Not too long ago I was involved in a discussion on an internet forum where I am a long-time member, in which I expressed an opinion about the writing process, basically. And someone responded to me to say, basically, that I obviously expected everyone to give my opinions more weight because of my publishing record, and that it seemed to this person that I expected everyone to listen to me not because I was right but because I thought being published meant I knew better than everyone else; this person felt that I was acting like my opinions were facts and relying on my credentials to make others think so too.

Now. For the record, I know some of you may have seen that discussion and I want to make it very, very clear that the person who said that is entitled to his/her opinions and feelings and that I am absolutely NOT trying to “bring the discussion here,” or berate or belittle them in any way. I’m not. Not one bit.

My reason for mentioning it here is because it so perfectly illustrates the point I want to make today and the discussion I want to have, which is that once you are published you are no longer “a reader;” not because you’ve stopped reading (hopefully), but because other people see you differently. Readers see you differently. Maybe not all of them, no; I certainly can’t speak for every reader in the world (or any of them, for that matter; they can speak for themselves, and who am I to decide I’m their champion or something?). But for many of them…you have become “an author.” A different sort of animal.

I don’t base this statement just on that one experience. I’ve seen not just evidence of this but people actively stating it for years. I’ve seen writers accused repeatedly, in all sorts of venues, of thinking their opinions should carry more weight or that they’re more important or whatever else, when they speak up in reader forums.

Now, while I can say with certainty that I’ve never expected any reader to give a flying goddamn about my opinion, and I’m willing to bet most authors don’t expect it either (although see next PP), I also don’t think I’m in any position to tell them they’re wrong for feeling that way. How do I know that I didn’t suddenly start coming across like I expected that? I don’t. And it doesn’t matter. What matters is that at least some readers feel that way; at least some of them feel frankly bullied whenever authors enter the conversation or express their point of view. What matters is that a lot of them don’t give a shit about our point of view (and why should they?). And what matters is that they are absolutely perfectly entitled to feel that way.

And to be fair, what matters is that I’ve seen more than one author act like that is indeed the case and readers should all listen and pay attention and care and see things from their POV. Well, gee, we saw it five times in the past ten days, didn’t we? What are these “What do you know, you non-constructive-review-giving-peon?” internet scandales if not authors expecting readers to care about them or what they think above what the reader cares about or thinks? Every time an author pulls the oh-so-irritating “You need to remember that’s someone’s heart and soul/baby you’re reviewing and act accordingly” whine out of their entitled asses, that author is telling readers that readers are obligated to care about them; frankly, they’re telling readers that the writers’ feelings are more important than the readers’, IMO.

(Sadly, I can’t even just say these authors tend to be the same types of amateurs who make their sisters leave them glowing reviews online, because we’ve seen some major-house authors pull this shit, which is so intensely depressing I can’t stand it. Sigh. Every time an author has a tantrum, Satan shoots a puppy. Or something like that. Please, authors, won’t you think of the puppies?!)

Anyway. The point is, I honestly don’t believe my thoughts or the way I express myself has changed since I became published. I certainly don’t think being a low-midlister at best who writes books that have inspired hate mail for their subject matter means I have any sort of special entitlement to be listened to or heard or that it makes my opinion so much more worthy of attention than anyone else’s. But I can definitely see how just the fact that I have been published means readers don’t really want me around, and it makes sense to me. Why? Because readers want readerspace. Readers want to talk to other readers who share their outlook.

And to be frank, I don’t share that outlook anymore, not entirely, no matter how much I want to or try. Neither do you, Published Person. This is why I’m no longer A Reader. Even when I read.

See, for one thing, I’m aware of how publishing works, and more than that, my opinions on matters like ebook pricing and Amazon and whatever else are by necessity colored by the fact that I make a living from that industry. That doesn’t mean I automatically advocate high ebook prices or something (though it does mean I understand that printing costs saved by ebooks are eaten up in part by digital storage/transfer/etc costs), but it does mean that it’s harder for me to be objective when there are discussions about industry practice. Just as there are unpublished authors who complain about things that make perfect sense to me (like rejections without explanation), there are readers who dislike things that make perfect sense to me. Does that mean I think readers are stupid? Of course not. Does it mean I don’t think they have a right to their opinions? Of course not.

It just means our outlooks on some issues are different. That’s the way it is.

I also don’t read like I used to; I don’t read like a reader, not the way I did before I started writing. This, I believe, is a change that started the first time I picked up a book not as a fun way to spend my time, but as a guide to How It’s Done. (And note: NONE of the points I’m about to make should be taken to imply that I don’t think readers read critically or know good stories or writing or whatever else. I’m explaining how my personal process changed and making a generalization from that–and from the fact that every writer I’ve discussed it with has mentioned it, and it’s a common topic on writing forums–that most writers’ processes change; it’s not meant in any way to imply that readers don’t know good writing or whatever.)

It’s a lot harder for me to read these days. I don’t look at writing the way I did; it’s harder to get caught up in a story because I’m seeing technical faults, I’m seeing how I would have done or phrased it differently (that’s a big huge one). I rewrite sentences in my head. I’m more impressed by great sentences and far more annoyed by bad ones, and mediocre writing can and will ruin a book for me in a way it wouldn’t have ten years ago. Actually, I can’t even list all the ways that writing with an eye to publication changed my reading; there are so many of them. And while I believe that we all want the same thing–great books, easily available–I also believe that in some ways (however small) our outlooks are fundamentally different.

Not to mention that writing and reading are such deeply personal processes anyway. In what way does one’s view of books change when one is writing with an eye toward publication? Does it change again when one is published, and how? Of course every reader’s opinion is colored by their own personal viewpoints; that’s why reviews are valuable. But are the changes that happen when one starts writing for publication really beneficial to readers? (Does it matter?)

So what does this mean, in terms of my relationships as a reader to other readers? Does it make my opinion any more or less valuable (and again, does it matter)? Could I even write an effective review because of my different viewpoint (leaving out for the moment the obvious fact that I have a right to my opinion too blah blah blah, that’s not the point)?

And do readers care what I think?

As I said above, I think there are definitely readers out there who want reader-only spaces. I’ve seen countless complaints about how when readers find a good place to hang out authors start showing up, and it’s an intrusion, like how even the coolest parent is an intrusion at a teen-only event. Authors showing up in reader spaces make readers uncomfortable. We don’t belong there, at least, that’s what I’ve seen many readers say and what I personally feel to a large extent. The simple fact that we are writers colors the way readers see us and perhaps the way we express ourselves; maybe not all of us, but some of us. We can’t control entirely how others see us, frankly. We can be the most pro-reader writers in the world but we’re still writers, and there very well may be readers there who see that and just think “get the fuck off my blog, dude, I didn’t write this post for you.” And they have every right to think that.

I can only think how I would feel if I was on a forum dedicated to, say, shoes. And a bunch of shoe makers kept showing up and joining in. Yeah, in some ways they’d be welcome, but I can also see myself thinking at least part of the time that my conversation wasn’t meant for them, it wasn’t written for them, it was my attempt to relate to and discuss subjects with other consumers, not manufacturers. And I can only imagine this must be how some readers view writers who turn up on reader blogs and in reader forums.

I wonder too if this changes before or after someone is published. How do readers see unpublished vs. published writers, if there is a difference? Is the mere fact of a writer showing up seen as an indicator that they think their opinion is more important; do they seem like they’re trying to dominate the conversation? Readers, how do you really feel when writers join the discussion–does it make a difference what kind of discussion it is?

And since we started all of this by talking about how writers need to back off and quit trying to tell readers how to review, how to look at their work, how to relate to it, how to relate to them personally, or whatever else…how do *you* see reviews written by authors? Are they more or less trustworthy? Again, does it make a difference if it’s an aspiring author or a published one, and is there a level of publishing where that changes (like, do you see someone who just sold a novel to Books of Love Startup Ehouse in the same way as someone who just sold their book to Penguin)? Do you see them as a writer or reader or both? How does that change the way you see them, or does it?

In the past few days I’ve seen two of these display-site/make-your-books-go-viral/readers-can’t-wait-to-read-your-unedited-unpublished-book sites. Slush sites; also known as YADS (Yet Another Display Site), because yeah, this is an idea that people have been trying and trying for years now, and which has never to my knowledge resulted in any sort of publishing deal for anyone.

