Warning: This is a rant
Aug. 16th, 2004 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
msagaraThis is not really about business, or about the business, so if that's what you're reading for, this is your great big warning signpost: Stop Here. It is indirectly about writing, and, I think, professional attitude.
Those of you who've read this far know I still work in a bookstore. And that I like working in a bookstore. I like putting people together with books that they'll enjoy. When I first started, I had certain tastes and a certain pre-conditioning which, over time, I've let go. People read for all sorts of reasons. I know this because I do.
But while I'm happy to say something is a guilty pleasure -- pause for digression, because I'm genuinely curious: Are there many men out there who use this phrase? And regardless, do you consider the phrase "guilty pleasure" to be a perjorative? My F&SF review column used to be called Guilty Pleasures, and the title was the one thing about the column that Gordon Van Gelder didn't like. Kris Rusch knew exactly what the title meant, and for her, there was no negative connotation in the title; Gordon Van Gelder felt that it implied that reading could be considered something to be done furtively, and he considered all reading, in an age of (much) TV and other more easily accessible media to be worthwhile.
Right. End of digression. While I'm happy to say that something is a guilty pleasure or something is entertaining fluff, I actually expect the entertaining fluff to be entertaining. I consider the words to be important; I consider the structure to be important; I consider the tone to be important -- in fact, I expect the book to be a well-written book of its type. Anything I say I like has value to me.
Not everything I read comes under this heading. There are books I read that I consider to be more weighty, and I oddly enough expect the same damn thing from them: that they be well written.
What defines well-written is entirely dependent on the book itself, of course. If I pick up a book that claims to be a love story, then damn it, I want a love story. I will feel cheated and thoroughly annoyed if it turns out to be a grim, realistic and downbeat novel about the intricacies of a spectacular failure of a relationship. And if something is touted as a genuine historical novel, then damn it, I want the sense of social and cultural reality that will inform the characters, their views, their motivations, and their interactions; I don't just want the trappings and the odd historical item thrown in as set dressing.
If the novel is a mystery novel, I don't want a great big signboard that has blinking neon lights which point instantly to the killer. (Rosemary Edghill's Bast novels are an exception to this rule, but I didn't read those for the mystery).
I could go on and on. People have heard me go on and on, so I'll spare you; you can imagine the rest.
Here comes the rant. An author I don't know came into the store to pick up copies of a magazine that their first professional sale was published in. This is a high point in a person's professional life, and one should be justifiably proud and pleased about this. But. The author then looked at me and asked me to point them to one of the Harlequin Luna "things". I reasonably asked, "Which one?"
Full disclosure: I've sold three novels to Luna. This will become immediately relevant.
The author in question then said, "Just point me to any one of them." I then pointed out, in that growing state of something that can be called "inflexible" that there were, in fact, a number of published titles of varying different sub-genres, some contemporary, some set in another world, and as in any line, of varying quality. The author thought about this for a moment, and then said, "Well, give me something in the middle, then, so I can get a feel for what they're looking for."
"In the middle?"
Well, the author reasoned, it's not like they're actually any good, so one could pick up what they needed to make their own submission based on reading any one of them. After all, it's Harlequin. The author had no plans to submit their best material, because, after all, Harlequin wouldn't buy their best work, so that would be waste of time.
At this point, I'm turning red. Or purple. I point out that the line started with a hardcover Lackey publication, and that the subsequent volumes (by title and author) were all done in trade paperback. The author is not going to waste their money on one of those books in trade. I tell the author that the line is not a category line, and the books are not written to formula, which seemed to come as a surprise; that the question would be similar to someone walking into the SF/F bookstore and saying, "Just give me one of these middling books so I can see what publishers of genre fiction are buying; it's not like they're buying anything good after all."
I started in on my lecture. Actually, it's not a canned lecture, since I very seldom have people come in with this type of question. Very, very seldom. It's more a spontaneous outraged diatribe, which was interrupted by the very reasonable person also standing behind the counter at the same time who (I think it might even have been Graydon) pointed out that I did, in fact, have another customer waiting behind the author. The second customer wanted to purchase the book in his hand today (and possibly unscorched, but the latter was implied). So… I cut short the sputtering, took the poor bystander's money, and watched the author walk out of the store.
I've been grinding my teeth since then.
And. Well. This is a Journal, right?
