Thanks to Alisa of Cry Havoc Reviews, I have discovered that Pier 1 has entered the mystical-creatures market. Or at least they are using killer unicorns as models in their latest catalog. Behold, Bonegrinder in a Pier 1-ed out living room:
(Click to make bigger. The zhi does not have a price on her.)
Naturally this concerns me, and not just because that rug is very pretty, and I’d hate to see the atrocities an untrained zhi could commit on it. I suppose they must have a hunter just off-screen to keep the little unicorn in line. That’s all I can figure.
Zombies vs. Unicorns Edited by Holly Black and Justine Larbalestier, S&S/McElderry, $16.99 (432p) ISBN 978-1-4169-8953-0
In this offbeat anthology, editors Black and Larbalestier embark upon a literary throw-down to determine which is superior: zombies or unicorns. To that end, each assembled a six-person team of writers and set them loose. Each story is prefaced by editorial banter as each editor (hilariously) makes her case. Highlights include Diana Peterfreund’s Rampant tie-in, “The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn”; Libba Bray’s postapocalyptic tale of teens trying to maintain a semblance of civilization in “Prom Night”; and Maureen Johnson’s pointed take on celebrity fads in “The Children of the Revolution.” Meg Cabot’s “Princess Prettypants” skewers the image of unicorns as sparkling, rainbow-farting “symbols of pure happiness, hope, and awesomesauce,” while Carrie Ryan’s “Bougainvillea” acts as a prologue to The Forest of Hands and Teeth. Scott Westerfeld’s “Inoculata” examines what happens when the zombie hordes finally win, while the zombie in Alaya Dawn Johnson’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” isn’t nearly as far gone. Without a clunker in the bunch, this anthology more than lives up to the potential its concept suggests. Zombies or unicorns? There’s no clear winner, unless it’s readers. Ages 14–up. (Sept.)
Now, after careful consideration, I’m kind of torn on the issue. I enjoyed an equal number of unicorn and zombie stories, but it was a unicorn tale—Diana Peterfreund’s “The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn”—that I loved best. Maybe it’s because I was never allowed to have a dog and always fantasized about having a secret pet that I could hide in my closet or sock drawer.
Some of my favorite stories in the book were “Princess Prettypants” by Meg Cabot, “The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn” by Diana Peterfreund, “Prom Night” by Libba Bray…oh god, they were all good! This one book encompassed stories by so many of my favorite authors. There was tongue in cheek humor, there was chill-inducing realism, there was hope, and there was romance. This is a book that I would highly recommend to all fantasy readers. Even if you only read one or two of the stories, you would still be guaranteed a great time!
My personal favorites were written by Meg Cabot (two words: Princess Prettypants), Carrie Ryan, Diana Peterfreund, and Garth Nix. I really enjoyed the banter between Black and Larbalestier as they introduced the book, and each story. They left me laughing, and attempting to get other people to read certain passages. I also loved that Ryan and Peterfreund wrote stories that actually tied into their other stories. Of course, I love both The Killer Unicorn series, and The Forest of Hands and Teeth . So, it was nice to read different perspectives from those two universes.
Reading this book is like gaining exclusive access to a super-cool club of YA authors and personalities: Holly Black, Meg Cabot, Garth Nix, Naomi Novik, Libba Bray, Cassandra Clare, Maureen Johnson, Carrie Ryan, Scott Westerfeld, Alaya Dawn, Justine Larbalestier, Kathleen Duey, Margo Lanagan and Diana Peterfreund. This is a list anyone who is ANYONE in YA wants to be included on. They are the beyond-cool kids at the party wearing t-shirts with the name of a band you’ve never heard of splashed all over the front laughing at something so urbane and witty you can’t possibly hope to understand, but you just want to be included in the joke anyway.
Okay, this is hilarious. I have NEVER been the cool girl at the club. Fun!
This is one of the better anthologies I’ve read in a while, although I would warn that much of it is grim and gory and there are only a couple of light stories. I tried to decide which were my favorites and really had a hard time. I finally settled on Meg Cabot’s for my favorite light story, Margo Lanagan’s for my favorite dark (and disturbing), and Diana Peterfreund’s for something in between. Uh oh, all unicorn tales… let the hate mail from Team Zombie begin.