Anyway. The two I’m thinking of offhand are PUBSLUSH (read more at AW and Writer Beware here and here) and the not-yet-unveiled ViralBestseller.com (link goes to the AW thread).

Here’s the basic idea behind these sites. The PUBSLUSH people or the “agents” at ViralBestseller will post your book on a website. According to them, what will then happen is that thousands of eager readers will flock to their site, desperate to find something new to read that hasn’t been touched by those horrible editors (ViralBestseller refers to “unedited glory” and reading “the author’s original intensions[sic],” which frankly to me displays a deep misunderstanding of the editing process, but whatever) or professional publishers or, well, anyone who can determine whether or not the work in question is actually readable. Readers, they claim, are desperate to wade through thousands of manuscripts looking for one that they might like. In the case of PUBSLUSH, their plan is for readers to actually pledge money to preorder the book, based on a ten-page sample, and when a certain amount of supporters/cash is reached the book will be published.

Now…okay. Maybe the problem here is me (I am the “lazy reader” referred to in the title of the post). I fully admit that may be the case. I certainly think of myself as a dedicated and avid reader; I don’t have as much time to read now as I used to, seeing as how I spend so much time writing them these days, but I certainly still read and buy books and read some more. I read a lot. Probably not as much as any of you, but certainly as much as I can. I’m always looking for book recommendations. Those of you who’ve reviewed my books favorably in the past may be surprised to know that based on that (by which I mean your obviously excellent taste in literature), I visit your sites to see what else you’re reading that you like, and check those books out at the bookstore. I write down titles; I look to see who you’re talking about (I also grit my teeth because, you know, talking about other books means you’re not talking about mine, but still). (That is of course a joke.) (Mostly.)

But I look at sites like these and I think, man…I just don’t want to have to work that hard, you know?

I have a big enough TBR list; I have books by my friends whose writing I love that I don’t manage to get to fast enough for me. I have recommendations I’ve found on your sites, if you review. I have research reading to do; my nonfiction library is ever-growing. I have books I saw at the bookstore that I bought just cuz they looked cool that I haven’t gotten to read yet. That adds up to a lot of books.

So when I’m thinking of looking for something new to read (if I’m not just picking something from my TBR)…I dunno, I just never think to myself, “You know what I’d like to do? I’d like to spend several hours hunting through digital slushpiles to see if maybe there’s something in there I might want to read on my laptop.” In the case of PUBSLUSH, that would be “I’d like to spend several hours looking through ten-page samples in hopes of pledging to pay $25 to maybe get the whole thing in a few months’ time.”

All of the YADS play on–most of them have little screeds written to the effect of–the idea that commercial publishing as it is is “broken” and isn’t serving readers. I disagree with this; sure, not every book is to my taste, but in general I find there’s plenty of variety out there to keep me happy and interested. And the idea that publishers have no idea what readers want puzzles me, too, frankly. You and I might think TWILIGHT isn’t very good (or we may love it; I’m not saying anything one way or the other) but the fact remains that an agent and an editor read it and thought “This book will appeal to lots of readers,” and they were right, and that happens every day. Yes, bad books get published. I can certainly think of a few. But good ones do, too, every day.

But to get back to the main point…am I just lazy? Is this something readers actually want to do? Do you find yourself hunting around odd websites looking for something that might be interesting to read? Do you look at sites like those?

Or do you, like me, and like–I believe–the majority of readers, still prefer to find and read books from bookstores, from reviews on trusted sites, from friends who’ve read them? Books that you can be fairly certain are at least up to a certain standard of readability?

I’m genuinely curious. Because like I said, I just don’t want to work that hard to find something to read, and I just don’t have that kind of time.

BTW…I now have a Tumblr. So if you’re on Tumblr, let me know! I have plans for something fun on Tumblr soon, which I’m working on at the moment, so…there’ll be more on that later.

I’m sure you all know that. I’m sure this is only one of thousands of posts about her and her death that will be posted today, that have already been posted. But I want to say something about it; I need to say something about it, so I’m going to.

Amy’s music wasn’t the type I normally listen to, but I honestly loved Back to Black. I loved the sixties-esque, bluesy feel of it. I thought her lyrics were stunning and gritty and dark and beautiful, and her voice incredible. And today–all weekend–I’ve watched other people–other women–talk about those lyrics especially, how it felt to them like Amy really opened herself up, really exposed something of herself and how much that mattered to them, and why it mattered to them. They talk about dark times in their lives when those lyrics and that music helped them and spoke to them and made them feel not so alone. They talk about what a tragedy this is, how much they wanted another album, how deeply they identified with the troubled soul laid bare for them in song.

I’m also seeing other people–mostly men; some women, yes, but more men–talk about how they’re not surprised, how Amy deserved to die, how she was a junkie slag, how we’re all stupid if we didn’t expect this and stupid for caring to begin with. Oh, and of course there’s a healthy dose of “Kids died in Norway so how dare you people care about this when something actually important has just happened,” as if people can’t care about both, or as if no one is allowed to mourn the loss of someone who touched their lives because another tragedy with a bigger body count has taken place elsewhere. Like if your grandparent died on 9/11 you shouldn’t have cared or something. Along with that comes quite a bit of “Those kids in Norway didn’t deserve to die and Amy did” or “those kids in Norway had futures and Amy pissed hers away.”

(This post isn’t about the tragedy in Norway, and for the record I am horrified and saddened and deeply troubled by it.)

I find a number of things troubling here, and am kind of struggling to articulate all of my thoughts and feelings on it. I’m troubled at the loss of someone with talent. I’m troubled at the loss of someone who was clearly in a lot of pain. I’m troubled by the callousness of so many of the responses (just, as it must be said, I am by the callous responses many people make anytime any kind of death is reported in the news).

I find myself thinking back to when Kurt Cobain died. I personally never cared for Kurt Cobain or his music; in fact I strongly disliked both. But I remember well the way his addiction was handled in the press, and I remember that the response to it was one of sadness and concern, the response to his death one of shock and mourning. I remember how the public discourse seemed so much to be about worry and support. And now I remember the response to Amy’s addiction was scorn and disgust, and the response to her death–not everywhere, it must be said–seems to be more of the same, with a healthy dollop of “she deserved it.” I don’t remember people calling Cobain an ugly whore because of his addictions, or discussing how if he touched them they’d want to bathe with bleach, or wondering why anyone in their right minds would want to be anywhere near him. I don’t recall, when River Phoenix died, people saying he deserved it. So why the vitriol against Amy Winehouse? Is it easier to dismiss and shame her because Ladies Don’t Do Such Things? Why is it okay for talented men to be fucked up, but talented women aren’t allowed? Why are men with addiction problems forgiven and hoped for, but women are condemned?

For every person discussing what a vile person Charlie Sheen is and has become, there are many willing to pay huge amounts of money to see him ramble. And that’s now, after the shit around him finally reached an un-ignorable level. Let’s not forget that Charlie’s had addiction issues for years; let’s not forget how many women have accused him of domestic violence. How much shit did we hear about him when those incidents happened? It was a quick news story that then disappeared, and when his name came up we didn’t hear much about it. If it was mentioned it was in a cheery “Those problems were totally overblown and are behind him now” sort of way. He was called a “partier” and a “lothario.” Now how many times in the last couple of years did you see an article about Amy that didn’t focus on her addiction problems or mention the violence in her relationship with her husband in a snide and condescending manner? How many comments to those articles didn’t focus–in Charlie’s case–on how much the commenter hoped his troubles really were behind him, and how many of the comments in Amy’s case weren’t about how ugly and skanky she was? How many times was Amy’s behavior chuckled about as if it was just normal and fine, how many times was she fondly called a “party girl?”

Googling things like “Amy Winhouse slut,” “Amy Winehouse slag,” and “Amy Winehouse disgusting” brings up millions and millions of hits all about–yes–how Amy was a slut, a slag, and disgusting. “Amy Winehouse disgusting” brought up over nine million hits, largely Facebook groups, blogs, videos, websites, whatever, devoted to how disgusting Amy is. “Charlie Sheen disgusting” brings up two million, and even on the first page you can see the difference; they’re calling his behavior disgusting, not him, or they’re quoting Denise Richards. I realize doing a few Google searches is hardly a scientific study, but I do think it’s telling.

