So a few weeks ago, I heard a story from a friend that really got me hot under the collar. My friend is a lawyer. She is also a Catholic. Shortly after the election/assigning/what-have-you of the new pope, she was in her cubicle, having a discussion about why they picked this German cardinal rather than, say, a priest from the Americas or Africa. Her exact words were, “I don’t think the church is ready for an African pope.” This was a statement about the church’s conservatism, natch. It’s a statement about geography. Race isn’t even on the page. She had said earlier the same thing about having an American pope.

Well, someone overheard — part of what she said? All of what she said? — and freaked the hell out, went to the H.R. department, and told them that my friend was a racist who said there should never be a black president. My friend was dragged into the H.R. department, threatened with firing and forced to publicly apologize to the woman for saying something she never would ever dream of saying (and would never think either, since honestly, this gal would be the campaign manager of Condie for Prez ‘08 — which is another terrifying issue, but since it has nothing to do with the subject of race, let’s leave it alone for today, shall we?).

Excuse me, but WTF? I’m all for sensitivity training, but when it means that a whole continent is cut out of people’s vocabularies for fear of it being taken the wrong way by someone who is eavesdropping then we’ve got a problem.

I was reminded of this story today, because it almost just happened to me. I was talking to a coworker about some of the faults I see in the Harry Potter series. Now, I love Harry Potter (unlike certain editors I know), but there are some things that bug me. One is the deus-ex-machina plotlines. Just once, I’d like to see Harry take charge of his own destiny. Another is the fact that EVERYONE in Slytherin is bad. Seriously, they should just chuck every kid who gets Sorted into Slytherin into Azkaban straight off. You know they’re going to go bad. I would really like Rowling to write a good Slytherin. A good, LIVE Slytherin. And this is where the conversation was going, because I was talking about that dead portrait headmaster from the last book, and how he’d been in Slytherin. And then I said, “Actually, all the Blacks were in Slytherin.” And before I even could finish the sentence with “Until Sirius,” her mouth had dropped open. Now, granted, as soon as I *did* finish the sentence, she knew what I was talking about, but what would have been a more innocuous way to say that? “All the people from the Black family were in Slytherin?” If I was talking about the Potters, or the Weasleys, or the Malfoys, I would have just added an S to the name and been done with it.

So I’ve spent the rest of the afternoon wondering how many other words, phrases and grammatical constructions I need to cut from my vocabulary lest anyone think I’m saying something that a) I’m not and b) can be construed as racist. I’m a writer, and am fascinated with the power of words and word combinations. I would hate for anyone to mistake me, in any way. I would also hate if I could not refer to a family by their family name, too…

Anyone watch the Dave Chappelle show? He’s got a fabulous bit about a family with a very unfortunate name. Never fails to crack me up. But at the same time, I wonder, at what point does our sensitivity to words go too far? Come on, people, Harry Potter?

After reading this, I need a drink. And a hug.

Lesson learned: you are in the driver’s seat of your own career.

I would like to take a moment to reflect on how flippin’ cool my job is!

Now, some people, when I took a position as a copyeditor at a geophysical journal, expressed concern that such a highly creative and energetic person as myself would find fixing commas in dry scientific journals to be — well,a trifle dull. They said the same thing when I chose Geology as my major, by the way. “What are you going to do, Diana, write books about rocks?” Well, at least edit them.

But I digress. They thought I’d be bored by all the discussion of regional tectonics in the Himalayan fold-thrust belt of Nepal (get your minds out of the gutter, people!) or electron precipitation events triggered by lightning in hurricanes or the implications of long-range transport on the European ozone budget — and let’s not forget taht fascinating magnetoplasma sphere…

But I like it, and I like it even more when I am confronted with a paper like the one I am proofing now:

“Using multiple beams to distinguish radio frequency interference from search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) signals.”

Aliens.

I love this job.

Everyone go and congratulate my friend, Janice Lynn, whose “journey” has not come to an end, but to a very very exciting new land!

Congratulations from the bottom of my heart, Janice!

Who here can’t wait for the release of Jane Millionaire, the book so good it earned the approval of the U.S. Navy (and, as a Navy sister, I can guarantee that our Boys (and girls) in Blue have great literary taste)?

Let’s see if we can’t crash her inbox with congrats before she gets home from RT.

(And, for those of you counting, it has been 6 days, 22 hours and 38 minutes since I sold my first book. Happy 6:22:38 Anniversary to me!)

