... I appear to be failing as a blogger. Most recent post was in November? Pitiful. So much for that particular New Year's resolution.
The best blogger I know is Betsy Lerner. Every day, five days a week, she posts something that will make you laugh or frown or smile or cringe. She's not always (make that, rarely) politically correct and she often uses languages or describes situations that make the repressed altar boy in me trip over my cassock. But she never fails to entertain or force you to think. Kind of what I should be trying to do with this blasted site.
So check her blog out here. Today's post is especially good for writers afflicted with beautiful-writing-ho-hum plot syndrome. And if you love to write (or hate to write but must write), get her book, The Forest for the Trees.
(Unnecessary Disclaimer: Betsy Lerner is not my agent. I do not know her. There is no financial remuneration involved in this post. I happily acknowledge, however, that I sent her my first-ever fan letter to an author about nine years ago, and she was gracious enough to reply!)
First-time novelists tend to be a sensitive sort. Getting published is often a lifetime dream come true, realized after years of solitary work and spirit-sapping rejection. This is why, once the book has finally been accepted, published, and released, any event even remotely related to the recently published (if yet unrecognized) work of art tends to bring out some of our more subtle personality quirks. A good review, for example, will send us on a fist-pumping, chest-thumping, air-kiss-throwing dance around the house as we begin composing the Nobel acceptance speech in our heads. On the other hand, anything less than five stars may send us into a self-doubting, self-loathing funk from which we may never emerge without the help of supportive family, friends, and several gallons of Ben & Jerry’s Triple Chocolate Brownie Fudge Supreme.
God help you if you live with one of these volatile souls. But even talking with one can be a tricky proposition. In the spirit of greater understanding and personal safety, please allow me to offer the following tips on surviving a conversation with a debut novelist:
DO fawn. You know that commercial for an anti-flatulent where a young, bespeckled woman touches the wrist of the product spokeswoman and says, adoringly, “I love your work”? Go for that. And don’t stop when the first-time novelist pretends to humbly brush off your admiration. That dismissive wave is actually a signal for more. Word helper: insightful, delightful, compelling, unique, brilliant.
DON’T ask about Oprah. It’s not enough to finally get a book published? You have to remind the writer of the incredible odds against reaching Ultimate Oz? Sheesh. Besides, most writers hate to self-promote—it’s too close to begging. (Note to Ms. Winfrey: Please oh please oh please?! I promise not to jump up and down on your couch.)
After the book reading and signing in Columbus a few weeks ago, my friend Murph and I were doing an in-depth quality control check of his Irish whiskey (good, by the way... very good) when he asked me what the best thing about (finally) getting published has been. It was a tough question to answer because so many wonderful things have happened--from positive reviews to print, television, and radio interviews to seeing people I haven't seen in years show up at readings.
Near the top of the list, however, has to be the emails--and in some cases, actual snail-mail letters--from readers I don't know. These are strangers who have taken the time to write and tell me that they enjoyed my book, that it made them laugh or cry or touched their heart in some way. One of my favorite lines so far: "I don't remember you being in the house I grew up in, but it's apparent you were there." In another, a woman wrote, "I don't usually read novels, but I read yours. And now, I'll read your next one, too."
Those kinds of comments motivate me to keep writing. What about you? If you're a writer, what keeps you going? If you do something else, what drives you to do what you do?