Sure, there’s a difference. Charlie’s fame didn’t come from singing about/talking about drugs and alcohol. I know that, and I know that’s part of the response I’ll get about this post. I guess the implication there is that–my old favorite–Amy shouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t want to be judged, and Amy asked for it when she sang about things that had meaning for her. Of course that can’t really be argued with; every artist knows that creating art for public consumption means opening oneself up to public criticism. That’s the name of the game, and of course everyone has a right to their own reactions to things and to express those reactions. My comments or concerns aren’t about that so much as the fact that we seem to be much gentler and more forgiving when it’s a man whose problems we’re discussing rather than a woman. (It’s not just publicly either; when I asked about this online I had a girl who’d entered AA at a young age remark on how different were the reactions she got from the reactions the men she knew in recovery got. They were tortured and cool; she was a dirty slut.)

(We can say the same thing about Britney Spears, actually, a young woman who had a public breakdown while we all watched. When Britney was a sexy virgin everyone loved her; the minute she gained a few pounds and showed evidence of stress people started stoning her in the public square. Part of this is simply the way of the world these days. As I said Friday, it feels like our culture has devolved to the point where other people aren’t seen or treated as human anymore, but merely artificial constructs created for our entertainment, and we delight in going online to say whatever clever little cruelty we’ve invented in our vicious little heads, then sitting back smiling at our own pithy disregard for other people’s feelings. After all, we’re perfect, aren’t we, so obviously anyone dealing with problems we don’t ourselves deal with or not living their lives the exact same way we do are inferior in some way, and thus deserving of our scorn. I digress.)

This is getting very long, so I’m going to hold off on the second part and post it tomorrow. It’s about my own feelings about blogging and putting things out there, and all of that. So for now…that’s all.

I missed a few things while I was away, sigh. First, and most importantly: L.A. Banks has been diagnosed with adrenal cancer. It’s serious and it’s awful, awful news, and her medical bills are and will continue to be astronomical.

An auction–several auctions, actually–are being held to help raise money for her. I heard about it/got involved too late so couldn’t offer anything; fortunately many, many other people did hear in time, and there’s lots of awesome stuff available to bid on. Please, I urge you all to go have a look. Leslie is really a fantastic person and writer; one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

Nowhere near that in importance is the fact that SACRIFICIAL MAGIC is now up for pre-order on Amazon (I don’t see it on B&N.com yet, and Book Depository has it but with the incorrect release date [though you can still pre-order it]) and Amazon UK! So if you’re planning on buying the book anyway, you could pre-order it now, and that would be frankly awesome.

I understand that while I was away there was something of a kerfuffle about this whole pre-order business and the “How you should buy my books” thing again and that whole business. I’ve already made my position on such things clear, but since people have a tendency to forget, let’s just go over it again quickly, shall we? Let me make clear too this particular comment isn’t directed at any one author, or at least not at the one this mess seemed to be directed at.

But I do have issues with authors who think it’s okay to scold people and make them feel guilty for buying her book on the Monday before it comes out rather than the actual Tuesday release date, which is such bullshit. First of all, the NYT counts book sales for the week. They tally numbers Sunday night, which means, unless no book ever sold on a Monday ever counts, that a “week” in those terms runs Monday morning-Sunday night. So a book bought on Monday? Fucking counts, so shut up. Second, shut up anyway, because your arrogant assumption that your listing should matter to your readers grosses me out. You want to grumble privately? Fine. But to make them feel guilty and bad? *gag*

Sorry, but I can’t see myself ever having the ego-driven nerve to assume I’m going to make any kind of list. Perhaps that’s because I’m barely midlist, sure, but either way. And even if I did… Seriously, dude, do you really think that if your sales are going to be big enough to give you a shot at the NYT, those ten or twenty copies people managed to buy early is going to keep you off it? Really? Especially when it’s a day early, which I remind you again, still counts?

Also, pre-orders count, and pre-orders matter. Pre-orders help determine print runs and convince bookstore buyers to place bigger orders. Pre-orders count as first-week sales. Again, even were that not the case? Pre-orders are fucking sales. They count. Every fucking sale counts. (When the previous “Buy my books this way so I can hit the NYT” thing broke out I actually had a chat with my editor about it; she confirmed that yeah, every single damn sale counts as a sale, and that–ta da!–helps our sales numbers, and those determine if we get to write more books or not.)

Getting to write more books or not is what matters to me. Would I love to hit a list one day? Of course; what writer wouldn’t? But honestly? What I care about is getting to write more books. Please, please let me get to write more books. If I could get paid a little more for them that would be great, sure. If I could get a bit of recognition beyond the circle of incredible awesome people who’ve actually read my books and are kind and wonderful enough to talk about them that would be pretty cool, too; I’d love to have a bigger audience. But really, I just want to write more books. I dream about getting to write more books. I can’t imagine being so secure in myself and my sales that I think I can totally hit a list as long as those damn readers don’t fuck it up for me, and worrying they will fuck it up by exercising their rights as a consumer to buy available products.

You know what I worry about? Whether or not they’ll like the book. Whether it’s as good as the last one. Whether they’ll understand why Chess did X in that scene or if I didn’t make it clear enough; whether they’ll see the changes being made or not and like them or not. I worry I’m not giving them a full enough experience, that this book will be a let-down, that I haven’t made it exciting enough, sexy enough, thrilling enough. I worry I’ve failed them–you. That’s what I’m crying about in the weeks before release. That’s where my focus is, what’s on my mind. Not “Will they buy it on the right date?” but “Will they love it?” I honestly, again, can’t imagine being in a position where worrying about what on what day the book was/is bought overrules my absolute terror that my readers will hate my new book, or be disappointed by it.

I just can’t explain how furious I get; not when I see the initial posts about “How you can help me hit a list,” because really, they bug me but oh well. Read it or don’t; follow it or don’t. I dislike the implication that it’s the reader’s job to care about such things or that they exist to serve the writer, yes. As I said above, I dislike the sort of arrogance implied by “My book is going to sell big numbers, y’all, so let’s get me some accolades for it.” The initial posts annoy me. But those aren’t such a big deal to me; it’s the follow-up comments about how no one is following instructions or how they’re obviously not reading the posts because if they were they wouldn’t be behaving so damn badly by buying the book when they see it/in the format they’re buying it in/whatever or how they’ve just made the author cry and they should be ashamed of themselves for doing that when I get angry. That’s what infuriates me; that’s where I start to get that sort of deep raw burning rage inside me that makes me want to start screaming and punching people. That’s where slight rudeness or even innocence of tone becomes real arrogance.

Why am I saying all of this now, when the current little internet mess is over? Well, because I’ve just posted pre-order links, that’s why. And I want to make it clear that while I would love you to pre-order the book, I really would, because I need every sale I can get and a sale is a sale, you’re under no obligation to do so. My sales numbers are not your problem; you are not required to do shit for me, my career, or my sales, frankly.

Yes, maybe it is the case–as I’m sure will be pointed out–that it’s easy for me to say all of this because I’m not in a position where I could hit a list, the implication being that because I’m not a big success I don’t have to worry about growing that success, I only have to try to hang on with my fingertips, whereas these people actually are successful and what do losers like me know about that. But I also know writers who have hit the NYT–quite a few of them, in fact–and none of them made a stink about buying the book the day before release or tell their readers they’d made them sick by buying the book a day or two early. And again, oh well. Maybe I’ll never hit a list. I don’t really care. I care about having a long career, and selling enough to make my publishers happy and make them keep offering me contracts. I care–deeply–about writing books my readers love, books that make them happy and make them want to see more books from me.

I got into this business so I could write books. I stay in this business because I still want to do that. That’s all I want to do. I want readers to like my books. That’s all I worry about.

So pre-order my book or don’t. I hope you do. I’m not worried if you don’t. I just want you to LOVE the book, and be excited by it and not feel let down, and that’s what I’d much rather focus on: you, the reader.

2. All this talk about short stories has me thinking. And there may be some stuff going on this summer as far as promotions etc. Certainly I have that story in HOME IMPROVEMENT: UNDEAD EDITION which frankly needs no promotion from me at all, given that the other authors in it are actually successful, but I’d like to do something for it and I’d certainly like to have some stuff to offer to piggyback from it a bit, if you know what I mean. I like my story in the antho pretty well–certainly I think it’s the best short I’ve written, but then you all know I’m not crazy about my short stories in general.

