Stacia Kane

About twenty minutes ago I found a link on Twitter to a review of the entire Downside series. This review, by Danielle at Alpha Reader.

Only the link didn’t go to Alpha Reader. It went to one of those content-collecting sites, a book focused one. That site has a Twitter account and when they “collect” a review, they tweet it, which is how I found it. Now that I’m thinkig of it I realize I’ve seen them post a duplicate of another review before, but as the review was for a site with many reviewers I thought the reviewer herself owned the “collecting” site (obviously I didn’t realize it was one of those sites) and was simply reposting her own review.

Of course I retweeted the link, thinking it was original. Immediately another reader informed me of the situation, which shocked me and made me feel ill. I deleted my tweet and reposted it with the correct link, giving credit to the actual writer of the post. By name, which the “collecting” site didn’t do; they had “Source: Alpha Reader” in the bottom left corner in a very pale gray font, which wasn’t easy to see.

That pissed me the hell off.

Here’s the thing. I’ve seen it mentioned a couple of times that writers should not acknowledge any reviews at all, be they positive or negative. And I think that’s bullshit. Why in the hell would I not give someone credit for their work? Why would I ignore it, when they’ve said wonderful things about my work, and took the time to write it all down and post it for anyone to see? When they are recommending my books to their friends? Why in the hell would I not at least give them a nod, let them know I did see it and appreciate it?

Not to mention, a lot of these reviews are incredibly well-written. These are reviewers with talent. Thoughtful, intelligent people who really pay attention to what they’re reading, who analyze it. Reviewers who really truly understand the books and what they’re trying to say, who really truly understand the characters. That’s a big deal. That’s a connection with people, a connection you cannot buy. It’s an amazing thing; it’s the best thing about being a writer, it’s the reason why most of us become writers. We want to share something, say something. When you discover that someone heard that and understood it and appreciated it, that something that means so much to you also means so much to them, that’s a big deal.

As far as I’m concerned, someone who reads my books, enjoys them, and takes time out of their day to write a review–especially a thoughtful, detailed one like Danielle’s or like any of the dozens of other fantastic reviews the Downside books have gotten–deserves credit for that. We all like web hits, right? So isn’t it a good thing to do to link to them, to encourage people to check out their blogs? Isn’t it a good thing for those who read my blog to maybe find a new reader blog they’ll enjoy? Maybe they’ll meet someone whose taste is like theirs; maybe they’ll make a new book-friend. Why the hell shouldn’t I do that? Why the hell should I ignore the hard work of someone who has acknowledged mine so kindly?

The “Terrible Fever” Goodreads group has over fifty members now (yes, I realize that hardly makes me a big name or anything, but I think it’s cool). How many of those readers knew each other before they joined up? I haven’t been reading the posts there because I don’t believe that’s my place–reviews are one thing, but discussions on forums among readers are another–but I’m willing to bet that not all of them did. That some of them met each other through that group. Isn’t that cool? Would that have happened if I hadn’t linked to the group here, or retweeted it? It’s very possible, sure, but it’s not definite.

I don’t read the Goodreads group; I don’t think it’s my place to do so. That’s a forum for readers, and they’re having their own discussions, and that’s not my business. I feel like if I popped in and started talking it might stultify the conversation, make them all self-conscious and uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want to do. And frankly, yeah, I know there are few places that are reader-only anymore, and that it can be frustrating to have writers always popping in to comment. Yes, it’s disappointing and depressing; I am a reader, after all. I’ve been a reader all my life. But it feels sometimes like even if I’m trying to comment as a reader, I’m still not seen as one, and you know, that’s just the way it is, and it’s the price I pay for getting to do this job that I love more than anything.

Here’s the thing. I can’t email reviewers. I can’t contact them and tell them how glad I am that they caught this or understood that, or why the thing that disappointed them happened, or what the implications of the thing they’re curious about will be down the road. I can’t do that. I’ve learned that no matter how diplomatic you try to be, no matter how good your intentions are, no matter how happy you are or how interesting you think such a discussion is–no matter how much you think it would be fucking awesome to have a conversation like that with a writer whose work you read and had thoughts about–some people will always see it as an invasion, as writers butting in and trying to tell them what to do.

