But what's the book ABOUT?

If I were the sort of person who believes in bad omens, yesterday’s flat tire might’ve seemed like a foreboding start to my very first writers’ conference.

Fortunately, I didn’t take it that way. Much.

Admittedly I was a bit frazzled by the time I walked into the event touted as “librarian speed dating” – a chance for romance authors to meet with librarians from around the Seattle area and let them know why they should consider buying our books. Though no no one said this outright, I suspected headlocks were not the appropriate method of persuasion.

The preferred method was a simple question from the librarian that goes like this:

What’s your book about?

It’s amazing how hard it can be to answer succinctly in one or two sentences. The temptation is to want to throw in as much detail as possible – the character names, the subplots, the inciting incidents, the name of the main character’s dog. Even in a roomful of published authors who presumably know their way around the English language, I heard a lot of “ums” and “kind ofs.” Not all of them were coming from me.

I was fortunate that earlier in the week, I had a telephone brainstorm session with one of my critique partners. She’s going through some gnarly revisions on a challenging book with several plotlines and four points of view, and was having trouble seeing the forest for the trees. When I asked her to break down the “what’s your book about?” question in two sentences, you would have thought I asked her to touch her eyelid with her tongue.

But it was a good exercise to nail down the core of the story. What’s the central idea that everything else revolves around? The temptation is to give a longer, rambling answer – something like this big block of text we’ve been using online and on a few random print pieces for MAKING WAVES:

Juli lost count of the number of jobs she’s held, but she definitely never applied to be a pirate. Or a stowaway on a pirate ship, for that matter. But when fate lands her on boat captained by Alex – a man whose unscrupulous boss kicked him to the curb after 20 faithful years – Juli finds herself in the middle of a revenge-fueled diamond heist in the Caribbean with a crew more suited to the boardroom than the poop deck. For his part, Alex didn’t plan to be a pirate, either. He just wants his dignity, pension, and normal life back. But normal flies out the window once Juli enters the picture – a twist Alex wishes he didn’t find so exhilarating. Soon, the two discover that while normal is nice, weird can be wonderful.

While that certainly answers the “what’s the book about?” question, it’s not the breezy one or two sentence summation I’m talking about here. It’s not succinct or conversational, and it doesn’t truly break it down to the bare bones.

What I ended up telling the librarians was something more like this:

Alex’s sleazy boss kicks him to the curb and steals his pension, so he and three colleagues head to the Caribbean to intercept the boss’s illegal diamond shipment in the most dysfunctional pirate mission in history. Things get complicated when Juli – who’s supposed to be dumping her dead uncle’s ashes at sea – has an allergic reaction to seasickness pills and accidentally stows away on their boat.

It’s shorter, it’s conversational, and hopefully prompts someone to ask the question “so then what?”

I’m not claiming I rattled that off without stammering or rambling, but just having it clarified in my head not only helped me feel like I know my own book, but that someone else might want to know it, too.

Are you able to sum up your own story in one or two sentences? Is it tempting to want to throw in too much detail, or do you have trouble zeroing in on the central idea?

I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

I’d also love it if someone could come out here and fix my @#$% tire. Anyone? Anyone?

Show don't tell – what the hell?

I volunteered to judge a writing contest.

That means I’ve spent the past few days reading manuscripts that range from almost ready for prime time to please stick a fork in my eye and twist.

Probably the biggest issue in new authors’ writing is the tendency to “tell” instead of “show.” Established authors throw that complaint around relentlessly, shrieking show don’t tell! with the fervor of cult leaders urging new recruits to shave their heads and coat their naked bodies with peanut butter and feathers.

I try to elaborate on the judges’ score sheet, explaining that the best way to tell readers the weather was warm is not to spend six paragraphs draining the thesaurus of all its synonyms for sunny.

But I’m not sure how helpful that is. And I wish I could take each new writer by the arm and point to the series of photos hanging over my bed.

They aren’t dirty, at least not in the way you’re thinking. They show a sequence of images from a hike I did with Pythagoras six years go.

It was the end of summer, and we set out with our dogs to hike to the 9,000-foot summit of Mount Bachelor.

The dogs were young and fit and had done similar hikes before, so with plenty of snacks and water in our pack, we had no reason to worry.

At least not until Ozzy began to limp.

We were near the summit, and Pythagoras knelt in the dirt to inspect Ozzy’s front paws.

“They’re blistered,” he said. “Yesterday’s swim maybe softened them up too much.”

We considered our options. Ozzy weighed 80 pounds, too heavy to carry even if he’d allow it. The flesh had begun to peel off his paw pads, and we knew he couldn’t hike for two hours over dusty lava rock to get back to the car.

“Hang on,” Pythagoras said.

He reached down and removed his own shoes and tugged out the laces. I watched as he peeled off his socks and eased them over Ozzy’s front paws, taking care to pad the undersides. Then he used the shoelaces to secure the makeshift bandages in place before standing up to pull his shoes back on.

“Ready, Oz?” Pythag asked.

I looked at my husband. “You’re going to hike down the side of the mountain with no socks and no shoelaces?”

“Sure. It’ll slow us down a little, but we have to go slow for Ozzy anyway.”

So we made the long trek back to the car with Ozzy moving gingerly in his sock bandages and Pythagoras stopping every hundred feet to offer him water.

By the time we got to the car, Pythagoras had blisters on his feet, but Ozzy was mostly OK. We stopped at the vet on the way home, and then bought doggy hiking boots for future use.

So that’s the story. Do you notice anything about those few sparse paragraphs? (No, we’re not judging the writing – it’s 6 a.m. and I haven’t had breakfast yet).

My point is that I didn’t tell you a thing about what kind of guy my husband is. I didn’t say he’s kind, or physically fit, or smart in a crisis, or that he puts the needs of others above his own.

But you still came away knowing all that about him.

That’s what I mean by showing instead of telling. There are plenty of other ways to do it with dialogue or action or a character’s inner thoughts, but you get the idea.

If you’re a writer, what tricks to you use to show instead of tell? As a reader, are there any authors you think do an exceptionally good job with this? Please share.

Here’s the man of the hour, by the way. Cute, huh? Pythagoras isn’t so bad, either.

The query that hooked my agent

Oh, blog readers. I have a very special treat for you.

By popular demand, my amazing agent, Michelle Wolfson, agreed to do a guest post discussing my original query letter – the one that caught her eye back in December 2006.

A couple details before we get started:

If you haven’t already read my post on query stats, you might want to check that out for some background on my query process.

Secondly, you should keep in mind that while this query letter prompted offers of representation from four agents, and two of those agents tried to sell it (my first agent, then Michelle) this book never sold.

I repeat, this book never sold.

It makes me a little sad to type that, and it certainly wasn’t for any lack of trying. We had several editors teetering on the brink of buying it, but for whatever reason (The market? Timing? Aliens abducting editors and replacing them with sausages?) it never happened.

That doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I still love this book, and while I’m ecstatic about the three-book deal Michelle recently nabbed for my romantic comedies, I’m still hopeful A TRICKY UNDERTAKING will someday find a home.

The words you see below in blue Arial are Michelle’s. The ones in red courier are taken word-for-word from my original query. I didn’t correct or polish anything before posting it here (much as I might have wanted to). You’ll see a couple small comments from me in bold.

So here we go, dear readers. Take it away, Michelle!