But that brings me to another question, actually. I’ve mentioned here that there’s a (very) dark erotica/erotic romance story I want to do. But I also have HOME, the Downside short which would have gone to the MMBO GHOST ROMANCE, (which made me realize earlier that I also have TRUST ME, my short from the MMBO VAMPIRE ROMANCE II, which is now essentially reverted to me–it was a non-exclusive contract after the first year). And I’d really, really like to get some more Downside stuff out there for you guys, and have been considering a few options.

So…

I thought there was a way to do a proper voting poll on WordPress here but I can’t find it. So I’ll just ask and you guys can leave our thoughts in comments or @ me on Twitter or whatever.

I’m having some thoughts re the following short/novella-type projects. Keep in mind that not only do I of course want to do something special for you guys but I’m hoping to do something that might be accessible to those who haven’t read the books, something that might entice them a bit and get the word out? I know there are people who think the series is very successful because of the great reviews it got last summer but really that’s not the case, so I’m working really hard on finding a way to reach a larger audience.

Here are some of the ideas I have in mind; I may actually end up doing all of them, but I’m really interested in what appeals to you:

1. An “origin”-type story for Chess from her Church training

2. UG/UM/CoG from Terrible’s POV

3. ” ” ” from Lex’s POV

4. Some shorter in-continuity stories; nothing you’d have to read to understand/follow later books (I hate that) but, you know, “Further Adventures”-type things (HOME is one of these already)

5. Origin-type stories for other characters (Bump, Terrible, Lex, Edsel, etc.)

What do you guys think?

Anything I don’t have there that you’d really like to see?

Let me know!

Doin’ it All Anyway

by Michele Lee

So at this point a lot of you are wondering just who I am and why I’ve taken over Stacia’s blog. My name is Michele Lee. I’m an author (HWA qualified, but not SFWA, and an anthology featuring one of my shorts is Stoker nominated this year), a reviewer (for Dark Scribe Magazine, Monster Librarian and The Letter), editor (zombie review editor for Monster Librarian, though I have fanzine editing experience as well) and I’m a bookseller for Borders (at least until April when our store closes). About the only thing I haven’t done in publishing, other than the whole bestselling author with a three book deal gig, is agenting, and that’s because no one’s offered me the opportunity.

I’m here today because I am exactly the kind of person certain internet folk are claiming that Stacia and the YA Mafia say shouldn’t exist, and reasonably, I take issue with that. First of all, YA Mafia? Pu-lease, in the horror ghetto where I was spawned we have the Cabal, which has been ruining careers and sacrificing puppies to elder gods when they should have been writing for over ten years. I call your mafia and raise you ancient cannibal fauns, nasal parasites and zombie-fucking-apocalypses.

But I digress…much like the original discussion started about Stacia’s blog.

Here’s the down and dirty point I think she was trying to make: People treat you differently after you’ve been published. People treat you differently when you have book cred. They take your words wrong. They put intent there that wasn’t. And for some reason just because an author has a book or two to their name their opinion weighs heavier even when it’s still only their opinion and they’re still only people who don’t know everything.

That aside, let’s look at the real reason I’m here: Can authors also be reviewers?

Well, sure they can. Many of them do. Charlaine Harris recommends books on her blog all the time. Zadie Smith just took over the book column in Harper magazine and have you heard of a place called Publishers Weekly? Many authors have reviewed, anonymously and not, for PW.

Can if affect your career? Absolutely. It would be silly to assume it wouldn’t. Once you set out to have a career everything can affect it. Sitting around watching TV can affect your career, particularly if you’re not writing when you should be and Tweeting snide comments when you shouldn’t be.

Can they co-exist? Carefully they can.

I started reviewing after my second short story was published. I was looking for a way to get and stay involved in the publishing community, even when I didn’t have a story coming out. I was looking, like all budding authors, for a little legitimacy. Let me make this clear though, reviewing was always part of my plan of attack when it came to building a career.

Here’s why:

Reviewing makes me read. A lot. Things I never would have picked up on my own. Things I loved and had to dial down the fangirl in order to assess. Things I hated and had to neutrally assess the pros and cons of.
Reviewing made me have to think, really think, about the elements of a story and why it worked or failed for me. Which in turn made me think about the elements of my own stories, whether they were as effective as they needed to be.

Reviewing for other people means I have to meet deadlines, both in actually doing the reading and in sending in my analysis.

Review editing pushes me to be more firm in my publishing presence. I have to made myself more comfortable with (or just able to fake it better) approaching authors, publishers and editors for review copies, interviews and other interactions. In short I can’t flake out when I’m feeling insecure because people are depending on me to do my job. And since those same people are the ones I work with in my personal writing I figure if I can ask them to send me free copies of books and do interviews with me I can ask them to add my query to the pile they’re already reading anyway.

Also, complete cheat here, as a writer knowing the market, supporting it, reading it helps me target my submissions better. What I’m reviewing is the same people I’m submitting to, so I can better target my submissions by sending to the places putting out work I like or am impressed by. Reviewing is market research (albeit harder than just buying magazines and reading them).

So what are some of the cons?

Reviewing sucks up as much time as writing. More if you let it because lots more people want you to read and review their work than want to read yours. And if you get stuck in a slump where you just need to feel like you’re moving forward adding more reviews to your credits and crossing things off your to do list feels a lot better than sending out another round of subs on a story that’s been out there for a year.

You have to read some bad stuff. Really bad stuff. That makes you want to cry, especially when you think about your poor rejected manuscript making the circuit, yet this is published. Also you have to read some really good stuff that isn’t going to get the attention it deserves because it’s not the current trend, or is a small press release that most people will never learn about.

Yeah, people get upset if you don’t like their work. Usually they don’t ever say anything to your face, they just quietly stop talking to you, or give you a polite cold shoulder if you meet them face to face, if anything at all. Why does being a published writer make someone not a human capable of disappointment? (Not that being disappointed means you should plaster it all over the intarnets.) You do have to consider what happens if you don’t like a book. Sometimes it’s not worth it to publicly state that you didn’t like the book. (Even though yes, negative reviews do sell books.) Other times the editor you’re reviewing for expects you to be honest. Honest doesn’t equal cruel. Usually if you treat it like a job you must be professional at, meaning mention positives as well as negative, consider who the audience would be, if it isn’t you, and avoid personal statements (“This books is…” not “this author is…”) and true nastiness you’ll be okay.

However bad reviews aren’t the only ones that can hurt you. What if publishers get hooked on the idea of you as a reviewer who is predisposed to like their work and decides to keep sending you things to review, and likewise rejects your work because they’d rather have you supporting them as a reviewer rather than having to support you as a writer? It happens, and it sucks. Just like writers can get pigeon-holed by fans into writing the same kinds of stories, reviewer-writers can get trapped in the role of reviewer and be completely unrecognized as a writer.

You can burn out faster if you’re playing writer and reviewer. You can get tired of seeing the same thing over and over. You can find yourself too tired of a genre to keep writing in it. When something becomes business, much less double business, it’s easier to get bored with it and groan when you see another zombie decorated cover with “Dead [Insert random word here]” in dripping gore letters on the cover.

Books are a solid, holdable thing, but publishing is an industry built on ideas. It is too vast., too varied, to wild a thing to be determined and controlled by a handful of people. Publishing is a sieve, and there are too many agents, editors, publishers, self publishers, magazines, anthologies and webzines for someone to be completely locked out of it by one or a handful of people.

Top that off with the insane crazy busy of the industry and expecting there to be some sort of collection of people who can be successful AND have time to blackball people is like expecting the ocean to stay still for a picture because you asked it to.

Yeah it’s easy to screw up if you’re trying to be a reviewer and a writer. The big mistake is not expecting the two to affect each other. But if they are both aspects of your job, a job you go about as professionally as you would a day job in every aspect that you can, they can coexist. The key is professionalism, and remembering to keep an eye on the overall goal, not letting the individual parts run themselves with abandon.

Someday I will probably have to make the decision between one or the other. Maybe it will be a happy occasion, because I’ll be forced to chose because I have a multi-book deal at auction and have to focus on writing. But I don’t ever expect that I’ll stop recommending the books I love to people. How and why I do it, though, is something that takes more care and consideration the more “well known” I am.