But what I can do is link to them. Acknowledge them from a distance. Say in my post that I loved this one or that one, that I found this line or that line particularly well-written and that I appreciated the effort that was put into it. Just as my novels are art to me, so those reviews may well be art to those reviewers, and they’ve put it out there hoping people will see it and understand it and connect with it.

Those reviews, those reviewers, those readers, are what make this whole thing worthwhile. They’re the ones who make all of the blood and sweat and tears, all of the emotional nakedness and pain, every bit of yourself that you put into your work, matter. I think they deserve to be acknowledged for that, and told that they matter. And I’m going to keep doing it.

It’s 1:50 pm (yes, I know that isn’t morning. So what?). I’ve been ready to go back to bed since ten.

Lousy sleep–it’s too damn hot to sleep–and lousy dreams. Then, as I’m wandering the internet this morning I find an article about the upcoming Toy Story 3 movie, which reminded me of Toy Story 2, which I hate and can’t watch.

“But, Stace,” you say, “how can you possibly hate such a sweet little kid’s movie?”

I’ll tell you why. Because it’s awful and sad and tragic. Sure, it’s fun for the first hour or so. Look at the toys, aren’t they funny, Barbie is an idiot slut, la la la. Then we meet Joan Cusack’s character, and then we hear her tale, and they sing that song about how life was beautiful when that fickle girl loved her, and we see that fickle girl abandon her by the side of the road and go off with some boy, because all women will eventually abandon everything for a man, and by that time I’m sobbing and on the beginning of a depressive shame spiral that will only end in a lot of vodka.

I can’t possibly be the only one who feels like this, can I? Who sees that and starts remembering all of my toys, the stuffed animals and horse statues and Weeble-Wobbles and stuff, now lying broken and abandoned in a ditch somewhere, alone and scared, at the mercy of the elements, sobbing and spending their entire eternal toy lives wondering what they did that was so wrong, and why I forsook them so coldly? And wishing desperately I would just appear and hold them one more time?

Seriously. I have enough shit on my conscience. I don’t need that, too.

After reading that article I literally cried for ten minutes. Why don’t you just play a recording of Helen Reddy’s “Candle on the Water,” to complete the childhood misery deluge? (See, I have this theory about “Candle on the Water.” I believe that while we as children thought it was a sweet song, and maybe kids today still do, you cannot play that song to any adult over the age of, oh, thirty, and expect them not to dissolve into tears. Seriously. We should look into this as a weapon. Whoever owns the Helen Reddy records owns the world.)

Did I mention the hideous, oppressive heat, and how it makes me half-convinced that the earth is just about to burst into flames? And saps every bit of energy out of me, and makes me slow-witted and sad? I hate the damn sun. I hate the damn heat. It makes me ill (literally; I’ve always been really sensitive to heat).

And then, something was crawling–well, I say crawling, but what it was in fact doing was racing–up my arm, and across my lapdesk. I–acting purely on my killer animal instincts–killed the thing with a spiral notebook. And guess what? It was a spider. It’s bad luck to kill a spider. Like I need more of that these days, right?

Sigh. So this day is not shaping up to be a great day, but let’s hope it improves. And it actually has a bit, because I popped over to Twitter to drown my sorrows and found a new review of UNHOLY GHOSTS, which, coupled with the one I got in my email this morning, makes me feel much cheerier.

From All Things Urban Fantasy, 4 out of 5 bats:

Any series that is described as “a cross between Ghostbusters and Escape From New York” is going to get my attention, big time. Of course that also means said series is going to have a lot to live up to. And in one of the wonderfully rare cases, UNHOLY GHOSTS does exactly that. It’s cool and twisted, just the way I like my urban fantasy.

From Book Chick City:

I’m so excited about this book – I LOVED it! I haven’t read an Urban Fantasy this good in quite a while…The writing is perfectly paced, I didn’t get bored once and everything slots together at the right time. The plot is just brilliant and had me engrossed until the very last page – I didn’t want to put this book down!