For the record, it’s been nearly four years since Tawna sent me her original query letter. I’ve read a lot of queries since then. So maybe if I were giving advice now (which I suppose is exactly what I’m about to do here), I might suggest a little tweak here or maybe a little style change there. Overall, I have to say I look at this query letter after all these years, and still see the core of everything I loved both then and now about Tawna the writer and Tawna the person.

Before I start, I have to reiterate my oft repeated query advice which is that the query is meant to get an agent’s attention. The goal is to get the agent to request pages. You are writers: you write and you edit. The same should hold true for your query letter. Every sentence should be written and later edited while thinking, is this sentence going to make her want to request pages? If not, cut it out.

Subject: QUERY: "orphaned" author seeks agent for new single-title work

So, Tawna’s subject line is a good exception to the Query: Title rule. Another would be Query from a published author. What Tawna does nicely which many people don’t do, is she explains exactly what she means by “orphaned” author right up front in the 1st paragraph. I don’t want to have to research what you mean.

Dear Ms. Wolfson,

I'm an author who was recently "orphaned" when Silhouette Bombshell announced it was closing the line in January. Since my debut novel was scheduled for release in February, I now have one formerly-contracted Bombshell (my rights have been reverted), two follow-up Bombshell projects that never made it to contract, and a burning desire to cleanse my palate by writing books in which the heroine is not required to blow up a building in the first chapter.

So the first paragraph gives a good, complete description (as complete as I would need for the moment) of Tawna’s history with Harlequin, and a nice introduction to her sense of humor (which is so integral to her writing) with her comment about her burning desire to cleanse her palate. I have said before that you should write your query in the tone of your book, and this is what I mean. Tawna’s books are funny and that was reflected in her query voice.

Allow me to tell you about my new (non-Bombshell) single-title project.

Allow me to tell you about my new project…OK. Those kinds of sentences are transitional and fine. Sometimes as I’m sitting there by myself I’ll shout NO at the computer. But inevitably I keep reading.

Wilma “Willie” Rising has two great desires in life: finding the perfect embalming solution, and finding a man who's not afraid of a woman with a desire to find the perfect embalming solution. As a mortician in Portland's trendy Pearl District, Willie leads a quiet life. But all that changes one afternoon when a police officer asks for help disinterring an urn of cremated remains for a criminal investigation. Suddenly, Willie finds herself in the middle of a murder mystery with a cloud of suspicion hanging over her head and a variety of strange characters looking to buy out her business, ruin her reputation, communicate with her deceased clients, take her to dinner – or some combination of all four.

So the first sentence of the descriptive paragraph is terrific. It paints a picture of Willie as a woman who is maybe a little bizarre – totally devoted to a pretty offbeat job, yet still looking for love. She sounds fun, quirky, and pretty great already. I was probably hooked just on this. The rest of the paragraph to me does a nice job summing up the story, showing that this is a cozy-esque mystery with the heroine in what I consider to be a fabulous new fun setting. It has all the elements that this type of story will need.

A TRICKY UNDERTAKING is a quirky, mainstream novel blended with equal parts dark humor, suspenseful mystery, and a tone I might have called "chick-lit" before people turned up their noses at that term. Given the public's recent fascination with TV series like "Six Feet Under" and "Family Plots," as well as nonfiction books like Mary Roach's "Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers," I believe the market is ripe for a story like mine. Though I haven't seen any fiction works centered around a plucky female undertaker, readers fond of the style of Jennifer Crusie or Janet Evanovich would enjoy A TRICKY UNDERTAKING. This book – which also has series potential – is complete at approximately 75,000 words.

The next paragraph is good, if a drop long. I like to see that an author has taken the market into account. Especially here with a slightly offbeat topic, it was nice that Tawna pointed out some mainstream successes on this topic. I think I would drop the chick-lit part of the sentence. Even though she makes a joke of it, the joke is true – chick-lit really was a death sentence at a certain point – and I think I wouldn’t take a chance that an agent would just turn it down based on that. I think dark humor and suspenseful mystery works well enough. Tawna picked two authors who really were great comparisons both in market and in voice, and her own voice really shone through in the query and in the pages below. She finishes up by mentioning word count and series potential, both useful pieces of information.

I have the battle scars to prove I can sell a book, negotiate a contract, complete revisions, and write two additional follow-up books (which, alas, are also homeless now that Bombshell is dead). Even so, I've now gotten my feet wet writing category books with a decidedly mainstream feel, and I'm hopeful you might consider representing my work as I enter this new phase in my career.

The last paragraph about battle scars is fine. Not necessary but it was fine. I think these days I would start to feel like it’s getting a drop long. I would probably skim over a paragraph like that and get right to the pages.

I'm including the first few pages of TRICKY UNDERTAKING in the text below to give you an idea of the tone of the writing. If you'd like to see more, please don't hesitate to contact me. Thank you for your consideration, and have a great day!

Tawna will probably provide a link to these pages on her website (yes indeed, right here!) and if you haven’t read this excerpt yet, you should go read it now. I have probably read these beginning pages 40 times over the past 4 years and I never get tired of them and I never stop laughing at them. For the record, I think this is the best first sentence I have ever read. I have spent four years laughing every time anyone says “for the record,” and for the record, a lot of people say that. I knew very quickly that I wanted to read the entire book and I wasn’t disappointed.

I edited out my own sob story about how devastated I was that TRICKY didn’t sell, but I will say that like Tawna, I still have high hopes this series will someday be published.

The last thing I will say is that Tawna thought she had battle scars when she wrote this query letter, but unfortunately for her, those proved to be just flesh wounds. (If you don't know the story, go here). You never know how long your road to publication is going to be. You never know which query, which agent, which manuscript is going to be The One. But the important thing is not to give up.

Once you’ve perfected your query, remember it’s a numbers game. Send it out and send it out and then send it out some more. This is a subjective business and you deserve an agent who loves your writing as much as I love Tawna’s. So don’t settle for anything less. I wish you all the best of luck!

***
Applause! Applause! Applause!

Thank you so much to Michelle for taking time out to do this guest post.

Readers, do you have any questions? Fire away!

A word (or 584) on critiquing relationships

In addition to showing great enthusiasm for discussions of butt hair and garage porn, readers commenting on this blog ask a lot of questions about critique partners and beta readers.

What’s the difference? How do you find them? When do you need them? Is it normal to trade sexual favors for critiques, or did that dude just totally scam me?

I probably won’t answer everything in a single post (except the last one – perfectly normal). But I’ll give you the best overview I can in 584 words or less.

What the @#$% are you talking about?
Everyone uses the terms differently, but to me, a critique partner is a fellow writer with whom you exchange manuscript critiques and brainstorming. As writers, they’re capable of saying not just “this sucks” but “this sucks, and here’s how you might fix it.” Beta readers are just that – readers skilled at catching mistakes and giving you a gut check on how real readers might respond to your book. The three betas I’ve worked with since the dawn of time are exceptionally skilled at spotting specific issues – grammar, inconsistencies, and instances where my characters act like asshats.

How do I find them?
You could try standing on a street corner holding a cardboard sign, but I don’t recommend it. One of the best online resources for finding critique partners and beta readers is the forum at Absolute Write devoted to this purpose.

Another great option is trolling online discussion forums for your specific genre. I met longtime critique partner Cynthia Reese in the eHarlequin discussion forums when we were both newbie writers learning the ropes. Check out blogs and chat loops for your genre to find other authors in your shoes (which is a little gross, so spray some Lysol before putting your feet back in them).

