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Today on Genreality I follow up to Tuesday’s post with a more in-depth analysis of my thought process when it comes to writerly economics and budgeting. Check it out. Today is also the last day to enter the For Darkness Shows the Stars ARC giveaway. Do so! And I am bidding you all a short adieu, as I’m taking off from the internet for a bit as I finish my latest manuscript. Miss you. Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone. Save me a kitty or two.
Here is the story. It’s called “My Randy Valentine.” Then, as now, authors don’t get a lot of say in their titles. I had written a few several-line movie reviews for the newspaper the summer I graduated from college, and one food review, for which I was paid the cost of the dinner. But this was the first time I got a check. For this article, I was paid $500. It was, to a girl answering phones at an insurance company and working nights at Pottery Barn in Manhattan in order to afford the rent on the crappy Queen’s apartment I shared with two roommates, an outrageous windfall. I remember the day the story came out. I waltzed into a salon in Astoria with hair that went all the way down my back and told the owner that I was a writer, and I wanted a more “rock star” haircut. An hour later I had this awesome, razory short style that I wore for many years. My parents had the issue of the newspaper framed for me. I went out and drank wine with friends. I was a writer! I was paid for writing! And since the place I was being paid to write was in Tampa, not New York, I decided to get out of that town. In New York, I met a lot of people who had come to be writers/artists/actors but had been beat down by the system. I lost count of the number of times I’d said to a new acquaintance, “I work at [insurance company] but I’m working on a novel,” and they’d give me a sad, knowing smile and go, “Yeah, I used to do that, but I got tired of being poor.” I dreaded coming to the same conclusion. (Ironically, now most of the people I know in NY are full time writers, but I never met any of them then.) A month later, I lost my job. I made an attempt to find a new one. I thought it would be good if I tried to find a job in publishing. But jobs were really scarce in NYC post-9/11, and it got even tougher when they stopped accepting “unknown mail” due to an Anthrax scare. Once, I tried to drop off a resume in person at the Harlequin offices, and they kicked me out. After about a month of that, I decided to leave. It was very telling that most of my boxes in my bedroom had remained packed. I went to Florida, where I promptly picked up a regular freelance gig at the newspaper that first published me. I started waitressing to make extra cash. I lived with my parents. I finished my first manuscript and, as a reward (and thanks to Julie’s urging), I joined RWA. I finished another manuscript. I started submitting and collecting rejections. By 2003, I was working full time for the paper and living in an off-season vacation cottage on a beach in Sarasota. The questions I got from acquaintances in Florida were, “If you want to be a writer, why don’t you go to new York?” The answer of, “because the newspaper that’s paying me is here” didn’t seem to sway them, nor did, “You mean like Hemingway?” I spent most of 2003 like this, and then I went to Australia and New Zealand with Sailor Boy on an epic antipodean adventure (and yes, it took me until 2012 to publish anything set there. Sometimes things take time to marinate). While overseas, I finished my third manuscript. When we came back, in spring of 2004, I started freelancing for the paper again, but things there had changed significantly and bizarrely, and I knew I had to get out. I just didn’t know where to go. I wasn’t making enough to live on, and newspapers were cutting staff, not adding them. As a good half-dozen hurricanes rocked my state, I took another job doing clean up and concentrated on my fiction (still doing my weekly freelancing gig). I got my first revision requests, contest wins, and agent interaction. Also, a lot more rejections. In January of 2005, Sailor Boy and I moved to Washington, DC. As I was packing, I got the idea for Secret Society Girl. When I got there, I started looking for a job, and writing my books on the side. I almost took a job as a night desk editor at the Post. Boy, that would have been hell. I am NOT a night person. Instead, I took a job as a copyeditor at a science journal. It was a scary time. I was still in publishing, but for the first time since February of 2002, I wasn’t writing for pay. And no matter how hard I was trying with my new manuscript, no matter that I had others still circulating publishing houses, there was no guarantee that I’d ever make money writing again. That was March of 2005. One week later, I had an agent. A few weeks after that, I had a book deal for more money than I’d ever made at any job. Since 2005, I’ve been making my living as a writer. Since April of 2006, I’ve been doing it full time. This summer will see the release of my eighth novel. It’s funny to think about how in my adult life, I’ve been doing this longer than anything else. Since April of 2006, I’ve had a date in mind where if I didn’t sell something new, I’d have to go out and get a job, just as I got odd jobs every other time my writing income fell short in the past decade. With every contract, I’ve been able to push that date forward. I haven’t needed it in almost six years. But it all started in February of 2002, with one little newspaper, and one cover story, and one check that was so much more than $500 — it was actual, spendable money that someone gave me for putting a bunch of words on paper, and it was the first time that ever happened. Happy anniversary, little article. Happy anniversary to both of us.
