Monday, April 2, 2012

Why You Shouldn't Self-Publish Your Kid's Book


So I read this article today, and I'll be honest. It made me a little angry. Not at the kids, of course - they don't know what they're doing. At the parents. Though, they probably don't really know what they're doing either, and maybe that's the problem.

Let me be clear. I’m not against these kids writing. I’m all for it, actually. We all have to start somewhere, and I was one of these bright-eyed little ones not too long ago. And I remember the feeling of pride in completing my first novel. But I also remember that feeling of unease.
Even looking down at my stack of printed pages, a hand-drawn cover slipped inside the plastic binder to make the copy I let my mother read seem more like a real book, I knew it wasn’t finished. I knew with utmost certainty, even at the age of 12 that my book wasn’t ready to be published. It needed to be edited, and probably completely rewritten. Now, at 12, I had no idea how to go about editing my own work, and I’d already spent a year writing the darn thing and wasn’t about to waste any more of my not-quite-adult attention span on rewrites. I was done. And it was time to move on and write another one.
But even knowing that, if someone had asked me if I wanted them to publish my book, would I have said yes?
OF COURSE.
More than anything in the world, I wanted to be a published author. It was a dream I’d had since I knew what a book was. And to get to tell all of my 12 year old friends that I was a published author? A real life author with a cover and a book that sold for REAL LIFE MONEY? What kid is going to turn that down?
And here’s where I take issue with this. The books I wrote at that age were… not good. To put it gently. I can ONLY IMAGINE the embarrassment I’d face today if someone had gone along and slapped a cover on them and sent them off to be sold on smashwords and amazon. Because that stuff, it never really goes away. Just today, I saw someone lamenting on Twitter about how even though they’d unpublished their book, smashwords was still distributing it. This stuff sticks, ESPECIALLY now in this digital age.
Everyone deserves the chance to hide their beloved first books in the secret compartment in the top drawer of their dresser, buried beneath their unmentionables. Sure, we hang onto them and take them out, dust them off, and poor through their poorly written pages every now and then. It’s a sentimental thing. It’s humbling. We all want to remember where we came from. But that doesn’t mean I want to show my underwear or my secret compartments to Amazon!! And these kids, they won’t realize it now, but they’ll probably feel the same way in ten years.
Writing, or I suppose any goal, requires a lot of hard work, frustration, adversity, and probably a good deal of disappointment before you can really get good at it. But that’s how it's supposed to be. It’s what makes us reach it. If it was so easy, everyone would do it, and it wouldn't be much of a goal. All of that struggle and toiling away is what makes us better. It’s a process of growing, and it’s a process that these kids are being denied.
Now, let me clarify, I have nothing against self-publishing. I think it’s great, really. I have friends that have done very well with it. But even they weren’t simply HANDED the self-published book. They had to work for it, as hard, if not harder than I’m having to work toward traditional publishing. There’s not a single grown self-published author that I know of who hasn’t faced a good deal of adversity, be it from trying the traditional route and learning that it wasn’t for them, or from small-minded people who call them “fake authors” because they didn’t go through one of the big houses. Most of them have hired editors and have had countless betas and critique partners go through their books with fine-toothed combs.
Now, I haven't read these kids’ books. I don't know if they’ve been edited or critiqued, but I somehow doubt they had more than a few pair of eyes giving them an honest read before they went to the presses. At that age, I didn’t really know anyone else who spent their free time writing. Most of my friends thought I was really weird. So finding peers to be betas would be really hard. And while the internet is great, I don’t know many parents that would want their young teens emailing back and forth with a bunch of faceless writers, prying into their kids’ innocent little heads. Stranger danger, and all that.
Yes. The books will probably be bought. Probably by the same people in Daddy's office who would have bought a box of girl scout cookies to be polite. Does this mean that the book will get read? Maybe. Maybe not. Personally, I grow to resent things that people try to force on me, things I feel obligated to read because so-and-so's cousin's daughter wrote it. And is that really how you want your child's book to be read? Out of obligation, as opposed to enjoyment?
This article makes a point about it not being much different from parents paying for their kids to go to dance lessons, or to take guitar, or join a travelling soccer team. But the thing is, they’re not paying for lessons. They’re paying for the trophies, the gold medals, having the song put on iTunes (I think we’ve all seen what that leads to. Rebecca Black, anyone?) And really, what does buying a trophy teach your kid? That your parents will buy you anything, if you want it enough?
Most towns have SOME sort of creative writing program, whether it be through the park district or a community college, so enroll your kid in one of those for heavens sake! Or I suppose, if you’re a really devoted parent, take them to a writers conference if you feel like they’re mature enough to handle it. That’s where the real learning happens. Because that’s what it’s all about, in the end. Learning. I can pretty much guarantee that these kids don’t know enough about the publishing industry to make an informed decision on which path is right for them. So don’t push them into a decision they know little about and might regret later in life. Help them learn instead.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Dreams Really Do Come True