1. A group of 20 people with picket signs circling a seemingly innocuous mom-and-pop Chinese restaurant.

2. A homeless man wearing a cardboard sign reading “Hungry, please help,” and a pair of hundred-dollar Bose headphones.

3. A group of about ten people on the metro who all reached for their cell phones when one began ringing.

4. A seeing-eye dog who was very quietly misbehaving so his/her master wouldn’t notice.

Dear Marianne has taken me to task for yesterday’s post about how disappointed I am with my blog. (And, while you’re over there, you should check out the Australian cover for CT Fashionista It rocks!) However, what dear Marianne doesn’t know is that when I posted it, I was disappointed with just about everything, from my blog to my capabilities as a copy editor to my choice of shoe. If you’d asked me at that moment, I would have said that (Secret) Society Girl sucked, too. So it wasn’t so much the blog that was a bit blah, but me.

[Insert giant self-flagellation here]

Probably to be expected that I’d get a small case of mean reds after the ecstasy of “Sold Book Weekend.” I expected a sort of soft flitting to the ground, but there was a bit of a thump. Not a big thump, but a sort of, “right, now, back to work, and don’t forget to pick up your dry cleaning and see if chicken thighs are on sale at Whole Foods” kind of thump. What, you mean I still have to deal with rush hour on the Metro? With the fact that cingular is overcharging us about $40 per billing cycle? With the idea that dinner does not cook itself, the cough won’t go away, and congealed tea is really hard to remove from the inside of my mug? How can that be? I sold a book on Thursday. And now, you know, I have to finish it. No pressure.

My agent was right when she said I was the same girl I was before. She’s very smart. I really should listen to her more often (you know, up it from 99.8% of the time to 99.9%):

Which brings me back to my opening thought here: when an author lands their first book contract, there’s the potential for anxiety and pressure, but there’s also an exhilarating freedom that comes in knowing your work has found a home. That inner place of questioning is silenced, and for the first time in your life you can go about the business of writing without the handmaiden of doubt—that doubt about whether the work will sell, or if it speaks to the market. Later, new choking doubts will appear, concerns about sell-throughs, and reviews, and packaging, and option books, and cruel bloggers, and the like. But for this glorious sliver of time, your newly contracted job is heartbreakingly simple. You are a writer. Just what you always wanted to be.

Right. The book speaks to the market. I just need to keep doing what I was doing and everything will be fine. I wrote CoaSSG with no thought to contests or rules, and it worked out well, so why impose them now that the hard part (i.e. selling) is over?(And yes, D, I’ve got that MotB on.)

A bunch of comments on the previous post said they liked to see the day-to-day writer anxieties. Well, you got one yesterday, people. Today, you get optimism.

And maybe, if you’re very good, an ode to my iPod.

And no, I’m not talking about Alison’s. I’m talking about mine, which is blah and meh and everything else. When I read things like this, or this, I begin to wonder if I’m supposed ot be using my blog for thoughtful. erudite posts about the art of storytelling or the endless pursuit of craft or something that marks me as a *real* writer, rather than silly internet quizzes. snapshots of my flowers, or pointless regurgitations of my GH scores. (As Sailor Boy said the other day, “I don’t think you should post your scores, Diana, they make you look less cool.” Sayeth I, “Wouldn’t the endless re-posting of the Publisher’s Marketplace announcement be boring?”

Maybe it’s the medium. I don’t think I take too well to the whole blogging thing. I like posting long, thought-proviking items on my various email loops and my favorite website hangouts. But when people visit my blog, they are coming to hear ME say something, and that makes me a little uncomfortable, more so then when they come to eHarlequin and just HAPPEN upon something insightful I’ve said. I do get a bit of writer’s block, here.

I see wonderful blogs elsewhere and think to myself that as soon as I have a chance to think, I’ll put something together and blog about it. About loving books, about alpha heroes, about keeping your day job, about words vs. story, about how scary it is to be an unpublished/recently-published/much-published author… and then I don’t.

I’m thinking about giving it up. Ironic huh, when people finally seem to want to hear what I have to say? This just isn’t doing it for me, anymore. I think if I had a schtick, maybe I’d be more amused. But right now, who wants to hear me blather, really?

Some of you might remember my downtrodden nature upon receiving my first Golden Heart scores in 2003. Some of you might also remember my “take that!” speech at the Maggie Awards last October, when I thanked the judge who graded my Maggie Award-winning manuscript a 1 of 9, for teaching me not to believe everything you read.

Well, my last Golden Heart scores came in, and they were for Meltdown.

