What Binds Us—Happy One Month Anniversary

Now that it’s been a month since the release of my debut novel, "What Binds Us," I thought I’d look back over the journey and share what I’ve learned—and here I’m betting I learned something. We shall see. First, 30 days after release, it made #1 at Carina Press. Yay me!

Now, a confession:

I admit it—in a public forum, by the light of day—I search for myself on Amazon.com. Every. Morning. When my book comes up, I am as thrilled as I was the first time I did it. Then, I get on with my day.

Lesson 1: There’s no controlling the reader’s experience.

One reader was disappointed—seriously disappointed—that Thomas-Edward did not end up with Dondi. If they had ended up together, it would l have been a very different book. Until my stalwart editor (and whip-wielder), Rhonda Helms, asked me to expand the relationship between Thomas and Matthew during edits, I had the vague notion that Thomas had remained in love with Dondi. As I expanded their story I came to learn that Thomas loved Dondi fiercely but he was utterly and irretrievably in love with Matthew.

Speaking of Dondi, I have been blown away by how strongly he has resonated with readers. Seriously, as in the book, everyone seems to be in love with him.

I came across a comment online where one would-be reader said she passed on reading the book because of the main character’s name. “Thomas-Edward,” she wrote, “Really?” I named him Thomas-Edward Lawrence, after T.E. Lawrence, aka Lawrence of Arabia. Who was also gay. The name was sort of an obscure reference (I seem to have a decided penchant for those as you’ll see later). And because, when I was a kid, people used to call me “Lawrence of Arabia.” Rather prophetic, don’t you think?

And finally, most famously (for me, anyway) one reviewer quoted a line from the book: "Dondi became my guide, my Virgil, on my personal odyssey of self-discovery.” Then added “(It was Homer, by the way; the one who wrote the Odyssey. Virgil wrote the Aeneid.)” I was irate. I was livid. I was insulted. I knew the difference between "The Iliad and the Odyssey" and "The Aeneid." I had, after all, read both. In Latin. In that sentence I was referring to “Dante’s Inferno” where, Dante, lost in Hell, is guided by the Roman poet, Virgil, through the nine circles. An author acquaintance, far wiser than I, pointed out that readers often make their own interpretations, as they have every right to. She then suggested that my reference to Dante’s Inferno might have been a tad obscure. Point taken, I moved on.

Lesson 2: Sometimes, readers totally “get” you.

And then there are the readers who totally get your story. Which I discovered unexpectedly when one reviewer wrote of the mother of two of the main characters: “Mrs Whyte is so distant, even her children call her ‘Mrs Whyte,’ in fact I’m not sure if we ever learn her first name.” Mrs. Whyte doesn’t, in fact, have a first name. She was based on my father’s half-brother’s mother who was quite distant, quite formidable. I was a kid when I met her but the memory of her coldness, of her distance has always stayed with me. Probably because I was stunned that Uncle Ishmael called his mother “Mrs. White.”

Enjoying the ride.

When I recently went in for jury duty, I proudly wrote “writer” under occupation (okay, there were two lines for occupation, and suddenly doubtful, I also listed my full-time job). When I was called in to be interviewed by the attorneys, the court clerk, squinted at my paper work then at me: “You’re a writer?” he asked. “I am,” I answered trying not to sweat or melt under his gaze (he was devastatingly handsome).

“What do you write?” he asked. I tried not to mumble my responses to this handsome man, sat up straighter. Suddenly I felt great: I had readers, I could search myself on Amazon and I got the attention of a handsome man who otherwise probably wouldn’t have noticed me. Yeah, life is good. I love being a writer!