Well, it took me longer than I thought it would, but I finished the new draft of Inventing Vazquez on Sunday. I think this version is getting close to the final one. I still need to go over it again and do another round of wordsmithing, fact checking, and tweaking, but I think the major changes are done. At least, I hope so. I’ve got two test readers this time, and I’ll be holding my breath to see what they think.
It’s an exciting time. Not only because I’m a step closer to completing Inventing Vazquez, but because I now have some time to do other things. As is my habit when finishing a draft, I’m shelving it for a month so I can look at it with fresh eyes in January. And in the meantime, I’ve got lots of free time, mostly because I have a lot of days off I have to burn through at work.
So I’m planning to do several things starting this Thursday. For starters, I’m going to start compiling a list of literary agents, and start prepping the query packages. I really hope that, with the groundwork I’ve already done with Solstice, with my web site, with the book reviews, and the on-the-side writing projects for Quiet Earth and Urban Molecule, I’ll have a better shot at landing an agent. Well, that, and I genuinely think Inventing Vazquez is a better novel with much better writing. Plus it’s funny, so at least I won’t be turning off agents with my “My novel is about the end of the world!” approach! ^_^;
I’m even more excited about the writing projects I have lined up. I have three: The Mourning Syndrome, Electing Choi (the sequel to Inventing Vazquez), and an untitled dark comedy project I’m considering. Since I can’t work on all three at the same time, what I’ll be doing is outlining each, and see which one I feel most enthusiastic about. My guess is it’ll be Electing Choi, because The Mourning Syndrome is depressing end-of-world fare, and I’ve really enjoyed the zany, free-spirited writing style of Inventing Vazquez. But the third project, a sort of road-trip narrative, has its appeal, and so I’ll map it out and see if it’s a viable project at this time. I guess, as long as I can be zany and whimsical, I’ll be happy.
So that’s all, right? Well, not really. ^_^ I’m still trying to form a punk rock band, and I might be a step closer to doing so. I’ve been in touch with a guitarist who’s moving to Detroit tomorrow, and we may jam this weekend to see if we can work together. I have high hopes, because we’re the same age and have very similar musical tastes. If we decide to start the Pineapple Brigade together, then we’ll just need a drummer and a singer, hopefully female. In the meantime, I’m still writing songs. I wrote two new songs over the past couple of weeks, deciding to just have fun and write the kind of jumpy, melodic tunes I like. Wish I could sing, but oh well, what can you do? ^_^
So that’s all, right? I mean, between researching literary agents, starting a new book (after outlining three separate projects), maybe starting a band, and writing more music, I should be pretty much booked up, right? Well, leave it to me to want to squeeze in another thing into my schedule ^_^;
While it’s still in its “I have a goofy idea” phase, I’m thinking of starting an e-zine. Something completely random, humorous, and observational. Something that’ll discuss politics, popular culture, not-so-popular culture, music, and technology. Ideally, I’d like to get together with my friends and publish regular articles, but I haven’t discussed this with anyone except my girlfriend yet. In any event, it’s still in its pre-pre-pre-planning stage, but I think it’d be something cool to do. And I think I already have a name for it. What is it? Something named after one of my favorite Polysics songs ^_^ That’s all I’ll say for now.
Anyway, December should be an interesting, fun, and busy month. And, oh, isn’t there some kind of holiday or something toward the end? ^^;
Showing posts with label Book Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Review. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
The one thing you need if you’re going to be a writer
One of the things I hadn’t anticipated after publishing Solstice was the number of questions I’d hear from friends and strangers alike. How do you become a writer? How do you self-publish a book? What do I need to do to become a writer?
My answers are usually anticlimactically simple, maybe because I don’t think there’s any great science to it. How do you become a writer? By writing. How do you self-publish a book? By doing the research and legwork and understanding the risks of doing so. What do you need to do to become a writer? Like I said, write. About anything and everything.
Yet, there’s one thing, at least, that I can offer up as one of those little nuggets of wisdom I’ve picked up along the way. And it’s pure cliché, but it’s really true. Are you ready? Ahem…
Have thick skin. Very thick skin. And, oh, be open-minded.
There’s no way around it. No matter what you write, and no matter how well or how poorly you write, reader responses are never going to be universal. Some people will like your work. Others will love it. And others will hate it. So there’s no need to go about trying to please everyone. That’s impossible. All you can do is write something that makes you happy, and just make sure it’s the best that you can do.
But in the end, it’s just as important to understand that even harsh, belittling words about your work can serve a purpose.
Praise is fun, make no mistake. When Solstice received those first reviews from Booklist and Library Journal, I felt like I had wings. And when James Rundle over at SciFiNow magazine left a message on this blog, telling me he’d enjoyed the book and was going to review it in their next issue, well… The day the magazine hit bookshelves, I could barely keep myself from jumping up and down in the bookstore parking lot on my way to pick up a copy. And every time I’ve gotten e-mails or have read blogs or reviews by people who enjoyed the book, it really seems to validate the process. Trust me, few things will make you feel as happy as a reader taking the time to e-mail you to say that your book really spoke to them.
But the flipside is just as potent. Few things will feel more like a punch to the stomach as a reader taking the time to write about how pathetic your book was.
I was reminded of this recently when a user wrote a few unkind words about Solstice. When you get this kind of thing, I think it’s normal to feel a full gamut of emotions, not all of them positive.
When I read this review, I felt defensive. I took offense to his comment about how Solstice had been voted Feminist SF’s top obscure novel because I’d incessantly asked friends and family to vote for it (hmmm….Feminist SF itself encouraged the authors on that final list to lobby their friends and family to vote for them, but okay, I guess I misunderstood that part). I took offense that he’d trashed the book even though he didn’t finish reading it. And while I understood his frustrations with the writing and the main character, it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.
So there I was, feeling upset, until I remembered that little nugget of wisdom I mentioned earlier: have thick skin, and be open-minded.
In this day and age, the Internet will allow anyone to voice an opinion. And I think that’s a great thing, because literary criticism shouldn’t just be in the same hands year in and year out. I think it’s great that any one of us can get online and share our thoughts about what moved us, or what angered us. The gods know I do that enough on Quiet Earth now…
So, after putting things into context, and realizing the user was entitled to his opinion, the next wave of emotions kicked in. The more constructive, open-minded ones.
Like I said, you can’t ever please everyone, and there’s no sense in trying. But what you can do is objectively examine both positive and negative critiques, and work toward improving. As with everything else, you want to keep improving at what you do regardless.
For example, one of the consistent complaints I’ve heard about Solstice is its writing style and editing, or lack thereof. Well, there’s no way I can excuse this, really. Solstice was published on a shoestring budget (with less than half of what every self-publishing guru says is typically necessary), and I couldn’t afford the services of a professional editor. My girlfriend—also a writer—and myself edited multiple drafts side by side, doing our best to clean up the narrative. Personally, I think she did a fantastic job of pointing out areas where character development could be stronger. Io’s fixation with motherhood, for example, derived from my girlfriend’s suggestion that Io needed a greater sense of loss for us to gradually sympathize with her.
