize those moments when story ideas and writing impulses are tapping on the window of my brain, and then go and let them in rather than run screaming into the night.

And then (to push the metaphor a bit) I do my best to jog along with my visitor as far as I can, until he/she/gtst vanishes into thin air or goes off in some crazy direction or leads me on until I drop, exhausted, by the side of the road. Not that crazy directions are necessarily bad, mind you. But it's important to distinguish between crazy-good directions and crazy-falling-off-cliffs directions. At least, once one has fallen off the cliff, it's important to be able to recognize that you and your story did just go over a cliff, and maybe it would be a good idea to get back up, climb out, and choose another route.

A certain degree of courage is required. Or, as the common misreading has it: "let no spirit of discretion overcome you in the [writing] hour." The point is that you move. You do something. You write. Without that, nothing else one says or thinks or does as a writer is really important.

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Story writing (as I believe I may have written in a previous post for this series) requires a variety of self-induced monomania. Unfortunately, in my case at least, the tricks I use for throwing myself into that state are likely as not to backfire. Sitting down to "get to it" increases the pressure, and thus the urge to run away. Easing into it by doing other related things (such as writing a blog post about writing) can quickly become a substitute for the thing itself. At this point in my life, I find advice and experiences from other writers depressing rather than motivating. And the last time I tried to tell my wife and daughter about a story idea, they told me to go away. (The idea, so they informed me, was too embarrassing for them to listen to.)

The best and most productive times, I often find, are those occasions when the impulse to write sneaks up on me en route to doing other things. I can't quite make myself believe that scribbling story scenes during sacrament meeting is a sign either of my own spirituality or the worth of my stories. (Indeed, logic rather suggests the reverse.) But writing moments are too precious to sacrifice, whenever they come.

It's my hope that someday, once I've proven to the muse (and to myself) that I can be trusted to write at the times I've set aside for writing, that it will become possible for me to create and keep a real writing schedule. In the meantime, my goal is simply to find time to write, on a frequent if not regular basis, and see what happens.

Quick Update

Here's a quick update, just to let people know that I haven't died or anything…

It's been a busy month. I'm juggling a variety of projects: trying to finish a parent involvement workshop on online safety. I read a memoir by Ann Best that's being published by WiDo, and provided a publicity blurb for that. There's another editing project I have waiting in the wings, helping someone with a book on the history of mechanical creativity. And other paid work projects, plus a few additional miscellaneous projects on the side, such as coordinating the AML blog, Dawning of a Brighter Day. And a sacrament meeting talk (on testimony). Plus trying to do my bit to keep my family fed, clothed, and (relatively) sane.

At the same time, I'm in the early stages of working on a novel about a teenage empath (someone who feels other people's emotions). Earlier this week, I settled on a tentative setting for the story (Manhattan, Kansas, which I'm renaming Halifax to cover any errors and/or allow for creative license). I'm still in early stages of plotting and trying to get my tone right, which includes a mix of writing, brainstorming, research, and mental juggling to try to get the pieces to fit together. I have, however, high hopes for this project.

Meanwhile, no real action on No Going Back this past month. At one point there was a jump in my ranking at Amazon.com, so someone somewhere probably bought a copy or two. I hope it was a real person, and not a reseller. I also got another positive mention courtesy of last year's Whitney Awards, from LDS author Michele Paige Holmes at her blog. In talking about Whitney Awards judging, she wrote (in part of course):

As I mentioned previously, there are no specific guidelines given to judges of the Whitney Awards. First, to answer Stephanie Black's question about the process, what it comes down to is having a ranked list (from 1-20 in romance this year) of the books from best written to, well, the not best written. It would be more gentle, perhaps, to say favorite to least favorite, but the Whitney Awards are not about favorites—regarding authors, subject matter or anything else. Case in point being the general category last year. Jonathan Langford's book, No Going Back, dealt with a subject matter—a teen boy's struggle with same sex attraction—that I didn't particularly want to delve into. As a mother of a teenage boy, this pretty much sounded like one of my worst nightmares. Based on that, one would think that there was no way this book was going to be my "favorite" or anything close. I began reading, and I wasn't very far into the story before I found myself really caring about the main character and his plight. I'm happy to say I was one who voted it into finalist status. It was well-written and very deserving. And while I don't count it as one of my favorite books—the subject matter just isn't something I want to dwell on—it was definitely one of the best general fiction nominees last year.

So there's some evidence that the book did part of what I was hoping for from its readers.

More to come (hopefully) this coming month, as I do more writing. Meanwhile, best to all of you.

Earning the Big (sic) Bucks!

