Recently, I spoke with a friend of mine who has been a journalist for decades. Due to health issues, she made the jump from print to blogging part time for a news website. Even though the site ended up laying off all of its part-time staff, my friend thanked me for commenting on her past articles because she received a financial bonus each time someone did.
A lot of things bothered me about that conversation. Am I the only person on earth who thinks that the "NEWS" should be news and NOT entertainment? Why should there be a reward system based on comments? Even worse, why is commenting used as a criterion for judging that blog's quality?
Is frequency of public response synonymous with worth?
The contemporary feedback phenomenon fascinates me. I am convinced that today's writers are becoming more dangerously cognizant and dependent on automatic/quick public input than our predecessors ever were.
Why?
Communication is easy, that's why. It's a slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of world. Instead of taking the time to write a letter, address the envelope and mail it, people can knock out a quick fan email or damning criticism within seconds.
Everything — except, maybe, the submission process to agents and editors — is fast today.
This new reality has created strange expectations.
It isn't just news outlets that gauge the quality of blog posts based on the comments they evoke. We bloggers do it all the time to ourselves! We know that the vast majority of our readers don't bother to comment– for whatever reason — but we torture ourselves when our posts get minimal response. I don't know about you, but I try to comment on friends' blogs as often as possible. However, if I'm required to register on a site to comment . . . forget it! No way. That knee-jerk rule of mine has nothing to do with content; I just get annoyed at having to jump through hoops.
It's the same with our books and short stories. Nowadays, if our prose doesn't yield fan emails, online reviews at booksellers, or discussion on fan sites/listservs — we wonder what's wrong with our writing.
(Let's leave the discussion about sales figures as an accurate read of worth to another post, please.)
Bottom line: I doubt that Poe or Christie considered direct reader input nearly as much as we do.
And I think it's because we all know how very easy it is to take that little step of offering feedback. When we don't get it, we can't help but wonder why.
Do these expectations affect our work?
Do we seek out particularly incendiary topics in order to prove to ourselves that someone out there cares? Do we censor our stories and novels because people Twitter negatively about prefaces or books with serial killers or talking cats?
I don't know.
I do think that the paradigm has shifted. We writers need to be aware of what we're really responding to and the messages we're feeding ourselves, as a result of that feedback, about our own worth in our chosen field.
I sat down to write this blog while my kids colored in my office after dinner. I procrastinated because I had no idea what to write. I had an idea earlier this week, but it disappeared. It wasn't any good (at least, that's what I tell myself when I lose and idea.)
I walked away from the computer for awhile–watched tv with the kids, read to them, put them to bed, worked on page proofs for awhile, then picked up my oldest daughter who'd gone to Arco Arena to watch the Division I basketball sectional championships with her team. (Brag moment: Said Daughter's team won the varsity girls sections, Div V, last night–and the boys team won their sections, too. Yeah!)
When I returned, I rotated the laundry, checked the doors, and made myself a margarita–after all, it was nearly midnight and I was wired on caffeine consumed earlier that evening. I wanted to finish the chapter I was on of my proofs and go to bed . . . I knew I'd lose an hour of sleep because of that damn daylight savings time. As I was running the lime on the rim of my glass, I heard the cat playing with a toy behind the table. I was actually kind of happy about it, because he's getting old and lazy. Then I heard this horrendous squeal and I thought, Oh, f*&#, Toulouse got a rat.
But it didn't sound like a rat.
I run down the hall to get my husband to put the poor rodent out of its misery. He flips on all the lights and discovers it's a baby bunny. It's not moving, but after I get a bucket and a rag he announces that it's not dead, it might be injured, but he thinks it's just scared (no shit) so he takes it out behind my office where I see the jackrabbits all the time and leaves it in the tall grass–with the rag covering it like a blanket because it's cold out. (We live in the country on a couple acres.)
I'm thinking, Thank God the little kids weren't awake to see it. It reminded us of the time our other cat, Neelix, brought us a dead bunny . . . on Easter morning. (And you thought Toni had all the fun!) We found it before the kids.
So I pour my margarita, chat with my husband who'd returned only five minutes before the bunny-meets-cat incident, learn he won not one but TWO guns at the NRA dinner, and then proceed to my office for an hour or two of proofs.
Decide to check my email and see that Typepad is open and think, I almost forgot. Again. JT is going to kill me.
I put my hands on the keyboard and realized I had nothing to say.
I turned around, stared at my bookshelves, hoping inspiration would strike.
And remembered that Tess Gerritsen touched upon this last November in her post Curiosity and the Writer when she said:
"When story ideas come to me, it's seldom because I actively went looking for them. More often, they arise out of some interest that's completely separate from my job as a writer."
When you're actively looking for a story idea, it does not come. Believe me, I'm the poster child of looking for inspiration.
But this reminded me that the number one question I get from readers is: Where do you get your ideas?
I hate that question.
Except now, because I suddenly have an idea.
Perhaps I'm a bit harsh in the title to state that asking someone where they get their ideas is stupid. I suppose that it's an offshoot of what you ask someone when you don't know anything about their career.
Except, I kind of put it up there with the stupid questions cops get. A friend of mine said that more than once he's been asked, "Have you ever had to shoot someone?"
I can't say where my ideas come from specifically. And it kind of pains me to have to think about it, because depending on my mood or the day of the week, I'll have a different answer. I can say where details come from, however.
I used to write at a specific Starbucks in Elk Grove because it had a back room. I liked it because foot traffic didn't distract me. They played the music loud (this was before I had an iPod) and I had a great spot to write–in the corner where no one could come up behind me.
The first sign that the new manager was going to be a problem was when the volume of the music dropped. I can't write with soft music. Either no music or loud, but if it's soft I find myself straining to hear, which is distracting. Then she rearranged the tables in the back room. If that wasn't annoying enough, when I finally got comfortable in a new spot, she rearranged them again.
But the final straw wasn't really her fault. This particular Starbucks became the meeting ground for couples who were taking their internet relationship to the next level. Yep, the address must have been in the top ten of the Match.com safe list, because practically overnight my favorite writing spot was overrun with "
first meets."
As a writer, this was hugely distracting.
Perhaps if the music was turned up to a decent volume, it wouldn't have bothered me. But I was straining to listen to conversations, and worse, my eyes would glance up to observe body language. I could tell instantly if it was a mutual attraction (never saw one) or if one party liked the other, but it wasn't mutual (common) or if they both didn't like each other (majority.)
But the verdict after about two weeks? I couldn't write at that Starbucks anymore. I went to Panera Bread–which had it's pros and cons–before finding what I call my "favorite" Starbucks 🙂
But I got to thinking about how safe it is to meet up with someone online. The safety rules suggest to meet in a public place, bring someone with you, etc. Makes sense. My cousin met someone through an online group of people who had the same interest. They ended up getting married and have a daughter and are past their 10 year anniversary. My personal trainer met his girlfriend of more than a year online. And they're both normal. (Well, he likes to torture people in the name of fitness, but some people consider that normal.) So obviously this works for people.
Yet . . . because my mind is wired this way . . . I tried to think of all the nefarious possibilities. And I realized that if you meet someone you've met online, you assume that they are honest. Or, if they've lied, it's about their weight, or their age, or the photoshopped their picture . . . or used one ten years old.
What if they used a different picture? What if they pretended to be someone they weren't? Like a 19 year old college student?
And suddenly I had the solution to a plot problem. I hadn't been able to get it straight in my head how someone as smart as Lucy Kincaid, in a family full of cops, could have put herself in a position to get kidnapped. But if the kidnapper knew what she looked like . . . but she didn't know what he looked like . . . he could grab her before she ever got into Starbucks.
