Deborah J. Ross's Blog, page 151
February 1, 2012
The Feathered Edge: About the Feathers...
This is the first in a series of blog posts about the stories in my new anthology, The Feathered Edge.
I love how communities are built and how people are linked. So, in the wonderfully organic network of writers who meet one another across vast distances, I can't talk about "Featherweight" and Kari Sperring without telling the tale of SFWA and its Circulating Book Plan.
The idea is that publishers send review copies to garner Nebula nominations, and boxes of books make their way to participating SFWA members according to an arcane circulating route. Some years ago, this migratory library included a book called Bridge of Dreams by some fellow I'd never heard of, Chaz Brenchley. I try every book that isn't obviously war porn for a few pages, so I opened it...and was lost at the first sentence. It grabbed me, poetry neurons and curiosity and romanticism all in one fell swoop, and didn't let go for 400 pages or however long it was.
Shortly thereafter, I found myself with the delightful prospect of editing my first anthology, Lace and Blade. Because the publisher wanted a Valentine's Day release, she agreed to let me do it by invitation. So I sent Chaz an email. The rest, as they say, was history. I not only received a wonderful story ("In The Night Street Baths," reprinted in Wilde Stories 2009), but made a valued friend.
Through Chaz, I made the online acquaintance of Kari Sperring, a charming and articulate British writer whose first novel, Living With Ghosts, would soon be released (and from my own publisher, making her a fellow DAWthor). Kari's a trained historian and knows about things like ancient Welsh (which I believe she speaks) and Viking history. She's also a fellow cat lover and the owner of an amazing collection of elegant skirts. When I learned that her childhood ambition had been to join the Musketeers, I knew we were kindred spirits. However, friendship is one thing and editorial selection is another.
Living With Ghosts won the British Fantasy Award. Her first novel. It's luscious and edgy and romantic and sad. Oh my, can this woman write! So she went on my short list for the next anthology, which by this time would be #3. I had no idea if she wrote short fiction, but I asked her anyway. She sent me "Featherweight." I read,
After the alchemical queen died, she turned into feathers. In life, she had been whipcord and lemons, yet in death she came apart in peace. Her peace--her pieces--floated out into the city she had guarded so long...
One of the deepest pleasures of editing is getting to indulge my own taste, to carefully attend to what strikes such inner chords as to fill me with music. Delightful as it was to read Living With Ghosts, I made my way through "Featherweight" thinking, I asked for this story. She wrote it on my invitation. The feeling is akin to discovering you have acted as midwife to something glorious.
The anthology needed a title and a focus. I thought about romantic, swashbuckling fantasy, and about poetry and heroic quests and the beauty of language, how stories take us beyond ourselves on journeys...where? I kept coming back to this one as a touchstone, the image of feathers drifting through a city and transforming lives. Feathers...dreams...tall tales and myths and bardic chants and sonnets...together they create a very special place in the imagination, neither reality nor dream, but filled with the language of the heart.
The Feathered Edge.
January 31, 2012
The Feathered Edge is out!
Some years ago, I began editing anthologies, "sitting on the other side"
of the editorial desk, as it were. I had a wonderful time, made a ton
of mistakes, did a lot of things right, made some splendid friends, and
had even more fun inviting writers I'd long admired. But the publishing
world is bumpy and unpredictable, and I found myself with a completed
anthology and no publisher -- and a climate in which I got told over and
over, "no one is buying anthologies."
But I did not give up. For
one thing, this one was so splendid, so delicious -- funny,
heart-breaking, romantic, derring-do-ish, action-packed stories from
amazing writers -- that I could not simply walk away from it. Judith Tarr, one of the contributors, called it, "lovely lush fantasy." So I got stubborn. And kept trying. And...
Voila!
Brand new from Sky Warrior Books!
Here's the Table of Contents:
FEATHERWEIGHT by Kari Searing
THE ART OF MASKS by Sherwood Smith
CULVERELLE by Sean McMullen
FORTUNE'S STEPCHILD by Sheila Finch
THE WOMAN WHO FELL IN LOVE WITH THE HORNED KING by Judith Tarr
A WREATH OF LUCK by Madeleine E. Robins
EMBERS by Shannon Page & Jay Lake
QUESTION A STONE by Tanith Lee
A SWAIN OF KNEADED MOONLIGHT by Dave Smeds
FIRE AND FROST AND BURNING ROSE by Rosemary Hawley Jarman
THE GARDEN OF SWORDS by K. D. Wentworth
BLUE VELVET by Diana E. Paxson
OUTLANDER by Samantha Henderson
You can buy it from Barnes & Noble or amazon.com (although for some algorithmic reason, amazon picked the name of one of the contributors as the author).
Just for you lovely people, I'll be doing a blog series, talking about each story, with tidbits here and there about how I came to work with that author. Stay tuned!
January 30, 2012
Sharpening Critical Skills, A Few Thoughts Thereon
As I was learning to write at a professional level, I participated in a long-running writer's group, along with people who'd attended the Clarion workshop and Advanced Writing courses at UCLA. Thus, as I struggled with my own writing craft, I also learning to read carefully and give written critiques. This involved a number of skills, including identifying problems with the story -- whether they were at the level of prose/diction/grammar, plotting or characterization, atmosphere and authorial voice, or theme and dramatic shape. As I got better, I learned also how to read between and beneath the lines, and especially to pay attention to what the writer was trying to do, not how I would prefer to re-write the story.
As in other groups, we gave the author written critiques after reading them aloud. This had benefits for the author, who did not have to take notes and remember everything, but could just listen and take in as much as humanly reasonable under the circumstances, as well as for the group, so we could all hear each other's reactions. But it also forced me to write down what I saw, where the writer lost my confidence, what struck me as infelicitous or out of tune or just plain lacking in credibility.
Coming March 2012!
In recent years, I have had the joy of editing several anthologies: 2 volumes of Lace and Blade for Norilana Books, and 2 forthcoming stand-alone anthologies, Beyond Grimm, Tales Newly Twisted for Book View Cafe, and The Feathered Edge: Tales of Magic, Love, and Daring for Sky Warrior Books. So I've spent a fair amount of time reading stories and thinking about how and why they work/don't work.
It's an amazing pleasure to work with professional authors. Sure, some of us can be egotistical tyrants, but by and large, most of us -- author and editor -- want the same thing, for the story embody the best of the author's imagination. A "fresh pair" of knowledgeable eyes is invaluable. I love, too, that I don't have to explain the principles of writing (Show Don't Tell, Use Scenes, Don't Bash The Reader, etc.), I can just point out where I felt confused or misled, and the author gets it and then fixes it in his or her own way.
Then...I turn back to my own work. OMG, as my computer-fluent kids say. How could I possibly have generated such...well, to say it's drek is an insult to drek. Did I in a million years think that constitutes a proper sentence? Or that any reader with two neurons to rub together would believe this other thing? I exaggerate, of course. Even my rough drafts have improved considerably over the years. What I'm getting at is that changing of gears from being on the outside, thinking editorially about someone else's work, to applying that same turbo-charged critical eye to my own, can be excruciating. I go from confidence to despair within a few paragraphs.
