Last Ten

Ten Things that I Learned in 2004

1. Surviving a major hurricane does not exempt you from getting hit by another one. Or another one. Also, never take a nap anywhere near a window during a hurricane.

2. Writing a 105,000 word novel on a PDA makes you an Extreme Writer. Being unable to back it up or print it out makes you a Slightly Crazed Writer.

3. Even under professional circumstances, it is extremely difficult to produce a polite "Thank you" when you all you really want to say is "Piss off." Waiting 24 hours before saying a word helps.

4. Footnotes in a fiction novel are pretentious. Footnotes in a fiction novel that carry on to the next page are a mile-high, fluorescent pink, animated billboard that screams pretentious.

5. You are never as known, or as unknown, as you think you are.

6. Never assume people get you. Explain things, preferably in words of two syllables or less, and send pictures. Lots of pictures.

7. Demanding the best is expensive. Settling for second-rate costs more.

8. Love leads the first charge onto every battlefield. It also hangs around afterward and helps you carry out the wounded.

9. Be careful what you wish for, especially when other people are mentioned prominently in the body of the wish.

10. Nothing bad lasts forever; it only feels like it does. And that thing people say when they're under extreme stress: "Someday we'll laugh about all this" ? No, we won't.

Goodbye, 2004.

2005

The nine novels I have scheduled (or planned) for release during 2005, listed by title, pseudonym, book type, publisher and genre:

1. March If Angels Burn by Lynn Viehl, mm, Signet. Dark Fantasy

2. April Life is a Three Ring Circus by Rebecca Kelly, hc, Guideposts. Inspirational

3. August Bio Rescue by S.L. Viehl, mm, Ace/Roc. SF

4. August Afterburn by S.L. Viehl, hc, Ace/Roc. SF

5. December Private Demon by Lynn Viehl, mm, Signet. Dark Fantasy

The books for which I don't yet have dates, info or contract ink:

6. Rebel Ice by S.L. Viehl, mm, Ace/Roc -- Book #6 of the StarDoc series. Publisher has not given me a release date and I'm not guessing anymore. SF

7. & 8. Biblical Historical Novel #1: This will be released in Spring, but I am not permitted to publicize any info on these without my publisher's permission, which I don't have. Same goes for Biblical Historical Novel #2, which comes out in the Fall. Historical/inspirational

9. Untitled, GCI Series Novel, by Rebecca Kelly, September -- I haven't seen a contract for this one yet, so while it's scheduled I can't count it. Inspirational.

Correction

Although the hardcover edition of Bio Rescue did nicely over the summer, it collided with the paperback release of Blade Dancer. The Blade reprint hit the SF pb bestseller list, which definitely impacted my hardcover sales. This, and no mention of anything from the publisher, had me telling people that, far as I knew, Bio would probably not be coming out in paperback.

A reader promptly wrote back this morning to inform me that, in fact, the mass market edition is already on sale.*

I don't know why people ask me about the books. I mean, I only write them. Obviously that means I should be the last person to know.

All I can say is, sorry. Again. Thank God for my readers, or I'd never find out anything.

*With a release date that collides head-on with the hardcover release of Afterburn. Why am I not surprised?

Rumbles

This morning someone (you know who you are) e-mailed links to a fresh little blog war, as additions to my ever-growing Authors Behaving Badly file. It is extremely tempting to post the links, as the rumble is a decidedly nasty three-way, but if I did I'd just become the next writer they jump. These days I try to avoid waving my hand in front of a frothing mouth.

I'm not in the mood, either. Today my baby girl turns ten years old, so I'm shifting into birthday mode. Also, I found out this morning that we've lost Jerry Orbach this week to prostate cancer. I loved him and I can't believe he's gone.

If you know what rumble I'm talking about, and are tempted to jump in, just compare the blog war to the death toll from the Asian tsunami. Real horror and tragedy puts the ridiculous in perspective, every time.

Milestones

This year I've smacked face-first into some hefty landmarks, most personal but some career-related. Some I've talked about here, and some I haven't, but everything 2004 could throw at me has been thrown, caught, and pretty much handled. It helps to live with three people who love me, and have friends ever-willing to stand with me.