So let’s hope my slightly cheerier feeling lasts.

How about you? Looking forward to a good weekend, or a dull one? Does the heat make you feel oppressed and trapped beneath the weight of all the world’s misery too? Do you like Toy Story 2, and does “Candle on the Water” make you cry?

I’d planned to post about something else today (Amber Publishing, who are publishing the Downside books in Poland, have posted the cover and blurb on their site, in Polish [of course], which is totally cool), but that, along with the online translation of it, will have to wait. Because I’ve had this post in mind for like a month now, and I want to get it out there. Settle in, guys, this is a long one.

You may have heard of Young Adult Authors Against Bullying, a Facebook group made up of–as the name implies–YA authors who disapprove of bullying. I’m not technically a YA author but I’ve joined, as have a lot of others. And a few weeks ago many writers posted their bullying stories on their blogs. I didn’t; not because I don’t have bullying stories or wasn’t bullied as a child/preteen/teen (believe me, I was, horribly) but because I didn’t learn about it until it was already in progress and I already had this post sort of planned, as I said above.

A lot of this is in reaction to the death of Phoebe Prince, a high-school girl driven to suicide by a gang of less-than-human teenage shitweeds who decided she deserved to be mocked, bullied, teased, insulted, and otherwise abused because she *gasp* dated a guy who used to date one of the aforementioned shitweeds (and the guy later joined in, which just makes me lose hope in the future of humanity, but then, this whole story does).

It reminds me a bit of the Megan Meier case, in which a girl was cyber-bullied not just by kids her own age, but by the mother of one of her acquaintances. A grown fucking woman, who thought it was a good idea to harass and play tricks on a young girl online.

And that’s sort of what I want to discuss. Adult bullying, and the society of mean.
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Yeah, it’s been a few days, sorry. You know how you’re not very busy, and you have plenty of free time, and then all of the sudden like a dozen projects fall on your head at once? That’s kind of where I am right now. So I may be a bit scarce for the next few weeks. The good news, though, is that I may have some good news in a few weeks, and I’m working on a new project that Agent Man and I are very excited about too, and I bought my dress for the RT Fairy Ball so hopefully it will look okay when it arrives (well, I know you probably don’t care about that, but I’m happy about it).

So I’ve been trying on and discarding various blog topics for several days now. And most of them are topics I do want to touch upon at some point–some of them are topics I’ve been mulling around for some time. And I know today’s post is about something quite a few people have already seen, but I’ve only just become aware of it (remember, the busy-ness? Haven’t been online much) and yeah, I want to say something about it.

Porn for Women.

For those who don’t want to click the link, let me tell you what this is. A group calling itself the “Cambridge Women’s Pornography Cooperative”–which in itself is a horrible name–has produced this “funny” book, which is ostensibly the type of thing that really turns women on. And it’s a book full of handsome men vacuuming, or saying things like “I don’t need a reason to bring you flowers,” or “Gee, since the NFL playoffs are today, I bet we’ll find lots of parking at the craft fair,” or whatever.
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First, I forgot to mention here (though I have put it on Twitter a few times) that I’m doing a chat at BookSmugglers and it lasts until tomorrow, and when you ask me a question you’re entered to win a complete set of the Demons books. So if you haven’t stopped by already, please do!

Second…well. My last post got considerably more attention that I ever anticipated, so that was quite a surprise. And I have some follow-up questions about it, but those I think will wait until another time. At the moment I just want to address one thing quickly, and another in a bit more detail.

First, as always, when you put things out on the internet and people see it, they’re going to react, just like when you write a book and put it out there people are going to react. And really, part of being a writer is learning to accept that and let the negative stuff roll off your back, or learn from it. It really doesn’t bother me anymore, and the comment I want to discuss didn’t bother me personally, I just find it’s indicative of what the whole point of my post the other day was.

I discovered, quite by accident, that apparently there are some people who feel that Moira and myself, and any other writer who shares our opinions, are simply kissing ass. I find this extremely sad, I have to admit. Is this what the world has come to, that when people see a wrong and speak up about it they’re immediately assumed to have some sort of ulterior motive?