I got my 2010 royalty statement and check last week for No Going Back. The check was for a little over $150: my share in the sale of 109 print copies and 77 electronic copies during 2010. That brings total sales to 227 print copies and 77 electronic copies, for a grand total of 304 — and about $250 total in royalties earnings between 2009 and 2010.

Figuring out just how many copies have actually been distributed is somewhat trickier. Between myself and Chris (my publisher), I'm pretty sure we've given away at least 50 print copies and distributed another 60-70 complimentary electronic copies to reviewers and readers of my manuscript. I don't know for sure, but gave away probably 10-15 more print copies to family and friends. I've sold 13 copies myself. (These don't count toward my royalties, but I get to keep the difference between the cost to me — half the cover price plus shipping — and whatever I charge. Between last year and this year, I've made about $80 from this source.) And Chris and I made electronic copies available to all the judges of the Whitney Awards, a large group that potentially could have included several hundred people, though I don't know how many took advantage of the offer. So make it a little less than 450 copies distributed total, plus however many took got a copy through the Whitney Awards.

This, believe it or not, is not actually too bad for non-mainstream Mormon fiction (i.e., fiction that doesn't get carried by the LDS bookstores such as Deseret Books). Chris tells me that for Zarahemla Books, I'm about midstream in terms of sales: less than Doug Thayer's two books and Coke Newell's On the Road to Heaven, but more than some of the others. Don't know how it compares with numbers from the other independent sellers and/or from those who have self-published their work.

I've shared all this info, partly because I think it's interesting to know these kinds of details about the Mormon publishing world in general, and partly so people will understand that the positive reviews and such that I keep mentioning do not, in fact, translate into mega-bucks for me and a readership in the multiple tens of thousands — though it's now getting close to the point where I might make back the money I've personally spent on gift and complimentary copies. I wonder how these numbers compare to more mainstream fiction publishing within the Mormon market (e.g., titles from Covenant or Cedar Fort)?

Guest Post at Segullah, Plus New Book Review

Last Sunday, I had a guest post titled "Gay and/or Mormon: A Storyteller's Perspective" published at Segullah (description: "Mormon women blogging about the peculiar and the treasured" — and no, I have no idea where the name came from, though it's a great blog that you should definitely check out, even if you aren't a Mormon woman). It got some good and positive responses — though not as many, I can't help but notice, as several other recent posts, such as one about divorce (titled "When Eternal Marriage Isn't") and one about the ambiguous nature and possible value of sin (titled "To Not Have Sinned").

Which, in a way, illustrates the problem that was part of what I was writing about. There's not a strong desire among LDS Church members to read or talk about homosexuality, for some perfectly natural reasons — leaving us, nonetheless, more poorly equipped to support those in our midst who deal with same-sex attraction. (I'll ignore here other likely reasons for my post getting fewer comments, such as the fact that the other posts were shorter and concluded with open-ended questions inviting discussion, or that what I'm talking about is a less universal topic, or even that I'm more or less a stranger while the other posts were by known friends and community members. Or the possibility, indeed likelihood, that they're just more interesting writers than I am, for that forum at least.)

To some extent, it was a marketing effort: an attempt to get word of my book out to people who might not otherwise have heard about it, in a way that would help them sense that it might interest them (and that it's not about attacking LDS people or beliefs). At the same time, it also gave me a chance to share some of the variety of responses I've received from people who are (or once were) Mormon and same-sex attracted, and what I've learned about the myriad of ways people can react to that dilemma. And my sense that it's important for those stories to be heard, regardless of the value or otherwise of my own book as part of that effort.

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And then checking my in-box this morning, I found a very positive review from another non-LDS blogger, Melissa at i swim for oceans (another really cool blog name, though again I have no idea what it means). She writes in part: "Langford has created a masterpiece in No Going Back. Brimming with morals but never preachy, heartwrenching but never overdone, the story of Paul is one of valor, life, and love of belief and oneself — something everyone can relate to on some level…. The prose is real and honest — a bit too gritty and brutal at times, but it works between a male teenage MC and his friends. Paul is well-rounded and tangible, and I enjoyed the level of detail when it came to showing what Paul was attempting to reconcile with in the LDS religion…. No Going Back was a powerful, moving read with a strong message of friendship, family and tolerance. Whether religious or not, I believe everyone can find a meaning in this book, and need for a few tissues, as it's a tearjerker." It doesn't get much more positive than that!

A Week of Seminary

A week ago, I got a call from a brother in our ward who teaches seminary, a religious class taught each weekday morning during the school year for high school students in our church. His wife's schedule had changed, he said, and he couldn't teach this coming week. Could I do it? I said yes.