Last night I got a couple of pingbacks in my email, letting me know some of my posts had been linked to. I think you can guess which ones; the little series I did several weeks back about watching what you say online.

Turns out that little tempest-in-a-teapot has not in fact died, but has grown and changed and turned into something huge and sinister. Turns out there are people out there now–otherwise reasonable people, I assume–who are equating my words with threats that someone will never be published or will never find an agent, that authors can and will “blackball” someone for a negative review, or whatever. Turns out I have somehow inadvertently created a cabal (NOTE: This doesn’t mean I think it’s all down to me or anything, just that my post is being linked to by people who say it was/is a “key exchange” in starting the whole thing. Trust me, there may be things in this world I’d like credit for. Threatening to ruin people’s careers from behind the scenes like some sort of self-important literary Blofeld is not one of them). The YA Mafia. I’m not sure how that happened, given that I’m not published in YA, but my posts are being linked to as the ones that started it all. And hey, my agent has a YA proposal from me as I write this, which I’m extremely excited about because it has all sorts of dark bloody creepiness in it. Including Springheel Jacks (yes, Jacks, as in more than one. Whee!). I digress.

I’m extremely tempted to ignore all of this and just move on. The only reason I’m not doing it is because it apparently started with me, so I feel partly responsible for the discussions, and because people are spreading some pretty wild stories about what I said (no offense to that commenter, who seems a very nice, rational person. Hers was simply the first comment I saw to illustrate my point. It is far from the only comment of that sort out there, and most people don’t apologize when it’s pointed out that they’ve misinterpreted something like that. She did. I appreciate that. This isn’t about her at all. It is about the fact that this is all getting blown way out of proportion, and I don’t appreciate being lied about).

There is no “mafia.” No writer in the world can keep you from getting published if your work is good. Period.

So you might not get a blurb from someone. As I said repeatedly when this all started, so fucking what? That’s not going to ruin your career, or end it before it’s even begun. So when you do a panel with someone they might not invite you for a drink afterward. Again, oh well.

The statement was NEVER made, by me or anyone else I’m aware of, that writing a negative review of a book could mean you never get published or repped.

The statement was NEVER made by me or anyone else I’m aware of that I would ask my agent not to rep someone who gave me a bad review. I said I might be a little hurt. Sorry, I am a human being, with feelings, just like everyone else. My agent and I have a very close relationship. I might be a little hurt. I probably wouldn’t even mention this to him (and for the record, he told me that if the review was really nasty he’d assume the writer isn’t very professional and thus not be interested in them, but a calm “This is why it didn’t work for me” wouldn’t be a big deal if the work was wonderful). I certainly wouldn’t email or call him and say “So-and-so only gave me two stars. I never want to see you go near her/him ever.”

Nor would I do that with my editor, which is another claim being made. Would I care if she signed a writer who didn’t like my work? Not one damn bit, no. An editor-author relationship is different from an agent-author relationship, for one thing. And for another…

Geez, guys, it’s just a review. Who cares about it, really?

Yeah, I might not want to blurb you if you took the time to write a big old post about not liking my book. So what. As I said in my original post, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you with other things if you needed it. That certainly doesn’t mean I’d start calling people to put your name on the Secret Mafia Blackball List. It certainly doesn’t mean I’d go out of my way to damage your career.

The simple truth is–and I mean this in the nicest possible way–I don’t care about you. I don’t know you. You don’t mean anything to me, beyond being another human being with whom I share this planet. If you’re one of my readers you mean a little more to me, sure. I try to do whatever I can for my readers; I love them. I will and have gone out of my way for them, whether they blog or not. But if you’re not one of them, you’re probably not on my radar at all. If I see your negative review I’ll probably shrug. Again as I said in those posts, if I have to choose between blurbing you and blurbing a book by one of my readers, my reader gets the blurb (unless her books sucks, which of course it won’t, because my readers are so awesome it hurts). That’s assuming I even remember your name; I don’t write this shit down, and I have a horrible memory. I might google you, if I’m bored. I might not; I probably won’t.

Somehow it seems book bloggers in general got tied up in all of this, which I find extremely upsetting, and frankly confusing. I’m not really sure how much more outspoken I can be on the subject of book bloggers/readers having the right to say anything they damn well please about a book, short of buying a bullhorn and picketing genre conventions. I have never once failed to back the reader/reader-blogger when it comes to an author vs. situation, and yeah, it is personally upsetting to me to see that completely disregarded, to see no one even bothering to read the posts I linked to on that subject before declaring what my intentions and words were.

That’s too bad for me, though. Because–and here is where we go full circle–anything you say on the internet is public, and people are people and don’t always take things the way you want them to. Because, which was honestly the whole point of the first post in the series, once you become a writer and have work published you are no longer free to speak your mind as clearly and openly as you once were; or rather, you certainly are free to do so, but there are and will be consequences. I can point not only to this little kerfuffle, but to numerous others to illustrate this. The line “She put it out there on the internet, it’s public, she can say whatever she wants but she has to accept that people might not like it and will talk about it” has been repeated so many times by so many people it’s almost funny at this point.

Yes, it sucks. Yes, it’s frustrating and difficult sometimes. Tough. It’s part of the job.

What this all boils down to is that somehow, my attempt to pass on a bit of advice–the internet can be scary, it really can, and you never know what might set someone off so it’s best to just be very careful and not burn any bridges–has turned into ALL YOUR PUBLISHING CHANCES ARE BELONG TO ME.

There is no “Mafia.” No one has that much power. Quite frankly, nothing that happens on the internet is that damn important. All of those “Authors Behaving Badly” posts out there? Don’t really matter. Those authors are still publishing, and the vast majority of readers have no idea of the scandal du jour. Although it seems big, the number of readers who actually hang out in the online readerworld is minute.

And something else I learned is that for every person who sees what you say and thinks “Man, fuck that bitch”–whether it’s because of what you said or what they think you said or whatever–there’s someone else who thinks, “Man, that chick is awesome for speaking her mind.”

The lesson there? People are people, and we’re all different. Some of us may feel one way, some another.

But we’re still people. Yes, people can be incredibly scary sometimes. But most of us aren’t. We’re a pretty decent bunch, I think, we writers. We might get annoyed by something or upset when attacked or whatever; we have bad days just like everyone or anyone else. We have to be careful when we have those bad days, more careful than non-writers. We have to be careful especially if we’re women.

But I’m also careful when I go out alone at night. That doesn’t mean I’m afraid to do it at all. I’m just careful.

My post was intended as a bit of advice, and something interesting to discuss. I say down on the Sunday night and thought, “Oh, that’ll be a cool topic to discuss. I can do a little series on it, that’ll be fun. I like doing series.” It was not intended as some sort of rule. It was most certainly not a threat; it never occurred to me that anyone would think of it that way, because to assume someone is threatening you is to assume they have some power over you, and I have none. I’ve never claimed to have any.

But sheesh, guys, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Yes, the internet is forever, but you know what? Nothing is forever. Things are forgotten. People move on. People stop caring, if they ever did. No one is threatening you. No one is calling the Boss of Publishing–Don Paperback, or whatever–to tell him you sleep with the fishes. I’m not sure how exactly that belief came about, but it’s not true, and as Zoe Winters says here, “No one EVER Said That.” (Interestingly enough, that belief, the misunderstanding, was really the main point behind my saying “You can’t be both”–not that writers would ostracize you but that readers would misunderstand you/mistrust you. Sadly, it does happen. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it.)

What you say online may lose you a few readers. It might gain you a few. It might make Author A not inclined to blurb you. It might make Author B more inclined to do so. I don’t enjoy controversy so I avoid it. I think making enemies is pointless so I avoid it. (Frankly, I think writing negative reviews is generally a waste of my time, because I have no special attachment to reviewing and never have. You may feel differently, and that’s fine. But for me, I’d usually rather spend my time talking about books I loved.) What you say online might very well make you some enemies or thrust you into unwanted controversy. It may cross a few names of your list. Like I said, I don’t understand why someone would feel so strongly about being able to review, or why they would be upset at being told they have to be careful with what they say, since A) When you’re published you have to be even more careful, and B) Isn’t that sort of standard in the world? Don’t we always need to be careful what we say? Just like we don’t walk up to someone on the street and say “Wow! Your dress is really ugly!” so we are careful what we put out there publicly online, too.