Did this make Solstice the best novel it could be? Of course not. I doubt any writer will say any draft is the absolute best it could be. Trust me, months later, you’ll pick up your perfectly published book, start reading, and find new things that could have been written better. (That’s why they say every piece of writing is ALWAYS work in progress.) And I know now, from going back and reading bits of Solstice, that it really did need another rewrite. I’ve learned a lot more about writing since then, and I’m already finding all these places in the novel where the writing could have been cleaner, the prose less convoluted, the descriptions less repetitive. I almost want to rewrite it now, for the sake of making it a better version, but content myself with the knowledge that its sequel will be better.
But, Solstice was the best I could do at the time, and while I know there’s lots of room for improvement, I’ve accepted the fact that it was a first novel. I’ve a lot to learn about my craft yet, and Solstice was my first attempt. I take some comfort in the fact that, as a first novel, it still received far more praise than I could have ever imagined. By all accounts, the book exceeded expectations.
But reviews like the one I pointed out remind me that, yes, I have lots of room for improvement. And therein lies the value of even the harshest critique. Ever since I read that review, I’ve gone back to my current novel, Inventing Vazquez, with renewed purpose. I’m pushing myself harder to make sure the writing is cleaner this time. That the prose is less wordy and less pretentious. I’m trying to ensure the narrative flow isn’t just clean, but entertaining. Because the novel is almost twice as long as Solstice, and I need to make sure people will actually want to read it.
I think I’ve spouted out nothing but common sense here, but I thought it was important to share regardless. Because the fact is, all us writers are going to get killed more often than not in the realm of literary criticism. Professional book reviewers and online readers alike won’t always like our work, and some will rip into us without mercy. They don’t care that you poured your heart and soul into your work—nor should they, because just because you poured your heart and soul into something doesn’t grant it immunity. But when they do rip into your work, just remember that it’s an opinion.
Don’t take it personally, because it’s highly unlikely the person was out to get you.
Don’t get angry, because now at least you have the impetus to want to do better on your next one.
Don’t get sad, because chances are other people did like your work. And if they’ve written to tell you so, go back and read their words as a reminder that not everyone hated your work.
Don’t start thinking you’re no good, because writing is an accomplishment that no one can take away from you, and it’s an accomplishment most people will never achieve. Feel proud about what you’ve done, and just try to do better.
And above all, don’t second-guess your decisions. Don’t think, “I shouldn’t have published that book,” or, “I should have waited a bit more,” because if we waited to write that perfect draft that would please everyone, well, there’s never be any books written.
Wow, I sure sound preachy! ^^; I don’t mean to, but I guess I know there are a lot of people out there who are fearful of writing precisely because they’re afraid of the negative feedback. Yes, negative feedback is tough to swallow, but ultimately, it makes you stronger. You just have to take the good with the bad, same as everything else. And you have to find the value in everything, even the reviews that say you shouldn’t ever be allowed near a computer again.
My answers are usually anticlimactically simple, maybe because I don’t think there’s any great science to it. How do you become a writer? By writing. How do you self-publish a book? By doing the research and legwork and understanding the risks of doing so. What do you need to do to become a writer? Like I said, write. About anything and everything.
Yet, there’s one thing, at least, that I can offer up as one of those little nuggets of wisdom I’ve picked up along the way. And it’s pure cliché, but it’s really true. Are you ready? Ahem…
Have thick skin. Very thick skin. And, oh, be open-minded.
There’s no way around it. No matter what you write, and no matter how well or how poorly you write, reader responses are never going to be universal. Some people will like your work. Others will love it. And others will hate it. So there’s no need to go about trying to please everyone. That’s impossible. All you can do is write something that makes you happy, and just make sure it’s the best that you can do.
But in the end, it’s just as important to understand that even harsh, belittling words about your work can serve a purpose.
Praise is fun, make no mistake. When Solstice received those first reviews from Booklist and Library Journal, I felt like I had wings. And when James Rundle over at SciFiNow magazine left a message on this blog, telling me he’d enjoyed the book and was going to review it in their next issue, well… The day the magazine hit bookshelves, I could barely keep myself from jumping up and down in the bookstore parking lot on my way to pick up a copy. And every time I’ve gotten e-mails or have read blogs or reviews by people who enjoyed the book, it really seems to validate the process. Trust me, few things will make you feel as happy as a reader taking the time to e-mail you to say that your book really spoke to them.
But the flipside is just as potent. Few things will feel more like a punch to the stomach as a reader taking the time to write about how pathetic your book was.
I was reminded of this recently when a user wrote a few unkind words about Solstice. When you get this kind of thing, I think it’s normal to feel a full gamut of emotions, not all of them positive.
When I read this review, I felt defensive. I took offense to his comment about how Solstice had been voted Feminist SF’s top obscure novel because I’d incessantly asked friends and family to vote for it (hmmm….Feminist SF itself encouraged the authors on that final list to lobby their friends and family to vote for them, but okay, I guess I misunderstood that part). I took offense that he’d trashed the book even though he didn’t finish reading it. And while I understood his frustrations with the writing and the main character, it didn’t make it any easier to stomach.
So there I was, feeling upset, until I remembered that little nugget of wisdom I mentioned earlier: have thick skin, and be open-minded.
In this day and age, the Internet will allow anyone to voice an opinion. And I think that’s a great thing, because literary criticism shouldn’t just be in the same hands year in and year out. I think it’s great that any one of us can get online and share our thoughts about what moved us, or what angered us. The gods know I do that enough on Quiet Earth now…
So, after putting things into context, and realizing the user was entitled to his opinion, the next wave of emotions kicked in. The more constructive, open-minded ones.
Like I said, you can’t ever please everyone, and there’s no sense in trying. But what you can do is objectively examine both positive and negative critiques, and work toward improving. As with everything else, you want to keep improving at what you do regardless.
For example, one of the consistent complaints I’ve heard about Solstice is its writing style and editing, or lack thereof. Well, there’s no way I can excuse this, really. Solstice was published on a shoestring budget (with less than half of what every self-publishing guru says is typically necessary), and I couldn’t afford the services of a professional editor. My girlfriend—also a writer—and myself edited multiple drafts side by side, doing our best to clean up the narrative. Personally, I think she did a fantastic job of pointing out areas where character development could be stronger. Io’s fixation with motherhood, for example, derived from my girlfriend’s suggestion that Io needed a greater sense of loss for us to gradually sympathize with her.
Did this make Solstice the best novel it could be? Of course not. I doubt any writer will say any draft is the absolute best it could be. Trust me, months later, you’ll pick up your perfectly published book, start reading, and find new things that could have been written better. (That’s why they say every piece of writing is ALWAYS work in progress.) And I know now, from going back and reading bits of Solstice, that it really did need another rewrite. I’ve learned a lot more about writing since then, and I’m already finding all these places in the novel where the writing could have been cleaner, the prose less convoluted, the descriptions less repetitive. I almost want to rewrite it now, for the sake of making it a better version, but content myself with the knowledge that its sequel will be better.
But, Solstice was the best I could do at the time, and while I know there’s lots of room for improvement, I’ve accepted the fact that it was a first novel. I’ve a lot to learn about my craft yet, and Solstice was my first attempt. I take some comfort in the fact that, as a first novel, it still received far more praise than I could have ever imagined. By all accounts, the book exceeded expectations.