8.5, 8.7, 5, 8, 5.2

Sad. sS it me, or would those numbers make an interesting scatter-graph? Three people who clearly liked it, and two people who…what? Thought it was average for a short contemporary? Don’t like sex? Don’t have a sense of humor? Don’t like the fact that I would DARE have my hero make jokes about his own recent bout with cancer? (I get that one sometimes — probably from people who don’t understand that it’s part of a man’s fight, to act like this powerful illness is something you can make fun of.)

I’m guessing it’s the sex. A Blaze-writing friend (and current RITA finalist) told me that her Blaze got straight fives in the RITA contest, and the “fives” are not uncommon.

Something needs to be done about the RWA’s scoring system. That’s all I have to say.

flowers
Originally uploaded by dianapeterfreund.

On Saturday, I came home from running errands to find a gorgeous bouquet of flowers waiting for me.

“Ooh,” I thought. “Sailor Boy got me flowers!” And then I saw the card, which struck me as a trifle odd, since Sailor Boy would probably not attach a card, and would probably not have them delivered, but simply pick them up from the florist himself, carry them home, and hand them to me.

“Ooh,” I thought. “My parents bought me flowers!” How sweet! I opened the card. This is what it said:

To the Beginning…
Kerri

OMG, my editor got me flowers! How awesome is that?

I’ve never much been into the superstition thing. I don’t throw spilled salt over my shoulder, couldn’t give a damn where black cats walk in relationship to me, and have broken a good many mirrors in my lifetime. Not much into Tarot, rarely read my horoscope, and have visited a psychic (and not a good one, right Marley?) exactly once in my life.

However, a few clips from my April horoscope as posted on Astrology Zone are freaking me out a bit:

You begin the month with Venus, Mercury, the Sun and the year’s first solar eclipse (a new moon) in Aries (on April 8), which fills your third house, the area that covers thinking and information. It’s a month when so much is going on that you’ll practically need a scorecard to keep it all straight. You will have phone calls to answer, meetings to attend, and lots of details to organize and oversee.

There will be an unusually strong emphasis on gathering and disseminating information, whether you decide to do that through writing… research, debate, negotiation, publicity, advertising, marketing, sales… publishing or travel.

April 8th is the day I received the offer from my agent. The next few days were filled with negotiations, pow-wows, advice sessions, callbacks, discussions… and of course, moving into my new apartment.

Some Aquarians will be busy with writing projects, whether writing books, newspaper or magazine articles, or proposals. Again, it goes well, but Saturn’s angle suggests you will burn the midnight oil.

You bet I did! This deal went fast, so I needed to churn out a seven page synopsis and treatment for the next book in the series in record time!

At some point this month, you may be asked to sign a contract. That paperwork is most likely to appear in the days clustered shortly after the eclipse on April 8. If a contract does show up now, it’s sure to be a very important one that could change your life quite a bit in the months ahead…

If you have to sign quickly, try to act on April 13, when the moon will shine in Gemini, a sign highly compatible with yours. You may receive two contracts, as Gemini is what is called a double-bodied sign.

I signed my agent contract on April 13.

The second half of April would be a terrific time to show [your new artistic project] to the world!

Boy, did we ever!

The month’s second eclipse will likely bring even bigger news, for it will create changes within your career. The date of this lunar eclipse is April 24, so that’s the date to watch, plus or minus four days.

The April 24 lunar eclipse will be your last in this series, and after this, you can rest. There will be no more eclipses in this part of your chart until 2012 to 2014, and your career life will become more settled and secure.

On April 21st, I sold my first book. It changed my career — it changed my life!

I am encouraged by the positive aspects surrounding this eclipse. An eclipse in Scorpio immediately brings in a link to Pluto and Mars, that sign’s rulers, and by some miracle, both planets are in almost perfect alignment. This suggests that a friend may be instrumental to your success.

Mars will still be in Aquarius, giving you a great deal of control over events. This planet’s presence in your sign also indicates that you are starting a new two-year cycle, and that is an exciting prospect.

Yay! And, as I’ve said before, none of this would have happened if Marley hadn’t gotten the ball rolling on this project for me.

Jupiter will remain in your tenth house of career success for a little over a year, more than enough time to get situated in a fabulous new job. Very soon, you will establish yourself on a whole new level. Don’t mourn for the good old days–what’s to come will far exceed your expectations!

I can only hope so!

Weird, huh? Of course, I might have had this horoscope every month for a year, and this is the time it worked out. But I think I might read what’s in the stars for May, anyway. You never know…