And well I should, because I've been sharpening those critical skills, the ones I deliberately set aside when I'm creating. I can't emphasize enough how important it is to get my editor offline when I'm drafting -- lock her in the attic, send her on an all-expenses-paid vacation to Iceland! It's deadly to my imagination to have her looking over my shoulder, telling me how wrong, wrong, wrong everything I write is. Yet there comes a time when I welcome her back with open arms, give her carte blanche and a cup of hot chocolate, and bid her do her worst. Then I don't want her flabby and weak, which is why it's important to have some aspect of my writing life in which she gets to flex those muscles. For that, she needs to be in fighting trim, and that means regular exercise.
Copyediting -- Boot Camp For the Internal Editor!
As in other groups, we gave the author written critiques after reading them aloud. This had benefits for the author, who did not have to take notes and remember everything, but could just listen and take in as much as humanly reasonable under the circumstances, as well as for the group, so we could all hear each other's reactions. But it also forced me to write down what I saw, where the writer lost my confidence, what struck me as infelicitous or out of tune or just plain lacking in credibility.
Coming March 2012!
In recent years, I have had the joy of editing several anthologies: 2 volumes of Lace and Blade for Norilana Books, and 2 forthcoming stand-alone anthologies, Beyond Grimm, Tales Newly Twisted for Book View Cafe, and The Feathered Edge: Tales of Magic, Love, and Daring for Sky Warrior Books. So I've spent a fair amount of time reading stories and thinking about how and why they work/don't work.
It's an amazing pleasure to work with professional authors. Sure, some of us can be egotistical tyrants, but by and large, most of us -- author and editor -- want the same thing, for the story embody the best of the author's imagination. A "fresh pair" of knowledgeable eyes is invaluable. I love, too, that I don't have to explain the principles of writing (Show Don't Tell, Use Scenes, Don't Bash The Reader, etc.), I can just point out where I felt confused or misled, and the author gets it and then fixes it in his or her own way.
Then...I turn back to my own work. OMG, as my computer-fluent kids say. How could I possibly have generated such...well, to say it's drek is an insult to drek. Did I in a million years think that constitutes a proper sentence? Or that any reader with two neurons to rub together would believe this other thing? I exaggerate, of course. Even my rough drafts have improved considerably over the years. What I'm getting at is that changing of gears from being on the outside, thinking editorially about someone else's work, to applying that same turbo-charged critical eye to my own, can be excruciating. I go from confidence to despair within a few paragraphs.
And well I should, because I've been sharpening those critical skills, the ones I deliberately set aside when I'm creating. I can't emphasize enough how important it is to get my editor offline when I'm drafting -- lock her in the attic, send her on an all-expenses-paid vacation to Iceland! It's deadly to my imagination to have her looking over my shoulder, telling me how wrong, wrong, wrong everything I write is. Yet there comes a time when I welcome her back with open arms, give her carte blanche and a cup of hot chocolate, and bid her do her worst. Then I don't want her flabby and weak, which is why it's important to have some aspect of my writing life in which she gets to flex those muscles. For that, she needs to be in fighting trim, and that means regular exercise.
Copyediting -- Boot Camp For the Internal Editor!
January 24, 2012
GUEST BLOG: Patricia Burroughs On Paul And Me
Book View Cafe welcomes Patricia Burroughs! Here's a delightful tale of her first novel, now available for your delectation as an ebook.
This is about the first novel I had published, La Desperada. It's
about the script adaptation I wrote that was based on that novel. It's
about Paul Newman. It's about a lot of things.
But mainly, it's about how (if I want to do the Hollywood stretch) I almost wrote a script for Paul.
Or if you want to do the reality check, it's about how I maybe almost talked to him on the phone.
Mainly, it's about my writing, my western, my attempts to get it made as a movie, and my new efforts to bring out the ebook.
And it's about a book by Gwendon Swarthout called The Homesman
.
Some years ago on the film UNFORGIVEN
read my western script, liked it a lot, and said to me, "You know, as I
was reading this, I thought, this is the writer who needs to adapt THE
HOMESMAN for Paul Newman."
That is a moment. A Moment. Somebody actually tied me as a
screenwriter to a project for Paul Newman. Not that he was in position
to do anything about it, mind you. But still. It put an idea in my head.
(Dangerous place for ideas, my head.)
I read THE HOMESMAN and loved a lot of it–except for (no spoiler
here, I'm restraining myself) how the female protagonist dealt with her
loss near the end. And I knew, yes, I could write the hell out of this
script, but not if Paul (he was Paul in my mind by this point) wanted
THAT to happen!
Brace yourself.
I wrote Mr Newman (well, it was official correspondence so it didn't
seem right to call him Paul) and told him what I'd been told, and that
I'd love to offer myself up for the task of adapting The Homesman for
him.
Yes.
I really did that.
And–it gets worse.
I did that knowing–KNOWING–that the script he'd been shopping around
trying to get made was supposedly causing all sorts of problems because
everybody "knew" that despite whatever name was on the script, Paul had
written it himself. And nobody wanted to say, "Paul, this script is bad."
So it didn't get made, it kept getting passed around, and…
I wrote and offered my services as a screenwriter.
*takes a bow*
Yes, that is chutzpah.
Of course nothing came of it.
Until many months later, I came home from somewhere to find a message
on my answering machine. A voice said, "Call for Patricia from Mr
Newman." And when I didn't answer, there were murmurs and then a voice
continued, "Mr Newman wanted to thank you for your interest in The
Homesman, but he isn't looking for a writer at this time. If his plans
change, he will let you know."
I almost fell flat on the floor. ON the FLOOR, people.
First of all, it sounded distinctly as if–had I been home–I might
have actually spoken to MR NEWMAN my own sassy self! (That murmuring in
the background? I am sure it was Paul-murmurs. Seriously. I could tell.)
(Okay, maybe in retrospect I decided I could tell.) (Okay, I have no
idea, but it had to be, didn't it? Oh hush.)
At any event, his asst had called to pass verbally, and so nicely and–
Well, I eventually started breathing again.
And that was the end of it.
My brush with almost maybe writing a script for Paul Newman, okay, maybe almost talking to him on the phone.
Moving forward… I'd had a few people tell me that my book reminded
them of Unforgiven in several ways (though my book was published first),
and then this mention of my potential skill with the material in the
The Homesman, and then…
One day I was looking for book comparisons for my new ebook, La
Desperada, so I could say, if you like THIS you might like mine, it has
been compared to Unforgiven* only with a love story and sex," and
somebody said, "This might be helpful. Unforgiven was written by a guy
who was influenced by a novelist, did you know that? He was influenced
by Gwendon Swarthout, who wrote The Shootist and The Homesman."
As comparisons go, it probably doesn't help me a lot, as these are
books which I suggest very few of my target audience will have ever
read.
And yet it felt very odd, like a voice from the distant past bring
back a producer from Unforgiven and a near-brush with Paul Newman and
The Homesman and…
I like to think that if Gwendon Swarthout had ever written a western
with love and sex, somebody just might have said to him, "You know what,
this reminds me a lot of that book by Patricia Burroughs…."
