Writing What I Read

This week at the SFF Seven, we're asking: "Do you read in the genre you write?"

What's funny is that my answer is absolutely yes - but that I didn't always write in the genre I read. Does that make sense?

I have always read Fantasy and Science Fiction, since I was a little kid, and I've been reading Romance since I was old enough to walk to the used bookstore to buy my own books, as my mom wouldn't let me read "that trash." (Because she thought Romance was low-brow and anti-feminist, not because of the sex.) But when I started out as a writer, I wrote Creative Nonfiction.

Some of this was timing and coincidence. When I decided I wanted to be a writer instead of a scientist, one of the first classes I took was "Essays on Self and Place," from a visiting writer at the university. I fell easily into writing essays and had success with them. My first book was an essay collection. And, sure, I read some essays. I read a lot of essay collections and memoir. But I was always reading them as research and reciprocity.

All that time, what I read for pure enjoyment? Anything with a paranormal/SFF element and plenty of Romance.

It was only after my first book came out that a friend - a bookseller who knew my tastes and sold me hardcover releases of JD Robb, Laurell K. Hamilton, Stephenie Meyer, and Jaqueline Carey - asked me why I wasn't writing in the genres I so clearly loved to read.

Funny that. It simply hadn't occurred to me. But then I started to, I wrote this Fantasy Romance* (not a genre then, but what did I know??) that was SO MUCH FREAKING FUN TO WRITE. I couldn't believe how much more fun I had writing my crazy tale about a scientist who falls into Faerie, becomes a sorceress, and ends up in a bargain with a fae lord to bear his child. I even got a really nice rejection on the book from Stephenie Meyer's agent! (Though it took a long time for me to sell it, which is another tale.)

The rest is history. ~ Waves at catalogue of Epic Fantasy Romances ~ I haven't looked back. Writing what I love to read has absolutely been a great decision.

*The book that became ROGUE'S PAWN

 

Handling Negative Reviews with Poise and Humor

Here's a little tease of the cover of ROGUE FAMILIAR, book 2 in Renegades of Magic, releasing at the end of February. Cover reveal coming soon!

This week at the SFF Seven we're talking about the Mentality of Negative Reviews. Specifically, the person who posed the question asked: do you recognize your fight-or-flight response to negative reviews and do anything to stop it?

I'm including the full text of the question because I'm disagreeing with the initial premise. I don't think I have a stress response to negative reviews. It could be that I've been writing long enough (nearly thirty years *gasp*) that I've become more or less inured to negative reviews. I remember a review of my first book, the essay collection WYOMING TRUCKS, TRUE LOVE, AND THE WEATHER CHANNEL, that was mostly glowing - but also said I used adverbs too much. It came from a professional reviewer at a venue I can't recall, and that was long before I realized that many reviewers are aspiring writers who cling to the "rules" of writing with the tenacity of an apprentice seeking the magic formula to catapult them to true wizard status. Mostly I was surprised that, if my professional, experienced editor at a university press hadn't minded my adverbs, then why did a reviewer? I understand now. I also know more about the weird anti-adverb stance some writers absorb.

Mostly. <- See what I did there? Humor is key.

Anyway. Experiencing a flight-or-fight response to a review means that you feel attacked. I suppose some reviewers intend it that way. They like to speculate about the author's emotional life, intentions, or deadline pressure. Authors are occasionally accused of manipulating readers to extract profit. Sometimes our moral integrity is questioned. But that's all par for the course on social media. I think what's most important for writers to do is separate themselves from their work. YOU didn't receive a negative review; the book did. Even if the reviewer specifically attacks the author, they're still not actually reviewing you as a human being, because they don't actually know you. The author is a construct in their mind that has very little to do with reality. 

Keeping your poise, a sense of yourself as a person separate from the work, and keeping a sense of humor about it all is what gets you through. After all, a review isn't a tiger. No one's going to die over a review. It's fangless, toothless, and ultimately dust in the wind.

 

When to Ditch Showing and Just Tell

Coming Soon! THE LONG NIGHT OF THE RADIANT STAR. 

This is a novella in the Heirs of Magic series and occurs after THE STORM PRINCESS AND THE RAVEN KING. It's Jak and Stella's wedding on the longest night, the Feast of Moranu. I think I'll release it on Monday, November 21, 2022. No preorder this time. I'll post when it goes live!!

***

 At long last, Jakral Konyngrr—lowly sailor, gambler, and sometime rogue—has won the heart and hand of Princess Stella of Avonlidgh. Never mind that Stella’s mother is determined to make their wedding the event of the century, he’s happy to endure any trial to marry the love of his life and his guiding star. Very soon they can sail away together into the rest of their lives. Unfortunately the wedding becomes delayed for several months, until midwinter.