But what your statements online won’t do is keep you from getting published if your work is good. (Hell, even if it isn’t; I know one specific example of this, who although the houses aren’t particularly well-regarded or established, they’re still putting out books with that writer’s name on them, and there are so many marks against that person it makes my head spin.) Unless you are a complete ranting harpie, if your work is good you will find people who want to work with you.

The writing is everything. The work is everything. Focus on that, and quit worrying about whether or not it’s okay to say you didn’t like a book. There is no “Mafia.” There is no “blacklist.” There are only people, and we’re all different. And most of all there are books, and those are what matter more than anything else.

Seriously. Don’t worry about this. Just write the best book you can.

Other posts on this topic:

Holly Black

Ally Carter

Justine Larbalestier

Amperstory

Janni Simner

Cleolinda Jones

Foz Meadows

Dia Reeves

An older but extremely trenchant post from Ilona Andrews

It’s funny how the internet has really become such a go-to place for information. I mean, it’s not funny ha-ha, but funny in that as little as fifteen years ago, nobody really even knew what an internet was. I remember my ex telling me about how somebody showed him this really cool site online called Ebay, where you could actually buy all sorts of stuff from all over the world, and you might get it really cheap!

Anyway. The things that make the internet so great–accessibility,* information, multiple viewpoints, etc. etc.–are the things that make it so dangerous. We all know the stories about women or young girls who’ve gone to meet an internet boyfriend and ended up murdered or raped. We all know about internet stalkers and all of that stuff.

But there’s another danger on the internet, one that’s a bit more…sly. And granted, it’s a lot less dangerous, in that you won’t be raped or murdered. You’ll be robbed, sure, but it’s kind of willingly, so there you go.

Here’s the problem. Anybody can be an expert online. Anybody. All you have to do is call yourself an expert, and people will believe that you’re an expert. This is how writers fall for PublishAmerica’s scam all the time; PA claims it’s a big publisher, look at our happy authors, we publish lots of books, we don’t want your money! So they submit their books (and PA will famously accept anything) and then discover that no, actually, PA does want their money very badly, and will do just about anything to get it (and treat the writers like shit along the way; they don’t even get a reach-around). Why do PA authors fall for it? Because PA has a big website, and pats themselves on the back, and because these writers don’t think to do the single most important thing they could do for research: Go to the bookstore and see if any of that publisher’s books are on the shelves.

This is something I see a lot. I’m sure it’s prevalent in all industries, but of course I see it in the writing community because that’s the one I’m part of and the one I pay attention to. I see all kinds of people shilling their “How to Get Published” guidebooks and classes, their conferences and workshops, their critiques and edits. All for a fee, of course. Often for a pretty high fee.

I saw one recently that surprised me a bit in its scope. I’m not going to name names or post links here, because I don’t really feel like dealing with angry sockpuppets at the moment, and this particular group of people is famous for both the number and the viciousness of their sockpuppets. Let’s call them Group A.

So group A is run by Joe B (his name isn’t really Joe & he may actually be female). Joe B started an online zine for stories in the genre he writes. He’s written a few shorts himself, and “sold” them to magazines which don’t actually pay money. He wrote a novel and “sold” it to a nonprofit publisher with no distribution (that means no books in bookstores) who requires writers to enter a fee-charging contest in order to submit. It’s a solid little press; I don’t mean to put it down. But the fact remains that Joe B has never made a commercial sale (that means selling to a commercial house, i.e. one of the Big Five in NY, or a successful epublisher).

So Joe B decides to run some conferences based on how to get published, and says he’ll teach new writers how to do that. He puts up ads and, more importantly, send out his sock-puppet army to start visiting writers’ sites and start blogs discussing his conference and how valuable and worthwhile it is, and how very well-connected Joe B is in the publishing industry.

Joe B himself has a website for his conference. The conference site links to several blogs with comments like “Writers On Top confirms we run the best conference in town!” That sounds great, until you look at the fine print on Writers On Top and realize that of its four or five authors, one of them is Joe B, and the others are people who work on his online zine as well. In fact, the more you look around, the more you realize that almost every website that talks up Joe B’s conference is written by someone connected to Joe B. You see posts in all kinds of writers’ forums about how great the con was, but all of those saying it seem to be sockpuppet drive-bys; a single post, and that’s it. You notice that when someone posts a negative experience or any questions, they get personally attacked by a little gang of sockpuppets defending Joe B.

All of which is fascinating, yes, and speaks volumes about the professionalism of Joe B and his little ship of fools. And I’m sure anyone reading this can see that Joe B isn’t someone to whose advice they should listen, because my blog readers are so clever and wonderful and smell like a meadow and all of that. But a random new aspiring writer? Not so much, because Joe B is very, very careful to list, for example, his webzine, the little group he’s set up to help run the webzine, and all of those non-paying magazines he’s given his work to, and his novel, and it sounds pretty impressive when you read it. And, really, it is. It’s perfectly fine. Obviously Joe B is passionate about writing, and what he does. Obviously it matters to him. Obviously he wants to help.

But what help can Joe B really provide? That’s where the problem comes in, because, see, for all of the experience he’s gathered in self-publishing and hanging out with the lower tiers of the magazine world, Joe B has not a single minute of commercial publishing experience. Joe B has never written a novel which was represented by an agent or bought by an editor at a commercial publisher. Joe B has never sold a short story to a professional market. Joe B may be a great writer, sure. Joe B may be very talented. Joe B may enjoy doing his own thing and not be interested in moving to the commercial publishing world, and that’s fine.

Or at least, it would be fine, if Joe B didn’t insist on charging money–a not inconsiderable sum of money–to “teach” new writers how to write a book that will sell to a commercial publisher, how to create a marketable idea, how to query, all of that. (Notice that actual writing isn’t part of Joe B’s syllabus. Note also that without good writing, none of that other stuff is worth a doohicky damn; not that it really is anyway, very much, but still.)

Why do people pay all this money to take Joe’s class or attend his conference? Well, because Joe B calls himself an expert. And it’s easy to look at him and think that must be the case. He sounds impressive, after all. It’s only when you start really looking and thinking about it that you realize Joe B is claiming to be an expert in doing something he himself has been unable to do. Joe B is going to tell you how to create a concept/plot that will sell to a commercial house, when Joe B has not himself ever accomplished that himself. Joe B is going to tell you how to get an agent when he himself has never been successful in securing his own representation.

Likewise, there are tons of “experts”–often they call themselves “marketing experts,” and as a kicker they add “Bestselling Author,” which means they had ten friends buy their book off Amazon at the same time so they could shoot to the top of the bestseller list in their niche category–who claim that everybody’s publishing career started with vanity presses, or that they know the Inside Secrets or can do some special service for you by getting you an agent or publisher or whatever. (Oh, and we do all know how useless the Amazon bestseller thing in a niche is, right? My Strumpet series is almost always in the top ten for its particular little categories: romance writing guides, authorship, etc. It’s nice to see it there, and it’s nice to see it has reviews, but believe me, it’s not selling at levels we think of when we think bestseller.)

These “experts” rely on the fact that new writers–they’re almost always looking for new writers, unpublished writers, first-time writers–don’t understand how the industry actually works and won’t know how to check up on them. A lot of them are “Marketing” experts in that they’ve created dozens of websites celebrating themselves and have them aggregated all over the web, so when you Google them you get thousands upon thousands of hit referring to them as “Bestselling authors,” and you start to believe it must be true.

Anybody can call themselves a bestselling author. I could call myself a bestselling author in, let’s see…I’m the best-selling author in my house. I’m the best-selling author of books about junkie witches. I was the best-selling author at my local B&N when two of my friends bought my books one after the other. It’s all bullshit, and quite frankly, when I see someone calling themselves “Bestselling Author,” unless it says “USA Today,” “New York Times,” or “Nationally” before it, I ignore it (“Nationally Bestselling” usually means the author hit one of the aforementioned lists, but the long list. Like if you write a book that ends up on the NYT “extended,” let’s say at #33, you can’t call yourself a NYT bestseller but you can call yourself a bestseller. See?). I know it sounds cruel, but “Bestselling Author” on the website of someone who’s never been near one of those lists says to me that the writer doesn’t understand how “Bestselling” actually works; it’s puffery, and it’s silly. I’ve been a bestseller at several places online; while it’s nice, it doesn’t mean anything at all.