* I could tell you about the time my script got couriered to Carmel
because Clint wanted to read it, but that would just be name-dropping.
The novel La Desperada and the Nicholl Award-winning script Redemption are now available in the same download on Book View Cafe.
This is about the first novel I had published, La Desperada. It's
about the script adaptation I wrote that was based on that novel. It's
about Paul Newman. It's about a lot of things.
But mainly, it's about how (if I want to do the Hollywood stretch) I almost wrote a script for Paul.
Or if you want to do the reality check, it's about how I maybe almost talked to him on the phone.
Mainly, it's about my writing, my western, my attempts to get it made as a movie, and my new efforts to bring out the ebook.
And it's about a book by Gwendon Swarthout called The Homesman
.Some years ago on the film UNFORGIVEN
read my western script, liked it a lot, and said to me, "You know, as I
was reading this, I thought, this is the writer who needs to adapt THE
HOMESMAN for Paul Newman."
That is a moment. A Moment. Somebody actually tied me as a
screenwriter to a project for Paul Newman. Not that he was in position
to do anything about it, mind you. But still. It put an idea in my head.
(Dangerous place for ideas, my head.)
I read THE HOMESMAN and loved a lot of it–except for (no spoiler
here, I'm restraining myself) how the female protagonist dealt with her
loss near the end. And I knew, yes, I could write the hell out of this
script, but not if Paul (he was Paul in my mind by this point) wanted
THAT to happen!
Brace yourself.
I wrote Mr Newman (well, it was official correspondence so it didn't
seem right to call him Paul) and told him what I'd been told, and that
I'd love to offer myself up for the task of adapting The Homesman for
him.
Yes.
I really did that.
And–it gets worse.
I did that knowing–KNOWING–that the script he'd been shopping around
trying to get made was supposedly causing all sorts of problems because
everybody "knew" that despite whatever name was on the script, Paul had
written it himself. And nobody wanted to say, "Paul, this script is bad."
So it didn't get made, it kept getting passed around, and…
I wrote and offered my services as a screenwriter.
*takes a bow*
Yes, that is chutzpah.
Of course nothing came of it.
Until many months later, I came home from somewhere to find a message
on my answering machine. A voice said, "Call for Patricia from Mr
Newman." And when I didn't answer, there were murmurs and then a voice
continued, "Mr Newman wanted to thank you for your interest in The
Homesman, but he isn't looking for a writer at this time. If his plans
change, he will let you know."
I almost fell flat on the floor. ON the FLOOR, people.
First of all, it sounded distinctly as if–had I been home–I might
have actually spoken to MR NEWMAN my own sassy self! (That murmuring in
the background? I am sure it was Paul-murmurs. Seriously. I could tell.)
(Okay, maybe in retrospect I decided I could tell.) (Okay, I have no
idea, but it had to be, didn't it? Oh hush.)
At any event, his asst had called to pass verbally, and so nicely and–
Well, I eventually started breathing again.
And that was the end of it.
My brush with almost maybe writing a script for Paul Newman, okay, maybe almost talking to him on the phone.
Moving forward… I'd had a few people tell me that my book reminded
them of Unforgiven in several ways (though my book was published first),
and then this mention of my potential skill with the material in the
The Homesman, and then…
One day I was looking for book comparisons for my new ebook, La
Desperada, so I could say, if you like THIS you might like mine, it has
been compared to Unforgiven* only with a love story and sex," and
somebody said, "This might be helpful. Unforgiven was written by a guy
who was influenced by a novelist, did you know that? He was influenced
by Gwendon Swarthout, who wrote The Shootist and The Homesman."
As comparisons go, it probably doesn't help me a lot, as these are
books which I suggest very few of my target audience will have ever
read.
And yet it felt very odd, like a voice from the distant past bring
back a producer from Unforgiven and a near-brush with Paul Newman and
The Homesman and…
I like to think that if Gwendon Swarthout had ever written a western
with love and sex, somebody just might have said to him, "You know what,
this reminds me a lot of that book by Patricia Burroughs…."
* I could tell you about the time my script got couriered to Carmel
because Clint wanted to read it, but that would just be name-dropping.
The novel La Desperada and the Nicholl Award-winning script Redemption are now available in the same download on Book View Cafe.
January 22, 2012
Writing Science Fiction and Reading Canine Body Language
Our German Shepherd Dog, Oka, developed fear-aggression after being attacked by other dogs. I watched him go from "Another dog! Hooray -- great fun, great smells!" to "Another dog -- oh no, OH NO -- he's after me -- ohhelpwhatdoIdo -- Pre-emptive Strike!"
After wrestling with 90 pounds of fit, not to mention intense, dog in self-defense mode, we enrolled in a "difficult dog class." This was my first experience of a dog class, let alone one based on positive training techniques. Several things quickly became clear to me.
One, our dog really wants to please us but much of the time, he hasn't the foggiest notion what we want. What he notices is not necessarily what we think is the major point of the communication. So it's up to us to give him cues and feedback that make sense in dog-experience.
Two, dogs learn from consequences and the shorter the time between action and consequence, the better. There are all kinds of other things happening at any moment in time, things the dog may associate with the behavior in question but of which we are unaware. We need to learn a new way of paying attention, but it never hurts to be in control of a consequence that has a high value for the dog. In Oka's case, that's bits of freeze-dried salmon. This is not "bribery." It's using a powerful reinforcer to let the dog know the behavior is desirable. Salmon equals good. Loose-lease walking past another dog equals salmon equals good.
Three, and most importantly, Oka is very clear in communicating what's going on with him. A huge chunk of the fear-aggression problem was my not understanding when he tells me he's anxious or fearful. I had to learn, for instance, that an off-leash dog bounding "playfully" on a direct path toward him (non-threatening dogs approach a strange dog calmly and on a curved path) is certain to elicit signs of anxiety -- ears pinned forward, body tense, gaze fixed -- even before the fur rises in his ruff.
After immersing myself in books on canine body language, I began seeing mistakes in my own inter-species communication. It's natural for us as primates to use primate-friendly language when greeting a dog. We make eye contact, we bend over. (We also make ridiculous chirping noises.) Direct eye contact is a signal of aggression in dogs (polite dogs soften their gaze and look away to indicate their non-threatening intentions). Bending over a dog is dominance behavior, which makes many dogs uncomfortable or fearful. I've had occasion to practice polite dog language in greeting: look away, soft eyes, don't bend over the dog but beside it, approach slowly, maintain distance if the dog exhibits symptoms of distress. I'm amazed at the clearness of their response, often an immediate relaxation of their anxious body-language.
The situation got even more interesting when we introduced two young cats to the household. One had learned that dogs were Dangerous Cat-Eating Monsters; the other hadn't figured them out yet and decided Oka was a sort of overgrown, illiterate big brother. Watching these two, each trying to communicate in his own body language, each puzzled by the other's response, has been fascinating.