Have we really reached a point where “Writers hate readers” has become the default position, so any writer who claims to actually like readers and want to see them treated well is automatically suspected of just being a big old liar, who probably spends their private, secret hours lurking in bookstores and tripping innocent readers as they pass by, just for fun? Or who runs around various reader blogs and sites leaving anonymous comments along the lines of “You’re all just thieves why don’t you go fuck yourselves you selfish bastards?” Seriously. Am I the only one who finds it really sad that we live in a world where a writer who says “I love readers, and want to please them, and want to see them treated like human beings instead of dogs,” must be an ass kisser, because the person making the accusation apparently can honestly not imagine any other reason why a writer might feel that way and express that feeling?
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I’m in a release day frame of mind lately, what with DEMON POSSESSED being released last week. See, it’s not just that that book was released, it’s also that it means UNHOLY GHOSTS will be out soon. Well, soonish, lol; three months.

And like any other writer with a book coming out, I’m thinking about promo. See, I want you to buy the book(s). I want you to get all of your friends to buy the book(s). I want to sell thousands and thousands and thousands of copies. I want to hit the NYT list, or the USA Today list, or the Publisher’s Weekly list, or Bookscan or whatever. Lists make writers happy, you see. And they make publishers happy, and everybody’s happy. Happiness is good.

And of course, I would hope that you guys, my lovely readers, would want to help me sell books or hit lists or whatever. Because we have something of a symbiotic relationship, you know, you and me. I write books, and you buy them, and when you buy them you encourage me to write more of them, and it’s all very cheering and makes me feel warm and happy inside to think that I’ve given you something you enjoy (I honestly love giving presents; I’m one of those weird people at holidays who gets more excited about the things I’m giving than what I might get).

But here’s the thing. While I would hope that you would want to help, I don’t expect you to. I’m surprised and thrilled and grateful whenever you do, but I don’t expect it. At all. Ever. And I certainly wouldn’t presume to INSIST you do, or berate you for not doing so. Or imply that you’re stupid for not purchasing my books in the exact fashion that I would prefer you to do so.

Sadly, it seems sometimes as if I–okay, I and several of my close friends–are alone in that feeling, that instinctive cringing when we see readers being treated like nothing more than open wallets whose sole purpose is to drive said writer to greater glory.

Do I want to hit a list? Of course, although I would never presume to think I have a real shot at it. Do I think it would be great if readers everywhere held off on buying my books until the day of release? Well, sure, I guess so, but see the aforementioned “I would never presume to think I have a shot at a list anyway so what does it matter,” answer. (Yeah, I know, that wasn’t the full answer, but it’s what I meant.)

Are there things readers can do to help a favorite author hit a list? Yeah, but not as many as you think, really. Sure, waiting until release day–or the day before, since books release on Tuesdays and sales are counted for the entire week, so buying on Monday is okay–helps. That’s a good thing to do, if you’re interested, but really that’s about it. It’s certainly all I would ever think to ask.

See…I work for YOU. I mean, yes, I work for myself, but I DO the work for you. You are my audience. You are not my slaves. You do not exist in order to feed my ego or allow me to add a shiny “List” pin to my vest. It’s not for me to tell you where you’re allowed to buy my books or in what format. I’m just amazed and grateful that you buy them at all.

I’ll be perfectly honest here. There are times when it feels as if the world of readers and the world of writers are at war. Readers want certain things; they have a right to want those things as consumers. But writers/publishers want certain things as well, and we have a right to want those things as content creators and producers. And don’t even get me started on copyright violations/piracy, and some of the justifications for those. Again, to be honest? There are times when I see discussions of it, or come across my books on filesharing sites, and have the sick, deep feeling that I should just give the hell up. I can never “win”–by which I mean earn a decent living consistently, when I’m being stolen from.

And it’s not just the financial theft, it’s the feeling that someone has literally reached into my mind and taken something from me without permission. It feels like I got drunk and told a deep secret to someone I thought was a friend, and that so-called friend turned around and told the world, and they’re all laughing at me. Or like a when a guy you really like sleeps with you and then never calls you again, you know? It makes me feel worthless, and frustrated, and lonely and sad. Sure piracy bothers me because of the money, sure, but really?