I have never dealt with the question of “riding” unicorns in my novels, though it’s something the art department was curious about at first. I think it’s because a lot of the people who love unicorns are the kind of people who were also really into horses as a child. (I certainly see folks online who say they can’t imagine reading my book because it’s about killing unicorns and unicorns are fluffy and sparkly and besides they loved horses as a child. Um, huh? Actually, my books are about killer unicorns who are nothing whatsoever like horses. Only one of the unicorns in my book has ever been ridden and well, he’s still a little bitter about it, three thousand years later.)
And as for the “eating” unicorns bit, well, I do bring it up a few times in “Errant” and Ascendant. Suffice to say: not the best idea.
In other news, my second anthology comes out in a little over a month, and the bloggers have jumped on the ZvU bandwagon. It’s been interesting to watch these reviews come in, as almost every one is colored by the bloggers’ preconceived place on the zombies vs. unicorns spectrum. They come out of the gate saying “I’m so Team Unicorn” or “I’m all Unicorned out” and go from there. It makes me wonder how many readers of the antho will pick and choose among their monsters of choice.
Despite the fact that I am somehow made a general in this battle, I actually like zombies. so I read all the stories in the anthology. (Well, almost all of them — my neighbor stole my ARC and took it to California before I could read Cassie, Kathleen, or Libba’s stories.)
Here are some recent online reactions to this book:
“‘The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn’ by Diana Peterfreund (5/5 stars)
Loved this story. Those of your who haven’t read her book Rampant should because it is awesome. This story takes place in the same world and involves a young woman learning how to take care of a killer baby unicorn. Very well done, lots of fun, and a great story.” — Karissa’s Reading Review
“I am happy to report that Diana Peterfreund once again delivers. “The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn” might sound like a playful, lighthearted title, this is a surprisingly moving story about a girl struggling with her terrifying new-found abilities, her family expectations, her relationships, and, of course, a baby killer unicorn. One of the longer stories in the bunch, “Baby Killer Unicorn” actually feels like more of a novella than a short story. I love that protagonist Wen is markedly different from the other female leads in this collection, and in fact from Ms. Peterfreund to date – she’s not as rough as Astrid (of Rampant) or as assured as Amy (of the Secret Society Girl books). Wen is quieter, religious (which stands out in a sea of usually agnostic/atheistic or religion-free genre stories), and confused – but when she does stand up for herself, it’s an awesome, empowering feeling.” — Thea of The Booksmugglers
(Please note: The Booksmugglers are giving away two copies of this book this week, so click through and enter!)
“This is a marvelous story! My heart raced when I read it! Wen experiences a deep struggle with her choice to save little “Flower”. She struggles with what her faith and her parents would expect her to do vs what her heart is asking of her. Beautifully written. It has made me RUSH to read Diana’s book Rampant.” — Fiction State of Mind
“”Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Alaya Dawn Johnson seems to be a Team Zombie favorite, while Diana Peterfreund’s “The Care and Feeding of Your Baby Killer Unicorn” – a spin-off of her Rampant series – is raking in the praise from Team Unicorn. When I said that Holly and Justine had used the creme de la creme for this anthology, I wasn’t kidding.” — Maria Meeps
Today, I’m guest blogging over at the Booksmugglers with pal and fellow anthologist Carrie Ryan as part of their YA Appreciation Week. We’re attempting ot get the zombies and the unicorns to sit down at a table and talk out their differences…
YA author Diana Peterfreund will be our featured guest in the TKA chat room this month to discuss her upcoming release, ASCENDANT (HarperTeen, September 2010), on Thursday August 19th @ 9pm ET.
Diana will be talking about writing for the YA audience, her upcoming projects, including a foray into the popular post-apocalyptic novel, and any other questions you can possibly think of! Of course, will will also be giving away plenty of shiny new books to add to your library.
Why do I write so many strong female characters? When I was a kid, 7-8 books out of all books written for kids through teens had boy heroes. Those that had girl heroes showed them at “feminine” pursuits, or if they were a little feisty, a male hero had to bail them out by book’s end. Only the historical novels had strong girls; most of them “settled down” by the end. I was reading “boy books”: TREASURE ISLAND, TOM SAWYER, THE THREE MUSKETEERS, Robin Hood, King Arthur, and Edgar Rice Burroughs. When I encountered fantasy, I had the same problem: virtually no girl heroes. The ones I found, adult women all, settled down, hated other women, or died. I didn’t understand why there were no girls (or those that existed were severely compromised) in the adventure books, so I began to write what I wanted to read: adventure books with girl heroes. As a published YA writer I came along at a time when that was what booksellers, parents, and librarians were looking for, and along with some other writers, I found my place in publishing.
