The year of living bifurcatedly

Bifurcation = a split. Your word nerd moment of the day. Notice how the yin/yang is split? More on this later.

I have now been a published YA author for just over one year. Craziness. Complete awesomeness. The time went FAST. Of course, I’ve learned things. A*lot* of things:

1) my YA writing colleagues are kind, giving, smart, and tons of fun. I am honored to be part of such a crowd that's so generous. I knew this before I was published, actually.

2) I love my publishing house. Flux and its peeps are the absolute bomb.

3) I am a shy person online, but not in person. It's a mystery. I’m working on it.

4) When you are a debut novelist, don’t teach extra classes.

5) My jealousy can be intense, which both shames me and motivates me. It also doesn’t last long, which helps, because it’s overcome by #s 1 and 2, hearing from readers, and working with book peeps everywhere.

6) People don’t want to read my book.

7) People want to read my book.

8) “Success” is relative, depending on where you’re standing.

#s 1, 2, 3, and 4 are self-explanatory. #s 5 & 6: if I want to sell a million copies and be on the New York Times bestseller list, I need different material. Contemporary YA (and/or edgy YA) is a perennial category—like the sun, we just exist—and we are not generally a hot topic. That’s all right. We persist in our wonderfulness. Some days I think I should aim for trendy, but the hot would be cold by the time the book got to market.

#7 & 8 (still related to #s 5 & 6): Man oh man. Was I "successful"? Depends on who you ask. My publisher: “well, um, sales, yeah, some, well, she almost won an award, so, um . . . maybe?” (I honestly don’t know what they’d say. They might refer you back to #3). My family: “We have no idea. When is supper?” Me: “my book got read on 4 continents, and some people really understood Morgan and Tessa. I met cool people and got to do cool stuff, including seeing/listening to Neil Gaiman, and I got to talk about what I love. Hell yeah I’m a success!” New York Times bestseller list . . . well, you know.

There's a give and take between writing your passion and being marketable--this is the bifurcated part. I haven't mastered it yet. Do I write that crazy-ass storyline about those boys in the Laundromat or should I try a zombie romance (I do like that idea)? Even my husband said, when I was pitching an idea, “You need to write more marketable books.” Ouch. He doesn't know the biz, but he's a reader, so he knows what he likes. And readers vote with $.

And that's the bottom line--publishing is a business (duh) and runs on money. My literature teacher side says WOW THAT SUCKS IT SHOULD BE STORIES. And stories still matter. But marketing possibilities trump stories—-it just happened to me, and it hurt for a bit. But I can’t begrudge folks the opportunity to run a profitable business. No profitable publishers = no books at all.

So. Was it a good year? The best. Will there be more like it? I really, really hope so. Which to write next—-laundromats or zombies? I don’t know. I just want more years to find out.

Fences

Do you know the play FENCES? I teach it in my Intro to Lit class, and it just closed on Broadway (three Tonys, including one for Denzel). Awesome play. An African-American play, but a universal play. The main character, Troy, never gets his fence finished. He needs to protect his heart, his family, his territory--but what is he also keeping out?

I am thinking about this because we just finished discussing FENCES, but also because I read this fantastic blog post and its comments, all about inclusion and exclusion in children's literature, and it directly relates to books 1 through 3 of my repertoire. So directly I blushed.

So here's a request: what about gates in the fences? Or maybe a big ol' pasture with little fenced-off spaces inside it? Places to mix and mingle, but still with some protection for those who feel the need? I'm not discounting the need, either--I have no idea what it means to have to protect yourself to survive, and I have no right to refute that feeling. But man, I'm here, outside your fence, trying to say hello because I like you and want to get to know you. Yes, I know. Privilege. I don't have to have a fence. But I mean it: I like you and I want to get to know you. You can give me the finger, and you have every right. But I really don't want to walk away.

Thanks to Malinda Lo for showing me Arthur Levine's blog (he's the man who brought Harry Potter to America, I could kiss your shoes, dude).

Writers are cool, part 1

I want to do more to talk up other writers. What are the interwebs about but networking? So I thought I'd start with agent siblings--or people you share an agent with. And I have some really cool agent siblings, way cooler than me, plus they do interesting things.

For instance, Victoria Schwab. Her novel THE NEAR WITCH is out in Summer 11, but what's she doing in the meantime? Helping to bring Nashville back from its recent flood. Writers are good community members, and she's one of the best. Please please please, check out her auction.

Also Amy Reed. Her book BEAUTIFUL came out in October of 09, and she's busy talking about bullies and making a stand with other writers.