Stella—sorceress, empath, and bearer of the mark of the Tala—has been through great trials. But nothing has tested her as sorely as her passionate and flamboyant mother planning their wedding. Even Jak’s steady love and companionship isn’t enough as Stella finds herself crumbling under the pressure of being snowbound in a castle with the press of so many minds and emotions. When she lashes out, she hits the worst possible target, jeopardizing her chances for happiness.

With several kingdoms and a former enemy empire bearing down on them, Jak and Stella’s wedding on the longest night of year might not happen at all… Unless they can create their own happy ever after. 

***

This week at the SFF Seven, we're talking about Telling vs. Showing, particularly we're examining when some narrative exposition is needed.

It's an interesting question, and one very much focused on genre fiction. Many of you know I began my writing career in creative nonfiction. For many years I wrote and sold essays. My first book was an essay collection. At no point in that time - in classes, in critique groups, in discussions with editors - did anyone bring up Telling vs. Showing. It was only after I began writing fantasy romance (etc.) that the concept was introduced to me. I had to learn not to use the narrative exposition that had worked so well for my creative nonfiction voice, but to "show" instead.

Why is this a thing?

The oft-cited example is attributed to Anton Chekhov: "Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass." It turns out this exact quote is probably apocryphal. A passage from the article I linked to says:

In May, 1886, Chekhov wrote to his brother Alexander, who had literary ambitions: “In descriptions of Nature one must seize on small details, grouping them so that when the reader closes his eyes he gets a picture. For instance, you’ll have a moonlit night if you write that on the mill dam a piece of glass from a broken bottle glittered like a bright little star, and that the black shadow of a dog or a wolf rolled past like a ball.”

It's salient to note that he's talking about description here. When my genre-fiction editors and critique partners introduced the concept to me, they framed it as a way to deepen the point of view (POV). In genre fiction, in particular, readers love to be immersed in the characters and world, thus the incentive to deepen POV.

I worked diligently to learn to show, not tell.

Fast-forward to my current agent, the insightful and incisive Sarah Younger at Nancy Yost Literary Agency. One day, after reading one of my manuscripts we planned to take on submission to traditional publishing, she said, "Jeffe, I know you work really hard to show, not tell, but sometimes we just need a line or two telling us what the heck is going on."

And she was right. I was so busy describing the glint of light on broken glass that I was failing to explain that this world had three moons.

In the end, as with all things, it comes down to balance. We need both in order to tell effective stories: immersive description and deep POV, along with some clear narrative exposition to ground the reader in the world. 

I'm getting better at it!

How to Write Shorter Works Successfully

THE SORCERESS QUEEN AND THE PIRATE ROGUE comes out April 19! This is Book Two in Heirs of Magic, and you can preorder a copy at the links below or via my website. :-)

   

This week at the SFF Seven, we're examining the differences between writing a short story, novella, novel, series. We're asking each other: Do you prepare for length beforehand or edit down (or add new stuff) afterward?

So, I have Strong Opinions about this. Something that may come as a surprise to exactly none of you. 

I am primarily a novelist now and the shortest works I write are novellas that are typically no less than 25K words. (My novels range from 90K-120K.) When I first started writing, I wrote essays and short stories. My first book - Wyoming Trucks, True Love, and the Weather Channel - was an essay collection. Writing those shorter lengths came naturally to me from work in school. 

When I transitioned to writing novels, it was MUCH more difficult than I expected. I had this idea that it would be like writing a really long essay. 

Reader: it was not. 

I had to learn the rhythm and pacing of a novel, which feels like an entirely different art form than writing novellas or shorts. Because... it is. It's a common error for an author to attempt to stretch a short story concept into a novel. Readers notice that the story feels "thin," stretched out for too long, and filled with stuff that's boring because it's unnecessary. Or, sometimes, a story that's novel-length gets wedged into a shorter format. Then it feels rushed, over too soon, and never fully explored.

So, my answer is that I *always* prepare for length beforehand. The story concept MUST fit the planned length. It's a matter of choosing a story with the correct scope for that length. Shorter works have fewer secondary characters and more straightforward conflicts. Very short works should explore a single idea. One surefire way to confine a story to a shorter length is to have it take place over a much shorter span of time. For example, my novella, THE LONG NIGHT OF THE CRYSTALLINE MOON, which is the prequel to Heirs of Magic, takes place over the course of a single night. This helps to make up for the fact that I have a lot of secondary characters - more than any other novella I've written. It wasn't ideal, but I made that choice because I was introducing a new series.

Naturally, there are no actual rules. Or, if there are, they're made to be broken. But I do think that adding or deleting to winnow a novel into a short, or fattening up a short to make it a novel, almost never works. 

