THE SHOT HEARD AROUND THE LITERARY WORLD

I'm sure you've heard the big news, but in case you haven't...best selling author, Barry Eisler, turned down a 500k book deal yesterday so that he could self-publish.
Yes, you read that right.

*sigh*

I can see the negatives and positives from both sides of the debate: Traditional publishing vs. Self-pub. And I'm not saying Barry's decision is wrong or right. I believe every author has to make the decision that is best for them, and that decision is based on many factors.

Me personally, I'm old-fashioned. I'm always saying I wish I was born several decades earlier so I could live in slower-paced times when people spent more quality time with other people instead of dedicating the majority of their waking hours to technology. But that's a whole other rant. Back to my original thought...

I want my first novel to be published the old-fashioned way. I want a real book in my hands. I want to ooh and ahh (or hide all traces of disappointment from my face) at the pretty (or not-so-pretty) cover the publishing house and its designer and marketing team collaborated on. I want to see my book on a shelf in a bookstore so my mom can use her ninja skills to strategically move it to the MUST READ section. I want to picture my book, a hundred years from now, tattered, stained and packed away in a moving box full of other books and when the owner opens the lid, he/she inhales that first waft of old paper smell and thinks, "Ahh memories. I love the smell of my favorite books and--even though I have a computer chip embedded in my wrist that allows me to read any book at anytime instantly on a virtual reality screen embedded in my eyeballs--I will never ever throw these away because nothing will EVER replace the feel of a REAL book."

Yup, I'm a traditionalist at heart.

BUT, I'm also very adaptable. I want my agent to get me a good deal on E rights. I want my stories available at the touch of a button to Kindle, Nook, Sony (and any and all other EReader) lovers. I'm not stupid. I know the percentage an author can make on Ebooks vs. printed. Once I have some kind of following I might take the Ebook route for some of my stories.

But here's my main thing, call me sentimental, but I don't want to live in a world where publishing houses are obsolete. My heart aches and breaks when I picture a world without agents, editors, assistants, foreign rights managers, and all those other people who participate in creating and producing REAL books. That's a lot of passionate literary people no longer being able to do what they love because technology has eliminated the need for them. I hate that. The very thought of it bemoans my soul.

What will come next? Computers that create and write novels without the help or imagination of a real human being? Great, then authors won't even be needed. I know it's an extreme thought, but look how fast and drastically our world is changing--and not all of those changes are for the better (in my humble opinion).

*sigh*

If you want to read Jane Friedman's post, about Barry turning down the book deal, including a downloadable conversation between Barry and JA Konrath about the topic, click here.

IN LOVING MEMORY

“Wednesday morning at 7:00, with a view of snow flakes falling into the garden, and soft piano music playing, I bid farewell to my love. My best friend.” ~Neil Wolfson (Husband of Lisa Kay Wolfson aka LK Madigan)

It has been a week since the world lost a beloved wife, mother, and YA author, LK Madigan. My heart ached when I heard the news of her death. I didn’t know her personally, but hearing that the world lost another talented writer really hit home.

I first discovered LK when researching agents to query. While choosing which agent to query from the Andrea Brown Agency, I saw that Jennifer Laughran had a client who was about to release The Mermaid’s Mirror. I smiled, and felt an invisible and immediate connection to LK. Maybe it was a kindred mermaid souls thing, or maybe it was just how sweet and genuine LK seemed on her website and blog, but I was an instant fan.

Another kindred mermaid soul and beautiful writer, Tricia O’Brien, first told me about LK’s gut-wrenching diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. My heart hurt for her back then, and I cried when Tricia said she had passed away. Life is so unfair sometimes.

As a writer, I can’t help but think how many stories she will never be able to share with the world because her time ended too soon. Then I read this on her website, and tears rolled down my cheeks all over again:

“FLASH BURNOUT was published in October 2009. My second young adult novel, a fantasy titled THE MERMAID’S MIRROR, just came out this fall. I hope to write and publish many more books in the future … I have more story ideas than time to write them all."

Not enough time indeed. It’s so tragically unfair.

So many lives are lost much too soon because of many types of cancer. I pray--as do many--that one day a cure for this devastating disease will be discovered.

In the meantime, don’t take life for granted.

Tell the people you love how much they mean to you, because you don’t know how much time you have left with them. And follow your dreams diligently, because you don’t know how much time you have left to make them come true.

Here’s to LK: to her talent, her beauty, her bravery, her successes, and her loved ones. May she be blissfully exploring a place so beautiful that no writer could ever adequately describe it with mortal words.

~In Loving Memory~

You can read Neil’s recent message to readers of LK’s blog here:

You can read how brave and strong LK (Lisa) was in this post:

BRUISED BUT NOT BROKEN

Recently a person very close to me, someone who I assumed supported my dreams, told me that I had no career aspirations (although I do have a FT job). I figured This Person must have had a momentary brain lapse and forgot about the countless hours I spend writing, story weaving, editing, blogging, attending conferences, critiquing, querying, and reading to strengthen my craft. Surely, This Person so close to me must have forgotten that my aspirations—my dream—is to be a full-time author. So I reminded This Person.

They said writing books wasn’t a career. This Person knew someone (one) who had published a few books and didn’t make any money. In This Person’s opinion my dream was meaningless because my odds of becoming wealthy doing it are slim to none. As if monetary wealth is a true determination of riches.