All that happened before Chapter One of FEAR NO EVIL . . . but I had to have it worked out in my head before I could write the book. Because it was the first plot critical point.
But in all honesty, people don't want that answer. They want a bigger answer. The reason behind a small plot point, not matter how critical, doesn't matter. They want to hear that we're born with a special gene and the ideas "just come to us" or that we have a repository of ideas on a password-protected website.
How I came up with the Prison Break trilogy idea (earthquake under San Quentin) was even longer and more convoluted than the initial set-up for FEAR. I realized after I told that story a couple times that no one cared about the ten little steps that led me to the premise. It was too much.
But ultimately, that's how I get most of my ideas. I read this, that, and the other thing and two weeks later a friend calls out of the blue and says something odd and LIGHTBULB! I have a premise. Or a turning point.
I'll admit, the big ideas aren't my problem. Meaning, I can come up with the overarching story idea pretty quick. But it's all the little details that make it work–the who, the what, the why, the how–and if I don't have those, the story ain't going anywhere.
The other stupid question I get ALL the time, my husband gets even more than I do: "So, do you research (nudge) the romance (wink)?"
Of course I do, dipshit, just like I research the murders. Want to help? I need to know how long it takes to die if you're injected with blood thinners and subjected to a hundred shallow incisions.
And then there's the, "How much do they pay you for a book?"
I just stare. I want to say, "Are you seriously asking me how much money I make? Would you ask a brain surgeon? A trial lawyer? A plumber?"
Instead, I'm polite (because it's usually a reporter) and I say, "Eight percent." If they persist, I go into painstaking detail about contracts.
My husband was confronted by a former colleague who'd read THE HUNT. He asked, "Aren't you worried about Allison?"
Dan, befuddled, asked, "Why?"
"Well, her books are very violent."
My husband is pretty good on his feet. Better than me, for sure. He responded, "Actually, I am kind of worried. She cut off the dick of a guy in her last book."
And the reader who asked, "How can you write such violent stories? You're a mother!" (This, specifically, was in response to what happened to Lucy Kincaid in FEAR NO EVIL.)
Why are people so worried about the violence? What about the sex?
(Well, dammit, I just remembered what I'd thought to write about earlier this week . . . it must not have been a stupid idea after all. It'll just have to keep. If I forget it, well, something else will pop up . . . I hope.)
Okay, don't feel stupid . . . what's one question you've always wanted to ask an author?
And authors, what's a stupid question YOU'VE fielded?
Zoe had an excellent post on character pitches this week and I thought I'd piggy back on that today, because I've been thinking about this myself. As you all know my focus on these blogs I do on story structure is all about what tricks authors can take from filmmaking techniques to help with their own writing.
Well, there are tricks that authors can take from filmmaking to help with character.
Today’s example is the CHARACTER INTRODUCTION.
I’ve been breaking down HARRY POTTER AND THE SORCERER’S STONE for the online class I’m teaching and that movie is superb for this character technique. Every major character has a fantastic character introduction.
Character introductions are painstakingly developed by screenwriters because the making of a movie (at least in the past) almost always hinges on attachments – that is, attracting a star big enough to “open” the movie – that is, bring in enough box office on the opening weekend to earn back production costs.
When you have an actor like that, the studio will finance the movie.
(Okay, now we could go into the fact that lately studios are less and less willing to rely on stars to open movies and why, but this isn’t an article on film financing, it’s an article on character).
And since the character introduction is the first thing an actor will read ain the script, and may be the one thing that makes him or her decide to keep reading, that character introduction may be your one shot at the actor who will make your film or consign it to that grim warehouse (one of many grim warehouses) where scripts with no attachments end up.
Actors don’t always read the whole script. I am absolutely sure that all your favorite actors do. And there are actors who convince great directors to sign onto scripts that they love. There are actors who love a script so much that they produce it themselves, without even taking a role in it, to get it made.
Still, and I know you may find this hard to believe – some actors only flip through the script reading all their own lines, and make the determination of whether or not they will play a part from that.
And so no matter how brilliant the rest of your script is, an irresistible character introduction may be your one shot at getting an actor who can get your movie made.
But what does all this have to do with writing novels, you ask?
Well, what I’m saying is that even for novelists, it doesn’t hurt to think of character in terms of casting. I know some of you design characters (in novels as well as scripts) with actors in mind. I certainly do. You may start writing a scene imagining a certain actor playing the role of the character you have in mind, and use that actor’s voice. I do this, not all the time, but fairly often. I can feel myself writing for an actor, and imagining an actor saying the lines – but then ALWAYS, at a certain point, the character just takes over. Everything I do with character until that point is just treading water until the REAL character shows up.
Then I forget all about actors and creating and designing – I’m really just following the character around taking dictation.
But – until that point, imagining an actor, and writing for that actor, can be a real help in attracting that mysterious being called character.
(I would be worried about sounding completely psychotic at this point except that I’m talking to a bunch of writers and I KNOW YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT.)
So, if you’re willing to buy into this metaphor I’m working on, that characters are much like actors, and you have to design parts that will attract them to your story and convince them to take on the role…
A really good way to do this is to create an irresistible CHARACTER INTRODUCTION.
And even if you don't buy my mildly psychotic analogy, you've got to admit, a great character introduction might be what entices a reader who's browsing through your book to actually buy it.
Let’s take a look at some great intros from the movies.
– Rita Hayworth throwing back her hair in GILDA.
– Dustin Hoffman on stage playing a tomato in TOOTSIE (and then the equally classic introduction of “Dorothy”, struggling to walk down a crowded NY street in high heels and power suit.)
Hoffman as a tomato tells us everything about his character, both his desires and problems: we see the passion he has for acting, the fact that he’s not exactly living up to his potential, and how extremely intractable he has, basically unemployable. It’s also a sly little joke that he’s playing a “tomato” – a derogatory word for a woman.
– Jimmy Stewart as George Bailey in IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE (see visual at top of post): “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. I want a BIG one.” And freeze frame on that handspan… fabulous, funny, sexy introduction. (That big, huh? Mmm.)
This intro also tells us something about George Bailey’s outer DESIRE line – he wants to do big things, build big things, everything big. In fact, the story will be about how all the LITTLE things George does in his life will add up to something more than simply big, but truly enormous.
– Mary Poppins floating down from the sky holding on to that umbrella.
– Katharine Hepburn in PHILADELPHIA STORY, throwing open the window shutters on a gorgeous day and exclaiming, “Good going, God!”
– And okay, let’s just look at HARRY POTTER, since I have it on the brain.
– Dumbledore: an elderly, medieval looking wizard regally walks down a modern street, using some flashlight-like device to kind of vacuum the lights from the streetlamps into this tool.
– MacGonegal: A cat on a porch meows at Dumbledore, then the shadow of the moving cat turns into the shadow of a witch in pointed hat, and MacGonegal walks regally into frame.
Hagrid: first appears as a glowing light in the sky, very conscious reference to Glinda’s magical appearance in the glowing bubble in THE WIZARD OF OZ (and Hagrid will be the fairy godmother to Harry). Then the Wizard of Oz reference has a humorous twist – Hagrid descends not in a shimmering bubble, but on a Harley.
But the introduction of Hagrid is more than humorous – it tells us a lot about the character. First, the debate that Dumbledore and MacGonegal have over whether Hagrid should have been trusted with the baby tells us a lot about this character we’re about to meet. And when we see Hagrid carrying the baby this hulking giant is as tender as a mother.