But reviews like the one I pointed out remind me that, yes, I have lots of room for improvement. And therein lies the value of even the harshest critique. Ever since I read that review, I’ve gone back to my current novel, Inventing Vazquez, with renewed purpose. I’m pushing myself harder to make sure the writing is cleaner this time. That the prose is less wordy and less pretentious. I’m trying to ensure the narrative flow isn’t just clean, but entertaining. Because the novel is almost twice as long as Solstice, and I need to make sure people will actually want to read it.
I think I’ve spouted out nothing but common sense here, but I thought it was important to share regardless. Because the fact is, all us writers are going to get killed more often than not in the realm of literary criticism. Professional book reviewers and online readers alike won’t always like our work, and some will rip into us without mercy. They don’t care that you poured your heart and soul into your work—nor should they, because just because you poured your heart and soul into something doesn’t grant it immunity. But when they do rip into your work, just remember that it’s an opinion.
Don’t take it personally, because it’s highly unlikely the person was out to get you.
Don’t get angry, because now at least you have the impetus to want to do better on your next one.
Don’t get sad, because chances are other people did like your work. And if they’ve written to tell you so, go back and read their words as a reminder that not everyone hated your work.
Don’t start thinking you’re no good, because writing is an accomplishment that no one can take away from you, and it’s an accomplishment most people will never achieve. Feel proud about what you’ve done, and just try to do better.
And above all, don’t second-guess your decisions. Don’t think, “I shouldn’t have published that book,” or, “I should have waited a bit more,” because if we waited to write that perfect draft that would please everyone, well, there’s never be any books written.
Wow, I sure sound preachy! ^^; I don’t mean to, but I guess I know there are a lot of people out there who are fearful of writing precisely because they’re afraid of the negative feedback. Yes, negative feedback is tough to swallow, but ultimately, it makes you stronger. You just have to take the good with the bad, same as everything else. And you have to find the value in everything, even the reviews that say you shouldn’t ever be allowed near a computer again.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Feminism, Distribution, Contests, and a Book Review of Sister Chicas
Try saying that three times fast…
Anyway, this promises to be a long blog entry, so if you need a snack, now might be a good time to get one.
So what’s going on? Well, some good news: At long last, I finished my new draft of Inventing Vazquez! ^_^ And what’s the best way of making an 850 page novel better? Push it closer to 900 pages! Eep… And while it’ll still need another rewrite before its ready, I do think it’s a lot stronger. I’m hoping my two new test readers will agree. So now that I’m done with that, I’m taking the next two weeks off from working on it, to clear my mind, and get through my long list of to-do’s. And one of the first things on that list was…update my blog ^^
So something interesting materialized in the world of Solstice. A reader over on goodreads.com gave Solstice a good review, but had some very interesting things to say about the book’s feminist take. For example, she wrote: “I appreciate the rage that animates the book's central character, Itztli Okami, but the manner in which her anger is made manifest troubled me. Io's rage is born from structural violence and intense personal tragedies, but the novel introduces her rage through the trope of rape. Must a woman of color come into focus through violation?” (Quoted with permission.)
This was something I hadn’t considered during the writing process. I’ve always considered myself a feminist (part of the reason why all my main characters have, so far, been strong women), and yet, here was a reader pointing out that the book’s opening rape scene in a sense disempowers Io’s anger. I’d intended the opening to represent an inversion of the rape scenario—really, it’s Io who is out to bait and master her would-be rapists. But in expressing her rage by simply inverting the moment of violation, is Io grounded within the context of victimhood, albeit an inverted one? Is victimhood the only way I was able to define Io? It’s a troubling idea, for sure.
This is one of the things I love about writing. When someone takes the time to write a thoughtful critique of your work, and when you get the chance to discuss it with them (as I’ve been fortunate enough to do so with this reader), you really learn some things, even things you thought you already knew. In this case, I thought the book was fairly feminist, but in discussing the matter with this reader, I realized I have a ways to go. As a guy writing feminist texts, I think it’s hard for me to sometimes fully understand things from a woman’s perspective. Things that I think are empowering to a female character might not seem to an actual woman. And considering Inventing Vazquez is a first-person narration as told by a woman, I’m guessing it’s a problem that will re-appear ^^;; So I’m glad this reader took the time to spell this out, because it’s forced me, once again, to try and be a better writer and think my ideas through more carefully.
Speaking of feminism in Solstice, right on the heels of this reader’s review, I found out that Solstice was nominated by a couple of people at the Feminist SF blog for one of the top 10 obscure feminist SF novels ^_^ Wow… Well, at very least, I can say the book was nominated for something like that before it was nominated for, say, top 10 worst novels of all time. But it’s still such a thrill and very humbling to think that some people thought the book was good enough, both as a story and a feminist text, to nominate.
Okay, so what else has been going on? Well, I nearly lost my mind this past week with my distributor. Ever since my old distributor got bought out by my current distributor, it has been a nightmare. The thing is, the acquisition couldn’t have come at a worse time, because this was when the returns were scheduled to start coming in, and boy, did they start coming in -_-; So now, my old distributor was receiving the returns, and holding on to a good chunk of money that was meant to refund these returns…but my new distributor was apparently paying off these refunds themselves…and charging them directly to me. It’s taken weeks of e-mails, non-returned phone calls, and general frustration over the utter lack of communication between parties for this matter to (apparently) be resolved. And I say that hesitantly, because I assumed the matter was resolved last month when my old distributor assured me that a check had been cut to cover my outstanding balance with the new one. And, come June, I get a note that I’m 60 days past due on my $1,000+ debt, and I’m basically, WTF? So if, after all this, I get another past due notice in July, I’m just going to scream. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the people hounding me for this money would at least have the courtesy of calling me directly, as I’ve asked them to do. Alas, no one seems to know what a phone is anymore these days. Anyway, that’s my rant about the current distribution drama. This whole problem is one more reason why, for Inventing Vazquez, I better find an agent and forgo self-publishing.
Okay, next item: a contest! One of my to-do items for the next week is updating my web site. I want to create a small contest through my web site and Quiet Earth, so please make sure to keep an eye on both sites. What’s the contest? Not sure yet, but probably some silly quiz on frivolous things, like zombies ^^; What’s the prize? I’m going to give out five free autographed copies of Solstice! So if you’re in the market for a copy of the book, but don’t want to shell out the cash for it (which you should, by the way, cos, you know…um…it’s what Frodo would have wanted), stop by either my web site or Quiet Earth to learn more. I should have that up and running by the end of the weekend.
And finally, because this blog entry isn’t long enough, I thought I’d include a book review. ^_^ One of my main to-do’s was finishing Sister Chicas, a novel written by my friend Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin. Well, I finally finished it, and loved it. And I decided to write a review of it. Which may or may not be a good thing, considering how I’m still kind of learning to do reviews over at Quiet Earth. But the short of it is, if you’re looking for a good read, and a wonderfully inspired glimpse into the life of young Latinas, give Sister Chicas a look. Anyway, without further ado…
My humble review of Sister Chicas
There’s a moment early in Sister Chicas where Graciela, the oldest of three closely knit Latinas calling themselves the Sister Chicas, has just been invited to a prestigious writing retreat. Always the responsible one—the one who juggles college classes, a part-time job at a Pilsen bookstore, tutoring, and being the model daughter for her loving parents—Graciela reacts to the invite with a mixture of surprise, joy, and guilt. Mostly guilt. Because in her mind, writing is a pastime, a divertido (an enjoyment). It’s not something a hard-working Latina intent on helping her people should waste her time with.