Piracy just hurts. It hurts to think someone is using you for entertainment but doesn’t think you deserve any compensation for that. It hurts to think you’re seen as less than human; as some sort of machine which exists for the gratification of others but is not permitted any gratification of its own. It hurts to feel that someone thinks they’re entitled to the fruits of your labor–the expression of the truth as you see it and the worlds and people you created and love–without paying for them. It doesn’t feel like a royalty payment was stolen from you. It feels like a tiny part of your soul was stolen from you.

That shit hurts.

And I imagine it hurts readers, too, when they’re made to feel–from being yelled at, lectured, or treated like they’re stupid–that they exist solely to provide the writer with titles and accolades. That just buying and reading and enjoying and talking about a book isn’t enough, that they now must buy it at certain times, in certain places, in certain formats, at certain phases of the moon, or whatever. Just as writers are not simply typewriters churning out words, readers are not simply notches on that big bestseller belt. They are people.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. Just that I think it’s wrong.

Do I want to sell a lot of books? Hell, yes!

But I don’t want to just sell a lot of books. I want to entertain a lot of people. I want to give them something. That’s what this is about, not numbers or lists. It’s about books and writing and reading and the way when we read a book we love we feel connected to that book, and those characters, and that author. And when we discover another fan of those books we have a connection with that person, and books created that connection, and it wouldn’t exist without writers, readers, and publishers.

So do I want to hit a list? Of course. Have I thought of various promotional things to do, fun things, that may help facilitate that? Sure.

Do I want to hit a list at the expense of readers, by berating them or nagging them, by treating them like my minions or like they fucking owe me that goddamn list, so they better get off their fat asses and do what I say?

No.

That’s not worth it to me. I don’t want it that way. It wouldn’t mean anything that way.

I may never hit a list. But I will always be grateful that people have bought my books, and read them and loved them and took the time to tell me. Yes, this is a business, and I want to succeed in it and make money. But not at the expense of readers, and not at the expense of my own soul.

So that’s it. Just some things I’m thinking of, and will continue to think of as we get closer to the summer and the release of the Downside books (finished copyedits on CITY OF GHOSTS last week, and am quite pleased, btw).

So…thanks.

ETA: Moira Rogers, who writes awesome books, has also done a post on this topic, and I highly recommend you check it out too. My response to it? Ditto.

So a discussion began last night, on a forum of which I am a member, about the rinsing of raw meats before cooking, specifically poultry. Some rinse, some don’t. Another member commented that apparently the FDA recommends against rinsing. You know why?

Because the water can splash and land on other things, thus spreading bacteria.

I had to laugh. I love the idea, first of all, that the FDA is recommending against a basic sanitary routine because the people doing it are apparently not capable of cleaning up after themselves. Seriously.

But it got me thinking about one of my biggest, hugest pet peeves ever, which I’m going to share with you.

See, I am anal about raw poultry and/or pork. Seriously. I treat that shit like it’s nitroglycerine. Nitroglycerine which also carries the Ebola virus. And is armed with razor blades.

Here’s what I do:
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For those of you who haven’t yet heard, yesterday Galleycat published a rather ridiculous opinion piece about how agents are unnecessary and they don’t do anything and they’re just evil old vultures and blah blah blah. The same crap we’ve heard before, in other words, although I find it fascinating that this piece was written by someone who last year–obviously unaware that I already had an agent and two book deals–offered to query agents on my behalf for the low, low price of $500.00, and yes I still have that email exchange saved. He’s perfectly entitled to run such a business and I’m not calling him a scammer, but it’s interesting, isn’t it?

Agent Miriam Goderich rebutted it here very nicely. So, I’m sure, have others, but I’m about to add my voice to the chorus simply because that’s the way I roll, baby.

Do you need an agent?

Yes. Yes, you fucking do.

Period.