Seminary, in our ward, is early mornings, starting at 6:00 a.m. at our church building (which is about 15 minutes from where we live) and ending at 6:50. We have a car pool arrangement with another family that lives nearby so that either he or I do the driving each morning, taking our kids up to seminary. Usually we don't have to stay, because our kids can get a ride with one of the students who drives a car from seminary to the local high school. So at worst, it's a matter of getting up, helping my daughter get her breakfast, and then driving for 30 minutes, up to the church and back.

Actually teaching the lessons is a very different thing. The focus this year is on the Doctrine and Covenants — a work of modern scripture, including revelations mostly receiving during the first half of the nineteenth century — with a generous side helping of early LDS Church history. It's a topic I've always enjoyed. Packaging it for teenagers, though, especially early in the morning, is a different matter.

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Teaching and I have always had an uneasy relationship. I do fine as a student (well, mostly). And teaching classes for adults at church seems purely easy to me: you read a few scriptures, ask a few questions, and let the discussion flow. Teenagers, though, are a different matter.

Maybe part of the problem is that my teaching experience has mostly been freshman English composition at the college level and/or remedial writing, which are no one's favorite classes. There's no energy from the students to tie into. If you want to get enthusiasm from your students, the only way you're likely to achieve it is through injection — that is, by pumping your own energy into the class experience and then hoping some of it circuits back to you. Either that or going completely off-topic, allowing students to talk about the things that interest them, which generally don't have much to do with what you're supposed to be covering in an English class.

There's an element of performance in teaching, which is probably part of why I'm so bad at it. That element becomes more important when the students are reluctant or unwilling, which is pretty much always the case with college composition classes and is likely to be the case with early-morning seminary. First, there's the early-morning part, which is never a plus when you're dealing with teenagers. Second, this is about church stuff, which most of them have been getting in classes since they were toddlers. Seminary is typically more intensive than those previous experiences have been, and includes (or can include) a lot of new stuff, but it can often feel like more of the same old thing. So that's another negative. And I don't always identify terribly well with teenagers, except the geeky and eccentric ones. I'm sure that's part of the reason for the less-than-stellar chemistry there's been in English classes I've taught over the years.

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Despite all this, the week turned out pretty well. Even my daughter said so! Part of this is because it's a good group of kids (and those who might be more inclined to cause trouble are usually mostly or entirely asleep). Maybe I've also grown more comfortable in my skin over the years.

I don't anticipate that this is likely to be repeated. Certainly no one's talked to me about becoming one of their permanent teachers, and I'm not planning to seek out anyone to volunteer. I'm glad it happened, though. Just knowing that I could do something like that and have it turn out okay was worthwhile, from my perspective.

Non-Mormon Reactions to No Going Back

I've had another positive review of No Going Back from a non-LDS reviewer. Heather at Buried in Books wrote in part:

I was immediately gripped by the story of Paul a sophomore in high school who knows he is gay, but also knows it goes against everything his religion teaches…. What religion? Mormon which I knew nothing about and still know only a very small part of it. But Paul is very proud of his faith and very faithful and wants to stay true to his vows to the church…. The things [Paul] reveals to [Richard, his bishop], feels comfortable telling him, feels like he has to tell him, and the way the Bishop helps him, I have to say, I'd lie like hell. Nope nothing to confess here. I've been very good. Never done one thing wrong. Don't need any help at all. Especially when I'd have to face him every time I went to my best friend's house. My sex life in my high school years was definitely my own business and I'd never have discussed it with the minister at church. It's a very different religion than what I grew up with…. This book is not filled with religious doctrine and preachy. Not at all! I would have returned it and said I just couldn't read it. I have my own personal religious beliefs and I'm still trying to work a few things out so anything very preachy is a big turn off to me…. Towards the last few pages, the tissue box came out. I tried to be quiet because it was 2:00 am and everyone was sleeping, except me the insomniac or reader with a great book. Mr. Langford develops the characters so well, you feel exactly what they're feeling and at the end you can't help but cry with Paul and the bishop as he talks to Paul from his heart. It was gut wrenching, bittersweet, you don't want that to be the solution…. It is not the type of book I'd usually go for, but I found so much to recommend about the book. The extremely well developed characters, their growth, the various relationships and how they grow, and how faith, in something bigger than yourself, can carry you through, guide you, help you make decisions, shape you, for better or worse. I'm not sure I've ever had such a deep faith in anything, like Paul. I hope I do someday.

I really couldn't hope for a better response than that — particularly from a reader who doesn't share Paul's faith (and mine).