This moment had a lot of resonance for me, as a writer and as a Latino. Partly because I think most writers, at one point or another, ponder and brood over the social relevance of their chosen profession. But mostly because Graciela’s brief crisis of faith goes to the very heart of what it means to be a writer, especially a writer of color. Like her friend Don Ramiro helps her realize, writing isn’t just an enjoyment, because writing results in books. “Books that challenge and inspire, books that stir hearts and minds,” Graciela reflects. And such it is with Sister Chicas, an inspiring and insightful novel written by Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin.
Sister Chicas centers around an upcoming quienceañera (the Latin-American Sweet 16, a coming of age party for girls reaching their 15th birthday). The 15-year-old-to-be is Taina, a shy Puerto Rican girl being raised by her somewhat demanding single mom. Fortunately for Taina, she has two sisters—her non-biological Sister Chicas. There’s Graciela, the aforementioned no-nonsense Chicana and unofficial mother figure of the group. And there’s Leni, the ‘middle child’ among them, a half Puerto Rican girl who parades in full punk regalia, including orange/green/burgundy colored spiked hair. The three call themselves the Sister Chicas because of their strong sister-like bond, cemented every week over a warm café con leche at a little café called El Rinconcito de Sabor.
Good thing they’re close, too. Because the mousy Taina doesn’t even want a quienceañera, and needs her sisters to confront and get through that whole coming-of-age thing. And, as it turns out, she’s not the only one needing help in facing a daunting life change. Graciela, whose tireless dedication to her community borders on self-martyrdom, has to overcome her guilt and embrace the possibility that being a good writer and being a good Chicana aren’t mutually exclusive. Leni, partially alienated from her Puerto Rican roots, faces the challenge of reconnecting with them, no small feat given her full immersion in American punk counter-culture. Add to all of this their respective struggles with finding love—or more precisely, admitting that they’ve found love with their respective others, Yusef, Jack, and Carlos—and, well, these girls certainly have their work cut out for them.
And so, the novel takes on these many challenges through three separate but interwoven first-person narratives. Taina, Graciela, and Leni take turns telling their parts of the story, and each of their voices proves appropriately distinct. Taina, the mousy 14-year-old poet, speaks with the insecurity and wonder of a girl who has yet to find her own voice, especially when it comes to contradicting her mother (which she typically doesn’t). Graciela, the 19-year-old aspiring writer, maintains a façade of big-sister control even as she struggles with her own internal conflicts, and her introspective writing reflects this. And Leni, the 17-year-old punk girl, is the most in-your-face and funniest of the three narrators, and certainly the most cynical and least forgiving, even with herself.
These three distinct but similar girls are the Sister Chicas, and their story of mutual support on their way to the quienceañera is compelling and heart-warming. Considering the collaborative nature of this novel, I think Alvarado, Cardinal, and Coralin did an amazing job of creating a cohesive narrative out of three separate perspectives. Each part of the story flows into the next seamlessly, reflecting just how strongly interwoven the lives of these three characters really are. And the affection the girls share with one another seems well-conceived, sincere, and inviting. To the point where I find myself wanting the three authors to craft a prequel and share the story of how these three girls became the Sister Chicas over weekly coffee at El Rinconcito.
The segmented nature of the narrative did expose it to one problem. Each girl faces a crisis—both a coming-of-age crisis, and a love crisis. And while Taina’s crises seem the most consistent and central to the book, some of the other crises—including Graciela and Leni’s struggles to admit their feelings regarding their significant others—seem less so. Indeed, there’s almost a sense that a few of these later crises are added in to balance things out and give each girl their requisite suffering. And if the novel had been longer and been able to dedicate more time to each, this wouldn’t have been an issue. But the tense drama surrounding many of their challenges—Taina’s confrontation with her mom, Graciela’s confrontation with her dad, and Leni’s confrontation with her own sense of cultural displacement—seem to find quick, rushed resolution. More than once, as I reached the big moment of resolution expecting a drawn-out scene, the characters reached agreement quickly, almost painlessly. To the point where you almost want to tell these girls, “See? All that worrying, and your mom/dad/culture didn’t even put up that much of a fuss!”
And then there’s the liberal sprinkling of Spanish throughout the text. Now, granted, I’m a native Spanish speaker, and so the numerous interjections of Spanish phrases and words in the middle of English sentences didn’t slow me down. But I have to imagine what reading this book would seem like to a non-Spanish speaker. I think the repeated mixing of Spanish and English can be very demanding to someone who doesn’t understand Spanish, even with the help of the glossary of terms generously provided at the end. And as such, I think it makes the book less accessible to non-Spanish speaking readers.
Which is a pity, because Sister Chicas is a book that should speak to everyone, not just Latino/as. As a slice of the Latino/a experience in the United States (or Chicago, where the book takes place), Sister Chicas doesn’t speak with the didactic authority of a text claiming a uniquely authentic cultural insight (i.e., ‘This is what we Latinas are really like!’). Rather, it speaks softly but stirringly from the heart, engaging us with its touching story about three close friends with the earnest simplicity of a casual chat over at El Rinconcito. It presents an interwoven anecdote about three separate lives converging at a critical moment, and gives us poignant glimpses along the way of things from a Latino/a perspective. And so, the novel allows moments such as this: Leni at the quienceañera, feeling as if the whole thing is one big reality TV show, “Survivor Quienceañera! Three girls, three pairs of dyed-to-match high-heeled shoes, and eight dozen gawking relatives…at the end, who will be left standing?” Clever moments like this, where mainstream imagery is re-invented from a Latino/a perspective, demonstrate how the authors have effectively navigated the treacherous path between two very different but convergent worlds.
For Latino/a readers, Sister Chicas should resonate wonderfully. Because the things and people we have experienced are present in this book in one way or another. At least, I found myself nodding and laughing throughout, recalling instances in my life that rang eerily similar to some in the book, recalling people that seemed straight out of its pages. The portrayals aren’t necessarily representative (indeed, what is representative of an entire group of people as diverse as Latinos/as?), but they are real, and they speak to the vastness and diversity of our shared experience. And so, we meet versions of Latino/as that we haven’t seen too much elsewhere: the timid poet; the aspiring writer; the spiky-haired punk; the rock guitarist.
Which brings me back to Graciela’s insight about books being challenging, inspiring, stirring both hearts and minds. Sister Chicas may not be perfect (what book is?), but it is a wonderful, and necessary, addition to the literary canon, and certainly required reading for any children I might some day have. Because it paints an inspired portrait of the Latino/a experience without being preachy about it. It portrays our strengths, our struggles, and our flaws. And it answers its own questions about the validity of writing, not just as a divertido, but as an inspiration. Because we all have stories to tell, even if we’re not all writers. And it’s time we started telling them.
