IWSG: Weebles Wobble

It’s the first Wednesday of the month, time for

Alex J. Cavanaugh’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group.

I was busy posting for the A to Z Challenge last month, so I forgot to write for the IWSG.  The last time I posted for the group in March, I was deliberating whether or not to concede to a major revision in order to get my book published.  Well, as most of you know, I did concede, and I got my book deal, but does that make me any less insecure?  Well, in some ways, yes, but in many others, no, not at all.

I suppose what made me most insecure was not landing an agent with my query, and I still haven’t achieved that, even if I did manage to land the bigger fish—the publisher.  I never really liked the idea of a gatekeeper anyway, but still, having the approval of one is a mighty form of validation, one which I desired.  So in that sense, I am still insecure. 

And I still worry obsessively, too, just about different things, things that are more or less out of my control.  But when you agree to publish, you have a very limited amount of control.  I’m an artist, so I have definitive ideas about my book’s cover, and while my publisher listened to my ideas, they are still the ones to decide what it’ll be.  I’m also worried about the edits, which are coming soon.  Though I’ve been assured there isn’t much to change, I know I’ll still have to kill a darling here or there—words, not characters.

 

Of course, my biggest insecurity is wondering how well my book will do once it’s released in October.  Its success will ride mostly on word-of-mouth.  Sure, there will be marketing and blog tours and reviews and all that, but you and I know that most books are made or broken by word-of-mouth.  And my audience is adult, a most discerning crowd. 

So while I’ve had my own brand of validation from my publisher, it’s all still a crap shoot.  Sure, I’ve had my share of accolades, which I am greatly appreciative of, but while many of those are from writers, they have since become my friends, so there’s some built-in bias there.  Come October, what are total strangers going to think?  Now there’s the true rub.  At this point, I feel kind of like one of those Weebles.  I wobble a lot, but I haven’t yet fallen down.  I just hope it stays that way.  

    

A to Z Challenge: X is for X-factor

Welcome to Day 24 of the 2012 A to Z Challenge

X is for X-factor:  the [unknown] variable; the value that may change within the scope of a given problem or set of operations.  (Wikipedia)

As a writer, I’m in control of my story, the characters, and their world.  I love being a creator of new souls and throwing those souls into turmoil and chaos.  Must be what it feels like to be God.  But just like God, once those souls are created, fleshed out from beginning to end, I have very little control over what happens next.  Not if I want to go the traditional route anyway.  And I do.  I am. 

When a writer wants to be traditionally published, he or she usually needs an agent.  (Not always though.  I didn't.)  That entails months, if not years, of querying, where you acquire loads of rejections and feel that it’ll never happen for you.  If it does happen, you have to go through it all over again, trying to find a publisher and an editor who’ll champion your book.  Even if you do, said editor has to take it through a panel to be judged by all the other editors to see if it’s good enough for that publishing house.  And once it does, how will the story emerge after the editing process?  Will it be recognizable to the author? 

And then, after all that—the writing, the revising, the querying, the searching, the editing, the design process—which takes years, there is no guarantee that the book will succeed.  There are just too many unknown variables, x-factors that influence a book’s success.  Many great stories, those with massive financial backing by its publisher, have utterly failed.  And others, some self-published the first time around, find tremendous success, regardless of the quality of the writing, let alone the story.  Just look at 50 Shades of Grey. 

We all know that word-of-mouth is the best, most efficient and influential tool used to market books.  It’s not something you can buy or Tweet or post about.  It’s a slow build-up of satisfied customers who tell other people how much they liked your book.  It is “one of the most credible forms of advertising because people who don't stand to gain personally by promoting [it] put their reputations on the line every time they make a recommendation.”  (Wikipedia) 

You can’t buy this, and you can’t artificially generate it either.  Why it happens with one book and not another is a great unknown.  It’s all a matter of timing, of what strikes a chord at any particular moment.  You can’t touch it, smell it, feel it, or even see it.  It just happens.   It is the epitome of the X-factor.                                            

Does this great unknown scare you as much as it scares me when promoting and selling your book?

REALLY REALLY BIG NEWS!