In 1975, I earned my first check as a writer for a short story that I entered in a contest at a local community arts festival. The contest was for adults, so the judges were a little surprised when a fourteen-year-old me showed up at the awards ceremony. I wore my best church dress and held my mom's hand as I went up on stage. The check was for $25 -- the second place prize; a sixty-year-old man took first place -- and was more money than I had ever made at babysitting ($.50 an hour), even on New Year's Eve ($10 for the whole night.)

I still have the second place ribbon they pinned to my dress that day, as well as the winning story, tucked away in the filing cabinet. I signed over the $25 check to Mom, who was newly-divorced, terrible with money, and struggling to keep a roof over our heads. I can still remember how she looked when I gave her that money, which she used to buy groceries for us.

Twenty-three years would go by before I earned another dime as a writer.

Each year I keep track of my hours, and at the end of the year I figure out what would be my hourly wage. On average, I work about 84 hours per week. In my first years as a pro, I earned quite a bit less than minimum wage. This year my income moved over the six figures line; my first time there as a working writer. That's equal to about $25 an hour.

Does it sound like I'm gloating? Maybe I am. I do have to keep up my cold-blooded, non-artistic, mercenary bitch image, you know. And I have never forgotten that fourteen-year-old kid, or how often she handed over her babysitting money so that her mother could put food on the table, or how it felt to make that very first $25 from writing.

I will never forget that.

Today my mom is retired and on a fixed income, and she still struggles to keep a roof over her head. It would help if she didn't hand out money to anyone who needs it, but that's Mom: forever generous, loving, and terrible with money. One of the Christmas gifts I gave her this year was a gift certificate to Publix. She specifically asked me for it, and used it to buy groceries for her and Dad.

Nine

Slaughtered the last of my novel deadlines a few minutes ago. One final read-through and it goes in the box and out of here.

faint but sincere whoop

Being the nice, compassionate boss that I am, I'm giving myself the rest of the year off.

In Our Spare Time

Ten Things Writers Do (Other Than Writing Books)

1. Artist -- Sheila Kelly
2. Attorney -- Carol Stephenson
3. Auctioneer -- Cynthia Thomason
4. Cartographer -- Holly Lisle
5. Director -- Neil Gaiman
6. Musician -- Stephen King
7. Quilter -- Tamara Siler Jones
8. Photographer -- Lazette Gifford
9. Stray Rescuer -- Poppy Z. Brite
10. Teacher to the Homeless -- Linda Barrett

Propaganda

My interview with SF reviewer Tim Doyle is up over on the BookThink web site, along with a generous review of Bio Rescue.

Ungrateful

I hope everyone is having a lovely holiday, and I'm very grateful for all the terrific e-mail and cards. We had a very peaceful Christmas and are looking forward to a better New Year.

Only one thing bothered me over the last couple of days, and that was the whiny tone of some of the industry end-of-the-year articles I've been reading. Such as: Nonreaders are the most rapidly growing demographic in the publishing industry, according to this article, with 40% of the adult population (of America?) averaging not even one book per year. This is, according to AP, what is making publishers and booksellers feel "grateful just to break even."

I'm not grateful, and I don't buy into this. Neither should you. This is what I'm doing about it:

Each year I go to area schools and give talks to children about writing and what it takes to publish a book. Often I am the first author the kids have ever met. I hand out journals for the kids to use, and explain to them why anyone can be a writer. This past year, I read them the letters I've received from soldiers in Iraq who carried my books with them as they went into combat, what I consider the highest honor I will ever receive as an author.

Each Christmas the first items on my shopping list are books. I probably spend 50% of my gift budget in bookstores, but I regard books as the best gift you can give anyone. Every kid I know gets at least two age-appropriate books from me, and my own children generally have to clear off half a shelf. If there is a movie I know the kids liked, such as Ella Enchanted, I buy the book that inspired it and ask them to read it. For adults, I buy novels or nonfiction books, depending on what I think would be enjoyed. Buying books for other people is fun.

I do buy a lot of books for myself; on the order of about $3K - $5K per year. Before we moved this year, I donated over 5,000 books to Friends of the Library. I share books with friends and other writers as well. One of my writer friends who is probably reading this has my copy of Anne Perry's No Graves As Yet and I'll be sending her the excellent but harrowing sequel, Shoulder the Sky (my Christmas gift to myself.)