The point is not that the author dismissed the Luna line. I could live with that. People dismiss things they haven't read all the time, and I've generally learned to go with that. It's the fact the author professed a desire to write for the Luna line, submitting work that was, in their estimation, less than their best effort because the publisher wasn't interested in anything good that made -- and is making -- me do the slow burn.
Two reasons for this. First, the entirely egotistical reason. I sold to that line, and I don't submit work that is not my best in the form that I'm attempting. Period. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well. Whether or not I succeeded is beside the point, and will be judged by the readers of the book long after it's left my hands; the point, for me, is that I made every effort to do my best work. This book made me nervous because it was tonally different than anything else I've written, and is the first book I've done in a long while with which I pestered poor alpha-readers. To imply that Luna will only buy the dregs of an author's work is to impugn my work ethic. I don't care if you don't like the damn book. But assuming that because you don't like it, I must have turned in only the inferior trunk novel or equivalent is damn insulting. This, however, was unintentional on the visiting author's part, and can be forgiven; it's not like I wear a big sign.
I've written 2 short stories in the Valdemar universe. The second one almost killed me; it took six weeks during which I did no work at all on anything else (which caused extreme novel deadline pressure), but I'm just not proud of the story. Not because it's not a good story, but because -- for me -- it failed to achieve the right tone. The first story I wrote for the first Valdemar anthology did achieve the right tone, and I struggled through about 12 attempts to make the second story work. In the end, with two extensions, I finished the story I had and sent it in; it was accepted, but it still causes me pangs and a sense of failure.
I've written a Buffy tie-in short story ("Dust"). Just one, because while it worked for me, I don't think it was met with any great approval by its reading audience, and because of this, I ceased my attempts to write a novel (I loved that show for the first three seasons).
At no point did I think I could write a piece of garbage for either of these two universes. At no point did I decide that somehow this work was not going to be my best work. The universes in question were not my universe, and that caused me some technical difficulties, because I couldn't shift the rules to match my emotional tones -- but I had agreed to do the work, and I wanted the work to succeed for the readers that already existed.
And that brings us neatly to the second part of this rant, and the second thing that really, really annoyed me, (which I find far harder to excuse): If you can take this attitude, it means that you're showing contempt for your readers. I may not always write with the reader in mind; I often write with complete emotional focus, and in that state, all that exists is the book (not food, not sleep, not real life -- just the book). But I never write with contempt for my audience. If I don't understand who that audience is, that's almost beside the point. How can you connect with an audience that you have nothing but contempt for? How do you grace your work with intelligence and heart in that circumstance?
Those of you who've read this far know I still work in a bookstore. And that I like working in a bookstore. I like putting people together with books that they'll enjoy. When I first started, I had certain tastes and a certain pre-conditioning which, over time, I've let go. People read for all sorts of reasons. I know this because I do.
But while I'm happy to say something is a guilty pleasure -- pause for digression, because I'm genuinely curious: Are there many men out there who use this phrase? And regardless, do you consider the phrase "guilty pleasure" to be a perjorative? My F&SF review column used to be called Guilty Pleasures, and the title was the one thing about the column that Gordon Van Gelder didn't like. Kris Rusch knew exactly what the title meant, and for her, there was no negative connotation in the title; Gordon Van Gelder felt that it implied that reading could be considered something to be done furtively, and he considered all reading, in an age of (much) TV and other more easily accessible media to be worthwhile.
Right. End of digression. While I'm happy to say that something is a guilty pleasure or something is entertaining fluff, I actually expect the entertaining fluff to be entertaining. I consider the words to be important; I consider the structure to be important; I consider the tone to be important -- in fact, I expect the book to be a well-written book of its type. Anything I say I like has value to me.
Not everything I read comes under this heading. There are books I read that I consider to be more weighty, and I oddly enough expect the same damn thing from them: that they be well written.
What defines well-written is entirely dependent on the book itself, of course. If I pick up a book that claims to be a love story, then damn it, I want a love story. I will feel cheated and thoroughly annoyed if it turns out to be a grim, realistic and downbeat novel about the intricacies of a spectacular failure of a relationship. And if something is touted as a genuine historical novel, then damn it, I want the sense of social and cultural reality that will inform the characters, their views, their motivations, and their interactions; I don't just want the trappings and the odd historical item thrown in as set dressing.
If the novel is a mystery novel, I don't want a great big signboard that has blinking neon lights which point instantly to the killer. (Rosemary Edghill's Bast novels are an exception to this rule, but I didn't read those for the mystery).