I’ve been haphazardly blogging since October 2010.  That was right about the time I finished the first draft of my novel, THE MISTAKEN.  Once finished, I realized I wanted to possibly pursue publication.  Knowing nothing about the business, I set out on a long journey to learn everything I could.  Part of that was this notion of building a platform, hence my blog.

Along the way, I’ve met some pretty amazing people, all of you included.  This community of writers is like none I’ve ever seen before, or have ever been a part of.  You will never meet a more supportive group.  They’ve been there for me while I queried and revised, ad nauseum.  They’ve helped me keep my spirits up during the darkest moments, when I thought I’d never reach any of the goals I’d set for myself.

What kept me going—besides an extraordinary amount of ambition and desire—was the fact that, little by little, I saw writers I knew and followed land an agent, sign a book deal, or find publishing success.  It was heartening to know the dream could be realized, that hard work could pay off.  Now, after two years, I’d like to share my good news with all of you:

I SIGNED A BOOK DEAL!

 

Yes, it’s true!  But, just like everything else I do, it wasn’t through “normal” channels.  You see, I’m a DIY girl.  But I still wanted the traditional experience, to be traditionally published.  Yeah, I needed that validation.  But, though I still have several fulls and a few partials still floating around out there, I was not thrilled about restarting the querying process after a nearly nine month hiatus.  And I was never going to self-publish.  It’s just too much work, and I know nothing of that sort of thing. 

So I decided to query a small press, a start-up newly formed over the notion that authors truly matter, that books need fresh, tech-savvy marketing and promotion from their publisher, someone who understood the e-book revolution (and wasn’t under the Department of Justice’s scrutiny.)  With the DOJ attacking the agency model and e-books the wave of the future, I felt the direction of this small press was just the thing for me.  So I submitted a query to them, and they requested my full manuscript.

Of course, if you read my posts here and here, you’d already know it hasn’t been smooth sailing.  I had to overcome a significant obstacle.  You see, my protagonist does a very bad thing, and it was hard for the publisher to get behind that.  So they rejected my manuscript but said they’d be willing to reconsider should I ever make revisions.  I offered a compromise if they’d allow me the same.  Upon that offer, a deal was struck, and, while I did compromise, I don’t feel I had to compromise on my vision or on the story overall, its theme and journey.  That will all remain intact.  So, while I never did restart querying, and therefore never landed an agent, I did follow in my blogging buddy, Alex J. Cavanaugh’s footsteps. 

I got myself a publisher!

...without an agent.  I realize it’s not for everyone.  Would I like to have an agent?  Sure, who wouldn’t?  They work hard for their clients.  And maybe someday I will go that route, if I really need to.  But I accomplished what I wanted, what I would have hired an agent to do.  I saw Alex’s success and knew it was possible, so why not at least attempt the same route? 

Sapphire Star Publishing has made me feel welcomed into their new and growing family of authors.  They have a vision I can stand behind and feel proud to be a part of.  They embrace new technology, as well as the mainstream.  My book will be published in both e-book format and as a trade paperback.  They will be teaching me the ins and trends of marketing, how to promote myself and my book, and, most excitingly, how to use Twitter!  YAY!!

I do Tweet, but I’m not very good at it.  I only joined in because my friend, Jennifer Hillier twisted my arm, but I can see it is an integral part of the publishing business now.  So if you Tweet, find me here @NancySThompson.  Or if you Facebook, visit me here. 

When I shared the news with Jenny Hillier the other day, she said to me, "There are many paths to publication."  And you know, she is so right.  Well, I’d love for you all to accompany me on the next phase of my journey, because, even though I found a publisher, the adventure has only just begun.

And most importantly, if you’re still in the trenches, remember, if I can do it, so can you!  

My first novel, THE MISTAKEN, an adult psychological thriller,

will be released by Sapphire Star Publishing on October 18, 2012

The Book and the Sword

I deeply apologize for not making the blogging rounds this week.  After working with a gifted new critique partner (thanks JeffO,) I’m deep in revisions and want to get them done so I can send my manuscript out to my last two beta readers before I start querying again, hopefully in February. 