As a primate, I know I'm seeing only a fraction of the interaction. I notice the commonality of "predator stare" and "look away." "I just don't get what that ear position means" (cat) is matched by "I'm signaling submissive 'puppy-ears' but he isn't getting it" (dog). This reminds me of conversations I used to have with a co-worker, he in Spanish and me in French.
Eventually Oka decided that "freeze" was a safe response and Shakir took his immobility as an invitation to come rub against him. Once the dog had discovered a successful approach to non-provoking behavior, he decided to try it out on the other cat. She was not impressed at first, but as she relaxed, her curiosity came forth. She was clearly interested in his smell, now that he would stand still long enough for her to feel safe.
As a writer of science fiction and fantasy, I create alien races and strange, divergent human cultures. I don't want my aliens to be actors with bumpy foreheads. That's sloppy writing. Neither do I want to see my animals as people with fur. That's even sloppier thinking. The lure of projecting human reactions and emotions not only leads to misunderstandings, usually at the pet's expense, but deprives us of the opportunity to get outside our own primate limitations and see the world in a new way.
After wrestling with 90 pounds of fit, not to mention intense, dog in self-defense mode, we enrolled in a "difficult dog class." This was my first experience of a dog class, let alone one based on positive training techniques. Several things quickly became clear to me.
One, our dog really wants to please us but much of the time, he hasn't the foggiest notion what we want. What he notices is not necessarily what we think is the major point of the communication. So it's up to us to give him cues and feedback that make sense in dog-experience.
Two, dogs learn from consequences and the shorter the time between action and consequence, the better. There are all kinds of other things happening at any moment in time, things the dog may associate with the behavior in question but of which we are unaware. We need to learn a new way of paying attention, but it never hurts to be in control of a consequence that has a high value for the dog. In Oka's case, that's bits of freeze-dried salmon. This is not "bribery." It's using a powerful reinforcer to let the dog know the behavior is desirable. Salmon equals good. Loose-lease walking past another dog equals salmon equals good.
Three, and most importantly, Oka is very clear in communicating what's going on with him. A huge chunk of the fear-aggression problem was my not understanding when he tells me he's anxious or fearful. I had to learn, for instance, that an off-leash dog bounding "playfully" on a direct path toward him (non-threatening dogs approach a strange dog calmly and on a curved path) is certain to elicit signs of anxiety -- ears pinned forward, body tense, gaze fixed -- even before the fur rises in his ruff.
After immersing myself in books on canine body language, I began seeing mistakes in my own inter-species communication. It's natural for us as primates to use primate-friendly language when greeting a dog. We make eye contact, we bend over. (We also make ridiculous chirping noises.) Direct eye contact is a signal of aggression in dogs (polite dogs soften their gaze and look away to indicate their non-threatening intentions). Bending over a dog is dominance behavior, which makes many dogs uncomfortable or fearful. I've had occasion to practice polite dog language in greeting: look away, soft eyes, don't bend over the dog but beside it, approach slowly, maintain distance if the dog exhibits symptoms of distress. I'm amazed at the clearness of their response, often an immediate relaxation of their anxious body-language.
The situation got even more interesting when we introduced two young cats to the household. One had learned that dogs were Dangerous Cat-Eating Monsters; the other hadn't figured them out yet and decided Oka was a sort of overgrown, illiterate big brother. Watching these two, each trying to communicate in his own body language, each puzzled by the other's response, has been fascinating.
As a primate, I know I'm seeing only a fraction of the interaction. I notice the commonality of "predator stare" and "look away." "I just don't get what that ear position means" (cat) is matched by "I'm signaling submissive 'puppy-ears' but he isn't getting it" (dog). This reminds me of conversations I used to have with a co-worker, he in Spanish and me in French.
Eventually Oka decided that "freeze" was a safe response and Shakir took his immobility as an invitation to come rub against him. Once the dog had discovered a successful approach to non-provoking behavior, he decided to try it out on the other cat. She was not impressed at first, but as she relaxed, her curiosity came forth. She was clearly interested in his smell, now that he would stand still long enough for her to feel safe.
As a writer of science fiction and fantasy, I create alien races and strange, divergent human cultures. I don't want my aliens to be actors with bumpy foreheads. That's sloppy writing. Neither do I want to see my animals as people with fur. That's even sloppier thinking. The lure of projecting human reactions and emotions not only leads to misunderstandings, usually at the pet's expense, but deprives us of the opportunity to get outside our own primate limitations and see the world in a new way.
January 20, 2012
GUEST BLOG: Joshua Palmatier On Creating A Fantasy World
First of all, thanks to Deborah for inviting me to guest
blog here today. I appreciate the offer!
Once upon a time I started a novel. I was in high school,
I'd just decided that I wanted to be a writer, and so I tackled a novel (after
a few half-hearted attempts at short stories). I had an idea after all, and I
had a map I'd drawn in U.S. Government class, and I could see the world in my
head. So off I went.
Ten years and five drafts later, I had a book. During those
five drafts, the world and the map and the magic fleshed itself out, not to
mention I managed to teach myself how to write. I sent it out and got rejection
after rejection after rejection. Most of those were actually good rejections,
saying the writing was good, but the idea behind the novel just wasn't quite
there, not for a debut novel anyway. It was disappointing . . . no, that's a
lie . . . it was heart-rending, but I sucked it up and started work on other
books, other novels, other ideas.
And now, five published novels later, I'm looking back at
that initial book. Why? Because the current series—in fact, all of the books
I've written—have been set in that same world. My first trilogy, the "Throne of
Amenkor," was set at about the same time as that first book, but on a separate
continent. The current series—including Well of Sorrows and the just released
Leaves of Flame—is set on the same continent but at a much earlier time period
than that first novel. However, both series are connected to that first book in
significant ways.
That's one of the most important things I've learned about
writing over the course of the years: that everything you write, everything
that you do, is useful in some way. Nothing is ever wasted. That first book,
even though it didn't find an agent or an editor or publisher to call home, is
still to this day being used in various ways. I didn't realize exactly how
important a part it would play in the novels that I'm writing today.
My current series is inextricably tied to that first novel,
since it's in essence the "history" of the characters I created there. I now
view that first book as "research" for the current book. In that book, the
characters were dealing with the actions of their ancestors, people who had
resorted—in a last desperate act—to a magic that they did not fully understand
called the White Fire. It was a wall of white fire that spread out across the
world, touching everyone, changing them. While the Fire solved the ancestors'
basic problem, it of course had unforeseen consequences, ones that their
successors had to deal with. In the course of writing that first book, I had to
flesh out what drove those people to resort to this Fire. At the time, I
thought I was simply creating a believable back story to the novel, since every
novel must feel like it's part of a much larger whole, a much larger world. At
no point in that creation did I think I'd be actively writing that back story
as a series in and of itself. Even after it was rejected, I thought that story
idea (and its back story) was dead in the water. I turned my attention to a
different story, a different set of characters, and set that story aside. Thankfully,
I didn't trash everything I'd written, or the notes I'd taken about those
people and that back story.