There are more! Marci Blackman is publishing an insider's guide to biking in NYC, out in April 2011 (not to mention all the other writing she's got out) with Ed Glazar, a phenomenal photographer. Courtney Summers has been writing since she was one--one!--check for evidence here, and what else could you ask for in a writer, or human being in general? But she also has two YA novels out there, CRACKED UP TO BE and SOME GIRLS ARE. Then there's Tahereh Mafi, who has more enthusiasm in her than one human should be allowed to have. And these are just the agent sibs I know of. I'm sure there are more, all equally cool.

Visit them (be sure to visit Victoria's auction here), buy their books, hang out. Enjoy!

Bouncing for books

I wish this was a story about trampolines.

A couple weeks ago, I was the guest speaker at a writing event for 3rd-12th graders. It was great. I even saw parents nodding along with my talk. One guy came up to me afterward (a grandpa) and said, "When you put that cup of water on the podium, I thought, 'Wow, we're in for a long one.' But you kept it short and sweet--and interesting!" Big smile from the dude, and no better compliment could I have received.

After the event, I got to sell my books (which is the subject for another post--reconsidering audience). Great, right? Last week I got a note from the bank, and one check had been returned. My bank account is now out $10, plus a $7 fee, and there's the $6.50 I paid for the book in the first place. $23.50 and a free book went to John and Brenda and their daughter (I'm guessing).

Someone said, "Well, call them and ask for your book back! Or the money!" What good would that do? What if these people have no jobs, but they bought their daughter a book for $10 because she wanted it? What gets me is this: did they *know* they had no money, but they did it anyway, for her? Or was it just a gap between paydays and something came up, and they thought they could float, but they couldn't?

I've thought about this situation a lot (not that it's my biz, but writers think about things). Honestly, I am happy to give them a book and pay $23.50 for it. Maybe they really, really, needed one. Maybe they knew how happy it would make their child.

I could be wrong: John and Brenda may be complete scam artists, though none of the families at this event struck me that way. Moms and dads and everyone else were there to honor their kids, beginning writers who were proud of themselves, and the families were proud, too. I can chip in for that.

Potluck people

It's 11:08 right now, so I'll get this one in before it's not Friday anymore. I'm doing better at remembering! And don't you love the P alliteration in this week's entry titles? It also seems to be LOLCats Week on the blog. Sorry.

I don't know about your people, but Midwesterners are potluck people. My mother-in-law, for example, could throw a potluck with a bag of grapes and a pitcher of iced tea. She loved them--still does--the more the merrier, if people just bring desserts, then we eat desserts for supper. And that's actually the key--a potluck should be SPONTANEOUS. Unplanned. No "if your name begins with a Y, bring chips" kind of stuff. Everybody just bring something and come hang out.

Why am I thinking about this? My writing group, my sisters in ink, we had a potluck on Wednesday. What did we eat? Popcorn. And some hummus, veggies, salsa, chips, meat, cheese, and wine. Oh, and mini cupcakes and strawberry shortcake. I think that's all. It was spontaneous, and it was delicious.

Delicious not just because of the food. Delicious because of the relative impromptu-ness of it all (we decided just the day before, and nobody planned), and because Midwesterners like to share food and conversation over weird collections of victuals (or "vittles"). We ate and worked and talked and enjoyed each other.

I'm sure this can't be just Midwesterners who do this--can it? I know Midwesterners are the people who do holiday sweaters (never so well described as by my incredibly writerly cousin Susan), but we can't be the only potluck people. Can we?

disR-E-S-P-E-C-T

I should be clear: the blog entry about becoming an addict was tongue in cheek. I grew up with addicts, currently know addicts, and know that life, and it's not a path I want to take. I also know addicts with amazing recovery stories, and they have all my respect. I intended no DISrespect by suggesting that addiction was cool or fun.

In the face of all those genius works (that sell and sell and sell), addiction looks pretty good. But not really. The trail of destruction behind those literary greats may have been even greater than their genius. As for me, I have skated close enough to the edge to know addiction would be disastrous.

Just to be clear.

And PS: the photo is, if you're not sure, the infinitely fabulous Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin in her heyday, long before her bedazzled hat at Obama's inaugural. Didn't her presence just say to you, "yes, folks, it's a new day at the White House"? Love. It.

Addict = best writer ever?

I'm doing it, friends--I'm getting back in the swing of blogging! I think I need another theme for March. That might help.