Harry Potter: we see him first as a baby in swaddling clothes, left on a doorstep (like every fairy tale changeling and also Moses in the bulrushes, the child who grows up to be the leader of his people), while the witch and the wizard talk about how important he’s going to be – then the scar on the baby’s forehead is match cut to the scar on 11-year old Harry’s forehead to pass time and introduce Harry again.
Again, note that this introduction of Harry tells us a lot about this character – in pure exposition and also by using the visual, archetypal references to Moses – and, let’s face it, the baby Jesus with the three kings (wizards and witch).
Olivander, the wand master: John Hurt slides into frame on a ladder, slyly glowing as only John Hurt can glow.
Nearly Headless Nick: pops his head right through the dinner table.
And a character introduction doesn’t have to be just a moment, either. As I said in another post, one of the best character introductions I’ve seen in a long time was the long build-up of Maria Lena, the Penelope Cruz character in VICKI CHRISTINA BARCELONA. With all of that anticipation and build-up, an actor is going to pull out all the stops when she finally blazes onto the screen, and Penelope totally did. That role was written to demand an Oscar-worthy performance, and she delivered.
Of course, having actors like all of the above has more than a little to do with the power of those introductions – obviously we’re talking about screen royalty here.
But those introductions were also specifically designed to be worthy of those stars.
Now, in novels, I realize that we have more time to get to know a character, and the knowledge we gain about a character is more cumulative. I think in novels the main character very often is a role that we take on ourselves, and we LIVE the character more than observe them. That's what having access to a character's internal thoughts does for us.
And obviously if a book is in first person, those first few sentences from the character to the reader are especially crucial
But I still think that the first visuals we get of a character: where she is, what the weather is like, what she's wearing, what her relationship is to her surroundings – and how her external environment gives us a picture of what's going on inside her head – are all great ways to introduce us to deep character. Just the place that she's in can be thematic.
I introduce Robin in THE HARROWING in a classroom with an unnervingly violent storm outside. She is surrounded by people but completely isolated, in her own head, and dressed all in black, and the phrases that jump out at her from the professor's lecture are ominous, even irrational. I think we get a good sense that this girl is in psychological trouble and should definitely not be left alone on campus to fend for herself, which is exactly what is about to happen.
I introduce Will in THE PRICE as alone in a freezing, silent chapel tucked away in a back corridor of a hospital. He's dressed in an expensive, power suit, but he is helpless and desperate and alone; trying to pray but completely unable to. But he also is carrying a live bunny rabbit in his suit, sneaking it into the hospital as a present for his daughter. I think – hope! all of those visuals combine to give us a layered sense of who this man is from the very beginning of the book, and make us want to find out more about him, and even maybe go on this difficult journey with him.
So that's what I'd like to talk about today. What are YOUR favorite examples of character introductions, filmic and literary? What authors have given us great character introductions, and what are they doing to achieve that effect? Authors, how do you design the introductions to your characters?
(And I hope it's as Spring for all of you today as it is for me… just GORGEOUS. Winter is definitely over. Have a great weekend!)
Promotion. It's a dirty word to many of us – a necessary evil, but an evil, nonetheless.
I was in South Carolina this past weekend at the incredibly awesome South Carolina Literary Festival, and found myself engaging in several different types of promotion, all of which are vital skills that every author attending these events need to master. Promotion is, at its heart, relationship management. In this brave new world, where social networks allow unprecedented access to authors and touring isn't as frequent, you need to maintain the relationships with your readers. A newsletter is a must, I think, as is a website with all of your relevant information. The social network sites have exploded, but they are as much of a time suck as a means to an end. I doubt we'll all ever agree on what works and what doesn't, because it's different for each writer. Do what works for you, and don't feel pressured to worry about every shiny new toy the internet produces.
Thankfully, there are still plenty of opportunities to do the face-to-face promotion (and folks, I'm not talking about the kind of promotion when you're acting like a used-car salesman for your books) I'm simply talking about being nice to your readers. Being nice goes a long way. We all have bad days, and the strain of being "on" can be overwhelming at times. But there's just no excuse be arrogant, or sit behind the signing table looking at your line and saying – "Oh, I wish I didn't have to sit here and sign all these books." (Yes, I've seen it, and it wasn't pretty. I'll never read THAT author.)
It's really such a basic thing, when you think about it. A smile and kind word can go miles toward maintaining a reader-writer relationship. Twittering and Facebooking and MySpacing and GoodReading and Blogging aside, there's nothing like meeting your readers in person. I highly recommend you do so at every feasible opportunity, even if it's just going to a conference. Go in with an open mind, don't try to cram your thoughts down everyone's throats, don't do stupid stuff, and you'll be just fine. Listening is 9/10th of the law at a conference. Follow that formula and you'll be the kind of author that gets invited to more and more events.
THE MOVEABLE FEAST
One aspect of conference promotion that I'm finding not everyone is aware of is called the Moveable Feast. At many conferences and festivals, attendees will spend good money to come to these events. I was thrilled to be one of the authors participating in the Moveable Feast on Sunday morning in South Carolina. I've done this format before, but this particular event absolutely rocked. I passed out postcards with all of my current books on them, talked about Taylor Jackson, my path to writing, all that good stuff. But what I also did was listen. These readers are there because they want to learn something unique about you, something that they can walk away and know that only they are aware of. It's a special bond, and if you work it correctly, you'll gain readers for life.
When the authors who were participating gathered to have breakfast beforehand, I was surprised to hear that several of them didn't know what the moveable feast was, nor how to approach it. The authors who did filled them in, and everyone went in somewhat prepared. But I figured if they didn't know, other authors don't either, especially newbies who've not been thrust into this format yet.
For those of you unfamiliar with the term, a moveable feast (sometimes called a round robin) places one author at a table of readers for a limited amount of time. The basic structure is usually the same – you have ten minutes to pitch yourself to the table, then you move to the next. On Sunday, I spoke to seven tables, and let me tell you, it's exhausting work.
But I always feel like this is the very best format to really meet readers. I don't like to sit down and fly into my spiel right away. I usually introduce myself, and ask them what them enjoy reading. When you're having a dialogue, instead of talking at readers, it's more fun for everyone.
You also have to be prepared to talk for the whole ten minutes. Usually these readers will pepper you with questions, and the time flies. But I've been at tables where the readers either don't like psychological thrillers, or are terribly shy, or just don't take to me. Engaging folks who don't read your kind of work can be difficult, so instead of pitching them, I try to talk about the kinds of books we can all agree on. At one of my tables this weekend, we talked almost the entire time about THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL SOCIETY. But each person at the table came and bought my book afterward, and had me sign. Again, the lesson is clear – discretion is the better part of valor. Don't force yourself on people, they don't like it. Be subtle, humble and kind, and you'll find a way to break in.
SWAG
I'm not a big fan of swag – the millions of "things" authors carry with them and give out to their readers at signings and conferences. I've seen some very clever items – William Conescu carries pencils with his name and book title on them – imminently USEFUL, which is a bonus, Erica Spindler carries hard copies of her newsletter and adorable light bulb magnets that instruct the reader to leave the light on. Alex Kava has bookmarks that have forensic terms and their definitions parading up and down – which I'm definitely stealing one day. But I do usually carry postcards – my current one, seen here, has all my available titles:
It's handy, and helps me point out titles that the booksellers might not have brought to the festival or conference. The back is blank except for a watermark of a bullet and a Glock, and can be used to jot down useful things. I use OvernightPrints.com, buy 100 at a time so I'm always running low instead of having millions of cards laying around, and generally change the card up after each book comes out. Yes, they're bigger than bookmarks, but I've had several people tell me they like them, so I keep putting them together.