Organized writing groups are another good resource. At my first meeting of Rose City Romance Writers, someone offered to connect me with critique partners. Sisters in Crime (SINC) offers an online group for new authors called The Guppies.

As for beta readers, all three of mine are former co-workers. It’s a perk of 10+ years working in marketing & corporate communications that I’ve connected with smart, savvy folks who like words, but you can find good betas in many places. Belong to a book club? Mine it for betas. Got a co-worker with his nose in a book on lunch breaks? Maybe he’d like to help an aspiring author.

How does it work?
There are no hard and fast rules about critiquing relationships, except to avoid being a jerk. While Cynthia Reese likes to feed me one chapter at a time and review my comments before writing the next chapter, critique partner Linda Brundage and I both prefer to finish the entire novel before swapping. There’s a fairly even trade of critiques, though slower writers can end up doing more critiques for faster ones.

Since beta readers aren’t getting the same benefit from the relationship, I make sure to let mine know how much I appreciate them. My appreciation usually has a cork protruding from the top, but a heartfelt thank you note will also suffice.

So that’s my quick-and-dirty overview. If you already have critiquing relationships, how did you find them? If you’re new to this, what questions do you have?

Oh, and feel free to use the comments section to connect with potential critique partners. Just try to avoid the whole sex-for-critiques arrangement, OK? Authorities tend to frown on that.

Ask & I’ll give it up: my agent query stats

Last week, I mentioned a personal rule from my 2006 agent hunt, which was to send out two new queries for every rejection I received.

Some of you asked for details. How many queries did I send? How many rejections did I get? How many requests for fulls & partials? How many foot massages did I offer before finally landing the amazing Michelle Wolfson (who subsequently landed me a three-book deal)?

Fortunately, I saved all my original notes from my query days. It took awhile to compile statistics, and before I share, here’s some background:

• I sent my first queries in late summer 2006 and my last mid-December 2006. Snail mail was common, and accounted for nearly 50% of my queries. Things have changed since then. Nearly everything is electronic now, and the only piece of printed correspondence I’ve swapped with my agent in 2.5 years is a contract.
• Because I had already sold a book to Harlequin/Silhouette when the line collapsed and left me orphaned, I was considered “published” by two or three agents I queried. In a couple cases, this resulted in phone calls or an expedited query process, but in most cases, I was part of the regular slush pile.
• As a result of the whole sold-a-book-that-never-got-published thing, several agents asked to see the orphaned novel (the rights were reverted to me). Since I knew I wanted to go a different direction with my career, I was more intent on querying a new book I’d written in a different genre. Know what’s interesting? Neither of those novels – not the one that originally sold to Harlequin/Silhouette, and not the one that snagged offers of representation from four agents – has sold today. I don’t say that to be discouraging. I say it to point out the publishing industry is fickle. Just because agents or editors love a book doesn’t mean it’s destined to land on bookshelves. This is one reason it’s crucial to find an agent who is passionate about your whole career – not just one book.

So without further ado, here are my stats from 2006:

Number of queries
71

Rejections of initial query
28

Zero response to initial query
16

Partials requested & rejected
2

Fulls requested & rejected
6

Fulls/partials requested, then zero agent response
2

Agents who quit or closed to queries
3

Agents who referred me to other agents
4

Agents who offered representation
4

Fulls/partials requested after I had already signed with another agent
4

Agents who requested full, then bowed out when I issued a deadline upon receiving other offers
1

Bizarre photocopied full request w/ no agent name, no mention of my name or my book, and no email address given for follow-up questions
1

Some random, interesting tidbits:

• Of the 4 referrals I received from agents saying, “I’m not the right agent for this, but try my colleague so-and-so,” two resulted in offers of representation from so-and-so.
• Prior to querying, I made a chart of agents and their requirements using agentquery. Then I cross-referenced it with info gathered from the agents’ own websites. If they differed, I trusted what was listed on the agent sites.
• One of the agents who requested a full and ultimately rejected it contacted me out of the blue two years later to wish me well and say she always wonders if I’m “the one who got away.” (Totally made my day).
• I did not, in fact, provide foot massages to any prospective agents (though I have a standing offer to Michelle to let my dog lick her feet if she so desires).

A few lessons learned:

• No matter how polished your query is or how much homework you’ve done, you will screw something up. I guarantee it. Consider this when you send your initial queries. Do you want to contact your “dream agent” with a query you’ll kick yourself about in a month, or do you want to save him/her for when you’ve learned a few things by trial & error? I got a whole lot more requests in my third month of querying than I did in my first because my query got better. I thank my lucky stars Michelle Wolfson was in the last batch of agents I queried because she didn’t get to see what an idiot I could be (I saved the idiot thing for later in our relationship).
• As I’ve shared before, I initially signed with another agent and then left amicably after a year upon realizing it just wasn’t the right fit. This happens, and it’s no one’s fault. Lucky for me, I knew Michelle was the right agent for me, and she was still willing to take me on a year after she made that initial offer.

So there you have it. All the numbers you ever wanted and some you probably didn’t. Feel free to hit me with questions in the comments. If something requires a long explanation, I may devote future blog posts to the topic.

Ready? Set? Go!

And happy querying to all!

People who are smarter than me

Insert joke here about how this is going to be a long post. Go on, I’ll wait.

In all seriousness, a lot of what I’ve learned about blogging these last six months comes from other bloggers who’ve been kind enough to share their wisdom.

I can’t possibly list every post that’s made an impression on me, but here are my top three:

From Jamie Harrington at Totally the Bomb
Jamie did an entire week of posts on building your online platform, but my favorite of the series was this one about Gravatars.

What’s a Gravatar?

It’s a globally-recognized avatar, and if you’re commenting on blogs or interacting in online communities, I can’t tell you how much you need one.

Until I jumped into the social media circus, I didn’t realize how crucial it is that people use consistent photos, user names, and Twitter handles to identify themselves. If you’re commenting on my blog as Jane Smith using a picture of a frog, but chatting with me on Twitter as Spudeatingmama with an avatar that looks like a potato, I might like adore both of you very much, but I will have no earthly idea you’re the same person. Not even if you tell me. Sorry, but my brain has a limited capacity for faces and names. You don’t get more than one.

Get a Gravatar. Be consistent with your user names. And go read Jamie’s blog post.

From my beloved agency sistah, Kiersten White
(and if you haven’t yet preordered her debut, PARANORMALCY, what are you waiting for?)
This post on the difference between blogs, blahgs, and blarghs clicked with me the instant I read it last November. I had it tattooed on my forearm so I could remember every word of it when the time came to start a blog of my own.

In addition to giving great information about tone and content in blogging, she provides an important wake-up call for writers – editors and agents WILL read your blog if they’re considering working with you. Keep that in mind with every single post you write. Every. Single. One.

From social media guru Kristen Lamb
Her post on whether authors must blog only went up a week ago, and it quickly became one of my favorites on the subject. Here’s a highlight:

Words are our “product.” And blogs are the samples to taste. Just like at Costco, I have a choice of 20 different frozen pizzas. Totino’s doesn’t have to hire some lady with a hairnet to fill the air with the smell of pizza yumminess, but they are smart enough to know that it will make people buy pizza who had no plans of buying pizza that day in the first place. Better yet, free samples will encourage consumers not just to buy pizza, but to buy their pizza.