I’m rambling a bit now, but here’s my point: Before you pay an “expert” a dime, make sure they actually have some experience in what they’re talking about.

If Joe B were doing conventions where he taught about starting webzines I’d say go for it! I’d totally believe he’s an expert in that, or pretty darn close to it. If he stayed to what he actually knows I wouldn’t give him another thought. But he’s not. Lots of these self-proclaimed experts don’t. They’re clever, and they’re sly, and they want your money. Don’t give it to them. Remember to research anyone you see who’s claiming to be an expert, and remember to be skeptical until proven otherwise.

It’s the internet, and anyone can claim to be something they’re not. People lie. Credentials don’t. Make sure you check them well, and check them from multiple sources.

* Accessibility for most people, anyway; some people can’t afford it, and that bothers me n several levels.

I’m not sure why, really. They’re just…lame. And rather dull. And I don’t like ‘em.

Proofs are standard sheets of paper, on which the pages of the book are laid out side-by-side, full-size (that is, mmp [mass market paperback] size, or trade size, or hardover size if you have a hardcover, or whatever). So really, when you very first see your very first proof, it’s exciting. I was all kinds of thrilled when I got my UNHOLY GHOSTS proofs and saw the awesome font Del Rey used for my chapter heads (Chapter One, etc.) and the brackets around the epigrams. It was exciting to see the book as a real book, real book pages and all.

But after that initial excitement…sigh.

This is a page proof from UNHOLY MAGIC. (Again, you have to click it, then click again to view it full-size, sorry. It’s too big for the blog.)

And here’s a close-up of some proof edits from that same set of proofs:

The photocopy sent to me for UM was cut off just a bit at the top, so here’s the upper left corner of the CITY OF GHOSTS proofs:

So. Copyedits were originally done on the printed manuscript. I go through them, and two editors–the CE and my own–go through them.

Then the ms is laid out as a book–I believe those Keebler-elf-type folks in the Production Dept. handle that, presumably sneaking out of their hidey-holes under cover of darkness, dancing and waving around little elf-sized flagons of mead, singing happy little work songs as they sprinkle Magic Book Dust on the ms, and leaving the finished product there on a spotlessly clean table for the other employees to discover in the morning. I believe two copies are printed, and one goes to me and another to another copyeditor. But it may be that the proof goes to another CE, his or her changes are implemented, and another proof is made which comes to me. But I’m pretty sure we get proofs at the same time.

Now. Many of you probably already know this, but just in case you don’t, I’ll mention it. Major changes are not supposed to be made in proofs. The deletion of a sentence here and there, removing or adding punctuation, fixing typos or other errors, fine. Deciding you want to add a new section of dialogue? Not so fine.

It’s not happened to me, but it’s my understanding that if an author makes over a certain amount of changes to their page proofs–major changes–they have to pay for the additional typesetting/conversion/whatever it is (those elves require a LOT of mead to keep them happy and productive). I don’t believe that’s a canard along the lines of “If you don’t earn out your advance you have to give part of it back,” which people who have no idea what they’re talking about like to trot out and parade in front of aspiring writers, usually in order to sell them on a vanity press. I believe that making major changes at this stage is actually something we have to pay for.

So we need to be damn sure everything is the way we want it before we mail those copyedits back.

Changes are made much like in CEs, though:

or:

and here’s one where the editor who went over the proofs or the data entry/whatever made an error (or we all missed it in CEs, which does happen. It’s harder than you think to catch every single mistake, because you tend to see what it’s supposed to say rather than what it does):

So. I make my changes, and send the proofs back. I have now “signed off” on the book, which means no further text changes should be made at all.

There is at least one additional proof, however, which is done in-house. I believe another CE goes over it, and I know my editor goes over it, but I don’t see it. That’s the proof during which they make sure that all of the necessary changes have been implemented, that the book is ready to be printed, because that final proof is exactly how it will be printed.

Why do I hate page proofs so much? I don’t really know, honestly. After that initial excitement fades, really, they’re just…tedious. Which sounds bad, because it is after all my own book(s), which I love and worked hard on and believe in and am so proud of. But actually physically reading them in book form enthralls me (at least once; I don’t read them repeatedly, no, but going through and reading them as actual books is pretty exciting), so I don’t believe that’s the problem.

I think the issue is what I said above: you have to make sure you see what’s there, now what you think should be there. So you’re not just reading for pleasure, enjoying the story and the sense of accomplishment and all of that. You’re inspecting every word and every line. You’re paying very close attention. You’re seeing a bit here and there you should have worded differently, now that it’s too late to change it (this is always a problem in reading my own finished books). And you’re–at least I am–afraid you’re going to miss something, and your book will have–gasp!–a typo.

Seriously. I mock, but I loathe typos. I hate them. Just like I make it a point of pride to turn in my mss as typo/error-free as possible, so I am with the finished product; even more so, for obvious reasons. I seriously live in fear of getting one of those “There’s a mistake in your book” emails a certain type of person apparently likes to send out. I get annoyed when I see them in other books, and would have a fit to find one in mine.

Because the book is it, you know? It’s all people have to judge me by. And I hate the idea that it’s going out into the world as one of those “But I see typos in books from the Big 5 all the time” type of novels that some people seem to think justifies their own lack of care and attention to spelling/grammar etc.

A typo in my finished book is a big piece of literary spinach between my front teeth. It’s embarrassing.

So I really go over those proofs; I mean, I read them slowly and focus hard on every word to make sure it really is spelled right and punctuated correctly and reads correctly and all of that. This is the last chance I’ll have to correct any errors, at least unless and until the book goes into a second printing. Errors can be fixed for the new print run, but generally only if they’re deemed important enough (which a single typo is not) or, I guess, if the error was with an editor or data person or whatever who made changes after I signed off on the book. And the books with the mistake are still out there, of course; they can’t be recalled or something. (Books do get pulled and pulped, but generally only if a significant error was made, it’s plagiarized, or somebody sues/someone important threatens to sue.) So my typo is obviously not cause to do such a thing.

So I find proofs tedious, and unnerving, because I’m always worried that I might have missed something, I probably did miss something, damn it what if I miss something? It’s just me, some paper, and a pencil; I could very well miss something. And then the typos or other errors would be my fault.

It’s possible not everyone gets this many proofs, and a lot of people get digital proofs, which I hate. My PERSONAL DEMONS proofs were digital. PDFs, actually, which meant I had to make a separate list of errors (I did that for DEMON INSIDE, too, but that’s because the paper proofs came during RT and I didn’t have time to get them back, so just emailed the document).

So. Those are page proofs, and they’re the last I see of my book until I get ARCs in the mail–if I get them–and my author copies, which come around release time.

Once again, any questions? And does anyone have something else about the editing process they’d like to know?

So what I’m going to do today, anyway, is discuss copyedits. (This is a long, image-heavy post, FYI.)

After edits are complete–often several rounds, including line edits–the ms is printed, and the printout heads to a mysterious, homicidal, troll-like basement-dweller* known as a copyeditor. I always picture them chained to a floor, wearing rags and snarling over desks held together by Duct tape and rage. The copyeditor’s job is to inspect each and every word with a magnifying glass, using at least one grammar reference book, nitpick the hell out of your ms. with the Pencil of Doom, and examine everything with “What if I were a totally stupid person?” and ask questions thusly.*** (For more on this, check out my series from August about the publishing process: How Babies are Made parts one and two.) People often think copyeditors use a red pen; nope. They use a pencil, not always red, and you have to respond in pencil, too. But not a #2 pencil. A colored pencil. As a result, I have colored pencils and artgum erasers all over the place. I digress.

The copyeditor focuses their nasty little eyes on the pages, and starts marking it up with odd and obscure lines and squiggles–some of which I suspect are made up just to fuck with writers–while giggling maniacally.**** They’d rub their hands together if they weren’t so busy drawing bizarre alchemical symbols on the ms.**** Once they’ve sufficiently scribbled all over the book, they send it to the editor, who sends it to the writer.