Okay, sure. If you’re planning on having a career in epublishing, you probably do not need an agent. If you’re planning to self-publish, you do not need an agent. There’s nothing wrong with either of those things. I started out in epublishing, without an agent, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I’m glad I did it and am grateful to Ellora’s Cave for treating me so well and enabling me to make some decent cash. Working with them was a pleasure for me.

But–no offense–I wanted more than that. I wanted books on shelves. I wanted advances. I wanted a bigger career. I wanted to move out of genre romance/erotic romance; not because I didn’t enjoy it or don’t enjoy it (writing and reading), but because the more of it I wrote the more a little voice inside me told me it was simply not quite the right fit for my voice or the kinds of stories I wanted to tell.

To accomplish those things (aside from moving away from writing romance, which of course is a huge genre in all forms of publishing: ebook, mass market paperback, trade paperback, hardcover, audio, whatever) I needed an agent.

Here’s what fascinates me (and infuriates me) about the original Galleycat article (aside from the fact that its author apparently also runs a website devoted to helping writers self-publish; again, legal, but certainly interesting). It’s this paragraph here:

One published author who asks to be unnamed disagrees, “What do you need an agent for anymore, really? Why? To negotiate a meager advance? You can’t get them on the phone anyway. You’re stuck promoting the book yourself because publishers don’t put any marketing dollars into your book unless you’re John Grisham. I don’t see the whole point when I can hire an attorney to negotiate my publishing contract for a flat fee or just upload the book to Kindle myself.”

Let’s take a look at these points, shall we?
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A little note in advance: I’m about to rant. I may rant at some length. I’m ranting about something other people have ranted about, as well. So be warned.

So here’s what happened. Wednesday, the New York Times ran an article about the Kindle and how many Kindle owners are now buying more books than they used to. The end of the article contained the following paragraphs:

Ms. Englin has linked her Kindle to the Amazon account of some nearby friends, allowing all of them to read books like “The Lost Symbol” at the same time — while paying for them only once.

“I read much more, I tend to read faster for some reason, and I read a greater variety of things,” said Ms. Englin, adding that this is nearly the same as lending a physical book to friends. “We haven’t really looked closely at Amazon’s terms of service. But I do suspect we are breaking the rules.”

Now. I read the original NYT article because it was linked to in Publisher’s marketplace, in the daily emails I get from them. I saw that last paragraph and, I admit, had a twinge. A moment of “Hey, that doesn’t seem quite right.” But then almost immediately after I thought two things:

1. That this was clearly just a couple of friends sharing books
2. That this is in essence no different from, say, a group of friends with low incomes or little disposable cash, who pool their money and buy books together to share. I did this a few times as a teen; mostly for hardcovers, but sometimes to get three books instead of one or whatever.

And that was basically it. I closed the article and went about my day.

Too bad some other authors didn’t do the same. I’m not going to name any names here. You can find them if you really want. But a few other authors also saw that article, either through PM like I did or because they get the Times or whatever. Those authors went on Twitter and began what I can only describe as a witch hunt, a name-and-shame campaign where they not only scolded Ms. Englin and called her a thief, but actually listed her Twitter identity in their tweets–her Twitter identity, which appears to be her professional identity, as her Twitter seems to be used almost exclusively for business (she’s in marketing or consulting or something like that).

No, I’m not kidding. These people actually felt perfectly justified in naming and publicly scolding this woman, and in encouraging others to retweet their rants and join in berating her as well, in public, in front of her friends, family, clients, and potential clients.

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Wowee. LOTS of ground to cover today!

First of all. If you are a follower of Urban Fantasy Land (and if you aren’t, why the hell not, because those girls are awesome; they love the genre, and they’re fun and well-informed, and they’re doing Reader’s Choice Awards at the moment and you could win stuff) you already have some inkling of this, as they broke the news a couple of days ago. If you are a member of my Yahoo newsgroup you already know this, as I sent out a message yesterday (see? There are some benefits to belonging to the group!)

I can’t tell you everything. I honestly don’t know everything. What I do know is that DEMON INSIDE and any future books in the Megan Chase series will be distributed through Pocket Books (S&S) as part of a new arrangement with Juno Books.