Amen, a million times AMEN!

Go read the rest of the post for more words of wisdom.

How about you? Do you have any favorite blog posts about the fine art of blogging? Any tips or tricks that have really resonated with you? Please share in the comments.

And lastly, I want to thank you all for making my first six months as a blogger truly, truly amazing. Without you, I’d just be sitting here talking to myself, and that would be – well, that would be like any other day.

So thank you. I love you. Don’t forget to brush and floss.

Lies, lies, and more dirty lies

Before I began blogging, I went a little nuts doing research. I read about what makes good posts, considered what I liked about other blogs, and drank a lot of wine.

OK, so the wine wasn’t part of the research.

Still, I uncovered a lot of good advice and some…well, not so good advice.

Here are a few myths I’ve stumbled upon as I’ve worked to find my way with this blog:

MYTH #1: Unless you have a book deal, no one will read your blog. I kicked off my blog on February 1 with a post that was well-received by…um, my cousin. At that point, I was crossing my fingers, toes, and several unmentionable body parts my book would sell soon. Because my agent rocks so hard she makes me seasick is a brilliant and talented professional, she landed me a three-book deal on February 25.

It’s probably no coincidence my readership started climbing after that.

At the same time, a book deal isn’t a mandatory part of drawing a readership. Take a look at The Misadventures in Candyland, a blog maintained by Candace Ganger.

Candace doesn’t have an agent. She doesn’t have a book deal. She’s only been blogging for seven months, yet she has over 250 registered followers and her posts almost always draw 25-30 comments. Why?

Here’s what I think: she’s funny. She’s honest. She’s edgy. She’s sassy. She writes her posts in ways that prompt discussion, and she participates in that discussion in her comment trail. She’s consistent, blogging every weekday and wrapping each week with her hysterical Feel Me Up Friday feature.

There are plenty of other bloggers out there like Candace. Who are they? What’s their magic formula?

MYTH #2: Size doesn’t matter. Sorry, guys – I know you’d desperately like to believe otherwise, but length is crucial.

I read a lot of blogs, and I have a short attention span. If I click a post and the first thing I see is a giant block of text followed by twenty more giant blocks of text, guess what I’m going to do? (Hint: the answer is not “read it six times before forwarding the link to my friends.")

When it comes to blogging, size matters. Blog readers are busy, and if your post doesn’t grab attention in the first few sentences, you’re screwed.

Paragraphs should be short. White space should be plentiful. The total number of words shouldn’t exceed 500. I know there are exceptions to these rules (some of this week’s posts will definitely exceed 500) but the fact remains – one of the greatest writing skills you can develop is the ability to make your point in the fewest words possible.

MYTH #3: Social media is for celebrities and socialites – not serious authors. A year ago, the only thing I knew about Twitter is that it had something to do with Ashton Kutcher.

When my wise agent suggested I try it, I did my homework. I read Shel Isreal’s TWITTERVILLE and Joel Comm’s TWITTER POWER, and I spent a few months lurking to learn how it worked.

In a nutshell, you make friends. Pretty simple concept. Friends like to do business with other friends, so they visit each other’s blogs and buy each other’s books and braid each other’s hair (sorry, Bill Cameron – we missed that part).

Show of hands, how many of you originally found this blog through Twitter? I’m going to guess it’s somewhere around 80%. It may not be what keeps you coming back, but it was likely the first point of contact.

I’ve gone from skepticism about Twitter to being a devout fan. I’m seriously considering tattooing the bluebird logo on my left breast.

What blogging myths have I forgotten here? Do you disagree with any of mine? If so, let’s fight by the bike rack after school. That would make an AWESOME blog post.

Playing nice with others

I’ll warn you now, I'm going to break yesterday’s rule on keeping posts under 500 words.

But it’s perhaps the most important topic I want to cover in my week of blogging about blogs, so bear with me.

One aspect of the blogiverse I didn’t grasp six months ago is the social side of things. In the last six months, I’ve learned a lot. Some good things, some bad things, and some things that make me want to slap myself in the forehead with a celery stalk.

Allow me to share:

A comment on comments
Six months ago, I’d read plenty of blogs. I had even commented on some, and seen blog authors reply back in the comment trail.

What I’d never grasped is how much that matters – maybe more than the content of the blog posts themselves.

From the start, I tried to reply to anyone who left a comment on my blog. I didn’t know at first if it made a difference, but when people began emailing to say how much they appreciated it, I knew it was the right thing to do.

A lot of people mistakenly think of blogs as the author standing on a soapbox shouting words of silliness or wisdom at loyal readers, but the true beauty of a blog – at least the sort of blog I want to have – is what happens after the post goes up. The discussion in the comments, the back-and-forth volley of ideas and dirty jokes – that’s every bit as important as what I write each day.

I didn’t know that six months ago. Now I do.

Are you following along?
See that little follower widget on the side of the page? Until Blogger asked if I wanted one, I’d never noticed them on other blogs. I had never “followed” a blog, and never noticed who followed the blogs I read.

Once I started noticing it, the concept seemed simple enough. I would read a blog I liked, click “follow,” and we’re all friends, right?

Sort of. My wake up call came a couple months later when I got a private message. The gist of it was this: I’m unfollowing your blog because you aren’t following mine.

Wait – what?

I naively assumed “following” was about which blogs you like to read and want to keep tabs on. While that’s true to some degree, there’s a social side I hadn’t anticipated. An element of I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine, and if something changes, we scratch each other’s eyes out.

I don’t like that.

Look, I do my damndest to visit the blogs of people who comment here. It’s not because I “owe” you, but because you’re part of my circle of friends and I like knowing what my friends are up to. I may or may not comment, I may or may not remember to click “follow.” I may go for months without visiting someone’s blog (if it’s yours, I’m sorry – please raise your hand in the comments so I can stop by).

I’m uncomfortable with this idea that Jane will only read Susie’s blog if Susie reads Jane’s blog. I'm uncomfortable with the idea that there's a retaliatory element in play.

Maybe I’m naïve in hoping people come here because they’re interested in what I say. Hell, maybe half of you are here because you secretly hope my amazing agent will notice you (she rocks, so I don’t blame you, but still). Maybe I should just shut up and play the game.

But the fact that there is a game? That surprised me. And I don’t like surprises.

The numbers don’t add up
Anyone want to guess which of my blog posts had the most readers in the last three months?

If you judged by the number of comments, you’d assume it’s the July 26 post titled Are you calling my name?, which got close to 50 comments.

But that didn’t even make the top 10.

My most visited post in the last three months was the June 22 one titled How not to be an email goober. It got almost 400 more visitors than the name one, yet it had fewer comments – 39, to be exact.

The second most viewed post was The monkey business of social media, which had double the number of hits as the name one, but generated 20 fewer comments.

What gives?

For starters, the email goober post and the monkey one were tweeted and blogged about by others who were either amused, disturbed, or some combination of the two.

But the name post or What writers put in their mouths generated lots of comments because they invited readers to share simple, fun facts about themselves.

There are a few lessons in this experiment, but here’s one for new bloggers: if people aren’t commenting, don’t assume they aren’t reading. Download a tool like Google Analytics and check it out for yourself. You may be surprised.

And if you want comments, try sprinkling your posts with questions that prompt readers to share their own ideas and experiences.