Aside from that, I’ve been having a few minor medical issues that have been consuming my attention.  It struck me that when you get news that has the potential of affecting your entire life, you focus on those things that are most important to you.  I was shocked at what became my highest priorities.

Of course, not shocking at all is my child as number one.  With college looming on the horizon, and the financial and living arrangements not yet worked out, I am obsessing over how I will get those finalized.  I’ve taken all the necessary steps, but we are still four months out from making a final decision, even as more acceptances arrive.  My son may be mere months away from adulthood and total freedom, but he still needs me and will for a long time.  This is not surprising.  I’m a mother.  It’s my job.

What is surprising is how important publishing my novel has become—all encompassing, in fact.  I’ve never had a dream that was specifically for me, to the exclusion of everyone else.  Again, I’m a mother, and a wife, and as such, I tend to focus on everyone else before myself.  That’s just part of the job.  But with my son so close to flying the nest, I’ve had to find things to keep me busy since the economy, and therefore my business, is so slow.  Like many others, I turned to writing.  Now that my book is ready to go, or nearly so, my drive to find and land an agent is consuming.  I believe strongly in my novel, that it has merit and can succeed commercially.  I simply won’t rest until I’ve exhausted every avenue available.  It’s a dream I cannot give up on.

My last dream is two-fold.  I’ve wanted to attend a writer’s conference for a while now, but with my business so slow, my funds are limited and, as many of you know, these conferences can be very expensive.  I wanted to attend ThrillerFest in July in New York City, but I don’t have a few extra grand in my pocket.  But BoucherCon, a crime writer’s conference, is remarkably more affordable and I’ve just about saved enough pennies for registration and maybe even the airfare.  So I’m pretty much golden on this dream.  But there is one other that is attached to this like a remora to a shark.

I want to meet my very best friend, writer Lisa Regan, in person, and will finally get to at BoucherCon.  Lisa has saved me in so many ways.  She knows me better than anyone else on earth, save my husband, but then again, she knows things even he does not.  I love this woman like a sister and cannot call my life complete without having met her.  I can’t talk much more about her without crying my eyes out, so I’ll stop here. 

I know I’ll be fine, so no worries, please.  But having my first real glimpse of mortality, at least in a way I cannot control, has focused me, pinpointing on those few things I want to do above all others.  There’s nothing like the Sword of Damocles hanging over your head to get you focused on what’s real and what’s not. 

So I ask you, if you had a sword over your head, what would you want to accomplish?         

Why I support My Local Library

            I’m finding it kind of ironic these days that I am trying to so hard to get published when I can no longer afford the small luxury of buying books.  I should say that’s primarily because I read probably forty books a year or so.  At twenty-four bucks a pop for a hard cover, that’s $1000 and since the decimation of my industry and business, that’s a lot of money that should be going to better uses, especially since there are alternatives.

One might say that buying a Kindle would allow me to purchase a wide volume of novels at a much lower cost, but then again if you knew me and how I feel about e-books versus the real thing, you’d know that I’m just not ready to go there yet.  Plus, if I won’t splurge twenty-four bucks on a book, I certainly won’t pay $115 on an ad-supported Kindle.  So what’s a reader to do then?  That’s easy.  I patronize my local King County Library.

            Actually, that’s a lie.  Sort of.  I do use the library, but from the convenience of my own desk chair.  I can access the entire library system’s stacks via the Internet.  I can search a favorite author’s name and see what titles pop up, then peruse the book flap copy and decide if it interests me or not.  Or if I’ve heard or read a book review and it interests me, I can search that title.  The library even offers me suggestions based on what I’m currently viewing or what I’ve already read.  I love that feature, by the way.

Once I’ve selected the titles I want, they are put on hold and when they become available, they are sent to my local branch just a couple of miles away from my home.  I receive an email notification as soon as the book has been placed on the hold shelf, complete with my name on a reservation slip which makes it easy to locate alphabetically.  And since everything is automated these days, I just scan my own library card then the bar code on the book and viola!  I have that book for at least four weeks though I can renew online, as well.