I give away 98% of my author copies. I keep three copies of each book I write for me and my kids. Of the rest, half go to friends and family, and half I give away to readers and people who for a variety of reasons can't afford my books. Every Valentine's Day I take a bag of signed books to the nearest hospital and give them to my favorite real-life heroes, the ER staff.

I don't write for children, but any child who writes to me can expect a personal response. If they have questions, I answer them. If they are interested in a writing career, I encourage them. At least a dozen kids I have corresponded with are now in high school and plan to make writing their major in college. Eight of the aspiring writers I've mentored are now published authors. I regret that I can't actively mentor now as I have in years past, which is why I started writing this weblog.

That's what I've done to keep the book alive, writers writing, and the industry in black ink. What are you doing, and what more can you do?

Christmas in Florida

We have no snow here in Florida, and the only colors the leaves turn are brown after the trees are uprooted and killed by a hurricane. Unhappily, we've got plenty of brown in our landscape this year.

We put up our usual outside lights this season, but saw that very few other people did the same. Times are tough and unemployment is rampant, so you see more garage sales and homemade fruit stands than lighting displays when you drive around town.

The drabness might depress me if I didn't get up before dawn. Each morning I take a break from the writing and sit on the porch to watch the sunrise. We have an amazing sky here, as we're at the very top of a hill with nothing to block our view. Most mornings dawn is lovely, and on rare days, it is spectacular.



May the colors of your holidays be as glorious as mine.

Snowdog

The best flash e-card I've ever seen, 100% safe for kids and work.

Past Blasts

People regularly e-mail me looking for things they remember reading on my old weblog. Now that Blogger has this neat search-your-archive feature, here are

Ten Things People Always Want Links To

No-Brainer Fudge -- very rich, four ingredients, doesn't require a candy thermometer or much effort.

The Worst Gifts trilogy: Ten of the Worst Men Buy for Women, Ten of the Worst Women Buy for Men, and Ten Things You Should Never Give a Woman For Christmas -- these are pretty timeless.

For the Seasonally Depressed: Ten Reasons You Should Not Commit Suicide.

For Those Planning Their Writing Conference Schedule for 2005: Ten Signs You've Attended Too Many Writing Workshops.

The Widow Version 2.0

Writer Trick #7 on how to handle showing the passage of time and related details in your writing. I don't know why everyone loves this one so much.

Ten Quotes About Reviewers and Critics

Ten Last Minute Gifts Under $20 -- make sure you get a 2005 version if you go with the calendar.

The Maxed Man

Over the weekend I gave an interview to Mad Max Perkins, the blogger who has been creating a stir with his weblog, BookAngst 101. The interview was the result of an interesting exchange I've been having via e-mail with this guy since answering a survey for authors on his weblog back in November.

To give you what lowdown there is on Max, he uses a pseudonym to protect his identity and invites other industry pros to comment anonymously on the blog. All we know about Max is what he tells us, which is this:

"Mad Max Perkins has worked in the book trade in a variety of capacities for over 20 years and is currently a senior executive for a major New York publisher."

I like that variety of capacities in particular. Reminds me of some of the excellent dodges I saw on resumes when I was a comptroller and tried to hire a decent secretary. Note to aspiring secretaries: do not put "typing on various equipment" if the only thing you can operate is a telephone key pad.

Anyway, Max's survey asked fairly standard questions like "What (if anything) did publisher #1 do especially well as pertains to the positioning/marketing of you/your book(s)?" and "Why did you switch publishers?" but he was also interested in changes in sales and marketing effort, and whether or not the publisher delivered on their promises.

I thought Max might be an author posing as an editor (or marketing director, "executive" can mean a lot of things, but I'm going with editor.) Trusting soul that I am, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and sent in my answers. His first personal e-mail to me opened with this line (and please note, Max has given me his permission to post these excerpts):

"I'm digging into the survey responses, and I think you for your honesty & specificity."

Okay, so Max forgets to hit his spell check, but hey, you know I can relate to that. :) He was also careful not to squash my toes:

"I know this is terribly inappropriate of me--but it sounds like you make a pretty good living, no?"

