I’m sure by now that you’ve all heard the story of the “wovel” on NPR. (If not, you can read about it here.) The wovel is a web novel, a deceptively simple idea of serializing a novel on the web. This one has a twist that will surely create a horde of wovelites–at the end of each installment, the reader gets to vote on what happens next in the story. Victoria Blake, former editor of Dark Horse Comics, started this upstart of a publishing venture, actually posting not just a free serialized novel in which readers can direct the turn of events, but also posting other FREE writing. Yes, go to Underland and see for yourself. The wovel, Firstworld, is being written by Jemiah Jefferson, the author of a series of vampire novels including Wounds and Fiend. No, she is not a widely published author (like Stephenie Meyer, for example), but I think we should keep our eye on her. And drink up all the free prose available at Underland. Some might scoff at the idea of giving away art for free, but what better way to attract an audience?
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I recently created a profile on Facebook, at first to follow the lives of the younger members of my families. But I’ve since gone Facebook crazy with adding apps, including trying to add my blog posts. Although this old gal has a bit of a learning curve with Facebook, it is insanely easy to set up compared to MySpace and much more fun. But, you may ask, is there any value in Facebook for the aspiring writer? Jump over to Wicked Wordsmith for a great post on “Using Facebook to Your Advantage.” Blogger Angela Wilson interviews Mari Smith on the pros and cons of using Facebook as a marketing tool. It’s a great interview with lots of tips and insights for tyros like me and, maybe, you too!
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The Writer has a (too) brief interview with Kristin Landon, sci-fi author, in its January 2009 issue. This advice from Landon is something that has taken me years to learn and yet I still make the mistake. So here is it as (one of) my New Year’s Resolution:
“Wedging yourself into a genre because it sells is the road to mediocrity; so if your heart isn’t in it, don’t write it. Find the issues that spark your passion and build your story around them. If this is really what you want–if you’re telling your stories–then you’ve got a chance.”
Happy New Year, everyone!
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James Gleick has an intriguing essay in this Sunday’s NY Times, How to Publish Without Perishing. Although I’m an aspiring author, I’ve always thought that Google’s efforts to make millions of books available online was a great thing. Yes, copyright should be protected (published authors, please note: if I can read excerpts of your book in a bookstore, why can’t I also do it online?). What gets me excited about having access to so many books is: (1) the ability to search and find information much faster than I can thumbing through indexes; and (2) the opportunity to read those books currently out of print (which also makes me wish there were more “print on demand”-type books so I wouldn’t have to succumb to slogging through Amazon’s penny pile to find a beat-up copy of what I want.) And technology (i.e., reading online) will never take the place of the book that we’ve known and loved since Gutenberg. Computers are not designed for close reading, which is probably the real reason most web-based content is short, easily consumed in less than a minute. Ebook devices such as the Kindle or the now-defunct Gemstar (one of which I still own) are great if you’re on a long trip and want to have your library with you. I haven’t tried the Kindle as yet, but I’ve done quite a bit of reading on my old Gemstar (Jarhead, no less). But when I’m home, with the luxury of curling up on my couch for a quiet evening, there’s nothing better than a book, preferably, hard cover.
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I subscribe to a few literary agent blogs: Nathan Bransford-Literary Agent, Bookends, LLC–A Literary Agency, and Lyons Literary LLC. I’m sure there’s plenty more out there, but these suffice for my limited perusing time. The great part of these blogs is that they are interactive: that is, their posts encourage lively discussion, and they sometimes offer free critiques which they then post as part of their blog. They are educational, which is their greatest appeal to me. Although I’m not yet peddling a novel, it’s never too early to learn about agents, that crucial link between you and publication.
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Sunday’s NY Times Book Review section has a great essay by Terrence Rafferty called Shelley’s Daughters. Rafferty remarks on the irony that the “mother” of the horror novel gave birth to more sons than daughters, e.g., Poe, King, Lovecraft. And the few daughters she may claim did not always write prolifically in the genre of horror (Rafferty mentions Shirley Jackson and Charlotte Perkins Gilman to support this observation). The best part of his essay, of course, is the brief reviews he gives of contemporary women writers of horror. Don’t, however, expect to find reviews of the popular vampire novels by Laurell K. Hamilton and Stephenie Meyer: Rafferty notes that their novels “don’t appear to be concerned, as true horror, should be, with actually frightening the reader.” Rather, he comments on novels by Sara Gran, Alexandra Sokoloff, Sarah Langan, and Elizabeth Hand; writers new to me, but whose work I look forward to reading (especially, Langan whose novel The Keeper I just ordered).
Frankly, I would love to write ** good ** horror. I tried my hand at it in last year’s National Novel Writing Month and, most recently, in a short story that has been revised multiple times. But writing horror is much more difficult than I thought it would be. Anyone can write gory scenes of zombies eating humans or ghosts wielding axes and chopping off body parts; but to instill cold prickly fear in the reader requires skill and precision. I grew up addicted to horror films, mostly from Great Britain but pre-Hammer Film Productions, and the ones that always scared me the most were those that were heavy on suspense: What’s behind the door? Is the monster there? Should our hero open it? What’s behind the door?