Speaking of comments, I’d love to hear yours on the social aspect of blogging. Is there anything I missed? Any secret handshakes I haven’t learned? Tell me now so I can start practicing for the one-year blogiversary.

I’m a slow learner.

Making blog love outta nothing at all

Last Tuesday morning, I sat staring at the blank screen with no idea what to blog about.

I’d spent the previous day editing the first book in my contract, and my brain resembled a sun-dried tomato stuck to the bottom of a shoe.

Panicked, I grabbed the list of topics I keep for desperate times. Tuesday morning was a desperate time, yet nothing on the list grabbed me.

I finally gave up and wrote about the first thing that came to mind – my own name.

“What are you muttering about?” Pythagoras asked when he walked past.

“This is the stupidest post I’ve written,” I told him. “People will stop coming to my blog after this. They’ll all hate me and write my name on bathroom walls with little cartoon pictures of me with a knife through my throat.”

“OK,” he said, backing away slowly. “Good luck with that.”

I was wrong. Well, it’s possible you drew the pictures, but I was wrong about the blog post. It racked up nearly 50 comments and prompted the following feedback from regular blog reader Elizabeth Ryann:

“This is actually one of my favorite posts of yours, and the comments have been so fascinating.”

So what gives? After six month of doing this, how can I still not tell a good post from a bad one?

Though there’s no exact science, I’ll share a few things I’ve figured out about blog topics:

Keep a list. Before I began blogging, I made a list of 50 things to blog about. Since then, the list has grown to over 150. My goal is to use the list no more than once a week, and I’ve stuck to that. But just knowing it’s there gives me a much-appreciated safety net.

Realize your list sucks. Looking at the earliest ideas on my list, I giggle at things I thought might make good blog posts. Not that they’re terrible ideas – they’re just too broad to be interesting. On the flipside, there are the topics I jotted later after an unexpected brainstorm or a few glasses of wine. Topics like #127: Gewürztraminer increment wiener disarray sloppily. (Believe it or not, I do know what that means, and I plan to use it). My point is that your list should contain every random idea that pops into your head. The individual topics might not be usable, but they might spark something that will be.

The silliest things make the best topics. I’m sure I’m not the only writer whose life is full of goofiness. I write those things down and look for ways to relate them to writing. My husband losing his pants, my decision to stick a cabbage in my shirt for a bike ride, the time I accidentally spit gristle in someone’s purse, the time the neighbors saw us having fake sex in the car – all of these things made for entertaining blog posts. Look for ways to make fun of yourself or your loved ones. That’s what they’re there for, right?

Create opportunities for discussion. Though I was surprised by the popularity of Tuesday’s blog post on names, I know it wasn’t any particular brilliance on my part that made it happen. That post worked because it was a topic everyone could contribute to – who can’t share a thought about his or her own name? You guys created that post, not me. If a blogger provides a topic and asks questions that spark conversation, the posts can take on a life of their own.

Blog about things that rub you wrong. One of the most popular posts I’ve written went up over three months ago, and it’s still being re-tweeted and re-linked even now. You ARE a real author, dammit was the result of several uncomfortable instances when I realized people treated me differently since I snagged a three-book deal. I sat down and thought about why it bothered me, and that post was born. Just be careful to keep ranting to a minimum. Well-measured pondering is thought provoking, but whining is just annoying.

Marinate. Some posts take awhile to gel in my brain. I have a folder containing a dozen half-written blog posts just waiting for something to click. If a post isn’t coming together for you, set it aside and come back later.

So how do you come up with subjects for your blog posts? What do you like to read about on other blogs?

Please discuss in the comments. I’ll be over here trying to teach Pythagoras to perform yoga poses in a wetsuit. I’m pretty sure it’ll make a great blog post.

If you blog it, they will come

First off, I must point out that I said come.

Now that we’ve covered the requisite immature joke, welcome to my six-month blogiversary!

As I mentioned in yesterday’s SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT, I’m thrilled not only to make it through my first six months of blogging with minimal therapy, but also to be chosen as one of five debut authors blogging for the 2011 Debutante Ball.

To celebrate, I’m devoting the entire week to the subject of blogging.

Let me start with the caveat that I don’t claim to be an expert, and I know there are hundreds of authors with much better blogs and much bigger followings.

But I am pleased with how much this blog has grown in six months, and I want to share some of what I’ve learned so far.

In the beginning, my only readers were my mom, my agent, and a handful of kind souls who arrived by accident after googling “pet me.”

Things have changed a bit.

Last month, I had nearly 6,000 total page views, 4,300 actual visits, and about 1,800 unique visitors. On a typical day, 150-200 people stopped by. On good days, there were 300-400 unique visitors. The posts averaged 20-25 reader comments, with some prompting 50+.

Those numbers make me giddy, grateful, and a little incontinent.

But mostly, they make me ponder what brings readers here. I’ve had several people email me recently seeking advice on how to draw and keep blog readers.

Here’s what I’ve told them:

Give it to me, baby. We don’t like to admit it, but we’re selfish creatures. We want blog posts that GIVE us something. Maybe it’s a writing tip or a link to another good site. Before I click “publish” on any post, I ask myself, what am I giving readers?

I write romantic comedy, so cheap laughs is my first answer, but I don’t want it to be the only one. What else can I give? Advice? Inspiration? Discussion? Gonorrhea? If I’m not giving you two things every day, you have my permission to stomp away grumbling that I’m not putting out.

You may not write comedy, but consider what you do have to offer. Is there a subject you know well? An amusing story you can share? A list of tips for identifying toenail fungus? Give people something they want, and you’ve given them a reason to keep coming back.

Stick to a schedule. From the start, I knew I wanted to blog every weekday. Not all writers have time for this, and to be honest, it’s not necessary. What’s important is that you keep some schedule. Kristina Martin has a delightful blog she posts to twice a week on Mondays and Fridays. I always know when to pop by for a new post and a chuckle about one-armed strippers.

If you’re committed to doing it daily, I commend your libido suggest you take a tip from Cynthia Reese’s playbook. Cynthia juggles a full-time job, motherhood, and a writing career. Clearly she has oodles of free time on her hands to sit around eating bon-bons and writing blog posts. Though she has a new post up each weekday, she accomplishes it by writing several posts in advance and setting them to go up automatically in Blogger.

Consider how often you want to blog, and then commit to keeping that schedule. Consistency is key!

Give a little, get a little. I know there are writers who can dash off a clever blog post and kick back with a cigar to watch the readers stampede. I’m not one of them. Unless your name is preceded by the words, “New York Times Bestseller," you may have to work a bit harder to let potential readers know you exist.

Interact with people on Twitter. Find blogs similar to yours and leave comments that show you’re engaged. (Note: commenting, “ur blog is cool, want a fake Rolex?” does not show you’re engaged). Branch out and explore blogs that are nothing like yours. You might be surprised at the readers you draw if you step outside your comfort zone. Perhaps there’s a network of gay Jewish lion tamers just dying to read your post on choosing an antiperspirant.

Tell me about your blog habits. If you’re a blogger, how do you draw readers? If you’re a reader, what keeps you returning to your favorite blogs? Please share in the comments.

And please come back tomorrow to discuss the fine art of picking blog topics.

Oh, and one last thing. The Debutante Ball? I’m taking it very seriously. Very seriously indeed.