That's right. And I have proof.

This guy...  Jarno Smeets had the audacity to dream of flying. I'm sure we've all been there, thrown a penny into the fountain, wishing we could fly. But none of us have actually tried to make that dream come true. Outside of jumping off the garage roof, or past the age of 10.

I have a distinct memory of sharing a wishbone with my mother as a small child. After winning the split, she asked me what I had wished for. I grinned sheepishly and she asked if I had wished I could fly. I didn't need to nod for her to know my answer. She saw it in my face. And then suggested that maybe next time, I shouldn't waste a wish on something that would never come true.

But this guy did it. He ACTUALLY did it.



And it got me thinking. This guy dreamed of flying and made that dream come true. It makes my goal of being a published writer seem... realistic. I know, I know, that's crazy. (I'm sure all of you aspiring writers out there understand) But if he can fly, why can't I publish a book?

There will always be people reminding you to wish for the practical, and while it's good to wish for those things too... don't let them kill your dream. Dream big. This guy did, and look where it got him. Some 30 feet in the air.

Watch the video of the flight here.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Season


Well... Halloween’s over. Not sure about you guys, but we take that holiday very seriously in my house. Maybe it has something to do with my deep-rooted love for costumes… maybe. I might have been the kid that wore her cowboy costume to school on a day that wasn’t Halloween. Dead winter, in fact. I remember because it was a pain in the butt to trade those chaps in for snow pants at recess. But that brings me to my next point. Now begins The Season.



I can now absentmindedly hum Christmas carols at work without sounding like a complete premature nincompoop. I still can’t sing them mindedly until after Thanksgiving, but that’s alright. Only three weeks.

I’ll be honest though. I got in the holiday spirit a little early this year. At work, we were sent one of those catalogs full of Christmas card options. I flipped through it one day on my lunch hour and there was this one picture that jumped out at me. It’s probably the most cliché scene ever. One of those Thomas Kinkaid types, with a snowy farmhouse at sunset and sleigh rides. But it wasn’t really the scene that got me. It was the sunset. The orange glow setting below the silhouetted snow-covered trees. It reminded me of winter nights at my dad’s house, sitting on the vent, trying to get warm and looking out his large back windows at the sunset. We didn’t own a farm house or have sleigh rides pass our front door. But that was my sunset.

Have you ever stumbled on something cliché that even though you knew it was cliché, it made you a little nostalgic? What makes a cliché personal? Is it your own experiences, or is it something in its delivery?

Sunday, June 26, 2011

The In-Between Time


I’m back! Well… actually I never left. I’ve been lurking in the blog shadows – not nearly as creepily as that makes it sound.

Anyway, adjusting to the working world and still finding the time (and energy) to write is tough. I’m finding it difficult to exist fully in both realms – that is, my imagination and the real world. When Imagination takes over, it takes over completely. But I can’t let it the way I used to. I have to exist Monday through Friday until five in the real world. And slipping behind the veil again is not as simple. I don’t know about you guys, but for me, it takes me awhile to settle back into myself (having acted the part of a normal person all day) before I can drift off into Christine World – as the people who witness the transformation like to call it. Not that I mind acting like a normal person all day – it’s fun. And a refreshing breather from my own head. It’s easy to get lost in there.

And in some ways this writing break has been good for me. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by all the editing and needed a pair of fresh eyes. I started up again last weekend and I’m pretty pleased with the progress I’m making so far. But really, I’m just glad I have something to edit. I’m not quite ready to start writing again yet. I’ve got several new story ideas rolling through my head and as soon as I decide to latch onto one, I just know it’ll suck me in completely. And I’ll admit… for now, I’m enjoying this freedom.