The Myth of the Debut Year

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is "If I could go back to my Debut Year..." You can tell I didn't suggest this one because I don't believe in the "Debut Year."

See, the "Debut Year" is a bit of magical, sparkle-pony mythology of Author Land.

This is how the myth goes:

One day a writer receives "The Call" where an editor offers the Big Book Deal. The writer's First Book comes out - their Debut Book - and they have their Debut Year. It's a time of glory and terror and dancing sparkle ponies. The writer is hopefully toasted as the New Big Thing. Reviews always discuss the book in terms of it being the author's First Book. And every mention of the author after that will note their First Book.

All of this is a fictionalization. We're novelists, after all! But I think it's also a damaging bit of mythology, so I'd like to discuss why.

First, let me break this down in reality.

1. All of this is cast in traditional publishing terms. Not only that, it's pretty much only for deals with the Big Five. So, only authors who publish their first book (see caveats to this) with the Big Five get an experience anything close to the Debut Year.

2. Almost nobody gets "The Call," even though you still hear people talk about it. If you're working with traditional publishing, you'll almost certainly be working with an agent. Those exchanges happen first via email. Your agent may call with exciting news, but very rarely - even vanishingly rarely - is there a single phone call with the final deal news. This is a fictionalization that makes it sound good.

3. Not many authors get a Big Book Deal. You just hear about the ones who do. And, because it's a Big Book Deal, the publisher puts a lot of marketing behind the book, so you hear about that, too. But hey - it's a book deal and that's fabulous!

4. But, you know what? It's one book deal. If you plan to make a career as an author, there will be more book deals. Lots of them. You might also self-publish or do that instead. We tend to celebrate "Firsts" of all kinds, but there's no particular magic to them. (Besides that you're a newbie, which is likely the point of this topic, but I'm ignoring that. You'll find out why. Stick with me.)

5. There is a lot of terror. Moments of glory. Mostly a lot of work. Spoiler alert: No sparkle ponies.

6. Some writers get to be the Big New Thing, which is super cool. Most don't. Even those that do? Well, like prom queens and MVPs, there's a finite shelf life to being one, and there's a replacement coming the following year, if not sooner.

7. The "First Book" is a myth I'd really like to see die.

• Most writers have written many books before their first published one.
• Most writers have written and published extensively before their first published novel - poems, essays, other nonfiction, short stories, novellas, etc. By making a big deal about the first novel, we're elevating it above all other forms.
• Because they understand the "magic" of the debut, very often publishers will ask an author to adopt a pseudonym and present the initial book under that name as a first book by a debut author. All smoke and mirrors.
• In new publishing landscape, an author's first book is much more likely to be self-published or published by a small/digital-first publisher. These don't get the same splash.

The reason I think this mythology of the Debut Year is damaging is that any author who doesn't get this particular brass ring ends up feeling less than. Because this is most authors - I want to say 95% or more - that makes a lot of people laboring under a false perception of being lesser.

For myself, my "First Book" was WYOMING TRUCKS, TRUE LOVE, AND THE WEATHER CHANNEL, an essay collection published by a university press back in 2004. A lot of those essays had been published in literary journals and magazines - including Redbook, my big score - so the collection wasn't even my first publication. 

After that...

[insert montage of time passing here]

...when I transitioned into fiction, my "first book" was a digitally published novella. My first novel-length work was published by Carina, an imprint of Harlequin, also a digital-first publisher.

My first print deal was with Kensington, for The Twelve Kingdoms trilogy. The first book, THE MARK OF THE TALA, was my 4th novel-length publication, my 2nd print book, my 13th fiction publication, and I have no idea what number it would be in overall number of creative works.

The first book in my first Big Five book deal, THE ORCHID THRONE, comes out next summer. It will be something like my 30th novel-length publication.

The point is, I never had a Debut Year.

Okay, yeah - maybe we could say it was 2004, when Wyoming Trucks came out. That's why I put that photo at the top, because that's at my signing and launch party, where I'm clearly bright-eyed, cheeks flushed with excitement.

It was a great night.

And good things came of that book.

But I was never the New Big Thing. I didn't get rich or famous. The only sparkle pony I have is a plastic one that an author friend gave me.

What's most important is that this is just fine! My career has grown slowly and steadily, which I will absolutely take over what some of my friends have gone through - a Debut Year that burns fast and hot, but ends in ashes and reinvention. Building a career through small presses and thoughtful self-publishing is a viable path - often a far better one - than shooting for the moon and the Big Book Deal. Even if you *do* get the Big Book Deal, that's no guarantee of the future.

So, the others of the SFF Seven might have more to offer on the actual topic. But when I consider going back to my Debut Year, I don't know when that was.

Even if I did know, and could go back - I wouldn't change a thing.