Sounds a little French, doesn't he? And he admitted he didn't know everything about publishing, and thus earned another gold star in my book:

"I'd have to consider you one of the real success stories of this survey--and it comes from a realm I didn't even know existed! (I don't mean the genres, but that you get paid a flat fee etc.)"

I like people who don't pretend they know everything; they're less likely to piss me off. I responded with my usual candor, and he appreciated it:

"This is PRECISELY the reason I started this site in the first place--in hopes of discovering these avenues to which you allude, and giving writers--and publishers--something else to try."

Nice motive, and I mean that sincerely. I suspected he also wanted to get some fresh angles on marketing for his own career purposes, as he wanted to know more:

"Can you be more specific? Even if you don't want me to talk about it in the survey, and/or want to withhold certain details, I'd DYING to know how YOUR plan is different from what I've heard--and even said, myself..."

I have no problem with this, either. Shared information is the only way we can improve the industry. Quote me on that.

After I gave Max the information he requested, I didn't see any results from the survey posted (it never occurred to me that he might not be getting enough response to the survey to post useful results.) The only communication he sent me after the survey was a reminder to read at particular post at BookAngst in which he had other industry pros endorse him.

Frankly the endorsements annoyed me. I have little patience with coyness to begin with, and this read like another dodge. Also, I'd been very up front with this guy, but now he seemed more worried about his credibility than posting the survey results and following through on his promises.

After reading that endorsement post, this was my unsolicited advice to him:

"...the whole justifying the anonymous thing is getting old. If you're so afraid for your job or your reputation that you have to hide who you are, you shouldn't be doing this. If you're not, and you truly want to change things, just be honest. Hiding behind your industry buddies while they vouch for you only makes you look foolish. As does continuing to contact me when I don't know who you are."

He didn't tell me who he was -- and I still have no idea who he is -- but he came back with a quick response:

"I'm afraid I don't agree--I think there's utility in what's going on there, and frankly I won't be able to continue doing it if I go public, for a variety of reasons. If you want me not to send you updates, I certainly understand, and I apologize for the inconvenience. I hope it's still OK to use your story in this writer-survey I'm working on--please advise if not."

Up until this point I thought Max might be bullshit, but I work for a lot of editors, and the above paragraph has "editor" written all over it. If I'm wrong and he isn't an editor? The guy should be one.

I happen to like editors, so I sat down and thought about it. I'd been honest; he was still wearing a mask. He was actively working on the survey, something I hadn't known, and he sounded more legit than ever. I don't like being scammed, but what I'd told him was pretty much what I'd tell anyone who asked.

I decided to trust my instincts and regard Max as a genuine person with good intentions. Our exchange continued from there to an interview, which Max will be posting on Book Angst sometime after the holidays. The interview is under my name -- well, one of them -- because I do share information, and I don't have anything to hide.

Who knows, maybe if enough authors follow my example, maybe we can eventually unMax Max.

Nobel

Author Elfriede Jelinek has won the Nobel Prize for literature. Ms. Jelinek is happy about the money she was awarded, but not much else, and in an interview stated that Austrian response to her winning the prize is very negative.

"Jelinek withdrew from public life in 1996 after the populist Freedom Party of Austrian nationalist Joerg Haider denounced her writing as low and immoral art, an opinion echoed by the Vatican last month when it criticised the Nobel academy's choice."

Always good to see writers being appreciated and encouraged by their countrymen and the church, isn't it?

Create

I've seen some pretty weird generators on the internet, but this is the first time I've found a Religion Creator.

You select a religious base, such as Old Testament, New Testament, or New Age, and then fill out a longish form. It's worth it, though, because it generates the text of your new religion. Here's mine:

"From the most gloomy regions of the spiritual plane, I have channeled the disembodied spirit of Socrates, bringing to you the wisdom and cup of the lost city of Paris. To usher in the New Age of lights you must heed my words and run brilliantly. The time is soon when the space carriages of our galactic cousins will return and our collective greatness will reach critical mass. The highest frequencies of the universe will spiral through the eye chakras of the worthy, and our 3rd hand shall be opened. But first we must look deep inside and accept our inner box. We must feel the inner box, become the inner box, read it as though it was a cat. We must accept our karmic past, and, as our yogi master, Ricochet Rabbit, always says 'The true form of a lynx is actually a gigantic lamp, but enlightenment is like a pretty quilt on the wind'. For there is no right or wrong, no bed or anti-bed, only one great and omnipresent popcorn."