This Person is someone who I thought had my back. I envisioned This Person’s name printed in the Acknowledgments section of my future published novels. This Person had claimed they believed in me and my writing many times in the past, yet there they were, belittling my dream.

I felt as if I had been pushed off the edge of a cliff. It was a devastating feeling of falling backwards into darkness, unable to breathe, while reaching forward trying to grasp onto this person I assumed would never let me fall—much less shove me backwards.
I cried. I defended myself. I cried some more. But I just kept plummeting, and This Person continued to get smaller as they blurred through my tears and faded from my vision. I kept waiting to hit rock bottom, to hit so hard it would leave me bruised and broken.

But that didn’t happen.

Because I have wings.

Wings made of passion, perseverance, love for the craft, love for storytelling, and love for myself. Wings made of two parents who believe in me no matter how many times I’ve failed or let them down; including a mother who reads, critiques, and sees potential in every word I write. Wings made of best friends who have known me for years and believe in my characters, including the ones named after them. Numerous wings of writing friends who not only read my stories and tell me what’s brilliant and what needs serious work, but who cheer me on and remind me that each seemingly failure is a step towards success.

My wings save me from crashing. My wings keep me flying towards my dream, no matter how high or unreachable they may appear. This Person was a part of my wings, so I can’t deny that I’m wounded. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt. This Person may have clipped me, but I can still fly. And some day, the wings that still support me will be the reason I soar.

WRITE YOUR HEART OUT

I'm heart-deep in revisions lately and loving every minute of it. (If I could just quit my day job and write all day the process would go much more quickly.) Anywho, I'm sorry I haven't been blog hopping as much as I'd like but please know I do miss you and I will be back in the swing of things soon. Until then, Elizabeth Law from Egmont USA (one of my favorite publishers) has something for you to keep in mind...

"Just write your heart out. I promise you that's what matters. I would much, much rather find a great, unusual, distinctive book by a phobic writer covered in oozing sores who lives in a closet than a decent but not amazingly original book by the world’s best promoter. I could sell the former a lot better, too."

~Elizabeth Law, Publisher, Egmont USA

May you ooze greatness today, tomorrow, and forever.

WRITERS ANNONYMOUS

I haven't had anything funny, inspirational, or helpful to say this week. Instead of making up some dribble that no one wants to read (including me) I'm going to share this poem that made me giggle...

Writers Anonymous: A 3 Step Program

[Step One: Resentment]
Hi, My name is Quentin.
I'm a write-a-holic.
I can't control it, can't curb
the urge to write.
I need help.
I want my life back.

[Step Two: Commitment]
I write poems on fast food napkins,
with toothpicks, using ketchup for ink.
I jot ideas for poems
on my arms and legs. When I run out of space,
I use my shoes.
I make motions
similar to Michael Jackson's moonwalk
when I need to erase.

I make up stories
while making love to my wife.
She left me. Who needs her?
She was suffocating my creativity.

I await submission replies
like an addict, hands trembling,
head shaking in disbelief.
Not another bout with rejection!
I'm manic depressive.
I'm happy to be here.
No I'm not.

I live for revision.
Instead of sex, I have poems.
I eat feedback.

[Step 3: Contentment]
As a recovering write-a-holic,
admitting my problem
has provided a much needed catharsis.
Joining this nurturing group has

(Excuse me,
but are you going to throw away that paper cup?
That's good paper!)

taught me to reconcile my past
and move forward.

~Quentin Huff

Moonwalking to erase. That's brilliant in my opinion. ;)

My Own Kind

I ordered myself a New Year's present with a gift card that the fabulous Natalie Bahm sent me. (Thanks, Nat!) The book is called A Writer's Book of Days. Per the description on the cover, it's "a spirited companion and lively muse for the writing life." You can check it out via the link if you'd like to learn more. So far I'm really loving it.

Now, for the part I wanted to blog about...

As I read the opening pages, Judy Reeves said something that really hit home for me.

I have been invited to participate in a community where I am free to be all that I am as a writer--insecure, self-conscious, ungraceful, passionate, raw, reckless, wild, and even outside my self. I have found my own kind.

Those words made me think of all of you. My writing world people. Some of whom I've never spoken to in real life, much less met face to face, but nonetheless...are my own kind.

I don't get to read your blogs as often as I'd like, but when I do it's like hot chocolate for my soul. When I read the comments left on my posts it's like I've been handed warm chocolate chip cookies that make me feel all cozy and happy.

I love your stories, your thoughts, your metaphors, your jokes, your photos, your announcements, and everything else you're brave enough to blog about. I think we've all had our moments of Am-I-any-good-at-this-writing-stuff? or even worse, What-if-no-one-cares-what-I-have-to-say?

Try to put those insecure thoughts in a shredder and toss them away.

We are writers.
What we write may not always be poetic, or brilliant, or funny, or publishable, or even memorable.
Who cares.
Write anyway.

Be ungraceful. Be reckless. And yes, even when it's difficult, be passionate.

Every word you write is one step closer to improving your craft. It's one step closer to learning about yourself. It's one step forward on this crazy writerly path that we are all strolling (and sometimes stumbling and tripping) along.

The best part is you are not alone. I am not alone. None of us are alone. They say writing is a lonely job, but I disagree. Look around. Look at all the wonderful people. Between my CPs, blogger buddies, friends I've met at conferences, or even just the occasional commenters who say things that make me smile: I am part of an astounding network of talented and supportive people.

I have found my own kind.
Thank you for being one of them.