This book isn’t coming out until June, but people are saying it’s my best yet. Well, by “people” I mostly mean my mom, and I suspect she’s a little biased, seeing as how it’s dedicated to her. Anyway, not out until June, but you could read it early if you win this lovely, lovely ARC. I’ll even sign it. I’ll definitely put a killer unicorn bookmark inside, owing to the fact that I haven’t made For Darkness bookmarks yet. (In passing, so there’s this video game called “The Darkness II” that I don’t know anything about, but I keep seeing advertisements for whenever I watch Hulu+, since I watch on a Playstation and it’s a Playstation game, so now whenever I call my new book “For Darkness”, which I do a lot, I get this little ping in my head of “We’ve come for the Darkness, Jackie,” which is the line of dialogue from the commercial. I doubt highly that these two things have anything in common with each other aside from the word “Darkness” though, since the video game appears to be about a hitman who can wield demonic forces.) My new manuscript I usually call PIMP, which is a concept thing, like PAP; Carrie usually calls Poppy, which is a character thing; and my editor calls something else entirely based on its working title, which I totally love and hope I get to keep and not going to tell you. How’s that for being secretive? Back to the ARC giveaway. To enter, leave a comment on this post telling us one of the following things: 1. What is your favorite “Jane Austen” moment? It does not have to be from the books proper. For instance, my first favorite Jane Austen moment is Captain Wentworth’s letter. My second favorite Jane Austen moment is the look Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy gives to Jennifer Ehle’s Lizzie when she helps Georgiana play after Caroline Bingley makes a crack about Wickham at Pemberley. My third favorite Jane Austen moment is when Paul Rudd and Alicia Silverstone sit on the steps of her house. My fourth favorite is the scene in Emma when Mr Knightley almost, but does not quite, kiss Emma’s hand. My fifth is Alan Rickman as Colonel Brandon, full stop. (I could go on. A lot. I shall spare you, though.) 2. If you do not have a favorite Jane Austen moment, explain yourself PLEASE. Contest runs through Friday. Yes, international is eligible. Deadline brain made me totally deficient in actually announcing the WINNERS of the two giveaways I’ve posted on the blog in the last two weeks. The winner of The Girl Who Was on Fire: Movie Edition is: Jen Petro-Roy. (Wow, that’s like the first time ever I’ve seen random.org spit back a 1.)
And the winner of the Brave New Love Giveaway is: Chen Chang at 31 and Ellis at 53. I still have Jen’s mailing address from the great baby-goods declutter of 2011, but I’ll be emailing you other two. Also I have a giveaway happening later this morning. It’s for something that rhymes with Door Harkness Mows the Bars. Just sayin’. Today on Genreality I’m talking about my office, and about the things I’ve placed there to inspire me. (Mostly gifts from readers.) But I also drop hints about KU3.
A few of the questions being asked: 1. Can you think of any other examples of how dominant strategy is exercised in the Hunger Games Trilogy? What about game theory in general?
2. Peterfreund discusses the Nash Equilibrium and how it relates to game theory in this essay. She summarizes: “Nash equilibrium occurs when there is no value to changing your strategy when you know the strategy of the other player. It’s an “equilibrium” because there is no benefit to change.” What examples of this do you see played out the in the Hunger Games?