Now, like with most things, there are drawbacks.  For one, if a title is popular, as many of my selections are, I will likely have to wait a few weeks before that title becomes available.  But I know this up front as the info is supplied to me when placing the hold.  It will say something like my hold is the 25^th hold on 50 copies, which means it might take me a month to receive that title.  I currently have one hold that says 297^th of 195 copies and that’s after already waiting three months, so yeah, that one could take me awhile to get, but I’m patient.  I usually have about six titles on hold at any given time and a stack of at least that many books sitting on my desk, waiting to be read, so I can wait.  I’ve got lots to keep me busy. 

Of course, the biggest drawback to borrowing from the library is that the book is not actually mine.  I can’t keep it and display it on my bookshelf.  But then again, I have so many books and not nearly enough shelf space that I am already stacking two rows per shelf.  That means I can’t even see half the titles I do have as they are hidden behind the forward row.

Conceding that, I do find the fact that the book I’m reading is not mine to bother me a bit.  So if I really, really, REALLY love that book, I will go out and splurge on it.  In the case of Greg Iles’s titles, I loved so many of them—thirteen total—that I had my husband buy them for me off Ebay which meant they were second-hand and I was not supporting my favorite author.

I do feel kind of bad about that, but what can I do?  I don’t typically like paperbacks though they are much cheaper.  And as in the case of Iles’s titles, most of them are not kept on the brick and mortar’s shelves so I would have to back order them only to receive a paperback.  So, for now, my method works for me.  When I’m back to earning some good money, I will start buying books again.

One thing I do love about borrowing books from the library is that I will often read books that I would not ordinarily buy, something that is outside my typical genre of choice, thrillers.  The last book I read outside my genre was Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford.  It is a book of historical fiction set in Seattle (near where I currently reside) during World War II.  It is the story of a Chinese-American boy who falls for a Japanese-American girl just after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and right before she and her family are sent away to an internment camp.  It flashes back and forth between the war years and 1986, when that boy is in his fifties and hears of the discovery of many personal belongings of local interned Japanese-Americans at the Panama Hotel in Seattle.

Definitely not my normal reading choice, but the fact that one of my favorite literary agent bloggers, Jessica Faust of BookEnds, reps the author and the story is set in Seattle, I was very intrigued.  And as I was reading, I found myself constantly using the Google Maps app on my iPhone to locate the streets in the International District that the author described.  I enjoyed his setting so much that I want to spend time exploring the neighborhood, including the Panama Hotel which still exists to this day.

This love of setting harkens back to my last blog post.  I would never have otherwise read this book had I not had the library.  I never would have considered actually buying this book because I don’t think I would have liked it just by reading the flap cover.  But now that I have read it and know how much I love it, I will buy that book and most likely any other Jamie Ford writes.  The library allowed me to open my eyes a bit more and fall in love with another author and said author will now benefit from that, whereas before, he would not have. 

I actually read a lot more books now that I have rediscovered the library.  The ease of use permits me to at least try to explore titles I never would have otherwise.  Now, I will admit, sometimes I don’t always like the titles I’ve checked out.  The Book of Air and Shadows by Michael Gruber, while in my genre and beautifully written, was way too slow for me, The Dead Don’t Dance by Charles Martin was too sickly sweet and The Girl Who Fell From the Sky by Heidi Durrow, well, I found it so uninteresting I couldn’t even make it to page forty though it is an award-winning debut novel.  And though Karin Slaughter’s books are my friend, Lisa’s, favorites, I found, for the most part, that I just don’t care for crime fiction.  Then again, I did love Lisa Gardner’s Say Goodbye.  And I won’t even get into how I feel about Jonathan Franzen.  But the library did allow me to discover Michael Connelly and James Scott Bell, both of whom I love.  And I never would have found out that sometimes the very authors I love most don’t always write spectacular fiction.  Hey, they’re human, too.  Who knew?  

           So all in all, even when I do start raking in the cash again, I think I will most likely keep using my library card to discover new writers and new titles.  In the long run, I believe it will allow me to support those authors I truly love, whose books I really want on my over burdened bookshelf. 

Everyone Needs a Champion

Let's face it, I'm lost.  I don't even know how to get started finding my way back home.  For some reason, I decided to take a path with no roadmap.  And when I started, I didn't know anyone else in my life who had ever taken that road before.  So there I was, blindly barreling down an unmarked, uncharted road with no idea where it ended or the places I would travel through along the way.  I can tell you one thing.  It's a lonely road.  Sparsely traveled.  