Because here I am, returning to that setting and those
people with Well of Sorrows and now Leaves of
Flame. Everything that, at one point, I thought was worthless because
it didn't sell, is now coming back into play. This is an example on a large
scale—an old novel returning to play an integral role in a new novel—but I've
discovered that everything I've ever created is important to keep, even if it
goes nowhere at the time. Not just on the large scale, but the small as well. In
one project, I started the novel and wrote five chapters, but it just wasn't
working. Okay, that's generous—it sucked. *grin* So I decided to trash that and
start over again, with different characters at a different point in time. I
thought those first five chapters would never see the light of day again. But
then, about halfway through the new version of the novel, they returned. I
ended up integrating large portions of those chapters into the book. They
simply didn't work as a good starting point for the novel, that's all.
So you see, EVERYTHING you do—draw, write, jot down—is
important and should be kept. That map I scrawled in utter boredom in my
government class in high school is now full color, with annotations, places,
names, cultures, and is the basis for all of my novels (and most of my short
stories as well). That first novel, now trunked, became research material for
my current series . . . and might eventually be taken out of that trunk in the
future as well (reworked of course); it's not dead, just set aside. Even scenes
that I write and discard, or delete during a revision—all of that is kept in a
file (called my "cut file") and stored away for potential use in the future. It
might be returned to the manuscript during a future revision, as happened a few
days ago when I returned a scene I cut before my editor saw it because she felt
something was missing in that section—the scene I'd cut, of course. It might
become the genesis for a short story, or even a novel in and of itself. A
throwaway scene in that first book about a warped throne that, when approached,
caused the characters to hear multitudes of strange voices all speaking at once,
became the central part of my first published series, the "Throne of Amenkor."
As I write this new series, I keep looking back at who I was
in high school, that excited teenager who couldn't keep from dreaming of what
this world he'd just created in government class might contain. I still feel
like that excited teenager, especially when I reach the end of a particularly good
scene or the end of a short story or novel. That world—so empty and yet so full
of promise back then—has now been fleshed out and filled in . . . at least,
some significant parts of it have been. There's still entire continents left to
explore there, entire cultures that haven't been experienced yet . . . by you,
the reader, or myself. I can see them. They've been hinted at in some of my
novels.
And I can't wait to find out exactly what their stories are.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Joshua Palmatier (aka Benjamin Tate) is a fantasy writer
with DAW Books, with two series on the shelf, a few short stories, and is
co-editor with Patricia Bray of two anthologies. Check out the "Throne of
Amenkor" trilogy—The Skewed Throne, The Cracked Throne, and The Vacant
Throne—under the Joshua Palmatier name. And look for the "Well" series—Well of
Sorrows and the just released Leaves of Flame—by Benjamin Tate. Short stories
are included in the anthologies Close Encounters of the Urban Kind (edited by
Jennifer Brozek), Beauty Has Her Way (Jennifer Brozek), and River (Alma
Alexander). And the two anthologies he's co-edited are After Hours: Tales from
the Ur-bar and the upcoming The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity (March
2012). Find out more about both names at www.joshuapalmatier.com and
www.benjamintate.com, as well as on Facebook, LiveJournal (jpsorrow), and
Twitter (bentateauthor).
blog here today. I appreciate the offer!
Once upon a time I started a novel. I was in high school,
I'd just decided that I wanted to be a writer, and so I tackled a novel (after
a few half-hearted attempts at short stories). I had an idea after all, and I
had a map I'd drawn in U.S. Government class, and I could see the world in my
head. So off I went.
Ten years and five drafts later, I had a book. During those
five drafts, the world and the map and the magic fleshed itself out, not to
mention I managed to teach myself how to write. I sent it out and got rejection
after rejection after rejection. Most of those were actually good rejections,
saying the writing was good, but the idea behind the novel just wasn't quite
there, not for a debut novel anyway. It was disappointing . . . no, that's a
lie . . . it was heart-rending, but I sucked it up and started work on other
books, other novels, other ideas.
And now, five published novels later, I'm looking back at
that initial book. Why? Because the current series—in fact, all of the books
I've written—have been set in that same world. My first trilogy, the "Throne of
Amenkor," was set at about the same time as that first book, but on a separate
continent. The current series—including Well of Sorrows and the just released
Leaves of Flame—is set on the same continent but at a much earlier time period
than that first novel. However, both series are connected to that first book in
significant ways.
That's one of the most important things I've learned about
writing over the course of the years: that everything you write, everything
that you do, is useful in some way. Nothing is ever wasted. That first book,
even though it didn't find an agent or an editor or publisher to call home, is
still to this day being used in various ways. I didn't realize exactly how
important a part it would play in the novels that I'm writing today.
My current series is inextricably tied to that first novel,
since it's in essence the "history" of the characters I created there. I now
view that first book as "research" for the current book. In that book, the
characters were dealing with the actions of their ancestors, people who had
resorted—in a last desperate act—to a magic that they did not fully understand
called the White Fire. It was a wall of white fire that spread out across the
world, touching everyone, changing them. While the Fire solved the ancestors'
basic problem, it of course had unforeseen consequences, ones that their
successors had to deal with. In the course of writing that first book, I had to
flesh out what drove those people to resort to this Fire. At the time, I
thought I was simply creating a believable back story to the novel, since every
novel must feel like it's part of a much larger whole, a much larger world. At
no point in that creation did I think I'd be actively writing that back story
as a series in and of itself. Even after it was rejected, I thought that story
idea (and its back story) was dead in the water. I turned my attention to a
different story, a different set of characters, and set that story aside. Thankfully,
I didn't trash everything I'd written, or the notes I'd taken about those
people and that back story.
Because here I am, returning to that setting and those
people with Well of Sorrows and now Leaves of
Flame. Everything that, at one point, I thought was worthless because
it didn't sell, is now coming back into play. This is an example on a large
scale—an old novel returning to play an integral role in a new novel—but I've
discovered that everything I've ever created is important to keep, even if it
goes nowhere at the time. Not just on the large scale, but the small as well. In
one project, I started the novel and wrote five chapters, but it just wasn't
working. Okay, that's generous—it sucked. *grin* So I decided to trash that and
start over again, with different characters at a different point in time. I
thought those first five chapters would never see the light of day again. But
then, about halfway through the new version of the novel, they returned. I
ended up integrating large portions of those chapters into the book. They
simply didn't work as a good starting point for the novel, that's all.
So you see, EVERYTHING you do—draw, write, jot down—is
important and should be kept. That map I scrawled in utter boredom in my
government class in high school is now full color, with annotations, places,
names, cultures, and is the basis for all of my novels (and most of my short
stories as well). That first novel, now trunked, became research material for
my current series . . . and might eventually be taken out of that trunk in the
future as well (reworked of course); it's not dead, just set aside. Even scenes
that I write and discard, or delete during a revision—all of that is kept in a
file (called my "cut file") and stored away for potential use in the future. It
might be returned to the manuscript during a future revision, as happened a few
days ago when I returned a scene I cut before my editor saw it because she felt
something was missing in that section—the scene I'd cut, of course. It might
become the genesis for a short story, or even a novel in and of itself. A
throwaway scene in that first book about a warped throne that, when approached,
caused the characters to hear multitudes of strange voices all speaking at once,
became the central part of my first published series, the "Throne of Amenkor."