Anyway, this promises to be a long blog entry, so if you need a snack, now might be a good time to get one.
So what’s going on? Well, some good news: At long last, I finished my new draft of Inventing Vazquez! ^_^ And what’s the best way of making an 850 page novel better? Push it closer to 900 pages! Eep… And while it’ll still need another rewrite before its ready, I do think it’s a lot stronger. I’m hoping my two new test readers will agree. So now that I’m done with that, I’m taking the next two weeks off from working on it, to clear my mind, and get through my long list of to-do’s. And one of the first things on that list was…update my blog ^^
So something interesting materialized in the world of Solstice. A reader over on goodreads.com gave Solstice a good review, but had some very interesting things to say about the book’s feminist take. For example, she wrote: “I appreciate the rage that animates the book's central character, Itztli Okami, but the manner in which her anger is made manifest troubled me. Io's rage is born from structural violence and intense personal tragedies, but the novel introduces her rage through the trope of rape. Must a woman of color come into focus through violation?” (Quoted with permission.)
This was something I hadn’t considered during the writing process. I’ve always considered myself a feminist (part of the reason why all my main characters have, so far, been strong women), and yet, here was a reader pointing out that the book’s opening rape scene in a sense disempowers Io’s anger. I’d intended the opening to represent an inversion of the rape scenario—really, it’s Io who is out to bait and master her would-be rapists. But in expressing her rage by simply inverting the moment of violation, is Io grounded within the context of victimhood, albeit an inverted one? Is victimhood the only way I was able to define Io? It’s a troubling idea, for sure.
This is one of the things I love about writing. When someone takes the time to write a thoughtful critique of your work, and when you get the chance to discuss it with them (as I’ve been fortunate enough to do so with this reader), you really learn some things, even things you thought you already knew. In this case, I thought the book was fairly feminist, but in discussing the matter with this reader, I realized I have a ways to go. As a guy writing feminist texts, I think it’s hard for me to sometimes fully understand things from a woman’s perspective. Things that I think are empowering to a female character might not seem to an actual woman. And considering Inventing Vazquez is a first-person narration as told by a woman, I’m guessing it’s a problem that will re-appear ^^;; So I’m glad this reader took the time to spell this out, because it’s forced me, once again, to try and be a better writer and think my ideas through more carefully.
Speaking of feminism in Solstice, right on the heels of this reader’s review, I found out that Solstice was nominated by a couple of people at the Feminist SF blog for one of the top 10 obscure feminist SF novels ^_^ Wow… Well, at very least, I can say the book was nominated for something like that before it was nominated for, say, top 10 worst novels of all time. But it’s still such a thrill and very humbling to think that some people thought the book was good enough, both as a story and a feminist text, to nominate.
Okay, so what else has been going on? Well, I nearly lost my mind this past week with my distributor. Ever since my old distributor got bought out by my current distributor, it has been a nightmare. The thing is, the acquisition couldn’t have come at a worse time, because this was when the returns were scheduled to start coming in, and boy, did they start coming in -_-; So now, my old distributor was receiving the returns, and holding on to a good chunk of money that was meant to refund these returns…but my new distributor was apparently paying off these refunds themselves…and charging them directly to me. It’s taken weeks of e-mails, non-returned phone calls, and general frustration over the utter lack of communication between parties for this matter to (apparently) be resolved. And I say that hesitantly, because I assumed the matter was resolved last month when my old distributor assured me that a check had been cut to cover my outstanding balance with the new one. And, come June, I get a note that I’m 60 days past due on my $1,000+ debt, and I’m basically, WTF? So if, after all this, I get another past due notice in July, I’m just going to scream. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad if the people hounding me for this money would at least have the courtesy of calling me directly, as I’ve asked them to do. Alas, no one seems to know what a phone is anymore these days. Anyway, that’s my rant about the current distribution drama. This whole problem is one more reason why, for Inventing Vazquez, I better find an agent and forgo self-publishing.
Okay, next item: a contest! One of my to-do items for the next week is updating my web site. I want to create a small contest through my web site and Quiet Earth, so please make sure to keep an eye on both sites. What’s the contest? Not sure yet, but probably some silly quiz on frivolous things, like zombies ^^; What’s the prize? I’m going to give out five free autographed copies of Solstice! So if you’re in the market for a copy of the book, but don’t want to shell out the cash for it (which you should, by the way, cos, you know…um…it’s what Frodo would have wanted), stop by either my web site or Quiet Earth to learn more. I should have that up and running by the end of the weekend.
And finally, because this blog entry isn’t long enough, I thought I’d include a book review. ^_^ One of my main to-do’s was finishing Sister Chicas, a novel written by my friend Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin. Well, I finally finished it, and loved it. And I decided to write a review of it. Which may or may not be a good thing, considering how I’m still kind of learning to do reviews over at Quiet Earth. But the short of it is, if you’re looking for a good read, and a wonderfully inspired glimpse into the life of young Latinas, give Sister Chicas a look. Anyway, without further ado…
My humble review of Sister Chicas
There’s a moment early in Sister Chicas where Graciela, the oldest of three closely knit Latinas calling themselves the Sister Chicas, has just been invited to a prestigious writing retreat. Always the responsible one—the one who juggles college classes, a part-time job at a Pilsen bookstore, tutoring, and being the model daughter for her loving parents—Graciela reacts to the invite with a mixture of surprise, joy, and guilt. Mostly guilt. Because in her mind, writing is a pastime, a divertido (an enjoyment). It’s not something a hard-working Latina intent on helping her people should waste her time with.
This moment had a lot of resonance for me, as a writer and as a Latino. Partly because I think most writers, at one point or another, ponder and brood over the social relevance of their chosen profession. But mostly because Graciela’s brief crisis of faith goes to the very heart of what it means to be a writer, especially a writer of color. Like her friend Don Ramiro helps her realize, writing isn’t just an enjoyment, because writing results in books. “Books that challenge and inspire, books that stir hearts and minds,” Graciela reflects. And such it is with Sister Chicas, an inspiring and insightful novel written by Lisa Alvarado, Ann Hagman Cardinal, and Jane Alberdeston Coralin.
Sister Chicas centers around an upcoming quienceañera (the Latin-American Sweet 16, a coming of age party for girls reaching their 15th birthday). The 15-year-old-to-be is Taina, a shy Puerto Rican girl being raised by her somewhat demanding single mom. Fortunately for Taina, she has two sisters—her non-biological Sister Chicas. There’s Graciela, the aforementioned no-nonsense Chicana and unofficial mother figure of the group. And there’s Leni, the ‘middle child’ among them, a half Puerto Rican girl who parades in full punk regalia, including orange/green/burgundy colored spiked hair. The three call themselves the Sister Chicas because of their strong sister-like bond, cemented every week over a warm café con leche at a little café called El Rinconcito de Sabor.