Me in my debutante ball tiara. Technically, the tiara belongs to Pythagoras. No, I'm not kidding. I'm really not.

On writer guilt

Several days ago, I saw something on Twitter that broke my heart. It was from an author whose book deal had recently fallen through, and here’s what it said:

I feel like I owe an apology to everyone who congratulated me, like the engagement fell through and I got all these gifts I didn't deserve.

You can read the whole story on her blog.

I know it doesn’t help much to say I’ve been there before, but I have. I sold my first book in May 2006 to Harelquin/Silhouette’s Bombshell line of women’s action-adventure novels. Fifteen months later, I got the “un-call” from my editor saying they were canceling the line a month before my scheduled debut. Though I got to keep my advance, I was out on my butt with one formerly contracted novel, two follow-ups that never made it to contract, and a whole lot of guilt.

The guilt was the worst part.

Even now – after three years and a new three-book deal – it still hits me sometimes.

All those people you told, the voice in my head whispers. They thought you’d have a book out by now. They’re wondering if you lied. They’re wondering if you suck. They’re wondering if you slept with all the editors and weren’t particularly good at it.

When people say writing is a solitary profession, I always laugh. I don’t know any writers who work without an army of people behind them – spouses, partners, children, friends, family, agents, editors, bikini waxers, and hoards of acquaintances who cheer your successes and mourn your failures.

When things go wrong, it doesn’t matter what stage you’re at in your writing career – you can’t help but feel you’ve disappointed them all.

I’ve blogged before about deciding who to tell about your writing.

But that’s really only half the equation. Unless you write in a bubble (which tends to get your keyboard sudsy) there will be others riding along in your writing journey. How do you not feel responsible for letting them down if things don’t go the way you hope?

I don’t have an answer.

Writing is emotionally draining whether you write gut-wrenching literary fiction or nut-busting thrillers. Not just the writing process, but the expectations we pile on ourselves. There’s no way to alleviate that – though I suppose sex, drugs, and insanity sufficed for Hunter S. Thompson.

But wouldn’t it be easier if we all learned to be a bit more forgiving of ourselves? To accept that no matter how hard you work at it, there’s only so much you can do to control your own writing success. The rest is just dumb luck and the very subjective opinions in an ever-shifting publishing world.

I can’t promise not to care what people think. No author pursuing publication can promise that, or we’d all be content to scribble our thoughts on the back of a tampon box and stuff it in the medicine cabinet.

What I can promise – what we all should promise – is to cut ourselves some slack. To recognize that there will be ups and downs and times where you want to kick someone in the nuts and run away laughing. No amount of guilt we pile on ourselves will change that.

But if we all make a conscious effort to give ourselves a break, it’ll go a long way toward reducing the number of authors feeling lousy over things they can’t control.

So how about it? Are you a guilt-ridden writer? Want to join me in throwing off the hair shirt?

Leave it over there by the bar, and pull up a stool. I’m buying.

The special way I used my pen(is)

So who wants to take a guess what I did with this yesterday?

OK, stop guessing now. And stop staring at it. Really, knock it off.

Here is what I did with my very special penis pen.

That's right, I signed my three-book contract with Sourcebooks, Inc. Four copies of it, 15 pages each, packed full of sentences like:

The benefit of the Author’s warranties and indemnities shall extend to any person, firm or corporation against whom any such claim, demand or suit is asserted or instituted by reason of the publication, sale or distribution of the Works as if such representations and warranties were originally made to such third parties.

Incidentally, I'm going to find a way to use that line in the next love scene I write.

In all seriousness, you probably assumed I signed that thing ages ago, right? After all, it's been almost exactly four months since I announced the sale.

But that's not how publishing works. This is one of many reasons people tell you over and over "don't quit your day job."

And that's certainly not to say anyone screwed up or dragged his or her feet. On the contrary, my amazing agent, Michelle Wolfson, and equally amazing editor, Deb Werksman, have both done an incredible job hammering out the details and thinking of things I would never in a million years dream up. Like who pays for it if a pterodactyl eats all the copies of my debut novel before it can be shipped to bookstores? I'm pretty sure there's a clause in my contract that covers it.

This is why I'm endlessly grateful to have such smart, talented people in my court. I didn't actually realize what a superstar Deb is in romance writer circles until I went to my first RWA meeting and my new chapter-mates gasped, "Deb Werksman is your editor?" with same tone they'd use to ask if Angelina Jolie is my best friend (FYI, she totally is).

And I don't have to tell you how much Michelle rocks. Having her fighting for me and my books every step of the way makes me weep with gratitude that she's my agent.

And also that I'll never have to face her in a cage match.

So there you have it. The contracts are signed, they're going in the mail today, and apparently there's some mysterious object called an advance check that might make its way to me sometime in the coming months.

Rumor has it they might actually be PAYING me to do this.

Oh, and I have a penis pen.

Does life get any better?

How not to be an email goober

I’ve been known to do stupid things with email.

Shocking, isn’t it?

My offenses have ranged from typos to a smart-ass rant about the boss sent to a coworker (and subsequently viewed by the boss, who happened to be standing behind my coworker when she opened it).

My most recent faux pas occurred last week, and fortunately, wasn’t too embarrassing. Well, not unless you consider it embarrassing to extend a dinner invitation to a gentleman you’ve never met living 2,500 miles away with a salutation that begins, “Hey, bitches – you owe me wine.”

That one was more amusing than mortifying, but when you’re querying agents or crafting other professional correspondence, it’s important to avoid looking like a dork.

Here are a couple tips I can share:

Don’t fill in the “to” field until you’re certain it’s perfect. I do this with important messages to avoid the embarrassment of accidentally hitting “send” before spellchecking, proofreading, or removing the note-to-self that reads add something smart here.

Ditch the emoticons and exclamations. Lord knows I love a good smiley from time to time, but when your email message looks like a minefield of exploding happy faces, you’ve gone too far. Ditto that for exclamation points or goofy abbreviations like LOL or BTW or WTSAGP (duh, that’s Want to Split a Grape Popsicle?)

Watch the formatting. Back when I was querying agents, it seemed like a good time-saver to copy/paste a query I’d sent to one agent and use that as a starting block to personalize a query for another. Um, no. I couldn’t see it on my end, but that’s a good way to introduce all sorts of weird formatting. I discovered this when I looked in my “sent” folder and realized it looked as though I’d tried to demonstrate my creativity by inserting random paragraph returns in the middle of words.

Sleep on it. I know what it’s like to reach a point that you just want to SEND THE @#$% MESSAGE ALREADY. But when you’ve been staring at the words all day, you’re less apt to notice that you’ve misspelled an agent’s name or extolled the virtues of your extensive background in “pubic relations.” Come back later when you have fresh eyes.

Obviously this isn’t a comprehensive list, but these are a few ways I’ve found to minimize the number of times I look like a goober in a given week.

How about you? Got any embarrassing email mistakes you can share, or tips to help the rest of us avoid those mistakes? Please post in the comments!

I need all the help I can get.

If you're gonna do it, do it right(right, Bill Cameron?)

On Saturday, I got to meet mystery author Bill Cameron.

It was a dignified gathering of two professionals discussing important things like smelly naked people on bicycles writing craft and publication.

I bought several of his books for myself and friends – including new release DAY ONE – and Bill kindly signed them for me there at Murder by the Book in Portland, OR.