As I write this new series, I keep looking back at who I was
in high school, that excited teenager who couldn't keep from dreaming of what
this world he'd just created in government class might contain. I still feel
like that excited teenager, especially when I reach the end of a particularly good
scene or the end of a short story or novel. That world—so empty and yet so full
of promise back then—has now been fleshed out and filled in . . . at least,
some significant parts of it have been. There's still entire continents left to
explore there, entire cultures that haven't been experienced yet . . . by you,
the reader, or myself. I can see them. They've been hinted at in some of my
novels.
And I can't wait to find out exactly what their stories are.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Joshua Palmatier (aka Benjamin Tate) is a fantasy writer
with DAW Books, with two series on the shelf, a few short stories, and is
co-editor with Patricia Bray of two anthologies. Check out the "Throne of
Amenkor" trilogy—The Skewed Throne, The Cracked Throne, and The Vacant
Throne—under the Joshua Palmatier name. And look for the "Well" series—Well of
Sorrows and the just released Leaves of Flame—by Benjamin Tate. Short stories
are included in the anthologies Close Encounters of the Urban Kind (edited by
Jennifer Brozek), Beauty Has Her Way (Jennifer Brozek), and River (Alma
Alexander). And the two anthologies he's co-edited are After Hours: Tales from
the Ur-bar and the upcoming The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity (March
2012). Find out more about both names at www.joshuapalmatier.com and
www.benjamintate.com, as well as on Facebook, LiveJournal (jpsorrow), and
Twitter (bentateauthor).
GUEST BLOG: Joshua Palmatier On Creatng A Fantasy World
First of all, thanks to Deborah for inviting me to guest
blog here today. I appreciate the offer!
Once upon a time I started a novel. I was in high school,
I'd just decided that I wanted to be a writer, and so I tackled a novel (after
a few half-hearted attempts at short stories). I had an idea after all, and I
had a map I'd drawn in U.S. Government class, and I could see the world in my
head. So off I went.
Ten years and five drafts later, I had a book. During those
five drafts, the world and the map and the magic fleshed itself out, not to
mention I managed to teach myself how to write. I sent it out and got rejection
after rejection after rejection. Most of those were actually good rejections,
saying the writing was good, but the idea behind the novel just wasn't quite
there, not for a debut novel anyway. It was disappointing . . . no, that's a
lie . . . it was heart-rending, but I sucked it up and started work on other
books, other novels, other ideas.
And now, five published novels later, I'm looking back at
that initial book. Why? Because the current series—in fact, all of the books
I've written—have been set in that same world. My first trilogy, the "Throne of
Amenkor," was set at about the same time as that first book, but on a separate
continent. The current series—including Well of Sorrows and the just released
Leaves of Flame—is set on the same continent but at a much earlier time period
than that first novel. However, both series are connected to that first book in
significant ways.
That's one of the most important things I've learned about
writing over the course of the years: that everything you write, everything
that you do, is useful in some way. Nothing is ever wasted. That first book,
even though it didn't find an agent or an editor or publisher to call home, is
still to this day being used in various ways. I didn't realize exactly how
important a part it would play in the novels that I'm writing today.
My current series is inextricably tied to that first novel,
since it's in essence the "history" of the characters I created there. I now
view that first book as "research" for the current book. In that book, the
characters were dealing with the actions of their ancestors, people who had
resorted—in a last desperate act—to a magic that they did not fully understand
called the White Fire. It was a wall of white fire that spread out across the
world, touching everyone, changing them. While the Fire solved the ancestors'
basic problem, it of course had unforeseen consequences, ones that their
successors had to deal with. In the course of writing that first book, I had to
flesh out what drove those people to resort to this Fire. At the time, I
thought I was simply creating a believable back story to the novel, since every
novel must feel like it's part of a much larger whole, a much larger world. At
no point in that creation did I think I'd be actively writing that back story
as a series in and of itself. Even after it was rejected, I thought that story
idea (and its back story) was dead in the water. I turned my attention to a
different story, a different set of characters, and set that story aside. Thankfully,
I didn't trash everything I'd written, or the notes I'd taken about those
people and that back story.
Because here I am, returning to that setting and those
people with Well of Sorrows and now Leaves of
Flame. Everything that, at one point, I thought was worthless because
it didn't sell, is now coming back into play. This is an example on a large
scale—an old novel returning to play an integral role in a new novel—but I've
discovered that everything I've ever created is important to keep, even if it
goes nowhere at the time. Not just on the large scale, but the small as well. In
one project, I started the novel and wrote five chapters, but it just wasn't
working. Okay, that's generous—it sucked. *grin* So I decided to trash that and
start over again, with different characters at a different point in time. I
thought those first five chapters would never see the light of day again. But
then, about halfway through the new version of the novel, they returned. I
ended up integrating large portions of those chapters into the book. They
simply didn't work as a good starting point for the novel, that's all.
So you see, EVERYTHING you do—draw, write, jot down—is
important and should be kept. That map I scrawled in utter boredom in my
government class in high school is now full color, with annotations, places,
names, cultures, and is the basis for all of my novels (and most of my short
stories as well). That first novel, now trunked, became research material for
my current series . . . and might eventually be taken out of that trunk in the
future as well (reworked of course); it's not dead, just set aside. Even scenes
that I write and discard, or delete during a revision—all of that is kept in a
file (called my "cut file") and stored away for potential use in the future. It
might be returned to the manuscript during a future revision, as happened a few
days ago when I returned a scene I cut before my editor saw it because she felt
something was missing in that section—the scene I'd cut, of course. It might
become the genesis for a short story, or even a novel in and of itself. A
throwaway scene in that first book about a warped throne that, when approached,
caused the characters to hear multitudes of strange voices all speaking at once,
became the central part of my first published series, the "Throne of Amenkor."
As I write this new series, I keep looking back at who I was
in high school, that excited teenager who couldn't keep from dreaming of what
this world he'd just created in government class might contain. I still feel
like that excited teenager, especially when I reach the end of a particularly good
scene or the end of a short story or novel. That world—so empty and yet so full
of promise back then—has now been fleshed out and filled in . . . at least,
some significant parts of it have been. There's still entire continents left to
explore there, entire cultures that haven't been experienced yet . . . by you,
the reader, or myself. I can see them. They've been hinted at in some of my
novels.
And I can't wait to find out exactly what their stories are.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Joshua Palmatier (aka Benjamin Tate) is a fantasy writer
with DAW Books, with two series on the shelf, a few short stories, and is
co-editor with Patricia Bray of two anthologies. Check out the "Throne of
Amenkor" trilogy—The Skewed Throne, The Cracked Throne, and The Vacant
Throne—under the Joshua Palmatier name. And look for the "Well" series—Well of
Sorrows and the just released Leaves of Flame—by Benjamin Tate. Short stories
are included in the anthologies Close Encounters of the Urban Kind (edited by
Jennifer Brozek), Beauty Has Her Way (Jennifer Brozek), and River (Alma
Alexander). And the two anthologies he's co-edited are After Hours: Tales from
the Ur-bar and the upcoming The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity (March
2012). Find out more about both names at www.joshuapalmatier.com and
www.benjamintate.com, as well as on Facebook, LiveJournal (jpsorrow), and
Twitter (bentateauthor).
blog here today. I appreciate the offer!