Pierce’s work is what laid the groundwork for books like mine. If her Alanna books weren’t still sitting on the shelf in every bookstore almost three decades later, no publisher would take a chance on Astrid, or Katsa, or other female heroes of teen fantasy. I write the books I do because I could never find enough of them growing up. I read and re-read Greek myths and fantasies like The Horse and His Boy because Aravis Tarkheena was a warrior woman, and they were few and far between. (It was much later in life, sadly, when I discovered Tamora Pierce and other writers like her.) We have been enjoying (for the last four or five years) a wonderful influx of these kind of books. The current discussion of whether or not boy readers are getting the shaft is… not entirely accurate. I didn’t see “but what about the girls?” whines when it was all Harry Potter all the time. Girl readers were expected to love Harry, or make do with Hermione (who is awesome, it’s true), but people seem to accept that girls will read “boy books” and not vice versa. (I think sometimes you can sneak ‘em in, especially if the writer is a boy, like Scott Westerfeld’s Tally Youngblood in the UGLIES series). I have very few boy readers. My dad, however, adores my books, but he’s in large part responsible for my love of warrior women, so there’s that.
The whole essay is worth a careful read, because Pierce also discusses the way you can get a boy interested in reading a so-called “girl book” (hint: talk about the decapitations, not the girl finding love), and since she’s been in the biz for a while, she knows this conversation pops up every few years. For myself, I think it’s obvious from all my published books, action fantasy and chick lit, that I’m interested in exploring the way young women interact with society, so women’s issues do find a way to worm themselves into my books. I am doing it purposefully, but it is purposefully for ME — it’s what I find myself drawn to writing. (I am finding that is less explicitly the case in the book I’m writing, though that’s a bit of a one-off.)
I hear, over and over again, authors and editors and agents urging writers to “Write what they love.” But I’d argue this is not necessarily the best advice for everyone. While some of you may love to read the genres you’re equally talented at writing in, some of you may find your writing strengths lie elsewhere.
And if so, my advice is to not fight it.
For me, I’m best at comedy. I can easily whip up quirky characters and odd situations and pop culture references galore. And when I’m writing comedy my hands fly on the keyboard and sometimes, I admittedly even make myself laugh out loud, wondering where on Earth my brain conjured up that particular joke.
But for many years, I fought against my natural light style. I tried to write bigger, deeper, more epic novels with dark themes and alternative dimensions. I wanted to be that author with the kick-ass cover of a woman in leather, wielding a sword in a dark, twisted world. Because that’s the kind of book I’d pick up in the bookstore, over the one with a silly cartoon cover and a quirky title. But I’m just not that author. I’m the cartoon cover kind.
A couple of things: you could have bowled me over with a feather when I first read this essay, since I would never have categorized Marianne that way at all. She’s one of the most versatile writers I know. Everything she does, indeed, has that signature snark and pop-culture touches, but she can do light contemporary romance (such as her excellent GAMER GIRL) as well as post-apocalyptica (my other favorite book of hers, RAZOR GIRL). That they both have the word “girl” in the title is pure coincidence, because they are very different books.
Also, who doesn’t love zombies with a touch of fun? I do! (Shaun of the Dead, Zombieland, and I’m salivating for the upcoming Jesse Petersen series.)
So aside from thinking that Marianne is wrong in her estimation of her own talents, I think she has a very good point, here:
Now that’s not to say you can’t include certain beloved themes in your book. You just have to give the story your own voice and twist. For example, I knew I wouldn’t be great at writing a straight medieval. So instead I decided to bring a teen King Arthur to the 21st century in my upcoming novel “The Camelot Code.” He Googles himself and learns his true destiny and decides to join the football team rather than go home and pull the sword from the stone. So, in this way, I was able to incorporate something I love–medieval fantasy novels–with something I’m better at writing–light, humorous young adult fiction. And in doing so I was able to create my own sort of genre mash-up. (After all, where else are you going to find Morgan La Fay accidentally agreeing to a Brazilian wax…)
Sometimes we have to figure out how to write what we love, or, as my other pal Julie Leto might put it, how to incorporate the book our voice into the books of our heart. RAZOR GIRL, for instance, works for me because it utilizes Marianne’s familiarity with genre conventions (the titular Razor Girl is actually a genetically-enhanced warrior created by her father, who was obsessed with William Gibson and cyperpunk stories — Gibson wrote about the “original” razorgirl Molly MIllions), and light teen voice allowed her to tell a post-apocalyptic story using her strengths as a writer. She poignantly juxtaposes scenes of a zombie-infested wasteland with scenes from the before time, when the main characters Molly and Chase were very different people.