3. The Hunger Games and Ender’s Game are two books where the characters use the ideas of game theory to govern their actions. Can you think of any other books where game theory comes into play? Follow Along for all the Stress Fun! 8: 25 am: Queenie and Sailor Boy are off. The kettle is on. The document is opened and I have typed my first sentence, which is: “[Redacted] presided over the head of the table, his back straight, his coat buttoned to the neck and still bearing every medal and insignia [redacted] had ever awarded him.” I know, I don’t think it’s my best work, either. That’s what revisions are for. 9:35 am: Tea brewed, clothes put away, twitter read. Wrote 350 words. My favorite of the bunch: “bulbous.” And now that I’m fortified with caffeine, maybe the next hour will go better. 10:35 am: Had shower. Sent list of recent ARC requests to publisher. Replied to a few emails. Wrote 150 words, including the word “nepotism.” 11:30 am: Cut 600 words. I may have added some in there too, but sum total is negative. Had epic email exchange regarding covers, for me and other people. Made plans for this weekend. Watched a book trailer that I thought at first was a parody of book trailers (lots of bombastic music over cliched, meaningless floating phrases). Sadly, was not, but I do think Funny or Die needs to get on that kind of thing, soon. 12:25 pm: 375 words. Plus I talked to Carrie. 1:30 pm: lunch 2:30 pm: read for an hour. Back to work. 200 words. 3:30 pm: sidetracked by admin. Grrrrr. 300 words. 4:30 pm: My computer is acting up. I still manage 350 new words. 5:30 pm: Pick up kidlet from daycare. Go to dinner. 6:30 pm: Visiting hour. 7:30 pm: wrestle a very resistant kidlet into bed. She’s got a cold, poor thing, so she does not want to go to sleep. 8:30 pm-10:30 pm: cleaning out computer as I watch TV. 11 pm: BED. Verdict: Not very much. I think I got about 1k out today. But now that my computer’s nice and clean, I may not lose momentum as much on Thursday. 7 am: woke up, got dressed. Blogged. 8 am: Got Q up, dressed, fed. Took Q to day care 9 am: Ate breakfast. Stared at what I wrote yesterday. Deleted lots of it. 10 am: received proofs for new short story. Began perusing, but was distracted by siren call of internet. Read a few articles, received two interview requests and did them, because, hey, this scene is hard. 11 am: received two rejections. (Yes, published authors get them too.) Exchanged emails with editor, agent, and critique partner about what it all MEANS. (yes, published authors do this too.) Reread what I wrote, and deleted more of it, based on new, rejection-inspired worries. (yes, published authors are also neurotic. Possibly more neurotic.) 12 pm: received new cover for abovementioned short story. Received critique back for entirely different short story. Am re-energized to work on proofs. 1 pm: Finished proofs. Really love that story. Now think rejection was full of crap. Back to work. Write new scene. Think I might even keep it. 2 pm: lunch. laundry. 3 pm: get dinner started. While chopping vegetables, I put on “Blink” (Dr. Who). This is a mistake, I will have nightmares. 4 pm: Am in long email exchange with agent. Involves learning new trick in photoshop. Results quite pretty. 5 pm: Pick Q up from daycare. Hang out with her while she chases Rio around the house, giggling like a madwoman. Rio clearly likes this game, as she can run about twenty times faster than Q, but keeps getting caught anyway. 6 pm: Dinner. We have spaghetti, which is pretty much everyone in my house’s favorite meal. 7 pm: Q takes a bath, then it’s books and bed. Q is really, REALLY into books. Chip off the old block, that one. I chat with my parents, fold more laundry, answer a few emails. 8 pm: Relax with a mug of cider. Read a longform article about child-rearing in The Atlantic. Sort of wish it were a long form article about “childrearing in the Atlantic.” Now there’s a story idea! 9 pm: I start in on a critique I’ve been meaning to get to. 10 pm: send off the crit. Watch more Dr. Who (not as scary, this time). Check on Q in bed, as I hear strange noises upstairs. All I can think about is stone angels right now. For serious. Stupid Dr. Who. 11 pm: read over what I wrote today. Is marvelously little, for having been sitting at this damn machine all day. Promise to do better tomorrow, and consider that maybe I should blog about all of this, you know, to keep me honest. So I do. Thank you for all your comments on yesterday’s post, and hello to anyone who has found this site through the quote that’s been tumbling around on tumblr. I hope, more than anything, that the post yesterday served to clarify some of the issue surrounding the current drama, and “boost the signal” as one of my critics put it yesterday. The important thing is to get the correct information out there, so people’s rightful anger and frustration is not misdirected. One of the unfortunate things about situations like this is that they often overshadow the work. For instance, now people who might have been proud to have been winners of the More than Magic contest (people like Sloan Parker, author of More), may no longer like to talk about having won the contest on their websites or bios. And because I mentioned the controversy surrounding the creation of my most recent anthology, it’s kind of taken on a life of its own, and I almost don’t feel like I have the right to talk about it the way I usually would, which is more along the lines of: Yay! I have a new anthology out. It’s a really cool anthology, and it has some of my favorite writers in it: people like Carrie Ryan and Carrie Vaughn and William Sleator. (William Sleator, guys! Where is my time machine so I can go back in time and tell my teenage aspiring writer self that one day I’ll be in an anthology with the author of THE HOUSE OF STAIRS!)