Whatever you choose to have on hand, you should have something. I passed out at least 80 postcards at the festival this weekend – a number of those fine folks bought my books at the festival, but the ones who didn't have the covers and my website ready to hand, and I saw a massive spike in my numbers this week, so it must have worked.
PANELS
I adore being on panels. My first of the weekend was with three authors I've never met the lovely Karen White, Jack Riggs, and Grace Octavia. We got together at the request of our wonderful moderator Valerie 30 minutes prior to showtime, found we all had rather perverted senses of humor, went into the panel and had the audience engaged and laughing the whole time. Our moderator was excellent – she'd done her homework, had specific questions relating to our work, and was wise enough to step out of the way when we got on a roll and deviated from the plan.
My second panel was with dear friends CJ Lyons and Our Alex (note her new name – we've all gotten so possessive of you, my dear) moderated by a lurker here at Murderati (Debby – show yourself!) It was absolutely fascinating. Talk about three writers who take a very different approach to their craft. Again, the moderator was prepared, funny, and willing to let the authors take the stage. Good moderation is vital to the author's ability to give good panel. We're only as good as the directly we're being led. You'll hear it time and again: when you're moderating, the panel isn't about YOU, it's about the panel. Sadly, many, many moderators forget that, or choose to disregard, to the detriment of everyone involved.
BOOKSELLERS
This really goes without saying, but show your booksellers some love. Booksellers at festivals and conferences are putting in long hours, dealing with snafus and belligerent buyers, and generally getting kicked around. Treat them well. Make a point of introducing yourself, give them your business card. Offer to sign stock for them to take back to their stores. If they look haggard and thirsty, get them a drink. Kindness to your readers shouldn't stop at the ones who are opening their wallets.
CONFERENCE & FESTIVAL ORGANIZERS
Talk about people who are underpaid and overworked. Many of the people running these events are doing so as volunteers. Treat them with respect, thank them for their time and effort. Listen to them when they ask you to sit a specific place, follow their guidelines for how long you should sign. In general, make their lives easier by not being difficult. Did I say thank them? Oh yeah, don't forget to THANK THEM!
I'm going to go all debutante on you for a moment. WRITE A THANK YOU NOTE. This little nicety will be greatly appreciated.
So that's it, just a quick and dirty guide to some of the niceties you should endeavor to whilst conferencing. I would love to hear from our 'Rati commenters today:
Best experience at a conference or festival? Worst? Have you ever seen an author do something that endeared you immediately? Turned you off?
Wine of the Week: 2002 Hundred Acre Cabernet Sauvignon My brother had this in Vegas and it was ridiculously expensive, so it's definitely a special occasion bottle.
Several things sparked off this week's post. The first was raised by one of Dusty's excellent questions of the course of his last two 'Rati posts. He asked (and I'm paraphrasing here) if you had ever bought an author's book after visiting their website, or if you'd only visited the site after reading the book.
That got me thinking about what is an author website for, exactly? So, I went looking at a number of different sites to try and answer that question, at least in my own mind. I put my reader's hat on and went surfing. In order to do this, I went mainly (but by no means always) to sites of authors I had certainly heard of, but ones whose work I was not particularly familiar with. What I was looking for was something to really hook me into the writing, the stories, the characters. I was looking for something that would turn me from a casual browser into a fan.
And, I have to say, there are many, many wonderful websites out there. Well-designed, easy to navigate, informative. Most have extracts of the author's work so you can try out their voice, some even have audio extracts, read by the author, so you can hear the words spoken exactly as the author intended, with all the emphasis in the right places.
But one oddity struck me.
Where an author writes a mystery or thriller series with a continuing character, the character often seems to become bigger than the books. Yet there's also some assumption made that, if you've got as far as the website, you must already know a certain amount about this character. Very rarely did I find any kind of detail on a website about the kind of person the series protagonist is, other than the couple-of-word description found in the dust jacket copy. Is that enough, or do you need to know what makes him or her different from the next character?
Because, as everybody seems to accept, the characterisation is one of the main qualities that keeps readers coming back to a series. Or to an author, for that matter. But how can a potential reader glean much from a brief book-jacket-type description of who and what the main character is and does?
You see, one of the things that nudged me in the direction of this week's blog was the fact that I am at the dreadful thumb-twiddling stage of being Between Books. One is delivered to my agent, and I am awaiting her verdict with some trepidation before I plunge into undoubted rewrites. Meanwhile, of course, I have been kicking around some ideas for a new book, with a completely new main protagonist and set of characters. This does not mean that I intend to abandon Charlie Fox, by any means, but on the theory that a change is as good as a rest, I feel the need to stretch my wings a bit and try out something fresh.
And when I see my agent next week, I'm faced with the prospect of explaining, in a pithy kind of way, not only what the initial story is all about, but why I feel this new main character – and the immediate supporting cast – is worthy of consideration.
So, I not only require my elevator pitch for the story itself, but I also need a brief but grabby description of my new protagonist.
I need a character pitch.
And that's been a very interesting proposition, because it's made me re-evaluate what I say about Charlie when I'm asked the question, "So, who's your main character, then?" The pat answer is that she's a no-nonsense ex-British Army Special Forces soldier turned bodyguard. OK, so that tells me what she is, but not who. It's too easy to say, "Oh, she's like (insert appropriate well-known fictional hero or heroine here)." Charlie has been likened to female versions of both Jack Reacher and James Bond, but neither are quite a comfortable fit for her, I think.
Working out exactly who your protagonist is, and summing it up in a few catchy sentences, is a daunting task. Other people often do it so much better than the author can manage. Paul Goat Allen came up with a wonderful one for Charlie in the Chicago Tribune: "Ill-tempered, aggressive and borderline psychotic, Fox is also compassionate, introspective, and highly principled." I have to say a big thank you to him, because I use that one a lot. It tells it relatively straight. I probably wouldn't have come up with that description, but I can't argue with it and it doesn't kid potential readers what the character is all about and what to expect from her, and from the books.
But what about this new one?
We had a quick 600-mile work trip last weekend, which gave me plenty of time in the car to jot down some notes. I wrote down anything and everything that occurred to me about this new character. I now have pages of scribblings and I'll let you know if they met with approval or not – but not until after I've tried them out!
But, I will say that a snatch of a Counting Crows song, 'Round Here' kept coming to me, so I wrote that down, too:
'She knows she's more than just a little misunderstood/She has trouble acting normal when she's nervous.'
It doesn't quite fit the character, but there's a sliver there, an inkling, an idea.
So, my question is, what's your character pitch? Not just what they do, but who they are as well?
Or, how would you pitch your favourite literary character, in a couple of sentences, to a new reader who'd never come across them before?
This week's Word of the Week is harbinger. I picked this because I used to know a chap who had a boat called Harbinger and everyone pulled a face when he told them the name, and said, "That's a bit gloomy, isn't it?" because hardly anybody can hear 'harbinger' without the words 'of doom' on the end of it, but this is not the case. In obsolete language, a harbinger was a host, or someone sent ahead to provide lodging. But now it's come to mean not just a forerunner or a thing which tells of the onset of something, but also a pioneer.
It's a bit like the phrase in flagrante delicto,which is simply to be 'in the very act of committing the crime, red-handed' and does not necessarily mean 'unclothed, with someone else's spouse, in a cheap hotel room …'
Wow. 118 replies to my last post asking what is it that influences people to buy. Several people have asked me if that's some kind of record. I'm not sure, but it may very well be.