Me with Bill Cameron (and yes, I do notice the camera flash apparently made my top semi-transparent. Classy. I tried to Photoshop it, but it made me look like I had a mutant nipple.)

What fascinates me is that this meeting would not have taken place without social media. In fact, I might not have bought Bill’s books at all.

This has been on my mind a lot in the wake of recent online discussion about the value of social media like Twitter and Facebook for authors. First came Chip Macgregor’s post discussing whether these tools are a worthy use of authors’ time. Then there was Maureen Johnson’s post on how some authors believe “branding” means smacking people on the forehead with your book until they fall to their knees and beg for the throbbing to stop.

Both make some terrific points.

Prior to my recent three-book deal, I spent the last 10+ years working in marketing and corporate communications, which means I’m as full of hot air as the next guy I have a decent grasp on the principles of marketing.

Here’s one: it typically takes seven points of contact to prompt a consumer to act. That means you have to see the bologna commercial seven times before you get off your sofa and trudge to the local market for some wholesome meaty goodness.

I believe it.

I’ve been a devout reader of Janet Reid’s blog for eons, and since she’s Bill Cameron’s agent, I’ve heard a lot about his books over the years. I always meant to read them. I even added one to my Amazon cart once.

But I didn’t make the purchase. Maybe I’m lazy, maybe I’m easily distracted. Probably both.

What prompted me to buy Bill’s first book was simple – I followed him on Twitter. He followed me back. We swapped some 140-character tweets about bacon and murder.

And suddenly, he went from being a nameless author to someone I knew.

That’s the idea behind social media. People want to conduct business with someone they consider a friend.

Within a few days of that first contact, I hustled out and got Bill’s first two books – LOST DOG and CHASING SMOKE – and sent him a quick tweet asking which I should read first.

And get this – he replied within a few minutes.

A far cry from the days I licked stamps and crossed my fingers the author of TRIXIE BELDEN would respond to my fan letter before the time came for me to select a retirement home.

Bill Cameron never once told me to buy his books. He never put me in a headlock and forced me to listen to a detailed description of his branding strategy.

He was just a funny, engaging guy who made the effort to connect. That’s how social media should work.

Regardless of what stage you’re at in your writing career – whether you’re querying agents or peddling your twelfth bestseller – there’s a lesson in there.

Be friendly. Be real. Engage with agents and editors and potential readers in online communities in ways that show you would do so even if you didn’t want something from them. Remember it's a dialogue and not your personal soapbox.

Oh, and since Bill Cameron is too gracious to give you the hard sell, allow me. His books are amazing. Stop whatever you’re doing now and go get one. I loved LOST DOG, am devouring CHASING SMOKE, and can’t wait to read my new copy of DAY ONE.

Buy now. Don’t make me use the headlock.

The monkey business of social media

Social media is a serious networking tool for serious writing professionals. It allows you to build a readership, discuss craft and technique with fellow writers, and establish your brand identity as an author.

It also allows you to discuss feet.

This is what author/blogger Sierra Godfrey and I bonded over the other day when we realized we both have bizarrely agile toes.

Since it is obviously crucial to our writing careers that we explore this issue in depth, we began swapping stories of what we can do with our toes.

Check out her blog to find out what she's capable of, but here’s my list:

• Pick up a dropped razor in the shower. No need to bend over!
• Make my bed. I tried this when I was 10 to ensure I was prepared in case I ever lost both arms in a freak badminton accident.
• Write my name with a pen. I’m considering doing this at future book signings.
• Pull my husband’s leg hair. This is probably why he started shaving it.
• Type poignant love scenes in my manuscript. Don’t believe me? Here’s what I wrote yesterday:

Jmnglkiffooljyjyoinh grtrflrfol.rfrrejirooror

It’s clearly a very tender and moving scene, though Pythagoras was not particularly moved to find me with my feet on the keyboard.



Being serious writers who always strive to grow and improve, Sierra and I challenged each other to broaden our skills. Since she has a degree in art, I wanted to see if she could use her toes to edit a picture in Photoshop.You can see how she fared over on her blog.

Meanwhile, Sierra challenged me to embrace the spirit of the Monkey Toes Club by peeling a banana. Here’s how it unfolded.

Grasping the banana caused toe cramps at first, but I persevered.

Once I got it started, the peeling itself was fairly easy.

After peeling and devouring the banana, I went outside to swing in the trees.

So as you can see, social media is an important way for authors to forge valuable connections with fellow professionals.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my agent to let her know I’ll be writing my next book entirely with my feet. Pretty sure I can dial the iPhone with my toes.

Defending pink wine and bodice rippers

The other night, I went to a dinner party with a 2004 Jardiniére Rosé Willamette Valley Pinot Noir.

That’s a complicated way of saying I brought a bottle of pink wine. A damn good wine, but pink nonetheless.

There’s a stereotype associated with pink wines, and it’s not a good one. People think of the sickly-sweet rotgut sold in gallon jugs as “white zinfandel” and think pink=cheap. Unless you’re a starving college student, cheap is not a good thing in wine.

I was recently at Firesteed doing research for LET IT BREATHE, and the tasting room associate lamented this as he poured their fabulous 2008 Pinot Noir Rosé.

A most excellent Rosé.

“Wine critics love it, but the public is reluctant,” he explained. “People see pink and turn up their noses.”

It’s not hard for me to draw a parallel between that and the romance genre.

I’ll proudly tell anyone from my grandma to the paperboy that I write romance. Though most are supportive, I’d be delusional if I said I didn’t see the occasional sneer. It’s a look that suggests I’m either a sexual deviant, an inferior writer, or some combination of the two.

My instinct is to stammer something about how I write quirky romantic comedies that are way different from the stereotypical bodice rippers with Fabio on the cover.

And then I get mad at myself, because so damn what if I wrote bodice rippers? Is there something wrong with that?

Statistically speaking, the romance genre generated $1.37 billion in sales in 2008, and remained the largest share of the consumer market at 13.5 percent (thanks RWA for those stats).

And yet, as the creators of Smart Bitches, Trashy Books noted in their hysterical book BEYOND HEAVING BOSOMS, “romance is easily the most well-hidden literary habit in America. Millions of dollars are spent on romance novels, yet few will admit to reading them.”

I’m not sure what’s behind that. Is it the desire to be seen as intellectual who would never read escapist tripe? Is it the fear of being branded a sexual deviant along with the author?

Or is it something else?

As the recipient of a degree in English Lit, I am qualified not only to serve Happy Meals, but to point out that romance is part of nearly every great work of literature. The Illiad, Hamlet, Don Quixote, Anna Karenina…frankly, you’d have a shorter list if you just tallied up the books without romance (and then skipped them entirely, because really, who wants to read anything without nookie in it?)

While most modern romance novels probably won’t find their way into the literary canon anytime soon, that doesn’t make them any less worthy of respect and admiration. The romance genre is popular, it’s enjoyable, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of – for readers or for writers.

So on that note, I lift my glass of pink wine in a toast to everyone who loves romance. Cheers to all of you – the sexual deviants, the good and bad writers, and anyone who just craves a damn good love story.

US vs. THEM: on writer cliques and bra-snapping

I’ve never been one of the cool kids.

Not in middle school where I capped off the eighth grade by throwing up in my underwear, not in high school where I completed my Chemistry exams by writing poems about sodium hydroxide.