Do you take advantage of the time in-between stories? What do you do with it? Or is the call of your next story too strong to take a break?

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Why Do You Write?

*WARNING: this post may contain sentimental themes inappropriate for cynics

The simple and probably boring answer would be because I have to. That I can’t help it. And while that’s all good and true… for me, it’s more than that.

I have one sibling. She’s ten. And happens to be every bit as much of a bookworm (read: nerd) as I am. *cheers*



I’ve been staying at my mom’s house for the past week. There are many advantages to this. Free food… not having to cook said free food… clean laundry… and my sister. We started reading a book together last weekend, taking turns chapter by chapter (yes, using strange voices). So far, it’s proved to be a very good book, and has enchanted my sister so far as to inspire her to draw pictures of the main characters, and start writing a new story of her own.

This is why I write.

And maybe why I love writing children's fiction. Adults are better at disguising their inspiration, or talking themselves out of it. But with kids, they get an idea and just go for it. They’re a lot braver in that sense. And so much more willing to try new things. And that’s why I write. To inspire others. Because I still feel that sometimes. And I know there are very few feelings that rival this falling-so-deeply-in-love-with-a-piece-of-art-that-you’re-inspired-to-create-your-own thing. And I hope that some day some kid will feel this after reading one of my books.

Why do you write?

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

La Germinal

I’ve been a bit MIA for the past few weeks, and I’ve missed you all! *waves* I recently started a new job and I’ve been taking some time to settle in, adjust to the new schedule and all that.

And yes, that includes a break from writing. *quivers*

It’s interesting. Before I started working again I’d hit a sort of slump, writing-wise. I had a few story ideas rolling through my head while I edited my current WIP, but I wasn’t in love with any of them. And then one day, riding the L home from work… POOF! NEW STORY EXTRODINARE! I haven’t done anything with it yet. I usually like to mull the idea around for a little bit before I actually start writing it. And I’m trying to be a bit more organized this time. IE come up with the plot before I get half-way through.

O_O

Heh… Yeah. I’m a dreamer.

But really, it’s amazing what can come to you when you’re crammed like a sardine in a subway car. And by that, I mean, when you’re out actually EXPERIENCING things. Sometimes I forget that my imagination needs a little fuel, and that doesn’t always come from sitting in front of a computer screen.

I also notice that my inspiration level depends on the time of the year. Maybe it’s coincidence, but the last three books I’ve written have all been started at some point during the spring. The time of rebirth and rejuvenation. I guess it makes sense. I think a lot of writers are more sensitive to things like environment and seasonal changes. *listens for crickets* No? Just me?

 

I love this time though. The time before I actually sit down and start writing, when the idea is just a seed that can grow into absolutely anything. I’m curious though. Does the time of year affect you at all? How do you come up with your story ideas? Do they just come to you or do you actively brainstorm? Do you enjoy the brainstorming or do you feel panicked without a plan? I’d love to hear from you!

Friday, April 8, 2011

Followers, Friends, and Pen-pals

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately. How social networking, well, maybe even just the ease of the internet has changed the nature of friendships, acquaintances, work partnerships, etc. Most of my friends live far away now. I’ve got one in India, two in California – and one of those I’ve never actually met in person *waves*. You see, that’s what I’m talking about. Today, it’s possible to make great friends without ever meeting them in real life.

The way you communicate is just a little different. There’s less room for subtlety. You have to be blunter about your thoughts and feelings, which, I don’t know about you guys, but I find it actually kind of freeing. There’s less opportunity for those silly games people play that were always supposed to end in high school (but never do). You don’t have the luxury of facial clues to tell you how someone’s feeling. You can’t judge tone of voice from an email. So you have to pick up subtleties in other ways. Through an emoticon or two, and through their writing. Perhaps this is a writer’s dream. I’ve always been better at expressing myself through written word than in person.

I’m not really sure what my point is, or if I even have a point. I just think we’re lucky to live in an age where all of this is possible. What do you guys think? Has twitter/facebook/email changed the nature of relationships? How do you feel about it?