I am often asked in interviews why I am still so active in RWA, given that I don’t write romance novels. For years, I tried to write romance novels (I have four of them sitting under my bed), and though my rejection letters would praise my voice/prose/characters, the romance wasn’t quite clicking for them. But then I wrote Secret Society Girl, which, while not a romance novel, ended up being a hit with its readers because of the romance within its pages. Lesson learned: it’s not that I can’t tell a love story, it’s that I’m better when it’s a subplot, and when the book exists out of the genre conventions of the romance novel.
But, like Marianne, I still love romance novels, especially historical romances! But I regularly write with a published historical romance novelist, and the work I see her doing to make sure every word in her book is historically accurate — yikes! Makes me glad I write books set in the 21st century.
I recently came out with my first historical short story, and I had to do a ton of research — about clothing, about inheritance law, about marriage law — to be able to work my way around what was actually a pretty straightforward plot. I specifically chose to set the story in a country where they don’t speak English so that any non-standard word usage could be chalked up to “translation” rather than “but the OED says they weren’t using that word then!” (Quoth my historical writing friend: “Cheater.”)
My love of historicals, romance, and post-apocalyptica combine in my current work in progress, the much-teased post-apocalyptic retelling of Persuasion. But it took years before I figured out exactly how to tell such an unusual story in a voice that worked for me and for what I do. Sometimes it takes getting creative, as Marianne did with her upcoming Camelot Code, another book that was a bit in the making.
I truly believe you can write what you love if you make it your own — and that, as Tamora Pierce says, you should write what you love, because it always is your own.
I stumbled across this essay by an MFA graduate a few weeks ago, and I’ve been thinking about it for a bit. I do not have an MFA, though a few of my friends (both published and unpublished) do. I had been rather skeptical about them for many years, owing primarily to the fact that the one creative writing class I took in college was taught by an Iowa MFA (widely regarded as the best program in the country) who hated genre literature and was currently — when not teaching a bunch of 20 year olds to read Flannery O’Connor and write just like the good people at Iowa had taught him — getting his law degree from Yale (which is widely regarded as the best program in the country). I assumed once he mastered his JD, he’d be toddling off to a medical program at Johns Hopkins. But I digress. If he wanted to go around collecting degrees, that was his business (and Fannie Mae’s).
What bothered me was that he hated genre. He actually kicked a girl out of class once for turning in a fantasy short story. My first story for the class was, I now think, in the genre of what would later be called chick lit. The girls in the class loved it. The boys “didn’t get it” — spurred on in their mental block by the teacher. That was how the class worked. The teacher would deliver his judgment (“this is not a genre class!” “I’m not sure why this girl is having such a problem with her boyfriend, all he wants her to do is give up her personality and principles to impress his parents”) and then the rest of the class would be set along those lines, and it would take a lot for any of the students to disagree with his pronouncement — especially since he would argue every point a dissenter made, while just nodding and agreeing with one of his pets.
I became very skeptical about workshopping and basically wrote my final short for the class as a ghost story in protest. (In my meeting with him to discuss the story, I referenced Hawthorne and Poe, and he gave me a B+). But my friends with MFAs assure me that this dude was just not a great teacher, and that workshopping isn’t usually such a draconian situation. Indeed, my closest friend with an MFA wrote a magical realism book while in school.
Back in 2006, soon after I sold my first novel, two of the folks in my circle of friends got into MFA programs. All of a sudden I started reconsidering. I got as far as discussing the matter with my editor and agent, who both gave me the incredulous response of “but you’re already selling.” Four years on, I wish sometimes I had at least explored the possibility of some “master classes” like Clarion, though I suppose it’s never too late. And I have attended near-monthly workshops and more than a dozen craft-focused conferences for the past ten years which have also taught me a lot. I’ve also enjoyed the company of brilliant critique partners and received fantastic editing from my editors. So there’s that.