Writing horror down is not for the feint of heart.
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If I had known that I would never see Max again, I would have taken his picture so I could share him with all of you. I’d want you all to see his tiny green eyes staring up at me from the folds of the cloth bag that he nestled in. I gazed down at his eyes every time I stopped for a red light as I drove us from J. Lewis Hall Park in Woodville to the Northwood Animal Hospital in Tallahassee.
I had first met Max only 15 minutes earlier: a small ball of gray fur that fit easily into my husband’s hand. My husband had been biking when he saw the frightened kitten on the St. Marks Trail. When he saw that the kitten had a wound, we decided to take him to Northwood.
At the hospital we were told that the kitten was a Manx—he was born without a tail—but there was a wound on his bottom, a wound that was infested with maggots. My husband and I agreed to take full financial responsibility for the kitten so he would have a chance at survival.
We went to dinner and talked excitedly about making a home for … Max. Within minutes of leaving him at the hospital, we had named him. Max the Manx. We talked about how we could safely and slowly introduce him to our three geriatric cats. All of them had been strays at one time; Max would be in good company. We ignored the obvious—the maggots and the “septic tank” smell that had emanated from Max.
So we weren’t prepared for the call from the Northwood Animal Hospital. We weren’t prepared to hear that Max had been euthanized because his condition was too far gone. Max had not only been born without a tail, but also without a rectum, a condition called “Manx Syndrome.” His bladder was hard as a rock, and his feces were backed up into his abdomen. He was in pain, and there was nothing else the veterinarians could have done for him.
Worse than my sense of loss was the realization that someone had purposely left Max to suffer and die. His death might have been inevitable, but his suffering wasn’t. He could have been dropped off at any emergency animal hospital.
Our only comfort now, when we think of Max, is that at least for the last few hours of his life, he was in the hands of people who cared about him. I only wish he had started life that way.
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So, how many of you have read The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga? Mr. Adiga’s novel is a headspinner for those who have always thought of India as a sacred, spiritual mecca, blessedly innocent of the worst of human kind. For the White Tiger (aka Balram, the main character), there are two Indias: one of light, and one of darkness, and the Mother Ganga flows through the India of darkness. The novel is the story of Balram’s journey from the poor abused son of a rickshaw puller to a wealthy man of tomorrow, an entrepreneur in Bangalore. The political corruption and mafia-style business dealings that Balram observes along the way are nothing new to any American who stays abreast of US news, except that this is all taking place in India, the land of Ghandi. And the corruption is so blatant, so “business as usual,” that one cannot be too surprised at the lengths to which Balram goes to secure his freedom.
Balram tells his story through letters to a Chinese dignitary, who he heard is planning to visit Bangalore. A novel of letters is not a new technique, but it takes considerable skill to pull off well. And Adiga does pull it off. He has created a story so riveting that I could barely stop reading long enough to sleep or to drive myself to work. And he created a character in Balram that I couldn’t help but want only the best for, even while he was commiting the worst of crimes. He is undereducated but astute enough to take the insult of being called “half-baked” and turn into a lofty title, thus his “autobiography of a half-baked Indian,” thus his story.
I hope Adiga wins the Booker Prize. The White Tiger is one of the most exciting stories I’ve read in a long, long time.
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Last Sunday’s New York Times has a great article by David Gessner about writing and teaching and survival as a writer in the academy. Read the entire article here. Gessner writes eloquently about the sense of captivity that some writers may feel, compelled as they are to work for a steady paycheck but losing valuable writing (and reading) time in the process. Not to mention being stuck having to read endless essays by naive but earnest students. He offers the example of prize-winning author, Wallace Stegner, as a kind of a balm: yes, you can do both and do both well, even if your heart isn’t in teaching. Stegner, apparently, embraced his retirement from teaching as the time to open the floodgates of his creativity. On the flip side, some of Gessner’s follow writers/teachers admit that they need the structure of teaching (or any day job probably) to keep from having too much time:
“I have two writer friends, successful novelists who could afford not to teach, who insist that rather than detract from their writing, their lives as professors are what allow them to write, and that given more free time, they would crumble. The job provides a safety net above the abyss of facing the difficulty of creating every day, making an irrational thing feel more ration.”
That resonates with me. I have a day job, a rather mentally consuming day job (not teaching), that forces me to structure my time, to keep a schedule, so that I have to write only when I can grab the time. I don’t have my days yawning before me, empty of everything but writing. That would scare me as much it would scare Gessner’s friends. I would have to at least do some laundry, something rational. Because as Gessner notes, “the creation of literature requires a degree of monomania, and that it is, at least in part, an irrational enterprise.”
For me, then, the “balance” is not so much balancing my job with my writing as much as balancing the rational with the irrational. For someone from a working-class background (and an area of chronic low employment), this makes a lot of sense.
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Well, I wasted no time in trying out this Firefox add-on recommended by BJ Keltz. Very easy to install and set-up. Apparently, I can post entries to other blogs I might have, and Scribefire also provides a list of my entries and categories. I can tag, too, and have my post bookmarked for del.icio.us. So far, I am happy.
Marie at 1 Write Way 