So. DEMON INSIDE is up on Amazon! And I have my very own Author Page on the new Simon & Schuster website, which is here.

Both pages give the new release date as JULY 29, 2009. Mark your calendars! Place your pre-orders now! Riot and dance in the streets (you know you want to)!

But seriously. Here’s what this hopefully means for you. It hopefully means that DI will have a much “harder” release date; there will be more copies on the shelves, on the release date and after. It will likely be easier to get and find. (And I certainly hope you think that’s a good thing.)

What it means for me? I honestly don’t know yet. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

But wait! There’s more!

Again, if you’re a member of the Yahoo group you know this already, but yesterday I got the official word that I will be a Guest at Dragon*Con, September 4-7, Atlanta GA. (It is very weird to see my name on that list, especially right above Susan Kearney’s, as she is a USA Today bestseller and I am just…well, me.) So, I will be signing books, participating in panel discussions, and generally jibber jabbering away at Dragon*Con! I am totally excited; D*C is awesome. Check out the rest of the site and see:

Dragon*Con is the largest multi-media, popular culture convention focusing on science fiction and fantasy, gaming, comics, literature, art, music, and film in the US.

…and I’m going to be part of it! Holy crap!! I’m already thinking of fun promo activities and stuff; a scavenger hunt, perhaps? Miss Caitlin Kittredge and I have some Nefarious Plans in the works as well…muahahahaha!

Now, this last bit of news hasn’t been announced to the Yahoo loop, as I thought two big announcements were quite enough for one day. BUT, this is really, very exciting.

My Ellora’s Cave novel Demon’s Triad, co-written with the excellent Anna J. Evans, will be a print book, available for signing at the Romantic Times convention in April!!

Those of you who were here when the book had its ebook release last year will recall, this is our supersuperdirty X-rated book; the one almost too dark and wild for Ellora’s Cave. I repeat that here not just because I’m kind of proud of that in a sick sort of way, but to warn you. The blurb says “This book is not for the faint of heart” and that is NOT a warning to take lightly. At least one reviewer was apparently not shown the blurb, which also explains that the book contains female/female sexual activity, male/male sexual activity, and non-gratuitous scenes of rape and incest, and gave the book a terrible review for it; who can blame her, really? If you’re expecting a sweet romance, well, you will get that; it *is* a romance and one Anna and I were very proud of. But it is also a dark, violent, and graphic book, so if you’re not interested in that or if it’s simply not what you expected–especially considering most of my EC work leans toward snarky and humorous–you will want to give this one a wide berth, okay?

But I’m extremely excited and proud that it will see print, and I am extremely happy to say that Anna J. Evans, my darling co-writer, will also be at Romantic Times, so this is your chance to have the book signed by BOTH of us.

So. That was the fun stuff. Now we have a couple of serious things to talk about.

This week marks one year since the Cassie Edwards plagiarism scandal broke, on the Smart Bitches Trashy Books website. You guys know I love the Bitches; they’re clever, they’re funny, and they are always interesting, in addition to being–I think–two really lovely, kind, and caring people. I think it can be easy, when dealing with review sites, to tar them all with some sort of “Snarky reviews=Mean Girls” brush, and I think that’s wrong. If you read the Bitches’ site regularly, if you pay attention to the discussions there, you can see the deep respect that shines through even the snarkiest comment (though I don’t think their reviews are particularly snarky anyway, personally); respect for themselves, respect for readers, and especially respect for writers. (The fact that they are both writers themselves may contibute to this; they have their own book coming out in April, a non-fiction book about romance novels, and I imagine it will be a must-have for anyone who likes or loathes romance.)

Anyway. A year ago one of the Bitches loaned a friend a few Cassie Edwards novels. The friend did not enjoy the novels, but more to the point, the friend noticed some distinct differences in the authorial voice at certain points in the text. The friend was, I believe, ill at the time or recuperating from a broken bone, and so, having time on her hands, she decided to Google a few of the oddest passages.

And discovered that they were stolen.

They were not Cassie Edwards’ original work. They were entire passages lifted verbatim from research articles; from old novels (one of which was a Pulitzer Prize winner); from magazine articles and websites.