Living the writing life for the past decade has, in general, given me the opportunity to learn a lot of these lessons that the essayist lists on the fly.
1. Don’t play it safe.
Absolutely. This advice takes many forms: a) don’t write the hot genre you don’t like just to break in, because it’ll show, and if it doesn’t, you’ll be stuck there and once you start writing what you love, your backlist will be useless; b) don’t save all the “good stuff” for the next book; c) bleed on the page — make the worst possible thing happen; d) don’t give all your interesting characteristics to your secondary characters… the list goes on an on.
2. Don’t assume that just because one person hates your writing and the other person loves your writing that your writing is “confusing” or “conflicted.”
More like it’s a sign that you have a powerful voice. I’ve come to terms with the fact that not everyone is going to like my writing. It’s a matter of taste. In today’s world of reader blogs, amazon “reviews” and Goodreads, you get the pleasure of post-publication “workshopping” — often from readers who perhaps are not the most discerning, or who aren’t quite able to put a finger on why a certain book didn’t resonate with them, and so cling to something they read in another book review or heard in an English class once. It’s okay. You’re not writing for someone who doesn’t “get” you. If you try, you’ll probably fail, and lose the readers who do get you at the same time. If you ever start feeling bad, go read the one-star reviews of your favorite novels. It’s not just you.
3. Don’t feel like you have to implement every suggestion into your work.
Coming on the heels of #2 above, I imagine this has a lot more resonance to someone in MFA-workshopping mode, but it fits even for me. I get various advice from my critique partners, editors, agent… and then there are the emails from readers, or, better yet, the book bloggers who choose to frame their “reviews” as if they are tutoring the author as to what they should do in their books. Writers can go on all day about these if you catch them at a bar. But one thing I’ve learned is that though editors and critique partners are almost always spot on about identifying what’s not working in your book, they aren’t always right in telling you how to fix it.The best thing to do, when tackling a revision letter, is to find all the problems, then implement your own solution. Sometimes what looks like two different problems (“it starts off slow” and “I don’t really feel like I understand the main character”) are actually the same thing (“if I make her plight more relatable, you’ll be on board with her sooner”).
4. Don’t read just for fun.
To be perfectly honest, I don’t agree with this one at all. Further, I’m surprised that anyone in an MFA program even believed its converse to start with. The educational system in this country is massively good at drumming “reading just for fun” out of you. Many people who think nothing of watching seven consecutive episodes of Law & Order or going to see Avatar or being a devotee of a weekly sitcom or buying a tabloid to read on the beach would balk at buying a paperback mystery, science fiction or romance novel. Television shows or magazines are “escapes” but popular fiction is “trash.” I’ve attended parties and watched folks chat at length about the latest Judd Apatow, then turn around and call chick lit “trash.” Apparently, if entertainment comes in the form of black text on a white page, it’s held to an entirely different standard.
I think people should read “just for fun” (not least because it’s how I pay my mortgage). I think that writers, especially, should read just for fun, or they risk losing the joy in their work. Writers who read only what is “good for them” may get some screwed up notion in their head that they should only write a certain kind of book, maybe not the kind that is the best fit for their voice and their passion. I know this happens. It happened to me when I was in college and was being told that “genre” was a dirty word and that if I wanted to be a writer, I’d had better go after a Pulitzer and not a paperback romance.
In terms of “reading for craft” — which is the essence of her point — I think that comes with the territory. If anything, it’s hard to turn that off once you’re in the business. I relish the books that make me forget that I’m a writer, that are so compelling I forget to look for the man behind the curtain, to keep stock of the tricks of the trade the writer is using. Those are my favorite kind.
There are six more items on the essayist’s list. I’ll be back tomorrow to tackle those.
I am going to post a video, and you are going to think, “meh” and click over to someone else’s blog. I know you are going to do this because it’s exactly what I did the first few times I saw someone post this particular video. Because what could possibly be worth watching in a video clip about a sportscaster talking about badminton?
Friends, listen to me. Do not be me; do not delay. Watch this video. Watch it now.
Zombies vs. Unicorns
should because it is awesome. This story takes place in the same world and involves a young woman learning how to take care of a killer baby unicorn. Very well done, lots of fun, and a great story.” — 