I could go on and on. People have heard me go on and on, so I'll spare you; you can imagine the rest.
Here comes the rant. An author I don't know came into the store to pick up copies of a magazine that their first professional sale was published in. This is a high point in a person's professional life, and one should be justifiably proud and pleased about this. But. The author then looked at me and asked me to point them to one of the Harlequin Luna "things". I reasonably asked, "Which one?"
Full disclosure: I've sold three novels to Luna. This will become immediately relevant.
The author in question then said, "Just point me to any one of them." I then pointed out, in that growing state of something that can be called "inflexible" that there were, in fact, a number of published titles of varying different sub-genres, some contemporary, some set in another world, and as in any line, of varying quality. The author thought about this for a moment, and then said, "Well, give me something in the middle, then, so I can get a feel for what they're looking for."
"In the middle?"
Well, the author reasoned, it's not like they're actually any good, so one could pick up what they needed to make their own submission based on reading any one of them. After all, it's Harlequin. The author had no plans to submit their best material, because, after all, Harlequin wouldn't buy their best work, so that would be waste of time.
At this point, I'm turning red. Or purple. I point out that the line started with a hardcover Lackey publication, and that the subsequent volumes (by title and author) were all done in trade paperback. The author is not going to waste their money on one of those books in trade. I tell the author that the line is not a category line, and the books are not written to formula, which seemed to come as a surprise; that the question would be similar to someone walking into the SF/F bookstore and saying, "Just give me one of these middling books so I can see what publishers of genre fiction are buying; it's not like they're buying anything good after all."
I started in on my lecture. Actually, it's not a canned lecture, since I very seldom have people come in with this type of question. Very, very seldom. It's more a spontaneous outraged diatribe, which was interrupted by the very reasonable person also standing behind the counter at the same time who (I think it might even have been Graydon) pointed out that I did, in fact, have another customer waiting behind the author. The second customer wanted to purchase the book in his hand today (and possibly unscorched, but the latter was implied). So… I cut short the sputtering, took the poor bystander's money, and watched the author walk out of the store.
I've been grinding my teeth since then.
And. Well. This is a Journal, right?
The point is not that the author dismissed the Luna line. I could live with that. People dismiss things they haven't read all the time, and I've generally learned to go with that. It's the fact the author professed a desire to write for the Luna line, submitting work that was, in their estimation, less than their best effort because the publisher wasn't interested in anything good that made -- and is making -- me do the slow burn.
Two reasons for this. First, the entirely egotistical reason. I sold to that line, and I don't submit work that is not my best in the form that I'm attempting. Period. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well. Whether or not I succeeded is beside the point, and will be judged by the readers of the book long after it's left my hands; the point, for me, is that I made every effort to do my best work. This book made me nervous because it was tonally different than anything else I've written, and is the first book I've done in a long while with which I pestered poor alpha-readers. To imply that Luna will only buy the dregs of an author's work is to impugn my work ethic. I don't care if you don't like the damn book. But assuming that because you don't like it, I must have turned in only the inferior trunk novel or equivalent is damn insulting. This, however, was unintentional on the visiting author's part, and can be forgiven; it's not like I wear a big sign.
I've written 2 short stories in the Valdemar universe. The second one almost killed me; it took six weeks during which I did no work at all on anything else (which caused extreme novel deadline pressure), but I'm just not proud of the story. Not because it's not a good story, but because -- for me -- it failed to achieve the right tone. The first story I wrote for the first Valdemar anthology did achieve the right tone, and I struggled through about 12 attempts to make the second story work. In the end, with two extensions, I finished the story I had and sent it in; it was accepted, but it still causes me pangs and a sense of failure.
I've written a Buffy tie-in short story ("Dust"). Just one, because while it worked for me, I don't think it was met with any great approval by its reading audience, and because of this, I ceased my attempts to write a novel (I loved that show for the first three seasons).
At no point did I think I could write a piece of garbage for either of these two universes. At no point did I decide that somehow this work was not going to be my best work. The universes in question were not my universe, and that caused me some technical difficulties, because I couldn't shift the rules to match my emotional tones -- but I had agreed to do the work, and I wanted the work to succeed for the readers that already existed.