Once upon a time I started a novel. I was in high school,
I'd just decided that I wanted to be a writer, and so I tackled a novel (after
a few half-hearted attempts at short stories). I had an idea after all, and I
had a map I'd drawn in U.S. Government class, and I could see the world in my
head. So off I went.
Ten years and five drafts later, I had a book. During those
five drafts, the world and the map and the magic fleshed itself out, not to
mention I managed to teach myself how to write. I sent it out and got rejection
after rejection after rejection. Most of those were actually good rejections,
saying the writing was good, but the idea behind the novel just wasn't quite
there, not for a debut novel anyway. It was disappointing . . . no, that's a
lie . . . it was heart-rending, but I sucked it up and started work on other
books, other novels, other ideas.
And now, five published novels later, I'm looking back at
that initial book. Why? Because the current series—in fact, all of the books
I've written—have been set in that same world. My first trilogy, the "Throne of
Amenkor," was set at about the same time as that first book, but on a separate
continent. The current series—including Well of Sorrows and the just released
Leaves of Flame—is set on the same continent but at a much earlier time period
than that first novel. However, both series are connected to that first book in
significant ways.
That's one of the most important things I've learned about
writing over the course of the years: that everything you write, everything
that you do, is useful in some way. Nothing is ever wasted. That first book,
even though it didn't find an agent or an editor or publisher to call home, is
still to this day being used in various ways. I didn't realize exactly how
important a part it would play in the novels that I'm writing today.
My current series is inextricably tied to that first novel,
since it's in essence the "history" of the characters I created there. I now
view that first book as "research" for the current book. In that book, the
characters were dealing with the actions of their ancestors, people who had
resorted—in a last desperate act—to a magic that they did not fully understand
called the White Fire. It was a wall of white fire that spread out across the
world, touching everyone, changing them. While the Fire solved the ancestors'
basic problem, it of course had unforeseen consequences, ones that their
successors had to deal with. In the course of writing that first book, I had to
flesh out what drove those people to resort to this Fire. At the time, I
thought I was simply creating a believable back story to the novel, since every
novel must feel like it's part of a much larger whole, a much larger world. At
no point in that creation did I think I'd be actively writing that back story
as a series in and of itself. Even after it was rejected, I thought that story
idea (and its back story) was dead in the water. I turned my attention to a
different story, a different set of characters, and set that story aside. Thankfully,
I didn't trash everything I'd written, or the notes I'd taken about those
people and that back story.
Because here I am, returning to that setting and those
people with Well of Sorrows and now Leaves of
Flame. Everything that, at one point, I thought was worthless because
it didn't sell, is now coming back into play. This is an example on a large
scale—an old novel returning to play an integral role in a new novel—but I've
discovered that everything I've ever created is important to keep, even if it
goes nowhere at the time. Not just on the large scale, but the small as well. In
one project, I started the novel and wrote five chapters, but it just wasn't
working. Okay, that's generous—it sucked. *grin* So I decided to trash that and
start over again, with different characters at a different point in time. I
thought those first five chapters would never see the light of day again. But
then, about halfway through the new version of the novel, they returned. I
ended up integrating large portions of those chapters into the book. They
simply didn't work as a good starting point for the novel, that's all.
So you see, EVERYTHING you do—draw, write, jot down—is
important and should be kept. That map I scrawled in utter boredom in my
government class in high school is now full color, with annotations, places,
names, cultures, and is the basis for all of my novels (and most of my short
stories as well). That first novel, now trunked, became research material for
my current series . . . and might eventually be taken out of that trunk in the
future as well (reworked of course); it's not dead, just set aside. Even scenes
that I write and discard, or delete during a revision—all of that is kept in a
file (called my "cut file") and stored away for potential use in the future. It
might be returned to the manuscript during a future revision, as happened a few
days ago when I returned a scene I cut before my editor saw it because she felt
something was missing in that section—the scene I'd cut, of course. It might
become the genesis for a short story, or even a novel in and of itself. A
throwaway scene in that first book about a warped throne that, when approached,
caused the characters to hear multitudes of strange voices all speaking at once,
became the central part of my first published series, the "Throne of Amenkor."
As I write this new series, I keep looking back at who I was
in high school, that excited teenager who couldn't keep from dreaming of what
this world he'd just created in government class might contain. I still feel
like that excited teenager, especially when I reach the end of a particularly good
scene or the end of a short story or novel. That world—so empty and yet so full
of promise back then—has now been fleshed out and filled in . . . at least,
some significant parts of it have been. There's still entire continents left to
explore there, entire cultures that haven't been experienced yet . . . by you,
the reader, or myself. I can see them. They've been hinted at in some of my
novels.
And I can't wait to find out exactly what their stories are.
o0o0o0o0o0o
Joshua Palmatier (aka Benjamin Tate) is a fantasy writer
with DAW Books, with two series on the shelf, a few short stories, and is
co-editor with Patricia Bray of two anthologies. Check out the "Throne of
Amenkor" trilogy—The Skewed Throne, The Cracked Throne, and The Vacant
Throne—under the Joshua Palmatier name. And look for the "Well" series—Well of
Sorrows and the just released Leaves of Flame—by Benjamin Tate. Short stories
are included in the anthologies Close Encounters of the Urban Kind (edited by
Jennifer Brozek), Beauty Has Her Way (Jennifer Brozek), and River (Alma
Alexander). And the two anthologies he's co-edited are After Hours: Tales from
the Ur-bar and the upcoming The Modern Fae's Guide to Surviving Humanity (March
2012). Find out more about both names at www.joshuapalmatier.com and
www.benjamintate.com, as well as on Facebook, LiveJournal (jpsorrow), and
Twitter (bentateauthor).
January 17, 2012
What's New At Book View Cafe
One of the things I most appreciate about electronic publishing is the renewed availability of the backlist (not to mention a Renaissance of midlist). It always struck me as sad that books authors worked so hard on, and that readers loved, become difficult if not impossible to find. The internet has made it easier to search for used copies, which is good. But as more readers used electronic devices, it's wonderful to find this repertoire available in this form, too.
For me as an author, it has been a special delight to hear from readers who have just discovered my novels Jaydium and Northlight through ebook editions. Later this spring, I'll be bringing out the first for a whole bunch of stand-alone short stories, perfect for when you have only a limited amount of time and want a complete story.
Some years ago, Irene Radford wrote a wonderful series of fantasy novels about the descendents of Merlin, with each generation of magical guardians in a different historical period. They've been out of print for some time, and now Irene's bringing them out as ebooks from Book View Cafe. The first one, Guardian of the Balance, is out now at a special price. (Click also for a link to a sample chapter, maps, and more!)