I vaguely recall a period in middle school where I cared about scaling the mountain of Guess jeans and hair-sprayed bangs to become one of THEM. The chosen ones. The cool clique.

That got exhausting, and I pretty much stopped caring after that.

The reason I bring this up is that I’ve seen a lot of chatter online about “cliques” in the Twitterverse and the writing community – these published authors who think they’re too sexy for their shirts, and the pre-published authors who secretly want to beat them with a can of Aquanet.

And I’ve gotta say, I don’t get it.

Maybe I’m missing something, and there really are hoards of published authors roaming the halls stuffing the pre-published authors into lockers and snapping their bras.

But more likely, you’ve got a bunch of authors with book deals and deadlines and editors breathing down their necks. Authors who are trying desperately to be accessible to fans and failing. Not failing, exactly, but just not reaching everyone.

I have 15 months to go before my debut novel hits shelves, and I certainly can’t claim to have any fans yet. But I can say that I desperately want to strike up personal relationships with everyone who reads this blog, and it breaks my heart that the best I can do most days is the dialogue in the comments trail and a few random Twitter exchanges.

I’m trying, but I’m failing, and I’m sure I’ll fail harder somewhere down the line.

I do understand the tendency to be star struck by certain authors. I have a special dance-of-joy I perform on the days Jennifer Crusie responds to a comment I’ve made on her blog. (Note to self: consider altering dance-of-joy so neighbor doesn’t think you’re having a seizure).

But on the days Ms. Crusie doesn’t respond, I don’t curse her name and burn her books. And I especially don’t think less of myself as a writer because she didn’t send me a personal note asking if we can get together to have martinis and brush each other’s hair (Note to Jennifer Crusie: I would totally brush your hair).

Our value as writers is not determined by how quickly we get an agent or a book deal, how sizeable our first advance check, or how quickly we climb to the top of the bestseller list.

And though I think it’s crucial to be friendly and accessible to fans and fellow authors, the value of an author can’t be judged by how kindly she treats others or how others view her.

What matters is how you perceive yourself and your writing – apart from all the clutter about cliques and US vs. THEM and thatbitchdidntsmileatmeinthehall.

How you value yourself is the only part you can control.

Whether you’re cool or not is irrelevant. Being cool with yourself – or with your own lack of coolness – that’s the only thing that counts.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a strange urge to tease my hair and rock out to Poison.

To tell or not to tell? Er, what was the question?

Yesterday, I got my hair trimmed.

I went to the same hairdresser who gave me the purple stripe ten weeks ago to commemorate my three-book deal.

She’s trimmed my hair every ten weeks for the last decade, which means we have one of those relationships that falls somewhere between “friend” and “I’m embarrassed to admit I still don’t remember your husband’s name.”

After the preliminary chit-chat about my hair, we settled in for the usual questioning that occurs between two people who see each other five times a year.

“So where can I buy your books now?” she asked, scissors neatly snipping my split-ends.

“Well, you’ll be able to buy them anywhere,” I replied. “Barnes & Noble, or probably most of the indy bookstores in town, but not until August 2011.”

She frowned at me in the mirror. “But you got a book deal, right?”

“Right.”

“And I can’t get the books until this summer?”

“Er, next summer, actually,” I admitted, keeping one eye on the scissors poised dangerously above my left ear. “August 2011. It’s a pretty slow process.”

As she continued to snip, I explained once more how everything in publishing moves at the speed of a slug on Valium.

The thing is, she knows this. She’s watched me struggle for eight years, so she’s aware that the path between “I wrote a book!” and “I have a book deal!” can be a long and treacherous one.

But I don’t blame her a bit for not remembering the details or for not being an expert on publishing. Hell, sometimes I wish I could forget.

And sometimes, I wish I’d never told her I’m a writer. Not until the day I was able to walk in and announce, “I have a book deal, I must have a purple stripe!”

I know I’ve said we’re ALL real authors – everyone who’s ever attempted to craft a book. And while I believe that with every fiber of my being, deciding whether to tell anyone is another matter.

Do you tell your close friends and family? I think so – you’re going to need their support.

But what about the casual acquaintances you see a few times a year? Your mechanic? Your babysitter? Your hairdresser?

I don’t know about you, but I spend a long time in that chair every ten weeks, and discussing how to get cat puke out of carpet can only carry the conversation so far.

Writing is such an all-consuming process that it’s nearly impossible to resist the urge to tell everyone who asks what you’re doing.

But it can feel like a little twist of the knife each time you encounter a well-meaning acquaintance you haven’t seen for months, and you’re forced to rehash your rejections. “Nope, not yet," you’ll say with forced cheer. “I know we had great feedback from that editor last fall, but it just didn’t happen.”

Deciding what to tell and to whom you tell it is a choice each writer must make at some point. As someone who’s been down that road, I can only say that I wish I’d spared myself some awkward cocktail party conversations.

How about you? Who knows you’re a writer? Who doesn’t? Do you exercise caution when details with people who wield sharp objects for a living, or is your hairdresser on a first name basis with your main character?

You ARE a real author, dammit

There’s a list of questions you aren’t supposed to ask a woman, and I’ve never minded answering any of them.

I’ll cheerfully tell you my age (35), my height and weight (5’4” and 117 pounds), or the reason Pythagoras and I don’t have kids (we don’t really like them).

But until eight weeks ago, there was one question I truly dreaded:

How many books have you published?

Though the answer now is the same as it was eight weeks ago (none, yet), I can at least follow up by giving details of my upcoming releases.

But I still hate the question. Because let’s face it, the reason the person is asking is to determine if they’re talking to a “real author,” or…well, something less than that.

And that’s an implication that makes me uncomfortable even now that I have a three-book deal that apparently entitles me to carry the “real author” license.

It’s not just people unfamiliar with the publishing industry who seem hell-bent on distinguishing between “real authors” and whatever the opposite of that would be (unreal authors?) We do it ourselves as authors every time we sell ourselves short and allow people to make us feel inferior for the mere fact that we haven’t yet reached that next stage.

I guess this is why I find myself bristling now when someone suddenly treats me differently upon learning about my book deal. There’s a certain level of respect that comes along with that, and I’m not entirely comfortable with it.

I know I sound like an ungrateful bitch, but that’s not it at all. The thing is, I’m the same damn author I was eight weeks ago. Or eight years ago.

If you want to split hairs, two of the three books in my contract started with partial manuscripts I wrote nearly three years ago under a previous agent who just wasn't interested in them. These are the same damn books my current agent adores and my new editor recently gushed over, saying, “everyone here is just in love with your voice.”

So I haven’t changed, right?

But I have, at least in the eyes of writers and non-writers alike. In some ways, this makes my heart swell like a boner in a bad porn.

In other ways, it makes me angry. I’m angry on behalf of every author who’s ever felt sub-par because the magic wand of dumb luck hasn’t yet waved over her head and granted her an agent or a book deal or the level of respect she deserves just for trying to break into publishing.

Writing books is hard work. Everyone who’s ever attempted it deserves the “real author” label and all the respect that seems to come with it.

Whether you’re a brand new writer with distant dreams of publication or someone who’s lost count of the number of weeks spent on the New York Times Bestseller list, you’re still a “real author.”

You have to remember that. The world is primed to make the unpublished author feel inferior, and that can kill your self esteem even more than a bad critique or an outright rejection.

You are a “real author.”

Now go write some real books, dammit.