I don't know what it is I'm searching for while I travel this road.  Some kind of fulfillment.  Another soul, perhaps, to ease the loneliness.  It's seems counterintuitive, choosing a lonely road in order to find someone to ease my loneliness.  And I can tell you, I am afraid.  Some days I wish I could just die already.  Because it would be so much easier to give up, to let God hold my hand and pull me along.  It seems so much easier than paddling against the current of my life.   

That road I'm traveling feels a lot like the edge of knife and I'm trying to find something to help me balance myself so I don't fall off.  And I feel compelled to rush along that edge instead of taking each step slowly and finding my balance before I take another step.  I mean, have you ever seen someone on a tightrope or a narrow tree that has fallen across a raging river?  The person crossing always seems to practically run across the bridge.  Running seems easier, doesn’t it?  That they are less likely to fall off?  Well, I think that’s my ignorance rushing me along.  My ignorance is my greatest enemy.  It’s like a road sign turned around the wrong way.  Or better yet, it’s like that person on the side of the road you ask for directions, only they don’t have a clue though they point and speak anyway, sending you on a wild goose chase.

I hate being lost.  I feel so out of control.  Lost and lonely.  Is there anything worse?  Probably not, but I have found a few things out along the way.  Though they are not right beside me on the road, I have a few champions who often help me out, shouting out directions or calling me up so that I have a familiar voice to coax me along, urging me to not give up.  It’s too easy to just plop down where I am and hang my head in my hands.  But when those voices call out to me, I sigh and pull myself back up.  It’s still not easy.  It takes a lot more effort to pull myself back up than it would have if I never stopped to begin with.  And I’m still a bit lonely, but knowing I have a few champions in my corner really helps motivate me, keeps me moving along, to find the end of the road and learn from the mistakes I’ve made along the way.  

I have my friends here in town who pat me on the back and reassure me that there are other agents to query, who might be interested in reading my full manuscript even though two have already taken a pass.  Yes, that’s right.  Super Agent X, the one I spoke of here, turned me down.  She was very pleasant, made a few complimentary remarks about strong elements to the narrative and had nothing bad to say except that she didn’t think she could market it as effectively as I would like.  At first, I thought, well I knew that was coming.  I thought I was prepared.  Boy, was I wrong. 

This second rejection on my full manuscript hurt much worse than the first since I had garnered it without any help from anyone along the way.  It was a crushing blow and it devastated me.  So much so that for the first time in my life—and that’s a not so short span of years—I was driven to drink, to drown my sorrows.  For the first time in my life, I took shots of hard alcohol.  Almost as if I was following in the footsteps of my poor misguided protagonist.  How ironic is that?  Funnier still, even though I drank at least half of that bottle of Silver Patron myself, I barely even caught a buzz.  There must be some lesson in there somewhere, right?  Maybe it’s that I should not allow myself to be thrown from the course, even if I am lost.  So here I am, picking myself back up, brushing myself off and craning my ear for those voices, the champions who occasionally shove me from the shoulder back onto the road. 

My husband is one of those champions, though he’s had his faltering moments, as well.  He tries to be stoic and support me even though he’s quite tired of seeing me cry.  He’s the one I have at home whom I see everyday, who gives me a smile and says, “Well, fuck her.  She’s not the only agent out there.”  I know it’s not easy for him either because he cannot be there beside me on the road.  He cheers me on from a distance, unable to steer me the right way because he has no clue which way that is.  But still, he is there. 

My true GPS is my friend, Lisa.  I have spoken of her many, many times.  She is my compass, my true north.  As I’ve said before, I would be completely lost without her, without any hope of finding my way.  She is the only one who also travels this road.  And while she does not stand beside me for the simple reason she is further down the road than I am, she does leave me breadcrumbs along the way. 