So. Here are some of my actual copyedited pages. These are from UNHOLY MAGIC (which, as you’ll see on the first page, was originally titled DOWNSIDE GHOSTS. Then we decided to find a new title, and they started calling the series that, but there you go). This is the ms that was sent to me, that I went through page-by-page, printed from my original file–the one I emailed my editor and she approved (I write my books in 12-pt. Dark Courier, so that’s what you’ll see; they don’t even change my font). The copyeditor fixes any minor grammar issues I may have, clarifies things, suggests minor changes,points out factual errors or mistakes, stuff like that.

I had the hubs scan these and send them to me as jpegs, so if you click them twice they’ll go full-size and be very easy to read. You’ll be better able to see them that way, and I’ve added comments to each one to explain what everything is. Sorry, but there are so many images I really need to keep them smaller. I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.

Title page (my explanatory comments are in blue, and any explanations of my responses are in red):

So there you see the lines for capitalization, and just how those title pages are laid out. There’s a page for the “Other titles by,” too, and a copyright page–even that is copyedited, yes–and dedications & acknowledgments pages.

Then there’s the ms.

Now. Just as in “regular” edits, you are not obligated to accept every change. If you don’t want to accept the change, you write STET in the margin. Very rarely are comments made IN the ms. Here the CE uses a blue pencil, and mine is green. The checkmarks were made after the fact, presumably as the person entering them finished each one (I’ve cropped this one, and most of the others will be cropped from here on):

Sometimes the CE points out logical errors, or asks for clarifications:

(Since I mention how italics are underlined in that one, let’s discuss that for a second. For a long time the advice to writers was “Underline anything that should be in italics.” Now, since everything is done digitally, I don’t think it’s such a big deal. I know a lot of people still do it, though, and some people still tell you it’s what you should do. I asked my editor about it, if I should start using underlines instead, but she told me it didn’t matter and italics are fine. So that’s my editor’s opinion, anyway, and I don’t worry about it anymore.)

Here’s a page with lots of questions–I’ll do it as two cropped images. Some changes I okay, some I don’t, some questions are just answered, and in the first one I suggest a line that may go into the final ms and may not; I’m happy to leave that up to my editor (who’ll look over these herself) and she can decide which she prefers:

And here are some wording suggestions, and some clarifications (like that Terrible doesn’t wipe his nose, because that’s just not the sort of thing I want to write. Heroes don’t need to wipe their noses):

A clarification that requires me to add more than just a word or two, and an overused word:

Sometimes I catch an error or issue in the course of re-reading, too. Usually the CE is done a few months after the initial edits have been finished, so it’s like reading with fresh eyes. I do a little detail fact-checking during CEs, too:

Of course, the CE also does make changes, and it’s the writer’s job to approve or disapprove–STET–them. Remember, the ms is ultimately the writer’s, and the writer should have approval on everything. You don’t have to accept changes you don’t want. Here I okay a change:

And here I don’t, with explanation. This part, I feel, is a voice issue, and I don’t like anything that interferes with my voice, or with the way the sentences flow:

This one is the same:

This last one is just kind of for fun, to show you how the epigrams work. There’s also a couple of wording suggestions, one of which is one of those forehead-smack kinds of things which made me laugh; the kind of thing that makes edits so much fun. I actually enjoy copyedits. It’s page proofs I hate; we’ll do those Wednesday.

I’m sure I could do the chapter heads above the epigrams, but I don’t, because…well, just because, really. As I’ve mentioned before, the epigrams come last; FOUR (which will hopefully have a title this week!) doesn’t have them at all yet, because I add them after edits so they reflect the chapter in some way. They don’t always do it really obviously, but anyway. (Also, in CITY OF GHOSTS there’s a Poltergeist reference in an epigram: the apartment complex in which Erik Van Helm rents his place is called “Cuesta Verde,” which is the name of the subdivision in that movie. I don’t know if anyone’s gotten that one; I know a couple picked up on the Ghostbusters joke/homage with “Tobin’s Spirit Guide.”)

So. Those are copyedits. As I said above, I enjoy them, for several reasons: One, I just enjoy editing in general, because polishing the ms and making it all shiny-clean and perfect makes me happy. Two, because it makes me really realize this is an actual book, and look at all those pages I filled with words! And most importantly, Three, because again as I mentioned, by the time copyedits come I haven’t read the ms in a while. I’m separated from it; I don’t remember it very well. And since I usually dislike my books when they’re done (they’re never as good on the page as they are in my head) I am–not to sound egotistical–always really surprised and pleased to see how good they actually are. All those lines I forgot I wrote that I really like, all the little clues and subtle emotions and stuff that I like slipping in there…it’s fun to read the books as if they’re not actually mine, written by me. Copyedits are where I really become fond of the books, and they’re really the only chance I get to read the book with fresh eyes. (They’re not totally fresh, no, but again it’s the closest I can get to that.)

Some houses do electronic copyedits. I know I had one of those at Ellora’s Cave, but edits and formatting work a bit differently there. I’ve never seen electronic copyedits aside from that, so have no experience with them.

But copyedits are fun (unless you get a bad one, which does occasionally happen to people) and I enjoy them. And they’re very thorough; I see vanity presses claiming that “editors don’t edit anymore” in a bid to get people to pay them for their garage-bound books, and every time I see that I want to grab a sheaf of copyedited pages that wave it in front of them, shouting “Oh yeah? Well what about this, huh? WHAT ABOUT THIS?!”

On the other side of the spectrum are the people who claim they “don’t need to know spelling or grammar, because that’s an editor’s job.” How lazy can you get, really. And sorry, but a ms filled with typos and bad grammar will never get to the copyediting stage, because it’ll be rejected. You’ll notice that in those pages above, I think there was maybe one typo? Of course there are a couple throughout any manuscript, but I frankly pride myself on turning in a book as error-free as possible, and on having my final published book be the same.

And honestly? I kind of think that any writer should; it should be our goal, because we should care about words, what they mean and how they’re used. We should know how to avoid run-on sentences and tense errors. We should know that it’s “grin and bear it” not “grin and bare it,” “bated breath” instead of “baited,” “lose” not “loose,” and “for all intents and purposes” not “for all intensive purposes.” (And any number of other errors like that; they make we want to hit someone, really, I hate them that much.) Those mistaken phrases, btw, are called mondegreens, or more specifically eggcorns, apparently. I had no idea they actually had a name!

And more than knowing, we should care. We should care about words and language. We should care when people get stuff like that wrong; not to the point of being a jerk and correcting them all over the place, but it should annoy us, because words should matter to us. (My favorite these days are the people who insist the word “puritanical” is being used wrong when it refers to someone who’s very uptight/anti-drinking/sex/drugs, because the Puritans were actually rather ribald. They may well have been, but “puritanical” is an actual word [first known use was over 400 years ago], and as such it has a dictionary definition, and that definition is: very strict in moral or religious matters, often excessively so; rigidly austere. / strict in moral or religious outlook, esp in shunning sensual pleasures. / Exaggeratedly proper / Being prim or prudish / being austere, ascetic or straitlaced. Yes, the second definition of “puritanical” is “of or relating to Puritans,” but that absolutely doesn’t mean the first is invalid. So quit being so smug and snide about it because you mistakenly think it makes you look smart and impressive and logical. It doesn’t. It makes you look like a moron who doesn’t know what a dictionary is.)

Anyway, enough of that rant. The point is, copyedits don’t get you off the hook of learning how to communicate properly in writing, and a writer should be abhorred at the very idea, as far as I’m concerned. That’s our job. Communicating through the written word–using those words to express just what we need them to express, playing with them–is our job. Laziness or some kind of cavalier “just throw any damn word in there, whatever” sort of attitude doesn’t belong in our work, and it pisses me off just thinking about people who think it does. Almost as much as people who want to be writers (because they think it’s glamorous and lucrative, I guess) but who–either admittedly or just obviously judging by their work–never read books or go to bookstores.

But copyedits are still necessary, and they’re valuable, and I enjoy them. And that’s what they look like.

So. Any questions? Is there anything you don’t feel like I clarified enough, or showed well enough?

Wednesday I’m going to post some page proof images. I hate page proofs. Sigh. But I think it’ll be interesting to see.

* No, they’re not, they’re just regular non-lizardy/troll-like people
** No, they don’t, I believe most of them work from home (I could be wrong)
*** They’re very smart and necessary, and really are helpful and good and worthy of praise
**** This one may very well be true