A grad school friend sent me this link to a bunch of great Life (as in Life Magazine) photos of literary friends with teensy tiny drug and alcohol problems. The dude up top (photo in the slideshow) is the wonderful addict Truman Capote, who is rocking some very cute ladies' sandals and is famous for IN COLD BLOOD, the first non-fiction novel (written with help from his friend Harper Lee). There's also the world's worst photo of Stephen King, and some other gems in between. Best list of addictions: "EVERYTHING," attached to Hunter S. Thompson's photo.

Maybe I need to drink more. Or add opium to my list of things to spend time with on a Friday afternoon. Maybe being an addict makes a person more honest, and you call it as you see it, which is an excellent trait for a writer.

I honestly don't think I have time in my life for an addiction, and I'm not independently wealthy. But the number of classics produced by these addicts is more than impressive, and as my friend Kristin says, there's nothing more literary than alcoholism.

Sigh.

Gratitude post #3: mad scientists

Today I am grateful for agents (well, every day I'm grateful for agents, especially mine, but today I'm writing about it). I can hear you now: "but your post said mad scientists!?!" I use the label with the utmost, utmost respect, and I'd bet, once you think about it, the label will seem appropriate. Plus, it was just Halloween, so "mad scientists" is more fun than "agents".

But consider this scenario: once you've matched yourselves up, you come to your brand-new agent with a book, one you think is finished. And the agent says, "Wait! I have an idea!" And then s/he helps you slice and rearrange and chop and sew and come up with a brand-new creation. And you say, "Wow! Much better!" And then your agent takes your new monster out to make friends with editors. At least that's how it's been for me. I could never have imagined the shape or scope of my current book without my agent's mad scientist genius.

Maybe your agent is not a let-me-help-you-invent-a-new-creature type of agent. However, I bet your agent is out there working the phones and electrons, trying to get you a book deal. There's some mad science to a book deal, isn't there?

Along with being grateful to my own agent, whom I love, and to two more kind and generous people who've helped us out recently, I'm grateful to agents as a whole. Every agent I've encountered, in person or on the web, has taught me something. There are some fantastic agent blogs out there, and sometimes whole agencies, like Dystel and Goderich, blog together. Agents contribute a heap of help to the online writing world. We are lucky people.

I also know there are people with bad agent stories out there. But I've found those stories fewer and farther between than the stories about kind, generous, and helpful agents. I even crashed one agent's computer--and he still read my sample pages. Totally above and beyond, ladies and gentlemen! It's a hard job, and they do it well.

Tuesday tension: help Lauren Myracle!

Scholastic has these big Book Fairs, right? My kid gets one in his school every fall and spring. Scholastic is refusing to stock Lauren Myracle's latest book, Luv Ya Bunches, because there is gay-friendly content (one character has two moms).

Silliness, no? Silliness that speaks to LARGER ISSUES WE HAVE TO STOP IN THIS SOCIETY! Come on, people! This is the 21st century. Humans have an unalienable right to love who they love, and caring parents are caring parents. End of story.

Do your good deed for today:
sign the petition here.

Edited on Wednesday: look what happened!

"UPDATE: After more than 4,000 change.org members petitioned Scholastic Books, the company has responded that they will include Luv Ya Bunches in their Spring 2010 book fairs, and they've issued a statement affirming the dignity of LGBT families and LGBT parents around the globe. Congratulations, and thanks!"

YAAAAAY for the interweb! Yay for standing up! Yay for Lauren Myracle! Yay for two mommies!

ding ding ding ding ding!!!

Here's a secret I bet none of you know: having a little exposure can lead to a lack of confidence.

"Excuse me?" I hear you saying it right now. "But you're having SUCCESS in your exposure. People like your book--or they seem to, anyway. It should give you MORE confidence."

Call me backward. For me, success/exposure is more than slightly scary, because of the follow-up: what if I can't follow up? What if I suck? What if the next book sucks? What if everyone's lying about liking my book? What if I'm ugly and fat? What if nobody comes to my book signing? What if . . . what if . . . what if . . . ?? You get the point (my husband, if he was reading this blog, would be ROLLING HIS EYES AND SIGHING LOUDLY).

Then, the inestimably smart, amazing, career-changing agent Janet Reid (can you tell I appreciate her?) posted a link to Toni McGee Causey's post about confidence on the Murderati blog. And the bell went off in my head--ding ding ding ding ding!!

See if that happens for you, too. What if I decided, every single day, to ignore those "what-ifs"?

So here's to making choices--and here's to the amazing, beautiful, funkadelic space that is the writing community on the WWW! Writers, editors, agents, publishers, marketers--we are lucky, lucky people to have such a crowd to talk with and learn from.