And that brings us neatly to the second part of this rant, and the second thing that really, really annoyed me, (which I find far harder to excuse): If you can take this attitude, it means that you're showing contempt for your readers. I may not always write with the reader in mind; I often write with complete emotional focus, and in that state, all that exists is the book (not food, not sleep, not real life -- just the book). But I never write with contempt for my audience. If I don't understand who that audience is, that's almost beside the point. How can you connect with an audience that you have nothing but contempt for? How do you grace your work with intelligence and heart in that circumstance?
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no subject
Date: 2004-08-16 06:48 pm (UTC)This new author obviously doesn't respect the romance genre. For the sake of argument we'll just lump together all the Regencies and historicals and Gothics, etc. There are many things *I* don't respect about romance novels--the perfect teeth and grooming of Highlanders roaming around the 16th century, for instance, or the ocean of beautiful heroines and handsome heroes. Yet when romance is done well--and I'm thinking Nora Roberts here--it's fun, it's escapist, it's enjoyable, and I like it. I also respect the audience for romance novels, not just because it's *huge,* but because the readers obviously know what they like and demand that you meet and/or exceed certain expectations. Anyone who thinks they can dash off a romance in a half-assed fashion will soon have a rude awakening. As you said, you can't have contempt for your readers.
That author is lumping the Harlequin Luna line in with his/her preconceived notions or experience with other romance novels. However misguided, at least he or she is trying to do some homework. I've got four Luna books on my shelf and have mixed feelings about them. I was especially disappointed one of them, because I feel the author did indeed "dumb down" her narrative, for whatever reason. I don't think it was her best work. I think it was targeted to be cross-genre and as such didn't succeed in either one. But that's imho.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-16 07:15 pm (UTC)Let me say this: I have no problem whatsoever with people hating every Luna title they touch. Or every fantasy novel. Or every SF novel. Or every military SF novel. At the store, this is common; some people read everything, and some people are so allergic to specific sub-genres they break out in hives when they walk past one on the shelves <wry g>.
My objection is not that the author has contempt for them -- because this does happen frequently, and in any genre -- but rather that, contempt in tact, the author intends to write one, which implies contempt for the reader, to me.
There was a very funny story about an author who tried to write a romance novel, and confessed that she did write one that a friend who writes in both fields read and ... hated. I'm paraphrasing, because I don't remember it all, but the reader said, "Your heroine is a dishrag, your hero is a jerk, and nothing anyone does makes any sense!" And the frustrated author replied, "Exactly! I have faithfully captured everything I've read."
To which the reader replied, "Stick to SF."
(It was the author who told this story, btw). I think there are readers with a tin ear for romance (it all sounds bad), and writers are also readers (I've mentioned there are agents with tin ears for different genres as well), and although it can be strenuously argued that my first four books fit the romance paradigm (they were my beauty and the beast books, although I didn't realize it until a perceptive reader point this out), I can't quite figure out how to write it on demand; I don't understand how it all works. I struggle with the idea, because I also understand that easily half of the adult human condition in the industrial world involves attraction, romance, love, and all the good -- or bad -- that comes out of it.
Someone gave me a Jennie Cruise book (I may be spelling that wrong, and apologize if I offend, but I'm being 'net lazy) and my first thought was "this is witty" and my second was "now where's the plot?"
Because, to me, it read so much like a Tanya Huff novel in terms of dialogue and description -- but without the fantastic elements, or sfnal elements that form the rest of the story into which the romance is an element.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-16 10:00 pm (UTC)I can write a story that revolves around a romantic conflict, or a romantic relationship, or a series of romantic relationships...
...but I am unable to take any story wherein the main concern of the characters is their love lives (ie, they don't have anything more important to worry about) seriously. Either as reader or as writer.
It's been suggested to me that this is because I'm emotionally broken, which is probably true... (*g*)
As a result, I don't try to write romance except as subplots. It seems to me the simple answer.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 05:39 am (UTC)Yes! Everything about your post is me. I clipped this because even this evades my conscious at times, and there has to be enough other things going on (usually in the past) that is built in a way that things unfold otherwise for the subplot to work.
I will probably have things thrown at me, but I didn't enjoy the Heyers either :/. But the Ibbotsons I could read for decades. Otoh, some of the tin ear, I'm sure, is just a matter of training, and I have been trying.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 07:02 am (UTC)This made me laugh and laugh and laugh.
So.
true.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 06:50 am (UTC)Which isn't to say that *relationships* don't interest me. They fascinate me--including limerent and life partner and familiar relationships. But, as an example, I know for a fact that at least two of my first readers had very bad reactions to one of my storylines because the protagonist and her paramour were more concerned with averting a brewing war than with saving their rocky relationship.