Good thing they’re close, too. Because the mousy Taina doesn’t even want a quienceañera, and needs her sisters to confront and get through that whole coming-of-age thing. And, as it turns out, she’s not the only one needing help in facing a daunting life change. Graciela, whose tireless dedication to her community borders on self-martyrdom, has to overcome her guilt and embrace the possibility that being a good writer and being a good Chicana aren’t mutually exclusive. Leni, partially alienated from her Puerto Rican roots, faces the challenge of reconnecting with them, no small feat given her full immersion in American punk counter-culture. Add to all of this their respective struggles with finding love—or more precisely, admitting that they’ve found love with their respective others, Yusef, Jack, and Carlos—and, well, these girls certainly have their work cut out for them.
And so, the novel takes on these many challenges through three separate but interwoven first-person narratives. Taina, Graciela, and Leni take turns telling their parts of the story, and each of their voices proves appropriately distinct. Taina, the mousy 14-year-old poet, speaks with the insecurity and wonder of a girl who has yet to find her own voice, especially when it comes to contradicting her mother (which she typically doesn’t). Graciela, the 19-year-old aspiring writer, maintains a façade of big-sister control even as she struggles with her own internal conflicts, and her introspective writing reflects this. And Leni, the 17-year-old punk girl, is the most in-your-face and funniest of the three narrators, and certainly the most cynical and least forgiving, even with herself.
These three distinct but similar girls are the Sister Chicas, and their story of mutual support on their way to the quienceañera is compelling and heart-warming. Considering the collaborative nature of this novel, I think Alvarado, Cardinal, and Coralin did an amazing job of creating a cohesive narrative out of three separate perspectives. Each part of the story flows into the next seamlessly, reflecting just how strongly interwoven the lives of these three characters really are. And the affection the girls share with one another seems well-conceived, sincere, and inviting. To the point where I find myself wanting the three authors to craft a prequel and share the story of how these three girls became the Sister Chicas over weekly coffee at El Rinconcito.
The segmented nature of the narrative did expose it to one problem. Each girl faces a crisis—both a coming-of-age crisis, and a love crisis. And while Taina’s crises seem the most consistent and central to the book, some of the other crises—including Graciela and Leni’s struggles to admit their feelings regarding their significant others—seem less so. Indeed, there’s almost a sense that a few of these later crises are added in to balance things out and give each girl their requisite suffering. And if the novel had been longer and been able to dedicate more time to each, this wouldn’t have been an issue. But the tense drama surrounding many of their challenges—Taina’s confrontation with her mom, Graciela’s confrontation with her dad, and Leni’s confrontation with her own sense of cultural displacement—seem to find quick, rushed resolution. More than once, as I reached the big moment of resolution expecting a drawn-out scene, the characters reached agreement quickly, almost painlessly. To the point where you almost want to tell these girls, “See? All that worrying, and your mom/dad/culture didn’t even put up that much of a fuss!”
And then there’s the liberal sprinkling of Spanish throughout the text. Now, granted, I’m a native Spanish speaker, and so the numerous interjections of Spanish phrases and words in the middle of English sentences didn’t slow me down. But I have to imagine what reading this book would seem like to a non-Spanish speaker. I think the repeated mixing of Spanish and English can be very demanding to someone who doesn’t understand Spanish, even with the help of the glossary of terms generously provided at the end. And as such, I think it makes the book less accessible to non-Spanish speaking readers.
Which is a pity, because Sister Chicas is a book that should speak to everyone, not just Latino/as. As a slice of the Latino/a experience in the United States (or Chicago, where the book takes place), Sister Chicas doesn’t speak with the didactic authority of a text claiming a uniquely authentic cultural insight (i.e., ‘This is what we Latinas are really like!’). Rather, it speaks softly but stirringly from the heart, engaging us with its touching story about three close friends with the earnest simplicity of a casual chat over at El Rinconcito. It presents an interwoven anecdote about three separate lives converging at a critical moment, and gives us poignant glimpses along the way of things from a Latino/a perspective. And so, the novel allows moments such as this: Leni at the quienceañera, feeling as if the whole thing is one big reality TV show, “Survivor Quienceañera! Three girls, three pairs of dyed-to-match high-heeled shoes, and eight dozen gawking relatives…at the end, who will be left standing?” Clever moments like this, where mainstream imagery is re-invented from a Latino/a perspective, demonstrate how the authors have effectively navigated the treacherous path between two very different but convergent worlds.
For Latino/a readers, Sister Chicas should resonate wonderfully. Because the things and people we have experienced are present in this book in one way or another. At least, I found myself nodding and laughing throughout, recalling instances in my life that rang eerily similar to some in the book, recalling people that seemed straight out of its pages. The portrayals aren’t necessarily representative (indeed, what is representative of an entire group of people as diverse as Latinos/as?), but they are real, and they speak to the vastness and diversity of our shared experience. And so, we meet versions of Latino/as that we haven’t seen too much elsewhere: the timid poet; the aspiring writer; the spiky-haired punk; the rock guitarist.
Which brings me back to Graciela’s insight about books being challenging, inspiring, stirring both hearts and minds. Sister Chicas may not be perfect (what book is?), but it is a wonderful, and necessary, addition to the literary canon, and certainly required reading for any children I might some day have. Because it paints an inspired portrait of the Latino/a experience without being preachy about it. It portrays our strengths, our struggles, and our flaws. And it answers its own questions about the validity of writing, not just as a divertido, but as an inspiration. Because we all have stories to tell, even if we’re not all writers. And it’s time we started telling them.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The best advice? Be kind to yourself…
It’s funny. Yesterday, I started a blog entry before I finally stopped and decided, “today’s not a good day to blog.” Mostly because yesterday was one of those days. We all have them. One of those days when you feel overwhelmed by everything that’s going on in your hectic life, by everything that still needs to get done, and by the feeling that the things you’re working on (e.g., a 900-page novel ^^;) are never going to get done. So yeah, I’m glad I didn’t finish that long rant of a blog entry.
This morning I just found myself feeling much more grateful about things. I mean, yesterday, I was stressing about the fact that my distributor was receiving a steady trickle of returns for Solstice. Today, I realized, “hey, we accomplished quite a bit, all things considered.” I thought about all the people at work who bought copies, not because they were avid sci-fi readers, but because they wanted to show their support. I thought about the folks like Lisa Alvarado and James Rundle over at SciFiNow magazine who took the time to read and review the book, even though they had absolutely no obligation of doing so. And I thought about all the things that have happened as a result of publishing the novel: like becoming a regular contributor for and part of something as cool as Quiet Earth, being mentioned in my alma mater’s quarterly magazine (SUNY at Buffalo, in case you were wondering), and getting back in touch with my great friend Jim from college, who tracked me down through my web site ^_^ All in all, today I realized this whole experience has been a blessing, and so I shouldn’t ever feel like it’s overwhelming or in any way, shape, or form, bad.
But I guess I also thought of a little something someone said at grad school orientation. I don’t remember his name, unfortunately, but a grad student gave us incoming students this one piece of advice to get us through our careers: be kind to yourself. He said that the best way to cope with the stress of grad school was to always be kind to yourself. It’s something I’ve both embraced, and forgotten, as the years went by. But it really is true; you have to be kind to yourself.
You have to treat yourself well. You have to indulge yourself every now and then. You have to forgive yourself if you miss a deadline. You have to refrain from beating yourself up if you can’t seem to get through that ever-growing to-do list. You have to allow yourself to take a night off every now and then, even if it means falling a bit behind on something. You have to allow yourself to just sit back and relax without feeling like you’re being an unproductive slob. You have to accept that some things will require more time and extra work, and it’s not because you suck at what you do. You get the idea.