In short, Cassie Edwards was a plagiarist, and the Bitches posted the evidence of her CRIME, of her BREACH OF MORALS AND ETHICS AND HONOR, on their website.

And all hell broke loose. (The post I linked to above is tagged “Cassie Edwards”; clock the tag to view the whole saga. Astounding. I was especially interested to see a statement, purportedly from Edwards, which claimed that “…all romance authors who use research for historicals have to use reference books to do this.” Um…yeah, I used a lot of reference books and materials in writing Black Dragon, my Cerridwen Press medieval. But funnily enough, I didn’t realize I was supposed to lift entire passages verbatim; I actually went through the trouble of incorporating my research in (what I hope was) a smooth manner, and, you know, writing it myself in my own words, rather than simply copy-and-pasting it into dialogue and figuring my readers wouldn’t know the difference. Silly me. I guess I was absent from Writer School the day they told me that, contrary to what I’d been taught my whole life, that was okay).

But this is the thing. This really isn’t about Cassie Edwards. It’s not. I’ve never read one of the woman’s books; I don’t know her or anything about her.

What I do know, and what this is about, is that plagiarism is wrong. It is a moral and ethical absolute: PLAGIARISM IS WRONG. YOU DO NOT STEAL THE WORK OF OTHERS AND TAKE CREDIT FOR IT.

And here’s what I don’t understand. The Bitches broke this story. They alerted the world that this egregious wrong was taking place. In doing so they drew attention to the actual writers of the stolen work, people whose words were earning money for Ms. Edwards, while they struggled. People who’d put years of effort into the work she so carelessly, irresponsibly, and coldly stole from them for her own gain.

In alerting us they made publishers and readers more aware of plagiarism; what it is, and what the consequences are. Not just to the thief, but to all of us. When our words–our self-expression, the contents of our minds and hearts, the basis of our very selves, the tools of our souls–are stolen, it is a vicious and terrible crime. It is the raping of the mind. It tells us, on the most basic level possible, that we are nothing but grist for the plagiarist’s mill, nothing but a series of sentences for the plagiarist to steal.

Who among us has never had this happen? There’s a reason why “copycat” is such a vivid playground epithet; the copycat is not original. The copycat is stealing your ideas and pretending they’re his or her own. Who among us has never had anyone copy us? Has never had a co-worker take credit for one of our ideas? Or a boss? Has never told a joke or come up with a witty comeback, and heard someone else use it later, pretending it’s their own? Who has not felt that impotent rage when it happens? The feeling that nothing is sacred, not your thoughts or words or self?

Plagiarism is disgusting. It is foul. It is wrong. It is a behavior that should not be tolerated, by anyone, for any purpose.

And yet…the Bitches are being threatened for it. As though they’ve done something wrong.

When someone breaks into your home and steals from you, and you catch them in the act, do you deserve to be blamed for their subsequent imprisonment? How about if you catch someone stealing from your neighbor’s home; are you then to blame? What if you witness a murder or rape? Or any crime? Are you obligated to keep silent? Or are you obligated to tell, because the basis of our society is respect for ourselves, other people, and the law, and every incidence of turning a blind eye, of excusing such crimes, of pretending it doesn’t matter, is in and of itself a crime, a show of incredible disrespect which takes us one step further away from civilization and toward an unfeeling, inhuman anarchy?

There are people actually sending threatening notes to the Smart Bitches–especially regarding their appearance at the Romantic Times convention–for doing what was and is RIGHT; for standing up for the abused, the stolen from, the ignored and the ill-treated. For standing up for the basic human right of all of us to own our own words, thoughts and feelings, and not have them ripped from us by someone else looking to benefit financially from the sweat of our brows and the fruit of our souls.

This is disgusting. It is wrong. It lessens the humanity and fairness and integrity of our society as a whole, and of the community of readers and writers.

Thank you, Smart Bitches, for standing up for writers; for treating what we do as something individual and valuable, and for recognizing our right to our own intellectual property.

I had more but I think that’s long enough for one day, huh?