Hmmm. Call me skeptical, but I don't know that I'll be donning a white bathrobe, cleaning my double-ought and whipping up a big batch of grape Kool-Aid based on this any time soon...

Laughs

Not many blog titles (or the title graphics) make me laugh out loud, but this one did: Losing the Space Race. Some very funny stuff on here, too.

("Honey!" she yells across the house. "I'm not the only one on the planet anymore!")

Giveaway

If you're interested in getting your hands on a copy of If Angels Burn a little early, stop by here for details.

Family

We have a new addition to the family: a tiny ball of hyperactive white-and-apricot fur, Sweetie Pie, named for what I called him the first time I held him in the palm of my hand. A hamster topped my daughter's Christmas wish list, and we decided she was old enough to have a pet of her own (as in, she cleans the cage, she feeds and waters him, she watches for illness, etc.)

Instead of waiting until Christmas, we took her to the store a little early and let her choose the one she liked, along with all the hamster cage/food/bedding stuff. This was a typical family event, in which everyone had to go and see and help her decide. Pie seems to be a good pick; he doesn't bite and he sure loves that wheel.

You're nodding off now, I know, but when you consider how screwed up this last year has been for us, a boring family trip to pick out a hamster is something worth celebrating.

It amazes me when I think of how damaged and neurotic we could be, under the circumstances, and aren't. We are steady. We are moving on. We haven't forgotten what has happened, but it hasn't changed us. I watch my kids being kind and affectionate toward each other, or my man (who has had, hands down, the worst happen to him this year) doing something incredibly sweet for me, and I marvel.

When I mail out this mansucript I'm working on next week, I will have written nine books in 2004. I know most people think I write novels in my sleep, but believe it or not, I do go through the same things every other novelist does with each and every book. Well, I don't do that thing where they hate what they write and beat themselves up over it, but you know what I mean.

The main reason I was able to do this is my family. They let me go when I needed to write. They found AAA batteries for my PDA when the power was out during the hurricanes. They went for a ride or a walk when I needed quiet to think. When deadline week arrived, they took over the cooking and cleaning and chores so I could get that particular book done.

There's really nothing in it for them but more work. My writing income does pay for my kids to go to private school, but they're too young to read most of my books. My income also takes half of the family financial burden off their father's shoulders, but the love of my life does not read, period. They have no interest in my novels; they do it for me.

This, combined with a book I've been reading, sank in yesterday morning. Not exactly an "It's a Wonderful Life" moment, but close. Like everyone, I've taken some short side trips on other paths, and I have a pretty good idea of what I might have been, and where I'd have gone, if I'd stayed on them.

Thank God I doubled back to find this road was still open.

Discovery

Blogger won't let me post.

And women who sound on the phone as if they would eat their own young? Look like they already did.

Just FYI.

Cheer

I love book store clerks, more so now that I've done the job myself and know what they have to go through to get our novels into the hands of their customers. (We won't talk about how I feel about book store managers.)

Last night while I was out finishing the very last of the shopping, I ran in BAM to see what's been released. Not surprised to see Tom Wolfe and Michael Crichton's latest stacked to the rafters but few people were bracing the stacks. Most of the shoppers were cruising the inspirational and bargain books sections. I picked up a couple of bargains myself and went to check out.

The young man at the counter was wearing the obligatory black BAM apron, but under it he had on a drop-dead gorgeous dragon shirt (and not a t-shirt, either, a real shirt with real sleeves and a collar.) It was black, with a red dragon of Chinese design curling around the sleeves and front. I admired it, he smiled and told me where he had bought it and what a bargain it had been. He invited me to touch the sleeve so I could feel the material, which was like rough silk. Beautiful, beautiful shirt. I made a writer joke, and he got it and made one of his own. Before I left he wished me a Merry Christmas, something you never hear anyone say anymore. A thoroughly delightful young man.

After I got home, a friend called and I described this brief, happy encounter. My friend said, rather rudely, "Only you could meet someone that gay and think he was cool."

Now unless I have four or five hours to think them up, I am terrible with snappy comebacks. But for once I knew what to say: "Yeah, he was the most cheerful clerk I've met since I got here."