I had to remind myself of that whole ‘be kind to yourself’ thing as I continued to work through the rewrite of my new novel, Inventing Vazquez. There were a couple of instances these past few months where I felt overwhelmed by the enormity of the endeavor. There were two instances in which I genuinely felt like I was never going to finish the book. And when I made artificial deadlines for myself (i.e., “I have to have the rewrite done by mid-May”), it just compounded the sense of despair.
But what did that grad student say? Be kind to yourself. And so, I reminded myself that, hey, it’s better to take the time to make the rewrite as good as it can be, than to rush through it for the sake of meeting a self-imposed deadline and writing crap. And hey, why am I beating myself up? The novel is turning out a lot stronger because of the time I’m taking to rewrite it, so I’m doing something right! And, hey, the sooner I start being kind to myself, the sooner I’ll stop having conversations with myself!
I think writers, especially young and aspiring writers, have to be especially kind to themselves. Writing is such a labor of love, and it requires so much perseverance and discipline. But above all, it requires acceptance that not everything you write will be good, especially the first time around. I know people who get discouraged because they start their novels, get a few pages in, hate what they wrote, and decide they’re no good. But that’s the point where you need to be kindest to yourself. That’s when you should say to yourself, “you know what? This is a first draft, so it’s okay if it’s crap, I’ll fix it later,” and then just keep plugging away.
Wow, this is a really preachy blog entry! @_@
Anyway, I’m really happy with how the rewrite of Inventing Vazquez is going. The new draft is a lot funnier, I think, and the character development for some of its major characters is a lot stronger. I’m about 50 pages away from completing the draft, although I still need to go back and change one of the earlier chapters. Oh, and…um…rewrite…the…sex scene. Ahem. But regardless, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I’m really looking forward to getting a couple of new test readers for it, too. Including my crazy girlfriend, whose input and feedback is always so amazingly helpful and insightful. The gods know she really helped Solstice become what it eventually became.
Anyway, I’m babbling. Just wanted to say ‘thank you’ again to everyone who read Solstice! And remember to get your father a copy of Solstice for Father’s Day. Because nothing says “Dad, you’re the best!” better than a book about the end of the world! ^^;
This morning I just found myself feeling much more grateful about things. I mean, yesterday, I was stressing about the fact that my distributor was receiving a steady trickle of returns for Solstice. Today, I realized, “hey, we accomplished quite a bit, all things considered.” I thought about all the people at work who bought copies, not because they were avid sci-fi readers, but because they wanted to show their support. I thought about the folks like Lisa Alvarado and James Rundle over at SciFiNow magazine who took the time to read and review the book, even though they had absolutely no obligation of doing so. And I thought about all the things that have happened as a result of publishing the novel: like becoming a regular contributor for and part of something as cool as Quiet Earth, being mentioned in my alma mater’s quarterly magazine (SUNY at Buffalo, in case you were wondering), and getting back in touch with my great friend Jim from college, who tracked me down through my web site ^_^ All in all, today I realized this whole experience has been a blessing, and so I shouldn’t ever feel like it’s overwhelming or in any way, shape, or form, bad.
But I guess I also thought of a little something someone said at grad school orientation. I don’t remember his name, unfortunately, but a grad student gave us incoming students this one piece of advice to get us through our careers: be kind to yourself. He said that the best way to cope with the stress of grad school was to always be kind to yourself. It’s something I’ve both embraced, and forgotten, as the years went by. But it really is true; you have to be kind to yourself.
You have to treat yourself well. You have to indulge yourself every now and then. You have to forgive yourself if you miss a deadline. You have to refrain from beating yourself up if you can’t seem to get through that ever-growing to-do list. You have to allow yourself to take a night off every now and then, even if it means falling a bit behind on something. You have to allow yourself to just sit back and relax without feeling like you’re being an unproductive slob. You have to accept that some things will require more time and extra work, and it’s not because you suck at what you do. You get the idea.
I had to remind myself of that whole ‘be kind to yourself’ thing as I continued to work through the rewrite of my new novel, Inventing Vazquez. There were a couple of instances these past few months where I felt overwhelmed by the enormity of the endeavor. There were two instances in which I genuinely felt like I was never going to finish the book. And when I made artificial deadlines for myself (i.e., “I have to have the rewrite done by mid-May”), it just compounded the sense of despair.
But what did that grad student say? Be kind to yourself. And so, I reminded myself that, hey, it’s better to take the time to make the rewrite as good as it can be, than to rush through it for the sake of meeting a self-imposed deadline and writing crap. And hey, why am I beating myself up? The novel is turning out a lot stronger because of the time I’m taking to rewrite it, so I’m doing something right! And, hey, the sooner I start being kind to myself, the sooner I’ll stop having conversations with myself!
I think writers, especially young and aspiring writers, have to be especially kind to themselves. Writing is such a labor of love, and it requires so much perseverance and discipline. But above all, it requires acceptance that not everything you write will be good, especially the first time around. I know people who get discouraged because they start their novels, get a few pages in, hate what they wrote, and decide they’re no good. But that’s the point where you need to be kindest to yourself. That’s when you should say to yourself, “you know what? This is a first draft, so it’s okay if it’s crap, I’ll fix it later,” and then just keep plugging away.
Wow, this is a really preachy blog entry! @_@
Anyway, I’m really happy with how the rewrite of Inventing Vazquez is going. The new draft is a lot funnier, I think, and the character development for some of its major characters is a lot stronger. I’m about 50 pages away from completing the draft, although I still need to go back and change one of the earlier chapters. Oh, and…um…rewrite…the…sex scene. Ahem. But regardless, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I’m really looking forward to getting a couple of new test readers for it, too. Including my crazy girlfriend, whose input and feedback is always so amazingly helpful and insightful. The gods know she really helped Solstice become what it eventually became.
Anyway, I’m babbling. Just wanted to say ‘thank you’ again to everyone who read Solstice! And remember to get your father a copy of Solstice for Father’s Day. Because nothing says “Dad, you’re the best!” better than a book about the end of the world! ^^;
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Thoughts on Solstice…and a first bad review!
So for a while, it was looking like I wasn’t going to have distribution for Solstice anymore. Ever since Bookmasters bought out Biblio, the transition to the new distributor has been anything but seamless. Most troubling of all was an invoice issue that involved some returns from Borders. The new distributor wanted to charge me directly for the returns, even though Biblio maintained a reserve fund specifically for that purpose. Anyway, after talking to the main account person this morning, the issue was resolved, so now things are cool. I hope they stay that way. I was dreading having to handle all distribution and fulfillment by myself.
Still, it was an encouraging phone call this morning. The account person from Biblio remarked on how strong our sales of Solstice were. And, more importantly, how few returns we actually had. I could tell from his tone of voice that he genuinely believed the novel did very well. So much so he asked if there were other projects on the horizon. Alas, there are none; I’m thinking at this point that I will go agent-or-bust with the next novel, so maybe Solstice will end up being my only self-published venture.