Thank you all for your responses, which were very illuminating. I won't bore you with a tabulation of all the votes, partially because a lot of your answers defied easy pigeonholing and partially because counting every vote was looking like it was going to take longer than the Minnesota recount litigation. But I did get enough data to see significant trends. Here are the trends I saw, with my answers, and some thoughts, and…whee! More questions!
1. Have you ever bought a book by an author who you'd never heard of because you saw the trailer for it on the Internet?
Your answers: the overwhelming response was "no." But Our Toni pointed out another use for trailers: to give the sales reps a quick and easy way to grasp what the book was about and, possibly, a tool with which to sell it.
My answer: I've never bought a book because of the trailer. All due respect to my friends who've done these, but most trailers bore the pants off me. I did have an interesting experience with Toni's trailer for BOBBIE FAYE'S' VERY (VERY VERY VERY) BAD DAY. It was done like a movie preview, with scenes from the book brought to life. This trailer, I'm happy to say did not bore me, but I discovered that, when I read the book, the actress Toni had playing Bobbie Faye clashed with the picture I got in my mind from the book. I quickly got over it, but was jarring at first.
2. Have you ever bought a book by an author who you'd never heard of based on their website, blog, or MyFace page? Or did you more often find the author's 'net presence AFTER you read them?
Your answers: The majority said they went to an author's website AFTER reading the author's book, to learn more about the author. But, there was a significant enough number of people who noted that they'd "met" authors on blogs and such and picked up their books as a result. It's too significant a minority, IMHO, to be safely ignored. This made me realize that I had phrased the question too narrowly by only including websites and author blogs, so there's an additional question at the end of this installment. Some people pointed out that they looked to the website to learn about upcoming books as well.
My answer: I have had people tell me they've picked up one of my books because they read my blog or encountered me on an Internet message board or on Facebook. No one's ever told me they've bought a book because of my website. I've bought several books by people who I've "met" online, but that's because of actual online interactions with them, not by passively reading the website.
3. Have you ever bought a book by an author who you'd never heard of because they were appearing in a bookstore and they caught your interest?
Again, the vast majority said "no." BUT…see below for a reason writers may not want to just stay home.
My answer: No. Never.
4. Have you ever bought a book by an author who you'd never heard of because you saw it in the store and it looked interesting? Where was it in the store?
A vast majority said "yes", and a lot of you credited prominent display of the book, either on the tables at the front or face out in the stacks.
5. If you've ever bought a book from an author who you'd never heard of for any other reason, why was that?
Here, the answers were all over the map, but there was a definite preference for personal recommendations, either by friends or by bookstore staff. Other things that influenced people were the cover, the jacket copy, and just picking the book up and reading a bit.
So, what have we learned? Well, some of the things that influence buyers we don't have any control over, but some we do. So let's talk about the things we do, and feel free to disagree with my conclusions below:
Trailers may have their uses, but they don't seem to have a lot of influence on consumer decisions. They may be handy for influencing buyers for bookstores (and any bookstore owners or managers out there, feel free to chime in).
Personal appearances of the "read and sign" variety don't seem to influence new readers to buy books. However, since staff recommendations do seem to have an effect, a writer's time might be better spent on stock signings, including so-called "drive-bys", where the writer drops in, sign copies so they can slap those "autographed Copy" stickers on, and most importantly get to know the bookseller.This last part is actually fun, because let's face it, booksellers are people with whom writers should have a natural affinity.
In addition, as I think I've mentioned before, Stacey Cochran once set up an interesting series of events with me and Our Alex that were less reading/signings and more educational events on publishing and getting published. And they packed the house. And we sold some books.
A traditional website may not sell huge numbers of first time readers on you, but they can be good for selling your other books to the same readers. As Toni Kelner put it: "the biggest thing [a website] does is to take a reader and turn her into a Fan. "
Now you'll notice I said "traditional" websites and blogs, by which I mean the Web 1.0, I-talk-you-listen, "here's what I've written, here's where I'll be" style website. But, as I noted above, my original question didn't take into account more interactive web experiences, such as newsgroups like rec.arts.mystery, listservs such as DorothyL or 4MA, author website forums like Le
e Child's, or social networks like Facebook or MySpace.
So, new questions:
1. Even if you're not persuaded to buy by an author's traditional website, does it make a difference if you've "met" them online, as in actually had some interaction with them?
2. What are your favorite sites, if any, at which to do meet n' greet authors?
3. What are your favorite sites, if any. to get recommendations?
4. Have you ever done one of the those "live chat" thingies with an author you've never read before and did it make you go "Hmmm, I'd like to buy that book?"
5. Twitter: brave new marketing tool or complete waste of freakin' time?
6. Isn't JD just fishing for excuses to waste more time hanging out on the Internet?
It went about as well as those kind of things can go. In his eulogy, the priest said that he had another funeral to do in two hours, and that one was for a three-month-old baby so how bad could we feel about burying a 93-year old?
Pretty bad, I could have told him.
Holy Hope Cemetery is one of Tucson’s oldest, first populated back before Arizona was a State or a Territory. Before the Gadsden Purchase and during the time Tucson was part of Mexico. That probably doesn’t sound very old to my European or East Coast friends, but by Arizona standards, it’s Paleolithic.
When I was growing up, we’d go visit the family graves once a year on Memorial Day. I never saw a Memorial Day that was cooler than 110 degrees. We’d cut bunches of oleander – the only flowering plant we had – and stuff the stems into Sanborn coffee can/vases. A bucket of water would be braced between a child’s legs to keep it steady in the car.
There were no trees or grass at Holy Hope in those days so the marble angels and squared off grave markers sat flat on hard-packed desert dirt. We’d kneel as long as we could on the stone curbs that marked our area, bony knees burning and arms itching from our poisonous floral offerings. Our family names were at first the more foreign sounding Slaviero or Cosamini. Later family deaths had more American sounding names. Counter. Sellers. Ure.
There’s grass there now, but not the picture perfect kind you’d hope for in a cemetery named Hope. Stubbly, yellow brown and choked with stickers and small stones for moral support.
It was ninety degrees when we buried her. Better than my remembered Memorial Days, and she always did love the heat. They’d laid out a swatch of bright green Astroturf where the casket was and set up a small white tent and two rows of folding chairs. The rest of the attendees stood in the sun. But the tent wasn’t big enough to offer any shade and the Astroturf looked like a cheap toupee purchased long ago for a man who now has gray hair.
My 94-year old aunt sat alone in the first row, saying goodbye to her little sister and last original family member. I sat behind her so that I could wrap my arms around her. I didn’t want to tell her that they’d set up the chairs and the Astroturf so that my feet were resting on my father’s grave and I was sitting on my brother’s.
Never willing to recognize her own native insights and intelligence, my mother often told us, “It’s a good thing you got your father’s brains.” We always disagreed. Finally, fifteen years ago I sent her a list called “Things I learned from my mother (because she is so smart).”
I read part of that list as I stood behind the casket.
“Things I learned from my mother (because she is so smart).”
1. Whistle. My mother had a whistle that could carry harmony in a song or mimic a bird or call children from three blocks away. And I learned that, to a child, a Mother’s whistle is the loudest sound in the world.
2. Happiness is having everything you want. And you can have everything you want, if you don’t want anything you can’t have.
3. Don’t sweat the small stuff. You’re only as big as the things you let bother you, and letting something bother gives someone else control over you.
4. Turn the utensils around in your kitchen drawer so that you can see what they are. Handles all look alike.
5. It is possible to love all your children and grandchildren equally. There are no favorites when it’s unconditional love.
6. Save a little every week. You’ll be surprised at how quickly it adds up. And having a passbook at a bank is more fun than using an ATM.