She’s been lost on the road many times and for a very long time, but she recently acquired a map in the form of an agent.  So she knows the roadblocks I am experiencing, the stalls and flat tires that slow me down.  She’s experienced them all.  And she cautions me, too.  She’s the big yellow sign that says watch for falling rocks ahead.  Sometimes I’m too busy keeping my head down to take notice and when I fall, Lisa is always, always there to pick me back up, brush me off, turn me back in the right direction and shove me along.  She is my truest champion and has never faltered even once. 

I know it is because she has been there and done that.  But it’s more than just a shove she offers.  Lisa is my one-man cheering squad.  She keeps telling me my book is great and could easily be on a bookseller’s shelf, that it has no problems to speak of.  She says it’s just a matter of finding that one agent who will become my next champion.  That I just need to persevere.  Keep on the road even though that road is long and winding, full of hazards and roadblocks that will slow me down.  She’s always saying she knows I will get published, that I am talented.  And coming from her, man, is that ever a compliment.  So Lisa is the reason that I hoist my big ass from the side of the road.  She’s the reason I keep putting one foot in front of the other, blisters, sprains, broken bones, and all.  She is my champion and I could not find my way down this long, lonely, winding without her. 

           God bless you, Lisa Regan!  

E-Books vs. the Real Thing

Last week, Nathan Bransford asked a question on his blog:  Will you ever buy mostly e-books?  And for the first time in the four years since he first asked this question, the yeas outnumber the nays, 32% to 30%.  I was not surprised since e-readers are the gift of the season this year and many of my friends and family now use them, but when I put the questions to myself, a woman who loves electronic gadgets of all sorts, I answered with a resounding NO!

There are several reasons why, most of them having to do with the nostalgia of holding a book in my hand.  There is something about the way a real book feels that is sensual in so many ways.  It’s almost like holding and caressing a lover in its sensuality.  First, I love the smell of the ink and the paper on a new book, especially a hardback.  I love to run my fingers over the pages from front to back and let the scent of the fanned air caress my face and fill my nostrils.  It smells almost as good as freshly baked break or newly ground coffee. 

And then there’s the feel of the book, its heft and breadth, the substantial bulk, that makes me happy.  And I love a really long, big, fat book because that means I get to be absorbed in a story and the lives of its characters for a very long time. I can fall in love with them and hug them as I pull the thick volume close to my chest before I put it down for the night.  I also love the way it feels when I rest an open book above my upper lip and below my nose as I gaze over the top edge at the TV or a loved one when they interrupt my reading.

When I read a real book, I place my thumbs along the open pages and slip the middle finger of my right hand into the as yet unread pages on the right, gauging how many pages I have left, how much more time I have remaining with my new love.  And when something I’ve just read confuses me, I love to fan back through those pages I’ve already read to find the previously read passage that will straighten me out.  When I do, I often note the few places where the corner of a page became dog-eared or where I spilled some food or drink, creating a small speck on the once clean paper, because I never, and I mean never, sit at the table and eat without a book opened in front of me.

My favorite passages often sit open at attention because I’ve run my hand over the binding so many times.  And when the book falls off the table or chair where I’m sitting, it automatically opens to that exact passage and I picture that scene in my mind all over again.  I even love the way I can see the texture of the paper beneath the contrasting ink.  And I love the cover art, which, if I’ve left the dust jacket on, I will see every single time I pick up my book, noting the placement of the bookmark and my progress through another magnificent story.  I love the way the title and author’s name are raised, pressed from below on the jacket so I can feel it every time I hold it in my hand.

Reading a book is so much more than just the story within.  That’s why publishers put so much time, money and effort into it.  I agree that e-readers are convenient, allowing you to carry every book you’ve ever known and purchased no matter where you’re going.  But I’ve spent a lot of money designing and building floor to ceiling library shelves to hold my most cherished collection:  my books.  They sit like pieces of fine art, deliberately displayed (without their dust jackets) and artfully arranged by author, size, color and topic.  They’re my trophies and I am very proud of them.  I feel like I have a piece of the author residing with me.  I often run my fingers over the spines of my growing library and smile as I remember each story, where I lived, or what I was doing when I read it for the first time.  They are like memories of my own life and I want to be constantly reminded of them every time I stand before the tall shelves.  And I can loan them to my friends, too.    

You just don’t have any of that with an e-reader and an e-book.