Caught between her beloved father, the Merlin of Britain, and Arthur Pendragon, the old ways and the new, Wren must find a way to balance the forces of Chaos with peace. She nurtures the land and the people, creating a haven for anyone displaced by the turbulence. And for the safety of all she must guard her heart against the deep love she shares with Arthur, a married king who holds the future of all the Britains in his hands and his sword.
For me as an author, it has been a special delight to hear from readers who have just discovered my novels Jaydium and Northlight through ebook editions. Later this spring, I'll be bringing out the first for a whole bunch of stand-alone short stories, perfect for when you have only a limited amount of time and want a complete story.
Some years ago, Irene Radford wrote a wonderful series of fantasy novels about the descendents of Merlin, with each generation of magical guardians in a different historical period. They've been out of print for some time, and now Irene's bringing them out as ebooks from Book View Cafe. The first one, Guardian of the Balance, is out now at a special price. (Click also for a link to a sample chapter, maps, and more!)
Caught between her beloved father, the Merlin of Britain, and Arthur Pendragon, the old ways and the new, Wren must find a way to balance the forces of Chaos with peace. She nurtures the land and the people, creating a haven for anyone displaced by the turbulence. And for the safety of all she must guard her heart against the deep love she shares with Arthur, a married king who holds the future of all the Britains in his hands and his sword.
January 12, 2012
I'm on SF Signal!
Today (January 12), I have a Guest Blog on SF Signal about my literary apprenticeship with Marion. I hope you enjoy it.
January 10, 2012
On Reviewing Books: A Gift For Your Favorite Author
From today's Book View Cafe blog:
Michael K. Rose blogged here on 5 Ways to Help Authors Without Spending a Dime.
He suggests using Tags and other tools on Amazon.com, as well as
Facebook shares and Twitter ReTweets to "boost the signal" for your
favorite author's books. I think this is all very well, using the
system of referral algorithms ("Readers who liked this book, also liked
that other book") to direct potential buyers.
Catherine Mintz pointed out that a thoughtful review is even more
effective. Depending on where the review gets posted, that can be the
equivalent of "word of mouth," which is a good thing. But it leads —
for me, anyway, and I suspect for far too many other readers — to
daunting prospect of actually writing such a review.
Between them, high school book review assignments and professional
reviewers had done a disservice to the greater mass of readers (my
husband subscribes to the New York Times Review of Books, which
always comes to my mind as an example of reviews that look to be as
demanding to write as the books themselves!) Although I may appreciate
the exercise in comparative literature, historical perspective, and
contemporary social values — these are not the reviews I want to write, or can write with any degree of facility.
For a long time, I felt guilty because I couldn't bring myself to
write such detailed and well-researched analyses. That guilt turned
into a major obstacle to my writing any reviews at all. With time and
professional confidence, I reached the point of being able to chuck the
old expectations. It's not that I lack opinions on what I read, but
rather that for the most part, I read subjectively and for my own
pleasure. Therefore, my experience of a book is highly colored by the
specific environment — inner and outer — in which I read it. Here's my
second revelation: Personal, subjective reviews are as interesting and valuable as scholarly dissertations.
I think it's valid to talk about books that rescued us from despair,
entertained us during illness, comforted us like companions, or
transformed our worlds. I love hearing those stories from others. So why shouldn't I tell my own versions — as reviews? Maybe review is a poor vessel to hold both such idiosyncratic, emotional responses but it's what we've got.
I'm trying to make a habit of writing a few lines about every book I
finish (or fail to finish, and why). Sometimes I put them up on
various review sites, including online bookstores, LibraryThing and
Goodreads; other times, they end up in a blog or LiveJournal post. I
encourage you to do the same, even if it's just a few lines. You don't
have to repeat the plot (that's one part I always hated, although —
paradoxically and capriciously — I sometimes like that in a review if I
want to know more about the book). How did the book strike you? Would
you have enjoyed it more at a different time of your life? Did it remind
you of other times, other places? How does it stand up to the book
before that? Would you read this author's next work? Would you recommend
it to a friend and if so, which friend?
And also… would you like to see my own reviews here?
The painting is Young Man Reading by Matthias Stom
(1600-1649). When I look at it, I wonder who he is, what he's reading,
and how it is changing his life. He looks a little sad, so I wonder if
it's poetry. Probably not The Lives of the Saints. What do you think?
Michael K. Rose blogged here on 5 Ways to Help Authors Without Spending a Dime.
He suggests using Tags and other tools on Amazon.com, as well as
Facebook shares and Twitter ReTweets to "boost the signal" for your
favorite author's books. I think this is all very well, using the
system of referral algorithms ("Readers who liked this book, also liked
that other book") to direct potential buyers.
Catherine Mintz pointed out that a thoughtful review is even more
effective. Depending on where the review gets posted, that can be the
equivalent of "word of mouth," which is a good thing. But it leads —
for me, anyway, and I suspect for far too many other readers — to
daunting prospect of actually writing such a review.
Between them, high school book review assignments and professional
reviewers had done a disservice to the greater mass of readers (my
husband subscribes to the New York Times Review of Books, which
always comes to my mind as an example of reviews that look to be as
demanding to write as the books themselves!) Although I may appreciate
the exercise in comparative literature, historical perspective, and
contemporary social values — these are not the reviews I want to write, or can write with any degree of facility.
For a long time, I felt guilty because I couldn't bring myself to
write such detailed and well-researched analyses. That guilt turned
into a major obstacle to my writing any reviews at all. With time and
professional confidence, I reached the point of being able to chuck the
old expectations. It's not that I lack opinions on what I read, but
rather that for the most part, I read subjectively and for my own
pleasure. Therefore, my experience of a book is highly colored by the
specific environment — inner and outer — in which I read it. Here's my
second revelation: Personal, subjective reviews are as interesting and valuable as scholarly dissertations.
I think it's valid to talk about books that rescued us from despair,
entertained us during illness, comforted us like companions, or
transformed our worlds. I love hearing those stories from others. So why shouldn't I tell my own versions — as reviews? Maybe review is a poor vessel to hold both such idiosyncratic, emotional responses but it's what we've got.
I'm trying to make a habit of writing a few lines about every book I
finish (or fail to finish, and why). Sometimes I put them up on
various review sites, including online bookstores, LibraryThing and
Goodreads; other times, they end up in a blog or LiveJournal post. I
encourage you to do the same, even if it's just a few lines. You don't
have to repeat the plot (that's one part I always hated, although —
paradoxically and capriciously — I sometimes like that in a review if I
want to know more about the book). How did the book strike you? Would
you have enjoyed it more at a different time of your life? Did it remind
you of other times, other places? How does it stand up to the book
before that? Would you read this author's next work? Would you recommend
it to a friend and if so, which friend?
And also… would you like to see my own reviews here?
The painting is Young Man Reading by Matthias Stom
(1600-1649). When I look at it, I wonder who he is, what he's reading,
and how it is changing his life. He looks a little sad, so I wonder if
it's poetry. Probably not The Lives of the Saints. What do you think?