7. Appreciate other cultures. Speak Spanish with the right pronunciation. It is a part of our heritage not to be forgotten.
8. Write it down. If it’s not on a list it won’t happen.
9. Love words. Not just the crossword puzzle kind but all those that make the mouth sizzle and shiver. Appreciate where they came from and the joy of how they sound.
10. Assume the best of everyone. You’ll be disappointed less than half the time.
Native Americans from Arizona (the Hopis? the Papagos?) believe that the arrival of a hummingbird signals a departed soul returning to say goodbye. On the day I left, a small hummingbird hovered at eye level near a mesquite tree to my left. I swear it had a shock of white feathers just at the crown of its head.
Rest in peace, Little Bird. You taught us well.
Jeanne Ure 1916-2009
Thank you all for such kind words two weeks ago when JT offered to share my sad news on her blog day. It means a great deal to me.
Today we think happier thoughts. Tell me, my ‘Rati friends, what’s the thing you’re most proud of your mother teaching you?
When I was a little kid, I used to wonder if I was missing some essential vitamin or mineral, compared to everyone else I knew. I come from a long line of bubbly, enthusiastic women, on my mother's side–a matriarchy of outgoing charmers with mad skills for generating effortlessly effervescent small talk at cocktail parties.
By comparison, I was an achingly serious child, with an affect flatter than the chest of a pre-teen Judy Blume protagonist. Besides which, gothic things that got stuck in my head for days never seemed to faze anyone else in my vicinity.
When my most odious stepfather announced over dinner one night that the world was going to be fried to a crisp by solar radiation within ten years because fluorocarbons in aerosol-spray propellants were destroying the ozone layer, nobody else at the table seemed to mind all that much.
I, meanwhile, spent the next three days silently dispensing an interior monologue of Goodnight-Moon-style farewells to every person and object I saw ("Alas, loyal toaster oven, you've served us well… Take care, o most ill-behaved rental horse we ride in Pony Club, for soon your poignant bones will lie bleached on the sun-charred loam that was once the polo field… Adieu, watermelon Jolly Ranchers, my favorite candy, and may all who make you possible fly on to the afterlife with my heartfelt gratitude… Ciao, sixth-grade cheerleading bitches–bet you won't be such nasty hags to everyone on the field-trip schoolbus just because you have five pairs of Dittos each when you're DEAD…)
In short, I was a child suffering from depression, and I have little doubt that this has something to do with my early bent for writing–not least since the first time I ever used up-and-down binder paper instead of the pulpy beige landscape stuff with room for a picture on top was to pen an impassioned essay decrying the government's hideously unfair treatment of Angela Davis and the Christmas carpet-bombing of Hanoi. In second grade. (noir much?)
Oddly enough, though I was urged to see a number of therapists over the years (the on-campus counselors in boarding school, and college, and finally at the institution where I taught high school history and English), none of these clinicians ever mentioned depression.
I spent a couple of decades wondering whether I just lacked the willpower to manufacture an appropriate level of good cheer, or maybe had iron-poor blood. I spent a lot of time thinking I should be as chipper as people in Geritol commercials, or smiling as hard as contestants in the Miss America pageant (not yet knowing they smeared their teeth with Vaseline so their lips didn't get stuck, etc.)
I remember a week during which I popped two chewable Flintstone multis a day, wondering if it would help. In eighth grade, I discovered caffeine pills, which seemed to produce a little more of the enthusiasm I was after for a week or so–until the vice principal busted me for the bottle of Vivarin in my locker, since Heather Douglas narked on me because she'd seen the V's on the tablets and assumed I was popping Valium. (I suppose I should be grateful that Viagra had yet to be invented.)
It wasn't until December of my twenty-sixth year that anyone brought up the D word. I was in my weekly faculty group-therapy session at the crazy school, and our regular shrink had been out sick for a while so the head guy stepped in to cover for her. The school was a horrible place (see my second novel), so I took my seat on the office sofa between the two fellow teachers I shared the hour with in a morose frame of mind, and shortly burst into tears once it was my turn to talk about how everything was going.
The Big Shrink looked at me for a minute and said, "do you usually feel like this?"
I told him I did.
He asked, "for how long?"
I said since I was about seven years old.
He said, "you're clinically depressed. They have a great new medication for that."
I said, "No shit… What's it called?"
He said, "Prozac."
I handed in my resignation a week later and found a shrink willing to prescribe me some.
Hosanna.
About a month in, I named my little buttercream-and-celadon capsules "Vitamin P," at long last having found the elusive ingredient I'd hankered after for all those years beforehand.
That was in the Fall of 1989. I've pretty much taken prescription Selective Serotonin Re-Uptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) ever since–the class of drugs which includes Prozac, Celexa, and Paxil, among others.
I'm pretty up front about it. Mostly because it would've been damn helpful to me if someone had mentioned depression and the potential medications for it to me years earlier, so I'd like to do my bit to share how it's been for me.
I also tell people about it because I think there are a number of really idiotic medication fallacies floating around, which can keep people suffering from depression from giving these things a try. I don't mean to say that they're perfect for everyone, or that we should spike the nation's drinking water with Eli Lilly products or anything, but since depression can fucking kill you, the bullshit pop-"science" myths about medications that can help alleviate it in a great number of affected people really piss me off.
Myth # 1: Prozac will tranquilize you into becoming a cheerful fascist zombie, so just say no to Big Pharma and fight the power, man!
Here's the deal… Prozac does NOT make you feel like this:
Or make you love everything cute and cuddly and vapid:
And you will not take one pill and wake up oblivious in Stepford, wearing a frilly plaid apron:
Though it may help you stop feeling like this:
It's not a happy pill, and it's not a tranquilizer–or methadone or valium or thorazine. It's a drug that is helpful to people who have low levels of a specific neurotransmiter in their brain chemistry. If you're prone to depression, it won't make you perfect, but it might well provide a bit of a floor to the depths of abyss you find yourself sinking into.
Myth # 2: Depression is for wimps, so you should just pull yourself up by your bootstraps and stop whining, because life is pain, princess, and medication is the coward's way out.
People with broken arms often benefit from wearing a cast for a few weeks. People with Type I Diabetes have pancreases that don't produce enough insulin. Most people with depression have brains that aren't making enough serotonin. Why is seeking treatment for the third option the only one of these seen as a moral failing? That's just fucking stupid.
Meanwhile, here's a bullshit depiction of what Prozac does:
(hint: it is an anti-DEPRESSANT, not an anti-PSYCHOTIC. It has no magic powers that will make invisible car passengers disappear. Sorry.)
It also doesn't act like this, in regards to one's neurochemical balance:
It's not like you'll try the stuff and suddenly never feel sadness or any other emotion again, it's more like you can experience sadness without feeling like you want to lie on your sofa for a year with the shades drawn, doing shots of codeine cough syrup with potato-chip crumbs ground into the front of your ex-boyfriend's college sweatshirt, hacking up the detritus of three packs of Camel non-filters a day. (Your mileage may vary. That's just what it feels like to me, curled up in a fetal position down here under the bed with the dust rhinos.)
Here's the best visual depiction I've ever seen of what the stuff does:
It's still you, you just have the option of stepping back ONTO the cliff, and possibly not dying while you try to make up your mind whether or not that would be a good idea.
Myth # 3: Dude, drugs like Prozac aren't "natural"–your body is a temple and nothing should go into it but herbs and tofu.
News flash: St. John's Wort doesn't work for shit. And even if it (or Vitamin B-12 shots or CoQ-whatever or beet-juice-and-fairy-dust) were effective against depression, chances are good it would be because it had a similar chemical effect on the brain.