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Back last March, I wrote about the question of writing about Mormon experiences for a non-Mormon audience, and more specifically about whether No Going Back was well-suited for readers from a non-Mormon background. Since then I've accumulated a much broader set of responses. Part of that was deliberate, as I've targeted non-LDS book bloggers with a specific request to address the question of how approachable the book is for non-LDS readers.

Results so far have been mixed. I thought about listing here all the different non-LDS responses I've received, but I don't really know that it would be all that interesting. Besides, there's already a list of published reviews by non-LDS reviewers on the Reviews page over at my website (just click on the Reviews, interviews, etc. link in the left-hand menu). Instead, I thought I'd share a few insights and specific reactions that have been particularly thought-provoking for me.

One of the things that worried me about writing for a non-Mormon audience was that I wasn't sure non-Mormons would care about Paul and his dilemma. How can you feel caught up in the contradiction of wanting to be faithful while also experiencing homosexual feelings if you as a reader don't share that faith? As it turns out, this appears not to have been a barrier for a substantial number of readers (though I'm sure there's also been some self-selection of readers who aren't engaged and therefore never started, finished, and/or commented on the book). In order to appreciate the story, all that seems to be required is an engagement with Paul, who seems to be a character many Mormons and non-Mormons both find easy to like.

No Going Back, of course, is more than a novel with an LDS setting. Mormon belief and practice form a substantial part of the basic conflict of the story. To a great extent, it's a story that's about religion and religious belief. That being the case, I've been very pleased that some readers for whom religious belief is not a powerful part of their lives — including several atheists of my acquaintance — nonetheless were able to sympathize with Paul and his situation. I'm sure they felt his situation would be easier if he could simply abandon his faith, but they seemed willing to accept that for him, this was not a choice that he wanted to embrace. Interestingly, I haven't yet had many readers from other religions that condemn homosexuality, so I have no idea how well the story might resonate for them. It may be that Mormonism is sufficiently alien from other conservative Christian churches that despite the apparently similar dilemma faced by youth in such churches, the specifics wouldn't translate very well.

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There are some general patterns among how readers (Mormons and non-Mormons alike) react to the ending of No Going Back: whether they find it depressing or uplifting, positive, negative, realistic or not. Young gay Mormon readers (e.g., in their 20s) tend to find the ending realistic but depressing. (I'm using the term "gay" here to indicate those who self-identify as experiencing same-gender attraction, regardless of lifestyle choice.) Older gay Mormon readers who are still active in the Church tend to find the ending realistic but not depressing. Gay Mormon readers who have left the Church are in some cases angered by the ending, but more commonly (I've found) consider it realistic, even if they think it's unlikely that Paul will be able to sustain his choices over the long term. They also tend to like the story because it depicts so well a dilemma they have experienced, even if they feel they have moved beyond it by embracing their gay identity and leaving behind their Mormon faith.

Readers who see the Church's counsel as a viable option for gays (i.e., stick it out in this life, either by remaining celibate or by marrying heterosexually if that seems like a viable possibility, and hope for change in the next) often find the ending inspirational, which is largely as I had intended it to be for the book's central audience of believing (non-gay) Mormons. Understandably, most such readers are themselves believing Mormons, though some readers (like Heather above) find Paul's ability to choose the path that seems right for him to be inspirational even without sharing his faith. More often, non-Mormon readers, including those who like the book, express sympathy for Paul and his situation at the end of the story. For example, Mary Ann Grossman, book review editor for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, wrote: "Your heart will break for Paul, the teen told by church leaders that it's OK to be gay as long as he doesn't act on it." Again quoting Heather from Buried in Books, "[Y]ou don't want that to be the solution." Such readers, I believe, are likely to come out of the book with a strong sense of sympathy for young gay Mormons, but probably won't be persuaded in favor of the LDS position on homosexuality (which was not part of my goal).

I've had a few highly negative reviews from non-Mormon and ex-Mormon readers (gay and not) who appeared to dislike the LDS Church so intensely that they couldn't tolerate a book that that depicted it in a positive or even a neutral light. In some of these cases, homosexuality appears to have been their hot-button issue. In other cases, their anti-Mormon feelings appeared to be more generalized. It may be that the better a story like mine succeeded at creating sympathetic and thoroughly human characters who were also sincere about their LDS faith (and not disillusioned about it by the end), the less such readers would like it.