My story in the anthology is called “Foundlings,” and it’s set in a near-future world where women have lost all their reproductive rights, and follows a teenage girl who is on the run with her pregnant twin sister. This is the first thing I wrote when I came back from my maternity leave last year, and on one level, I was inspired to write this story as an exorcism of all the outside pressure I’d felt while pregnant to do XYZ exactly right. It was about the dirty looks I got if someone caught me drinking a soda or eating seafood, or the way total strangers felt they had the right to grill me about my birth plan or breastfeeding intentions. It’s also a world that I’d had in my head since around 2002, though back then it had been an adult thriller inspired by a rash of recent murders of pregnant women (including the disappearance of Laci Peterson, as early on in the case there’d been a theory that she’d been kidnapped by someone who wanted the baby), and an article I’d read about some of the truly wild security measures that were being implemented in hospital obstetrical wards. When I had my baby, the hospital put a multitude of computerized bands on our bodies that would play lullabies if and only we were reunited. And while that was very cool, I could see a way that increased security around pregnancy might be used as weapons against women, very quickly. And then I started reading about bills being introduced in US state legislatures that would require the investigation of every miscarriage, or outlaw birth control pills. I read about a law passed in Brazil that requires the registry of pregnant women. I researched the fate of the pregnant Desaparecidos (disappeared) in 1970s and 1980s Argentina, and the forced pregnancy testing that happened in Romania under Ceausescu. In the non-governmental, societal side, I read about what actually comprised the “abstinence only” education that’s so prevalent in schools now, and the way these classes so often vilify sexually active youth and characterize teen motherhood as a penance a girl should pay for daring to have sex. I saw that teaching in action when I watched teenagers taking to task the people on the MTV show “16 and Pregnant” that chose to give their baby up for adoption, because, as these viewers put it, if they got pregnant, then they “deserved” to be forced to raise the child, no matter what would be best for them, their child, and the infertile couple who wanted to adopt said baby. I saw how even the pregnant couple in question’s own parents were telling them that they had no other choice. Some of this happened long ago and far away, and some of it is happening here and now. And all of it is extremely scary. All of it went into the big cauldron in my head, and what came out was “Foundlings.” It’s a story about sisters and unconditional love. It’s a story about babies and criminals. It’s a dystopian, but it’s not set in some distant, domed city where everyone eats food pills and has cybernetic eyeballs. In fact, the world it presents might be a little too close for comfort. I hope you enjoy it. If you want the chance to win one of two copies of the anthology it’s in, go comment on yesterday’s blog post. If you want to talk about “Foundlings” (maybe you’ve read it?) or any of the things that inspired me to write it, feel free to comment here. I’ve gotten a lot of emails this weekend (because somehow folks think I’m some sort of RWA spokesperson?) about the current kerfuffle over some RWA chapter I’ve never heard of prohibiting homosexual romances in their published novel contest (a contest I think I may have heard of once or twice, but honestly, I don’t keep track of regional published author contests and have never entered one myself). I am not a member of this chapter. I am a member of the chapters WRW — my local DC chapter — and TARA, which is the Tampa chapter, and which I’m still a member of for nostalgic reasons. (I’m not even a member of YARWA, because 2 RWA chapters is already too many for me.) The only thing I know about this kerfuffle is what I have read on the internet and on the private RWA loops discussing the issue. Because things on the internet are sometimes completely inaccurate, it has been erroneously reported that this is an RWA National stance. Which is not true. Here is a link to the rules of the RWA national published author contest,w which is called the RITA awards. I am currently judging this contest. Other things that have been left out of a lot of reports:
Or, hey! Let’s make a list of the people who were GOING to enter their LGBT romances in this contest and read them. There is an outcry, but there isn’t a lot of follow up. Last year, there was an outcry over a YA anthology that was prohibiting same-sex stories. There were a LOT of posts about it on the internet. There were a lot of authors who got up in arms and dropped out of not only that anthology, but an anthology being edited by the same editor, an anthology that I was writing for. In the end, what ended up happening was that the anthology lost half its line up and the editor was removed from the project. We got a new editor, and a new line-up (an AMAZING line up, if I say so myself), and the publisher pledged to donate the proceeds to a homeless shelter for LGBT youth. The new anthology includes several LGBT stories. I’ve read them, they’re great.
But hey. Maybe that’s not as fun as being outraged. You can ask Sailor Boy, I love me some righteous indignation. But I think, if we really want to make things better out there, the best way to do it is to make the fact that there great gay romances out there more visible. I haven’t read More, but I know it beat out debut books in every other genre in that RWA chapter contest in 2011, so that’s a pretty strong recommendation. And I personally think the Brave New Love anthology is fantastic, though I am biased, given that I am in it (though not financially biased, because it could sell a million copies, and I wouldn’t see a penny, being that it was a flat fee). But don’t take my word for it. Read it yourself. Go out and buy it, knowing that your dollars will be donated to help homeless youth, or enter to win it in the giveaway contest on this very post. That’s right. Giveaway. Leave a comment in this post, and enter to win your very own copy of Brave New Love. Contest goes until Friday. Since i have two copies to give away, THERE WILL BE TWO WINNERS. ETA: Hello to everyone here from tumblr. Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy the post. ETA2: I have blogged about my story in the anthology (which is not, just to be clear, an LGBT story) and my inspiration for it.
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