Just because something costs forty bucks a bottle and has a picture of alpen meadows on the label down at the granola store doesn't mean it's morally superior to the stuff you need a 'scrip for, mkay? And hey, if yoga and valerian-root work for you, awesome. They don't do bupkes for me.
Plus which, opium is "natural" too–ask the Taliban. Doesn't mean the shit is good for you.
(And why is it the last three people who told me I shouldn't "take drugs" had just finished doing bonghits?)
Myth #4: Depression doesn't cause writing, writing causes depression.
If you Google "writing and depression," you'll find an awful lot of pronouncements like the following:
Yes, writers do suffer from depression at a higher rate than the
rest of the population…. In
fact, if you wanted to make a cheery person with no predisposition to
depression depressed, you could stick him in front of a typewriter or
computer for hours a day–feed him a typical writer's diet–forbid him
to exercise, isolate him from friends, and convince him that his
personal worth depended on his "numbers." Make him live the writer's
life, in other words, and watch him sag.
(This was Nancy Etchemendy's* synopsis of
an apparently widely held opinion, though not her thesis in the
remainder of the essay.)
And, yes, the writing life can do an awful
lot to prolong or deepen depression. Hell, it's scary, right? You have
no idea whether you're God or wormshit, most days. Plus all that other
stuff.
Still, I don't think this is a chicken-or-the-egg thing.
It sure wasn't in my case. The depression showed up way before I was even vaguely literate. (Again, your mileage may vary.)
When you get right down to it, does it matter which came first? It still sucks.
Myth # 5: Taking happy pills will destroy your creativity–all great art is born of suffering. The real problem is bourgeois society demanding that those touched by the muse be chipper automatons, instead of according their divine angst the worship it so richly deserves.
This is the biggie, but it's a little more nuanced. Look, there is definitely a connection between depression and creativity… here are some of the stats I referenced in my ADD post, a couple of weeks ago:
Kay Jamison, a professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University and
the author of "Touched With Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the
Artistic Temperament," said writers were 10 to 20 times as likely as
other people to suffer manic-depressive or depressive illnesses, which
lead to suicide more often than any other mental disorders do…. —NY Times
Almost everyone becomes clinically depressed at least once. Over half
the general population will experience two or more episodes of serious
depression during a lifetime. Statistics gathered in a recent article
in Scientific American indicate that the incidence of clinical
depression among writers and artists may be as much as ten times
greater than that among the general population. The incidence of
suicide is as much as eighteen times greater. —Blogger Nancy Etchemendy*
There is at least one piece of research which demonstrates that some
(British) writers have a higher than average chance of being mentally
ill. The research was carried out by Kay Jamison, Professor of
Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine. Her study
showed that 38% of a group of eminent British writers and artists had
been treated for a mood disorder of one kind or another; of these, 75%
had had antidepressants or lithium prescribed, or had been
hospitalised. Of playwrights, 63% had been treated for depression.
These proportions are, as you will have guessed, are many times higher
than in the population at large.–Blogger Grumpy Old Bookman
Female writers were
more likely than members of the comparison group to suffer not only
from mood disorders but from drug abuse, panic attacks, general
anxiety, and eating disorders as well. The rates of multiple mental
disorders were also higher among writers…. The cumulative psychopathology scores of subjects… represented significant predictors of their overall
creativity. CONCLUSIONS: The high rates of certain emotional disorders
in female writers suggested a direct relationship between creativity
and psychopathology. But the relationship was not necessarily a simple
one. —Study by the University of Kentucky Medical Center, Lexington, psychiatry department
[If you're like me, you tend not to have episodes of depression, but a constant low-grade version {with occasional flareups that send you under the sofa with a bottle of dark rum and the dust rhinos} This is called dysthmia. Here's the wiki-synopsis:
The symptoms of dysthymia are similar to those of major depression, though they tend to be less intense. In both conditions, a person can have a low or irritable mood, lack of interest in things most people find enjoyable, and a loss of energy (not all patients feel this effect). Appetite and weight can be increased or decreased. The person may suffer from insomnia or excessive sleeping. He or she may have difficulty concentrating. The person may be indecisive and pessimistic and have a negative self-image. The symptoms can grow into a full blown episode of major depression. This situation is sometimes called "double depression"[2] because the intense episode exists with the usual feelings of low mood. People with dysthymia have a greater-than-average chance of developing major depression. While major depression often occurs in episodes, dysthymia is more constant, lasting for long periods, sometimes beginning in childhood. As a result a person with dysthymia tends to believe that depression is a part of his or her character. The person with dysthymia may not even think to talk about this depression with doctors, family members or friends. Dysthymia, like major depression, tends to run in families. It is two to three times more common in women than in men. Some sufferers describe being under chronic stress. When treating diagnosed individuals, it is often difficult to tell whether they are under unusually high environmental stress or if the dysthymia causes them to be more psychologically stressed in a standard environment]
So, if you treat the depression, will you automatically be less creative?
I can only tell you how it's worked for me, and my answer is yes and no. I started taking Prozac in early 1990, and continued doing so until I decided to have kids, in early 1993. I started up again when we moved from Manhattan to Boulder, Colorado, in January of 1995, and took it until my husband and I both lost our jobs and health insurance in mid-2001. Prior to to 1990, I wrote a lot of unpublished fiction, and a memoir that ran to several hundred pages (that I never finished.)
I gave up on the memoir in 1990. With one exception (an evening creative writing class I took at UC Boulder for a semester), I didn't write any fiction again until the summer of 2001.
This is not to say I didn't write. I worked as the restaurant and art critic for The Boulder Weekly for a year, before my husband's work took us to Cambridge, Massachusetts. For the next four years, I wrote for a developmental disabilities newsletter as a volunteer, and posted 100-odd product reviews at Epinions.com. It's just that fiction kind of faded out as a compulsion for me. I didn't think up phrases for stories that drove me to turn on the computer in the middle of the night anymore (though the advent of twins probably also had something to do with that).
When we moved to Berkeley in 2000, I scored a gig as a writer and editor at a child-development dotcom. When we were all laid off and I lost my health insurance, I stopped taking Prozac. Three months later, I ran across an ad for a mystery writing group on craigslist, joined it, and started my first published novel. I worked on it for two years, unmedicated, before my husband got a job with health benefits again. I finished it on Celexa, another SSRI.
I'm here to tell you that there's a definite connection between the abyss and the urge to create. The trouble is, the abyss can just as easily suck your artistic will bone-dry as enhance it–it's merely a matter of degree.
Speaking
from experience (several bouts of clinical depression), I can guarantee
that depression beyond the very mildest level (which makes you just
miserable enough to stay home and finish the book rather than go out
and have fun) destroys creativity–and that treating depression
enhances it. Why? Well, depression doesn't just make you miserable.
When you're depressed, you have no energy–and writing books takes hard
work, which takes energy. When you're depressed, you find it hard to
start new things (like books, chapters, the day's work), and hard to
make decisions (like which book, or which character, or even which way
Albert will turn when he leaves the throne room…) When you're
depressed, everything seems futile–you are sure the book will be lousy
even if you do write it. When you're depressed, you have less courage,
less resilience, less ability to handle ordinary stressors. So…you
can't summon the energy or the courage to write…every little comment
throws you back into your misery…and the next thing you know you're
in the midst of a full-fledged writer's block.
To put it another way, would Van Gogh have been a great painter if he weren't shithouse-rat crazy?