Still, his comments re-affirmed my belief that the book was, by all accounts, a small success. More than 1,400 copies sold in less than six months, five premier reviews, two book signings, one book expo, and two interviews. ^_^ Not too shabby for a publishing project as poorly funded as this one was ^^; I got lucky, I suppose. And luckier still that I have such supportive family and friends.
Speaking of reviews, Solstice got another one! Only this one was…well…not so positive. ^_^; A new online publication, Speakerphone Magazine, gave the book a bad review. Not just bad; outright nasty. Which makes it really difficult to understand and process their critique since it was more destructive than constructive. I mean, anytime you’re talking about how it’s a fast read because you want to get past it and go on to something good, well…that’s not exactly the most constructive, or professional, thing you can say as a reviewer.
I don’t know. As a reviewer for Quiet Earth now, I try to abide by a couple of basic rules that I used throughout my teaching years. Rule number 1: Always have something positive to say. Even if the thing you’re reviewing is the worst thing you’ve ever seen, have at least one positive thing to say. Because even the worst things will have at least one good thing going for it, something the author/director/student can build upon for future works. And because it shows a basic sense of respect for the person you’re critiquing. Rule number 2: Always back up your claims. If you’re going to argue that something doesn’t make sense or something simply doesn’t work, explain and demonstrate why. Don’t just say, “this sucks” and leave it to the reader to guess why.
I think that’s what bugs me the most about this review. I know Solstice wasn’t going to be for everyone. And like anything else, some people are going to love the book, and others are going to hate it. That’s the way it is with any creative work, and no serious writer is foolish enough to expect everyone is going to adore their work. But this review, well, their main issue was that the storyline was predictable and the same old end-of-the-world stuff. Well, um…yeah! ^_^ That’s why it’s listed on Amazon and Barnes and Noble and libraries and everywhere else as apocalyptic fiction ^^; Their next big gripe was my use of metaphors, which they say didn’t complement the ‘choppy’ writing style. Apparently, my bad use of metaphors only served to make the book sound pretentious and smarter than it actually was ^_^; Well, what would have been nice is if the reviewer had bothered throwing in an example or two to demonstrate this. If nothing else, it would certainly help me see what they meant, and work on improving that problem for subsequent works. But alas, there are no examples, just a vague blanket statement about bad metaphors. Which were apparently bad enough to scuttle the entire book ^_^
I guess you can say they said something positive about the book: that it wasn’t the worst book ever written! So I got that going for me at least, which is nice ^_^;
Well, enough venting. It was just kind of odd to see people being so nasty and trashing the book without giving any real or constructive insight as to how they thought it could have been better.
Anyway, I’m happy to report that the rewrite of Inventing Vazquez is now more than halfway done. Which means I should have the draft ready by the middle or end of May. I have to admit, I am really enjoying writing this novel far more than Solstice, because it’s so much fun to write comedy. What this means in terms of my long-term writing career I still don’t know, but I think I did hit upon one thing at least. I seem to have a better time writing in the first person. I think it makes the characters seem more real, more introspective, and a lot easier to get to know.
Finding an agent will be a challenge. More so, probably, because Solstice was sci-fi, and this is going to be comedy. I hope I haven’t dug too deep a hole for myself ^^; But hey, that’s not going to stop me!
Anyway, remember to pick up your copy of Solstice for the kids ^^; Solstice is…um…a bright…breath of fresh air…in the…sordid silence…of swamphood!
Still, it was an encouraging phone call this morning. The account person from Biblio remarked on how strong our sales of Solstice were. And, more importantly, how few returns we actually had. I could tell from his tone of voice that he genuinely believed the novel did very well. So much so he asked if there were other projects on the horizon. Alas, there are none; I’m thinking at this point that I will go agent-or-bust with the next novel, so maybe Solstice will end up being my only self-published venture.
Still, his comments re-affirmed my belief that the book was, by all accounts, a small success. More than 1,400 copies sold in less than six months, five premier reviews, two book signings, one book expo, and two interviews. ^_^ Not too shabby for a publishing project as poorly funded as this one was ^^; I got lucky, I suppose. And luckier still that I have such supportive family and friends.
Speaking of reviews, Solstice got another one! Only this one was…well…not so positive. ^_^; A new online publication, Speakerphone Magazine, gave the book a bad review. Not just bad; outright nasty. Which makes it really difficult to understand and process their critique since it was more destructive than constructive. I mean, anytime you’re talking about how it’s a fast read because you want to get past it and go on to something good, well…that’s not exactly the most constructive, or professional, thing you can say as a reviewer.
I don’t know. As a reviewer for Quiet Earth now, I try to abide by a couple of basic rules that I used throughout my teaching years. Rule number 1: Always have something positive to say. Even if the thing you’re reviewing is the worst thing you’ve ever seen, have at least one positive thing to say. Because even the worst things will have at least one good thing going for it, something the author/director/student can build upon for future works. And because it shows a basic sense of respect for the person you’re critiquing. Rule number 2: Always back up your claims. If you’re going to argue that something doesn’t make sense or something simply doesn’t work, explain and demonstrate why. Don’t just say, “this sucks” and leave it to the reader to guess why.
I think that’s what bugs me the most about this review. I know Solstice wasn’t going to be for everyone. And like anything else, some people are going to love the book, and others are going to hate it. That’s the way it is with any creative work, and no serious writer is foolish enough to expect everyone is going to adore their work. But this review, well, their main issue was that the storyline was predictable and the same old end-of-the-world stuff. Well, um…yeah! ^_^ That’s why it’s listed on Amazon and Barnes and Noble and libraries and everywhere else as apocalyptic fiction ^^; Their next big gripe was my use of metaphors, which they say didn’t complement the ‘choppy’ writing style. Apparently, my bad use of metaphors only served to make the book sound pretentious and smarter than it actually was ^_^; Well, what would have been nice is if the reviewer had bothered throwing in an example or two to demonstrate this. If nothing else, it would certainly help me see what they meant, and work on improving that problem for subsequent works. But alas, there are no examples, just a vague blanket statement about bad metaphors. Which were apparently bad enough to scuttle the entire book ^_^
I guess you can say they said something positive about the book: that it wasn’t the worst book ever written! So I got that going for me at least, which is nice ^_^;
Well, enough venting. It was just kind of odd to see people being so nasty and trashing the book without giving any real or constructive insight as to how they thought it could have been better.
Anyway, I’m happy to report that the rewrite of Inventing Vazquez is now more than halfway done. Which means I should have the draft ready by the middle or end of May. I have to admit, I am really enjoying writing this novel far more than Solstice, because it’s so much fun to write comedy. What this means in terms of my long-term writing career I still don’t know, but I think I did hit upon one thing at least. I seem to have a better time writing in the first person. I think it makes the characters seem more real, more introspective, and a lot easier to get to know.
Finding an agent will be a challenge. More so, probably, because Solstice was sci-fi, and this is going to be comedy. I hope I haven’t dug too deep a hole for myself ^^; But hey, that’s not going to stop me!
Anyway, remember to pick up your copy of Solstice for the kids ^^; Solstice is…um…a bright…breath of fresh air…in the…sordid silence…of swamphood!
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