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One concern that was raised by some LDS and former-LDS readers was whether the book would be easily understandable for readers without a Mormon background. It's true that the story contains a lot of specifically Mormon material, from teachers quorums (for 14- and 15-year-olds) to lay bishops, patriarchal blessings, and even the doctrine that God is married and that humans can become like him someday. Most non-Mormon readers, however, didn't mention this as a problem. Offhand, I can recall only one non-Mormon reader who found some of the Mormon references confusing. Several other readers, in contrast, specifically made comments such as the following: "Even not being a Mormon, I did not have a hard time reading this at all" (Laura Chamberlain, Words from the Tampa Bookworm).

It may be, again, that there was some self-screening from readers who would have found immersion in Mormon culture disconcerting. It's also true that although the book mostly didn't include long explanations of things Mormon, I did try to include cues that would help orient readers who might be unfamiliar with specific important references. For example, prior to Paul receiving his patriarchal blessing, I included a short explanation ("A patriarchal blessing was supposed to give direction for a person's life. Paul thought he could use that right now"), and then showed Paul's mother Barbara remembering receiving her patriarchal blessing as a girl and then rereading it as an adult. If there's a lesson to be learned here, I think it's that readers are generally willing to accept even a heavy dosage of Mormon-specific references if they are provided some contextual support — and if the references occur in the context of a story they care about.

For some readers, part of the attraction appears to have been learning about Mormonism as a lifestyle and system of beliefs different from their own. Certainly that's one of the main attractions of many different types of literature, from romances set in exotic settings to stories of the American South written by William Faulkner. Again, if there's a lesson to be learned, I think it is that Mormon cultural elements can be an added attraction for readers who are already engaged by the story and the characters. I doubt, however, that Mormonism is sufficiently exotic to form the "main attraction" for a story aimed at mainstream American readers — unlike, say, Mormon-offshoot polygamist communities. We're just too boringly normal.

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Proselyting for LDS beliefs was never any part of my goal for No Going Back, though I also didn't attempt to hide LDS beliefs, whether in reference to homosexuality, the Book of Mormon, belief in modern prophets, dating standards, or the eternal destiny of humans. It's possible that non-Mormons reading this might realize that the LDS position on homosexuality is not based on simple homophobia, but rather relates to deeply held doctrinal beliefs — but that also wasn't really a major focus for the novel.

Of all the comments I've received about No Going Back, one of my favorites was from an atheist friend of the family who said the book made it really clear that being a Mormon isn't just a Sunday religion, but that it impacts a person's entire life. Another was from a reader, parent of one of my son's friends who has had LDS family members but who is not LDS herself, who particularly liked the way No Going Back showed Mormons as normal, ordinary people — in contrast to venues like Big Love that she felt perpetuated misconceptions and stereotypes.

I'm not entirely sure why these are my favorites. Maybe it's because they suggest that I succeeded in the thing I would have hoped for most in writing for non-Mormons: that is, to communicate a sense of what it feels like to be a believing Mormon, in a way that makes that seem wholly realistic and human. A more modest goal than converting the nations, perhaps, but also (I believe) one more suited to the possibilities of human fiction, and in particular to the story I was trying to tell.

Behind on Things

It's the end of the year, which means it's time for me to mournfully contemplate my to-do list and the many unfinished items on it. As I sit writing this (on the evening of Christmas Eve, though I'm not planning to post it until next Monday), that list includes:

Write my Christmas newsletter
Send presents to people
Do Christmas-y cooking (e.g., shortbread, candied pecans, baklava)
Visit people and take them stuff (see previous bullet)
Help clean and organize the house for a wheelchair-bound relative to stay with us for six months (This could be a whole list in itself.)
Write a business proposal
Complete a parent involvement workshop on bullying
Research and write a parent involvement workshop on Internet safety
Review a novel manuscript
Line up contributors for the AML (Association for Mormon Letters) blog
Write several blogs for posting at various locations
Help my daughter with a high school research paper
Read A Merchant of Venice with my wife and daughter (also for my daughter's English class)
Attempt contact with several people who show up on our local Church records but whom no one has seen in years
Start on editing/reviewing someone else's nonfiction manuscript
Make progress on my own fiction writing

All of which I feel an obligation to do, or at least make substantial progress on, over the next 2 weeks. It all seems pretty unlikely — especially since I'm so easily distractible by many things not appearing on this list.

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One happy thing that I finally accomplished (a year after I took it on — ouch!) was writing a review for Adventures of the Soul, a collection of personal essays previously published by BYU Studies. It's a lovely book, and I deeply wish that I had managed to get the review out in time for people to order copies for Christmas. Instead, the book disappeared in my stacks for a month back in November. Still, the review is done now and posted over at A Motley Vision blog. I hope it will bring at least a little attention for a most deserving collection.