Well, guess what–we can't know. Maybe he would've been a really mediocre stockbroker, instead. Or maybe he would've produced an extensive oeuvre of dogs playing poker. Had he been treated, however, it's a good bet he would've LIVED quite a bit longer.
Would Prozac have helped Hemingway, Plath, or Virginia Woolf produce more great art? Well, it's hard to produce ANYTHING if you're dead, so I'd give that a qualified yes.
All I know for sure is that I probably STARTED A Field of Darkness because I was off my meds and my life and marriage and financial prospects sucked hugely, but I FINISHED it and had the mojo to attend conferences and go after getting an agent and a publisher because I was back *on* the stuff.
And hey, if I hadn't lost my job, I'd probably still be a very smugly complacent $40-an-hour editor at escore.com, too, instead of prospecting for loose change in my sofa so I could attend Bouchercon and LCC every year. Granted, I miss being able to afford the '84 Porsche I scored in my dotcom blaze of financial glory–not to mention the sushi and non-second-hand clothing–but I wouldn't trade having two novels out in the world for that, you know?
And then there's the whole thing with self-medication, which I think is the basis for the incredibly high rates of alcoholism among writers.
(William Styron was hospitalized for depression shortly after he had to give up his evening cocktails, due to an unrelated medical condition. He'd never suffered from the "black dog" before. Coincidence? I think not.)
I tried the alcohol route myself, in college, along with a variety of other distractions. There are probably a great number of my Sarah Lawrence classmates who imagine that I died under a park bench somewhere, of either acute beer poisoning or syphillis or both. Enough said.
The Down-Side(s) of SSRIs
Like any drug, these things have side effects (these can of course strike in different guises, and affect people in different ways Some of the major ones to look out for are sexual dysfunction (often lack of interest in women, occasionally priapism in men–the same stuff they warn you to go to the ER for after four hours of non-stop Viagra effect).
There's an increased risk of suicide for teenagers and people in their early twenties, on SSRI's. EVERYONE should pay attention to whether or not they feel more depressed or anxious on these drugs, especially during the first month or so.
If you're bi-polar, rather than depressed, SSRI's hugely increase your chance of having a manic episode. A friend of mine who didn't realize she was manic-depressive ended up in McLean's hospital outside Boston for a month, after taking Prozac. Another had to do a 72-hour involuntary stint at a mental hospital here in California. If anyone in your family has bi-polar disorder, please have a thorough workup done by someone who knows what they're doing before trying this class of drugs.
(Even if you don't have relatives suffering from that disorder, it's a good idea to consult with a reputable psychiatrist or psychopharmacologist about getting a prescription for any anti-depressants, rather than your family doctor. Yes, a lot of people take them, and yes, they're generally very safe, but that doesn't mean they can't really mess with you under certain circumstances a GP might not be familiar with.)
Also, different people respond differently to each of the drugs within this class.In some cases, you may have to try more than one to find one that works the best for you. (If someone who's a close relative is taking a specific SSRI and has had a good response to it, that might be the first one to try.)
* * *
At the end of the day, if you've tried scrubbing, soaking (those dirty rings!) and still feel like crap and are having trouble getting off the sofa, medication might be something you want to try. If you have hardcore depression–especially ANY thoughts of suicide, it's something you definitely should try. (Here are some more good resources for depression of that severity–whether it's yours or someone you know's.)
On a far more serious note, I am one degree of separation from three people who took their own lives last week, and these are perilous times for people with a tendency toward depression. Depression can kill you, or those that matter to you. Let's all take it seriously, okay? Not with judgments, not with discouragement or dismissive attitudes or half-assed advice.
Let's just look out for each other, the best we can, all right?
Since I'd like to end this on a positive note, here's a link to what is officially my new favorite meal: Sherry Miller's recipe for…
It happens to me every couple of weeks or so, especially when things are really flowing. And things have been REALLY flowing for the last month. In big part that’s due to this new place (new to me) that I’ve found to work it. Instead of feeling done after writing for four hours, I how can stretch it out to six or seven or sometimes even eight, getting so much more done per sitting than I ever considered before.
Which is great, but…
…then comes that day when things…jusst…slooooow….dowwwwwwwwwn.
All of a sudden I’m just not feeling it. The plot points I need to keep straight in my mind get all jumbled together. Characters voices become muffled sounds in my ears. And the keyboard of my laptop feels like a torture device as the tips of my fingers struggle to find the right keys.
That’s when I think I need a day off. And today is one of those days.
Actually I’ve felt it coming on for about a week, but I’ve been ignoring it. Unfortunately, it has refused to go away.
But, see, I’m loathed to give in and take that day off.
Here’s the deal: I make this schedule in my mind…so many pages per day means I should hit page A by date B, and page C by date D, which then means I should have a finished draft by date E. I can get hung up on that. I can end up seeing that as the path I MUST travel, with no deviation being tolerated. Even as I think this I know it’s stupid. I’ve never been able to stay completely to schedule, and yet I always finish. Still I when I begin to feel that need-for-a-day-off feeling, the organized part of my mind shouts, “ NO! You can’t do that! The schedule. Just look at the schedule. If you take a day off, that means you’ll push the end date back. REMEMBER??? You made a promise to yourself not to push that back. I don’t mean to be a pain here or anything, but nose to the grindstone, buddy!”
This voice makes sense to me. I mean I really want to get this book done by the end of March. It’s actually ahead of my deadline, but I have other things I need/want to work on and the year is only so long. And then there’s the next Quinn book, Quinn #5…its plot is starting to boil in my mind. I feel the need to at least get that started soon so I can channel that energy. And if I’m completely honest with you, I’d actually like to get it as close to finished as possible before the end of the year, too!
So, yes, maybe I shouldn’t take a day off. Maybe I should just push through. Surely this feeling will pass. All my instincts will kick in. I’ll remember the plot points, I’ll hear my characters again, I’ll feel excited, I’ll…I’ll…
….eh…I’ll be kidding myself.
“If you don’t take a day off now, you’ll end up taking multiple days off in a week or two. You’ll actually lose more time.”
That’s the other voice in my head. The voice of reason.
At least I want to think of it as the voice of reason, because what it’s saying is true. (More true, that is, than what that other voice was saying.) I’ve seen it happen to me before. A day off now hurts a lot less than three days off later.
My point is sometimes we just need to recharge our brains. When that happens we can’t worry about schedules or desires or deadlines, because without that recharge we’re doing our stories a disservice.
Now don’t go around saying I gave you permission to not write. That’s not what I’m saying. In fact, I don’t have the power to give you permission about anything. My God, if I had that power, I’d raise and army and take over some small country. Preferably an island nation. In the Pacific….near the equator. With lots of beautiful, single––
Wait, I digress. What I am saying is you have to know yourself. Don’t let…eh…“you” get away with anything, but know yourself enough to realize when you might need to recharge. Honor that. Sometimes that’s as important as writing and creating. What you must not do is stretch this little recharge into an unplanned writing vacation. That is not acceptable.
Take that day off, then it’s back to AIS (ass in chair).
So that’s what I’m going to do. Take a day off. But maybe I’ll wait until next week…no, no, today! Wait, maybe tomorrow…crap. I’ll figure it out.
So, do you give yourself time to recharge? If so, what are your favorite ways to achieve this?
And, come on folks. I’m getting a little embarrassed here being the guy who gets the fewest comments. At least Rob’s post yesterday was crappy (though humorous), so we should at least be able to beat his comment total, right? Help a fellow writer out.
And be sure to wish our own Pari a HAPPY BIRTHDAY today!
Music (for no apparent reason) ARE YOU GOING TO GO MY WAY by LENNY KRAVITZ