Whereas I tend to hurl books across the room when the protagonist is more interested in the relationship than with things I consider more important.
It's just a matter of emphasis, and whether one prefers salty or sweet--not any kind of a value judgement. I'm with Rick, in other words, not Ilsa: the war comes before the love affair.
On the other hand, that doesn't mean *I* wouldn't pick up a Luna book and read it. And quite possibly enjoy it, especially given the quality of the authors they're publishing and their focus on an external plotline to go along with the romance. (And I don't just say that because several of my friends and/or acquaintences are published by Luna, but because, you know, I love Casablanca. *g*)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 07:31 am (UTC)- Harriet and George each work for opposite sides of the negotiation team. They keep fighting and haven't dated in a couple of weeks.
- Harriet discovers that a third party has been instigating the fight, but she has no proof.
- George also finds circumstantial evidence and comes to her.
- Together they work together to come up with the needed proof. Every time they work together reignites old passions... as well as old hurt feelings.
- They come up with the needed proof and avert the war. They discover that they work best as a team, and she accepts his wedding proposal.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 07:48 am (UTC)I'm saying that my personal preference is for the focus in a story that contains a romantic relationship not to be heavily on the relationship, and a book that focuses *heavily* on the relationship is likely to bore or annoy me, much as my book, which focused on the war and in which my characters made sacrifices in what they saw as a good cause, annoyed these particular readers.
(Other readers liked it for the very reason that the readers in question disliked it; it's sort of an aphorism of fiction that if you don't displease *some* readers, you won't satisfy others.)
(And this conversation has really diverged heavily from the useful content of Michelle's post and into a discussion of what I like in literature, which is a pretty boring topic, and (I feel) inappropriate for somebody else's livejournal comments section. But if you'd like to continue it in email, please feel free to drop me a line.)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 08:56 am (UTC)(Other readers liked it for the very reason that the readers in question disliked it; it's sort of an aphorism of fiction that if you don't displease *some* readers, you won't satisfy others.)
This is one of the difficulties I have with SUN SWORD, and in particular with some of the characters.
My reply was: Yes -- if the person in question can't save the universe. But if she can and she's off starting something, than it's an act of self-indulgence which might directly affect the number -- in thousands -- of people who die. (In the character's mind; she's a bit of a control freak with a very strong sense of responsibility).
I do know, however, that the lack of relationship developing between her and another character did cause some readers some annoyance; I just didn't see it myself because I was so focused on trying to save her family and her city.
You sound like me in some writing aspects, although having read some of your process stuff, we have about half of our process in common <g>.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 09:21 am (UTC)Bingo. Exactly. I think in many cases there's a reader expectation that any two characters who *can* have a relationship, will--I personally find it more interesting and conflicted when two characters who *can* have a relationship, don't (one reason I thought the movie version of The Pelican Brief was infinitely superior to the book) for good reasons--and I also think that blowing off world-saving meetings to get laid is irresponsible rather than touching. *g* Which, actually, is one of the reasons I stopped watching Joss Whedon shows, come to think of it. I was making myself hoarse screaming at the characters for behaving like adolescents.
Which is not to say that I don't like a good love story. *g*
I also think inventing false reasons to keep characters apart (the midbook in a lot of novels I've read) as a device to increase tension is also auctorial laziness.
You sound like me in some writing aspects, although having read some of your process stuff, we have about half of our process in common .
*g* I'm the girl who does everything wrong and backwards and just the way you're not supposed to do anything. But hey, it works for me so far....
I don't know much about your process, but I'm fascinated by the way other writers write.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 08:56 pm (UTC)I don't know much about your process, but I'm fascinated by the way other writers write.
Me too! I once stayed up for 8 hours talking to
I would talk more about process here, but
I believe it was
no subject
Date: 2004-08-18 08:06 am (UTC)---L.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-20 09:59 am (UTC)Yes! Although I'm not sure how one forms communities without forming some sort of continuing discussions -- friendships would almost all have to be made over the long haul outside of the confines of LJ. Yes? No?
no subject
Date: 2004-08-20 08:10 am (UTC)Yes, precisely. I've heard a slightly different phrasing attributed to... Gene Wolfe via Neil Gaiman, I think? "You don't learn how to write novels; you learn how to write this novel."
Whee, we're an incestuous bunch. *g*